#and then i realised i felt really lightheaded (more than usual) and i tried taking massive breaths

[almightycrisprat]

i hate benchball i hate benchball i hate benchball i hate benchball *wheeze* WITHOUT YOU THERES NOTHING FOR ME TO DO CAN YOU FEEL THE SUNSHINE TOO ITS COMING THROUGH IT MAKES MEE FEEL BRAND NEW

[theshatteredrose]

Hospital of Shadows (Chapter 1) - Cross Edge Fanfiction

Summary: Obsession and self-righteousness. Two very dangerous emotions, especially when combined together. When Lyner and Lazarus awaken to find themselves trapped in a mysterious subworld that takes on the form of an abandoned hospital, they must work together to learn the truth of their new prison. And learn why they were chosen. Will they get out of their new situation unharmed? Or will certain sacrifices need to be made?

Pairings/Characters: No pairings, really. More focused on friendship, especially between Lyner and Lazarus. I just think they’re neat. But, hey, if you want to ship those two, I won’t stop you. Though, of course, there is the usual Ayatane/Lyner undertones. Those two just can’t help themselves.

AN: Yeah, I know I said I would work on GiD Bryce next, but this story just SCREAMED at me to be done next. It's also greatly self-indulgent, I'm not gonna lie XD I also wanted to try something a little bit different. Hey, it's guys in distress, so I guess it's not that different. Anywho, for those who are interested, enjoy~

Ao3 | Wattpad | Inkitt | FFNet

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Chapter 1:

A terrible headache and a sour taste in the back of his mouth greeted Lyner as he stirred from his sleep. Sluggish, heavy, utterly exhausted. All he wanted was to roll over and go back to sleep. He felt abysmal.

Yet, as he tried to do so, something stopped him. Something physically prevented him from moving.

What the-?

Though it pained him to do so, Lyner forced his eyes to open and he lifted his head up from…whatever his head had been resting on. His eyes immediately snapped shut when a bright light assaulted them and a wave of dizziness caused his head to fall back, onto something soft, thankfully.

Something was clearly very wrong.

And what was that smell? It was the pungent smell of…antiseptic.

He pressed his lips together as he pooled his energy for another attempt to open his eyes. He moved slowly, however, unlike last time. Letting them flutter open in order to grow accustomed to the light.

And the sight that greeted him was not at all welcoming.

A ceiling of white tiles and florescent tube lighting. Sterile and plain. And as Lyner lolled his head to the side, he saw cabinets and benches, all a plain, meaningless white. A simple room, with a single door as the only entry point.

It…looked like a hospital room.

Lyner tried to lift his hand to run over his face, to rub at his eyes in an attempt to rid himself of some of his blurry vision. Only to realise that he could not move his arm. Something was latched around his wrist. Mailable and soft, but unmoving all the same.

That prompted him to lift his head up to look over himself. To say he was surprised was an understatement. He laid on a typical hospital bed, his usual clothing and armour missing, replaced with a simple cotton set of light blue t-shirt and shorts that reached his knees. And leather straps held him upon the bed, at his wrists and ankles.

He fell back onto the bed, his mind blank. He mentally assessed himself for any pain, even the slightest ache. It was a hard assessment to make, however. Everything ached and he felt lightheaded.

What in the world happened?

He…was out in the field. With…a bunch of the guys. Ah…Ayatane, York, Raze, Zelos, Lazarus. Even Troy and Vivi. Just rounding up some provisions. Important, but not life-threatening. When…something happened.

What happened…?

He…he did not have time to think about it. He needed to get up. Find a way to get free.

Right.

He gritted his teeth once more and tested the restraints around his wrists. He had to be smart. He had to do more than just tug at them. They were of the simple belt variety. He had to wiggle the latch a little.

After a few moments of lightly testing the leather restraints, Lyner felt the one holding his left wrist give way. Just a little. He raised his head and focused in on his wrist. He noted that the little metal hook had not been positioned into the metal divot like it was meant to be. Someone or something had not done their job correctly.

Now, if he could just manipulate the leather from its keeper…

It was a slow process. It had to be. Lyner could not afford to rush, or he could make a mistake. But after what felt like several minutes, the end of the leather strap popped free with little fanfare and Lyner jerkily pulled his hand back.

With a sigh, he rested his now free hand against his chest for a moment, surprised by how rapidly his heart was beating in his chest. But he had done it. He had managed to get a hand free. And with that, he could easily remove the rest of his restraints.

Lyner forced himself into a half upright position as he removed the strap on his right wrist. And then into a fully sitting position to remove the leather restraints on his ankles. As soon as they were removed, he pulled his knees to his chest and spent a moment inspecting his surroundings once more.

Yet, there was little to look at. It was clear that it was a hospital room, but there was nothing else to look at. There were no charts, no equipment, other than the cabinets that lined one of the walls and the bed, no other pieces of furniture.

Could…his belongings be shoved into one of those cabinets?

Lyner swung his legs over the side of the bed and placed his feet onto the floor. He pushed himself to his feet but had to stop when he suddenly felt lightheaded and dizzy. Not a comforting feeling, but he stubbornly pushed it aside as he did not have time to deal with that as whoever confined him to that bed could return at any second.

All the cabinets were unlocked, thankfully. Unfortunately, none of them contained what he was looking for. Damn. His clothes and weapon were not located in the room with him. He had a suspicion they would not be. Too convenient. But he had to at least look.

Lyner was about to turn away from the last cabinet when his gaze fell upon the sole thing occupying it. A single folder. Beige in colour.

Odd.

He picked it up and immediately spied the words “TOP SECRET” written on the front in red text. Strange to have a seemingly important document alone in a patient’s room. But it was too enticing not to read.

But reading was something Lyner would not be able to do. Inside were several sheets of paper, but nearly every single word had been blanked out in thick, black ink. It was literally impossible to read.

That was pretty ominous. And pointless.

He placed the folder back into the cabinet and turned toward the door. He had lingered far too long in the room already. He needed to get out and see where the hell he was and if the others were in the same state he was. Charging out of the room was not a good idea, though. He needed to sneak out.

There was a small window in the door and that allowed him to look beyond his room.

A hallway. A suspiciously empty one. He was definitely in a hospital of some kind. But from the upturned pieces of medical equipment, the flickering of fluorescent lights, and the peeling paint on the walls, it looked like an abandoned one.

Where in the world was he? Where were Ayatane and the others? Were they ok?

He still could not quite remember what happened. How he came to be strapped down onto that hospital bed.

Lyner tested the doorhandle. Surprisingly, the door opened with ease. Huh. Whoever placed him in this room were confident that the leather restraints were enough to keep him confined.

Better take advantage of the situation.

The door gave a quiet creak as it opened and Lyner could not help but wince. The tiniest of noises seemed to echo in the empty hallway.

It was with more trepidation than he cared to admit that Lyner stepped out in the hallway. It did not help his nerves that the light just outside happened to be flickering. It added to the eerie vibes of the place. He looked left and right before he left the relatively safety of his room.

It was just so…silent. Hospitals were busy places. He should know, his protective nature had seen him visit a few. But there was not another soul to be seen or heard.

There was a room right across from his, with the door wide open, but the light off. He carefully moved forward and peered into the room. But it was empty. The bed shoved haphazardly into the corner, with a few pieces of old, broken medical equipment thrown in there with it.

He was definitely in an abandoned hospital. And yet, his room was not in that bad of a state. How strange.

Lyner placed a hand on the wall next to him and chose a random direction to start walking in. The floor was dirty and unkempt, and he had to move cautiously due to his bare feet. The last thing he wanted was to step onto something sharp.

As he moved forward, a black flicker from the corner of his eye caused him to tense. Skittishly, he whipped his head around and looked down a narrow hallway. Where he caught sight of a lone, shadowy figure. It was humanoid in appearance, yet ghostly. Pitch black in colour, almost as if it was covered in torn robes and threads. And it had no feet. It just…glided across the floor, its shoulders hunched, arms dangled listlessly by its side, and its hooded head focused forward.

Lyner did not know what that was, but he knew he had to hide from it!

He immediately lurched into the open room and ducked behind the upturned bed. He placed a hand over his mouth, hoping that the strange, shadowy entity did not see him. It did not make a sound, so he could not rely on listening to its footsteps. He would have to risk peering over the top of the bed.

In a moment.

That silence did him no good and not being able to see his potential enemy was even worse. He carefully knelt on the floor and peered over the top of the bed. He almost threw himself back again when that same shadowy entity drifted past the door. It did not peer into the room, nor did it drift inside, thankfully. It just…floated past.

It brought a shiver down his spine as it did so, however.

What was that? A former resident?

Something told Lyner that it was not as friendly as the souls he had encountered back in the World of Souls. No, there was something undoubtedly menacing, yet tormented about that entity. It was hard to explain. Something within him just screamed at him to avoid it at all costs.

He had better listen to his instincts.

He waited what felt like a good few minutes before he came out of his makeshift hiding place and crept his way to the door. He placed his hand against the doorframe and peered out into the hallway, quickly looking left and right. There did not appear to be any other shadowy entities. For the time being. He had better be careful.

The search for his companions, for anyone really, resumed. He ensured not to linger too long in the corridor, however, slipping from room to room. He had noticed a couple more of those strange entities in the distance, at the end of branching hallways, which forced him to take cover out of caution once again.

Normally, he would bemoan about not having his weapon, but he was not sure it would be of any use against those strange entities.

After a few more minutes of successfully playing hide and seek, Lyner stumbled across a room where the door was close. Yet, light flooded out from the small glass window. Like the bright light Lyner had awoken to. And unlike the other rooms he had encountered during his journey.

Perhaps…

Lyner pressed his hands against the door, leaned up on his toes, and peered through the small window. His deduction was right. The room was occupied. By Lazarus himself. It brought a sense of relief to find someone familiar, though worry all the same. As the other blond was in a predicament that Lyner himself had been in – on a bed, strapped down with leather restraints. And completely alone.

Were the others in the same situation?

Lazarus was awake, however. May have even awoken at the same time Lyner had. But it seemed his restraints had been properly administered. Lazarus struggled fruitless against his restraints, them not budging an inch. Lyner only managed to wiggle free from his because someone did not do their job properly. He was lucky in that regard.

He quickly looked around at his surroundings, searching for any of those strange shadowy entities, before he placed his hand on the handled and turned it as silently as he could. Hoping not to alert said entities. He did not know what they were, if they were hostile. In his condition, he would rather not chance it.

The door gave a quiet squeak as he pushed it open, prompting Lazarus to immediately jerk his head in his direction and grow tense, likely anticipating someone far less friendly. But once he saw it was him, he immediately relaxed, flopping back onto the bed.

“Lyner, man, where did you come from?” Lazarus asked, relieved, but his voice quiet and cautious, nevertheless.

Lyner quickly but quietly closed and locked the door behind him. “A room a couple doors over,” he answered. “Woke up in a predicament much like you.”

Lazarus idly tugged at the leather straps. “This is a first for me, I will admit.”

You gotta admire the guy’s ability to remain joking and carefree.

“For me, too,” Lyner said as he reached the bed and made light work of the restraints. “We’re in some kind of hospital. But we’re not exactly alone. There are these strange shadowy entities roaming about.”

“Entities?” Lazarus rubbed his wrists idly as he sat up on the bed and swung his legs over the side.

Lyner pointed toward the door. “You might see them through the window. I obviously haven’t engaged them in battle. I haven’t a clue where my armour or weapon are.”

Lazarus did a quick surveillance of his room. “Yeah, I doubt mine are nearby.”

“Take a quick look anyway,” Lyner urged. “Even if you don’t find your guns, hopefully we’ll find something that could tell us what this place really is.”

“Wouldn’t hurt, I guess.”

With Lazarus taking up his suggestion, Lyner turned back to the door, to keep a look out for any possible danger. They were cornered in that room, after all. The last thing he wanted was for the both of them to be caught unawares.

“Hm? A file?”

Lyner turned in time to watch as Lazarus flip through a patient’s file. Even from his distance, he could see page after page of black lines baring any information from being revealed. “I found something similar in my room. A file with practically everything hidden behind dark marker.”

“It’s pretty ominous,” Lazarus admitted as he put the file back.

Lyner turned back to the window and instinctively ducked down when an unwelcome sight greeted him. An entity, lurking out in the hall, near the open doorway of an unoccupied room just across from the one they were in.

“Laz, quick,” he whispered. “It’s one of those entities.”

Lazarus immediately crept his way to the door and Lyner stepped to the side, allowing for the other blond to look through the window. He peeked through it from the side and ducked back quickly, a furrow in his brow.

“I see what you mean,” he said.

“Seen them before?”

“No, never.”

Great. A totally unknown enemy and they were without their weapons. At least they had their elemental attacks, if it came down to it.

“Even with these entities lurking about, we can’t stay here,” Lyner stated. “The ones responsible for our imprisonment might turn up at any second. And we need to find the others.”

Lazarus nodded his head and placed his hand on the doorhandle. “Right. Let’s see what this hospital has in store for us.”

[forrestkane]

dottiemunro·:

her breath was returning to her lungs, stopping her from feeling so lightheaded - or at least she thought so, until the realisation of what she was doing hit her and then it was back again. what if he told her no? he had every right to. forrest had someone he cared about in LA, there was no reason he should have to give that up because she’d decided to be brave for once in her life.

dottie’s mouth felt dry, and she swallowed for what felt like the millionth time. it didn’t help. “why?” she repeated back to him, fear suddenly spiking in her chest. “well, uh, it’s just that I never actually got to say goodbye to you properly.” this was a lie, they’d seen each other right before he’d left for the airport. dottie knew that this wouldn’t fly - why would she go out of her way like this just for a simple goodbye? racing all the way to the terminal when she could just call him for something like that. 

letting out an exasperated sigh, she lifted her hands to her face, covering her eyes before she carded her fingers through her short, brown hair. “okay, that was a lie, that’s not it.” were people watching now? it felt like they were, despite the fact they were busy with their own lives and didn’t have a single concern about the conversations of strangers. time was ticking by fast, and dottie couldn’t keep him waiting here like this for no reason. she was stalling the inevitable. whatever was going to happen would happen. things would either turn out exactly how she’d hoped and fenn would stay, or he’d be painfully honest with her and turn to get on that flight to LA before it was too late.

“the truth is, fenn,” dottie reached out to take his hands, words catching in her throat for just another moment. “I don’t want you to leave, and it’s for completely selfish reasons. when you’re around, everything just feels right and life is good, and I don’t wanna lose that.” she forced herself to take a breath. “I feel so much when I’m with you, like…” her voice broke as she tried to find the words, “I feel so much in here,” she gestured to her chest where her heart was beating frantically, “I always thought I’d just fumble through life alone. I never thought I’d actually find someone who got me, and you do. you really do, and I just- I love you, fenn, and I really really don’t want you to get on that plane. stay, please?”

the bomb had been dropped and now all she had to do was wait for the fallout. she probably hadn’t said everything she wanted to. right now she couldn’t even remember what words had come out of her mouth, and if she weren’t holding his hands so tightly, she’d be shaking. she felt lightheaded and dizzy and was only just managing to hold herself upright. the seconds that followed her admission felt like the longest seconds of her entire life.

*

there it was - and there his ridiculous, pie-in-the-sky hopes went, crashing violently to the unforgiving ground below. once again he felt as if someone had hit him, a sharp exhalation escaping his lips as he resisted the urge to step away from her. he could’ve sworn he heard a phone buzz, vaguely giving a thought as to whether jordan had texted him yet again. he’d have to double check that the device was in airplane mode once he got in his seat, he noted, trying to busy himself with minutiae to keep from wallowing. and he’d try to get some work done, too, script revisions aplenty to keep him afloat....

despite it all fenn gave dottie his full attention when she started speaking again, vaguely wondering if she could see the heartbroken disappointment in his eyes. oh, he was just so tired. it was exhausting, feeling like the sidekick in your own life - being the distraction, the besotted best friend whose only purpose was to crack jokes and be jealous of the only love interest who was even a serious contender. always the duckie, never the blaine. but dottie started talking again, more than she usually did at one time, and he listened. she’d always have an audience in him, after all.

he was silent for a few moments when she stopped speaking, surprised at how calm and steady his breathing and heartbeat were. surely this should have an impact, the woman he’d adored as long as he’d been alive telling him that she returned his affections? god, maybe his parents had fucked him up even more than he’d realized.

he sucked in a deeper breath - and this time it shuddered - before lifting dottie’s left hand to his lips and pressing a reverent kiss to the back of it. he did the same with her right before carefully returning their still-joined hands to their resting level. “i’ve loved you our whole lives, dots,” he murmured, speaking to their twined fingers. “ever since we were little kids on the playground.” a small but genuine smile played at forrest’s lips as he recalled that simple, innocent time. “i love you more and more every day, and i’ve done my absolute best to make peace with you not feeling the same way. i told myself, as long as you wanted me around, as long as i could make you happy in whatever capactiy i could, that’d be enough. and that’s - it’s good to hear that i could do that for you. but it’s - i really can’t - ” he sighed, frustrated with his inability to vocalize. “to quote a book i only read because i knew how much it meant to you, ‘if i loved you less, i might be able to talk about it more.’” he finally looked up at her, shrugged one shoulder. “i feel like i’ve spent my whole life existing just for you, dots. just existing and hoping i’d finally hear you say those words. but now that you have - ” his voice broke, and he swallowed down the lump in his throat. “i just - i need time to figure this out, ok? my life is in LA now, my work and - ” jordan’s name died before it reached his tongue, knowing full well he’d be lying if he granted her that level of importance.

“i have to go,” he said hoarsely, slipping his hands out of dottie’s and involuntarily flexing them both. “i’m sorry, but i - i have to go,” he added, taking a few steps backward before finally - reluctantly - turning away from her to retrieve his bag and hand his ticket to the gate agent. 

[captains-simp]

Carol Danvers ~ Put On A Show

(This isn't what she looks like in this fic but it is the ✨I'm gonna make you see the stars vibe✨)

Carol Danvers X fem!Reader Smut

Word Count: 3,569

Includes: lil bit of public teasing, thigh grinding, edging, gagging on fingers, praise, strap on, overstimulation and oral

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Being an Avenger taught you to handle a lot of difficult situations.

You knew how to take down a state of the art quinjet in a minute. You could survive on an unknown planet. You had played a significant part in tracking down and rounding up the last Hydra agents.

And yet no one had ever prepared you to be stuck in a room with a hundred arrogant business men who were desperately trying to impress you with what they thought was power.

You were certain you could have better conversations with a caveman.

You weren't a superspy like Natasha. You couldn't fake interest, put on a realistic smile and pretend to enjoy yourself like she could.

You weren't Tony who genuinely enjoyed himself at those kind of parties and thrived at being the center of attention.

And you weren't Carol who didn't need either of those things. If she didn't want to talk to someone, she wouldn't. It only took one of her looks to make any of the leaches hurry away. She didn't have to worry about the repercussions of doing so because there weren't any. Non of the guests would ever be willing to admit they were intimidated by a woman.

Not that you were jealous of what Carol had. Carol wasn't the kind of person you wanted to be, but she sure as hell was the kind of person you wanted to be with. And that woman was one of a kind.

The distraction of the Captain was definetly not helping you keep your cool. She wore a tight fitting dark blue suit that you had been struggling to stop yourself staring at ever since you had first seen it. Her hair was hanging loose at her shoulders and had become messy from the amount of times she had run her slim hand through it. That alone had your mind reeling of what other ways you could get it to look like that.

You had been lucky so far, everytime you stole a glance at the Captain and her attire she happened to be in convosation with someone else. Although that meant you two hadn't exchanged a single word that night.

Thankfully, you had soon learnt that half of the guests never actually noticed if you zoned out, perfectly content to continue rambling about themselves. While others could zone out themselves as they talked...while they stared at your chest and feuling your urge to smack them.

You were in a dress that you hadn't bought and were far from comfortable in around these people. A thin glass of champagne was clutched firmly in your hand and you predicted it would shatter by the end of the night. You had lost count of how many you had downed with your back turned, stopping once you felt lightheaded.

You had regretted it at first, but you became internally grateful you had saved your heightened senses when you felt a familiar hand rest on your lower back.

Training almost everyday with the blonde Captain had familiarised you with her firm grip and reassuring touch. It was the only kind of contact you had gotten from her until that moment and you treasured it greatly, praying Carol hadn't noticed your slight faulted at the knees.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to steal this one." Carol stated in a very unafraid tone as her hand pressed into you more. You wanted to melt into her touch.

The man you had been not-really-listening to (because you could not for the life of you remember anyone's name) opened his mouth to speak and probably try to get Carol to stay, was ignored by the blonde who was already guiding you away with her hand.

Of course you didn't protest, throwing a party over it in your head while the butterflies in your stomach danced along to the music. You didn't even realise Carol was leading you to the bar, too focused on the fact her hand never left your back as she walked beside you without a word.

You did however, realise when you almost walked into the bar stall before gracefully (that's what you told yourself) sliding onto the stool. Carol sat down next to you and said something to the bartender you didn't hear or really care about.

When she did look back at you her gaze was piecing along with her usual confident aura. Anyone who pulled off a suit the way Carol did had every right to some arrogance, especially as it somehow made her even more attractive.

"I don't think I've ever seen you in a dress before." Carol said with a knowing smile.

"I don't think you'll be seeing me in one ever again." You respond as you glance anywhere but Carol, unable to hold her intense gaze.

"I'll have to treasure the memory even more then. You look beautiful." Carol compliments and watches you blush.

"You clean up pretty nicely yourself, Captain."

You don't fail to notice the way her jaw tightens slightly at the title, but she's quick to pass it off when the bartender places two bottles down on the counter.

You realise you're still holding your champagne so you put it on the side to swap it with small bottle of beer, already taking a sip to have something to do instead of figiting under Carol's gaze.

"I didn't need you to say it, you know? You undressing me with your eyes was telling enough." You choked slightly on your drink the moment those words left her lips, embarrassment shooting down every last butterfly in your stomach.

"I-I wasn't- it was an accident- I mean! I- um..." Carol watched you ramble with an amused grin and took a sip of her beer herself.

You could feel your cheeks heating up and your fight or flight instincts kicking in.

"I was enjoying the attention." Carol smirked as she moved closer to you so the faint smell of her expensive perfume overtook your senses.

You had been so sure the whole night that Carol hadn't noticed what you were doing. You thought you had gotten away with it all. Natasha's tips on concealing emotions and thoughts were clearly paying off on Carol more than you.

"And its not like it's the first time." Carol almost whispered as her voice dropped in a way that went straight to your core.

The Captain placed a gentle but firm hand on your bare knee as she studied you. Her brown eyes flickered across your face while your own y/e/c eyes stayed fixed on hers.

"Is this a test?" You whispered under your breath.

"Perhaps." She whispered back as her fingers stroked your bare skin slowly. "I'm sure I could test you some other ways though." Her hand was along your thigh now. You desperetly wanted to grab it and pull it up further but you had to remember you were in a room full of very important people.

Carol noticed you glance around the room and must have known what you were thinking because she smirked slightly before withdrawing her hand and standing up from the stall.

"Come." She ordered. You felt goosebumps across your whole body and hoped it wouldn't be the last time you heard her say that tonight.

You restrained yourself to waiting a few seconds before following Carol in the most subtle way you could manage when you wanted to sprint over to her side.

You weren't really aware of where Carol was leading you, but once you rounded the corner away from the party you sped up to close the distance between you both.

After rounding a few corners of the complicated hallway you realised you had lost sight of the Captain. Just as you were about to risk calling out her name a strong hand gripped your forearm and pulled you out of the corridor and into Carol's arms.

Her lips were on yours instantly. She had you backed into a wall before you could comprehend any of what was happened but her kiss was so eager you returned it without any thought.

The blonde's lips were unbelievably soft. They felt perfect against your own as you tried to match her pace.

Her hands were cupping your face with surprising gentleness so you wrapped your hands around her neck to pull her impossibly closer, accidently pulling on a few strands and earning a low groan from her.

She bit down on your lip harshly, making you moan audibly until you were muffled by her tongue invading your mouth.

You could taste the beer both of you had barely started and something else that was strikingly Carol. It was intoxicating and you didn't want it to end.

The friction Carol sparked when she pressed one of her muscular thighs between your bare legs was sinfully blissful. You moaned into Carol's mouth when you felt her very deliberately press against your heat and apply a teasing amount of pressure to your throbbing clit.

"Carol." You whispered her name like a chant. She smirked against you as she turned her attention to you jaw then neck, nipping and sucking at the skin exposed to her. You arched your neck to give her more access and felt your breathing become laboured.

This probably wasn't helped by Carol's hand on your bare thigh, gripping the skin in a much firmer way than she had at the bar and venturing further up.

Her hand disappeared beneath your dress in no time, massaging every inch of skin she came across.

You couldn't help it. Her warm lips, her strong hands and invasive thigh made you feel lightheaded and you couldn't stop your instincts of grinding yourself on Carol's thigh.

You desperatly sought more friction that your Captain's thigh could produce. What started as small rotations of your hips soon turned into full on desperate grinding. Your thin panties were soaked and clung to your skin, you were sure you were going to leave patches on Carol's expensive suit trousers but both of you were far from caring.

You could feel Carol continue to smirk into your neck with each mewl that left your lips. She grabbed your hands and pinned them against the wall above your head and that somehow made you needier.

The beautiful friction against your clit was one that had you moaning Carol's name continuously. It didn't take long for the familiar coil to tighten in your power abdomen and making your movements increasingly erratic.

You bucked against your Captain as you sought you sweet release only to have it pulled away from you.

Carol stepped away with a shit eating grin as she watched you struggle to hold yourself against the wall and give her a confused look.

"Why?" Was all you could manage, embarrassingly out of breath.

"Because I can." She smirked. "Did you want to cum, baby? Do you want to feel your release?"

"Please." You said shamelessly as you gave her a pleading look from your vulnerable position.

"Then be a good girl and bend over that desk for me."

You hadn't even noticed you were in an office, too busy trying to get yourself off on Carol's thigh than take in your surroundings. You didn't hesitate to place your hands on the far side of the desk and bend yourself over it so your ass was out for Carol. You glanced behind you to see Carol smirking as she took in your appearance in the new position.

She stalked towards you and placed a hand on the back of your thigh while the other pushed your back down further into the table. Her hand trailed up under your dress before she ran her fingers over the material covering your ass. Her movements were slow and teasing, trying to enhance your desperation to a place you wouldn't come back from that night.

Her slim fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your panties and gradually pulled them down, subsequently allowing her fingers to brush over your ass.

Once the thin material dropped to your feet Carol had you spread your legs for her as far as you could while she lifted your dress over your hips.

You guessed she really did like the dress.

Your pussy pulled around nothing as it was exposed to the cold air of the room and Carol's teasing fingers ghosting over your skin.

"Eyes front." She said as she stood back. It was hard to resist the urge to turn around and look when you could hear Carol undoing her belt buckle.

You had to bite your lip to suppress a moan when the blonde brushed the silicone against your folds. You were both shocked and aroused at the discovery that the Captain had been packing all night. You wanted her more at the thought that she had planned this.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you felt two slim fingers against your lips. You opened your mouth to allow Carol to slip her fingers in and tried not to moan around them at the heated gesture.

You sucked eagerly on Carol's fingers in an attempt to please her and hope it would give you some preparation for the girthy strap. It wouldn't.

You were caught off guard again when Carol continued to push her fingers forward, further than you were expecting at first then more than you could take. You gagged around her fingers and heard a chuckle from your sadistic Captain.

"Good girl." She whispered against your ear before biting down softly.

You were so caught up in the praise you almost forgot about the strap until Carol nudged it between your lips. You tried to grip onto the table more as she slowly pushed the head into your soaking pussy and moaned around her fingers still tickling the back of your throat.

You were extremely unprepared to take something that size, but that only spurred Carol on more and added to your arousal that had your lower lips slick for the strap to ease into you.

Once Carol was half way she paused when you started breathing heavily through your nose as you continued to suck her fingers. But the break was short and without any warning, the Captain thrust the rest of the girthy toy into your cunt.

You moaned around her fingers and pressed your head further into the desk. Carol barely gave you a chance to adjust to the filling of being so full. You're reminded of her impatient nature when she pulls the silicone toy out to the hilt before snapping her hips back against you and causing the strap to burry itself deep inside you again.

You knew Carol was strong and you had seen her doing hip thrusts in the gym before, but you had never imagined the force she would be able to muster when slamming the fake cock into you over and over.

Carol eventually took her fingers away from your mouth and wiped your saliva along the side of your neck before gripping it in her hands, threatening to cut off your breathing and blood flow.

Her pace never faulted. It brought you an intense amount of pleasure everytime that had you stumbling over your words.

'Carol...please...it's- I...so good." Was all you were able to say.

Her name fell from your lips over and over as your cunt clenched around the invading toy. It never failed to hit the hilt of your pussy and brushes against your most pleasurable spot, every movement made it brush some incredible nerve.

You moaned louder as you tried to fuck yourself back on her strap. You were so close to your orgasm and it had already been set up to be the best fuck you ever had so you were so desperate to finally reach it.

"Are you gonna cum for your Captain?" Carol asked as her thighs continued to slap against your own.

"Yes Captain! Please...I'm gonna-"

"Cum for me." She husks as she brings you over the edge and flying through your orgasm. You completely slump against the desk and Carol fucks you through your high.

White blanks appear in your vision but you're too out of it to care.

You're moaning, almost screaming, in the pleasure that's overwhelming you and you don't realise how sensitive you are until Carol continues to pound the strap into you.

"Carol..." You whine at her perfect pace. She's still going so hard, so fast, and fuck she's so deep inside you.

The vigor of her first fucking already had your pussy overworked and sensitive, and yet you can't stop yourself from incoherently begging her not to stop.

"Please Captain! Don...don't stop...so good- so good!" You cry out as another orgasm crashes over you.

You're shuddering now but still swimming in pleasure. You can't stop yourself from bucking yourself back against her.

Carol holds your hips down firmly as she thrusts the strap into your overworked cunt. They're less coordinated this time, more about establishing the control Carol has over you.

You can't form any words this time. The only sounds in the room is Carol's thighs slapping against yours, your whorish moans and the thick strap fucking your leaking pussy. You were vaguely aware of the audible sounds of your pussy before you break into your third earth shattering orgasm.

You're completly limp against the desk and trying your best to breathe normally.

Your pussy is throbbing and pulsing around the strap that Carol very slowly eases out of you and leaves you feeling extremly empty and sore. You know you're gonna be feeling it the next day.

"I don't think I can stand." You finally muttered weakly, not trusting your legs to even attempt to let go of the desk beneath you.

"You don't need to. Get on your knees." Carol ordered from behind you. You shivered at her words and tried to take a moment to compose yourself but the blonde was apparently growing impatient...again.

She held your hips with an iron grip and flipped you onto your back to see her towering over you. You used your arms to help you into a sitting position on the edge of the table before falling down onto you knees infront of your Captain.

Your knees ached from landing on the hard floor but you were much more focused on the smirk playing on Carol's soft lips.

"So obedient, such a good girl for me." Carol cooed as she ran her fingers through your hair and pulled you towards her now strapless core. You could see her pink folds glistening in arousal and you wanted nothing more than to taste her.

"Use that pretty mouth of yours to make me cum, baby." Carol instructed.

You wasted no time. You licked an eager strip through the blonde's folds and moaned against her as you collected her wetness on your tongue. She was so sweet and you were instantly addicted.

You did this a few more times, pushing your tongue further between her folds everytime until you couldn't hold off anymore.

You gripped the back of Carol's thighs and sunk your tongue between her folds. The moan she gave in response made your stomach flip and swell with pride. It was like discovering a new song you wanted to listen to on repeat.

You retracted your tongue and began sucking softly on Carol's wet folds to taste as much of her wetness as your could. You then switched your attention to her throbbing clit and sucked it harshly into your mouth.

"Fuck so good! You've got such a good mouth." Carol praised continuously as you pulled out all of your tricks in hopes of pleasing her.

You kept alternating between fucking her with your tongue as deeply as you could to taking her neglected bud in your mouth. Your efforts soon paid off.

Carol grinded herself against your mouth as she cursed and praised you amongst moans. She was gripping your hair so tightly you couldn't help but moan into her, aiding her pleasure.

"I'm gonna cum, fuck!" She gasped out as you sucked as harshly as you could on her clit.

Her bundle of nerves pulsed in your mouth and you could feel her cunt clenching around nothing as she came with a cry of your name.

She sounded so good when she came. You wanted to hear it again, to see her. But once Carol had finished her high and you had lapped up every last bit of her white liquid she pushed you back gently.

She sat back on the dest as she regained her steady breathing and tapped her lap as she smiled at you.

You had just about enough strength mustered in your legs to allow you to stand up from your position and sit on Carol's lap.

She wrapped an arm around your waist and cupped your cheek with her hand to pull you in for a kiss. She smiled against you as she tasted herself on your lips and kissed you longingly.

"You were everything I dreamed you would be, baby. You did so good for me." You blushed under her praise and buried your head in the crook of her neck in exhaustion but mainly comfort.

Neither of you had any intentions to return to the party after that.

[imaginesupply]

Spencer Reid Imagine: Just peachy

Spencer Reid Imagine: Just Peachy

Summary : Reader (female pronouns, no Y/N, third person) is hosting dinner night at her apartment for the time. Spencer volunteers to help with the preparations. Derek is a good friend.

Warnings: Smut (handjob – male receiving, cum in pants), sub!Spencer, the Lord’s name in vain (only once), one mild curse word. (Because some of this shows Spencer’s thoughts, I had to refrain from using slang words for bodily parts and bodily fluids sometimes. Please don’t judge me.)

Word count: About 1.5k

Note: I wrote this really quickly when I was taking a break from working on my thesis (how Spencer went through the PhD pain thrice willingly, I will never understand) and my brain was fried. Consequently, this is the fic equivalent of the snack you make at 3am when you’re tipsy.

"Remember what we discussed?" Derek asked an exasperated Spencer for umpteenth time as he pulled over in front of their new co-worker's apartment building.

"Yes," Spencer groaned softly, adjusting his hair. "I have an eidetic memory, you know."

Next to him, Derek chuckled. "I know. No need to be so defensive," he teased, "just be yourself and there's no way she won't fall for you."

"Actually, it's not that -"

Derek cut him off before he could say anything more. "Bullshit. It really is that easy, pretty boy and" - he leaned over, grabbing Spencer's satchel from the backseat - "while everyone is due to arrive at seven, I can divert the rest of team if you just send me a text."

Spencer frowned, staring at his friend like he had grown two heads. "Why would I want you to stall -" He stopped in the middle of the sentence, his eyebrows rising high up his forehead and his cheeks turning pink when he finally realized. "Yeah, no, yes" - Spencer shook his head clearing his now corrupted mind - "what I mean to say is that I would definitely text you but - nevermind. Bye." Then he escaped from the car as if it were on fire, almost tripping on the laces of his converse.

Not even thirty minutes had gone by and Spencer already knew he was in trouble.

They walked through the farmers' market, Spencer carrying the fast filling linen bag. She guided him through the crowd, making them stop at the stalls that held anything of interest and buying various ingredients for dinner: vegetarian gratin and peach pie.

Eventually, they stopped at the fruit stand where she approached and asked the vendor if they could taste the peaches. Though they were out of season, they were looking quite ripe. The old man handed her a peach with a smile. "There you go."

She thanked the man and pulled back the sleeve of her lightweight jacket before taking a bite. That was the exact moment Spencer realised this had been a terrible idea. He should never have listened to Derek. He should not have offered to come earlier and help make dinner.

She took in the scent and hummed against the fruit, softly so, that only he would hear and erotically enough that he had to swallow down the saliva gathering in his mouth, his Adam's apple bobbing. She bit down on the fruit, the tips of her lips curling up and then licked off a thin trail of juice along the inside of her wrist and forearm, eyes closed. Then, as if nothing, she turned to the old man. "They're delicious!"

She turned back to Spencer and he noticed she was sporting her usual slightly bemused grin. "Have a taste, darling." She turned the pale fruit in her hand and offered it to him, an expectant look in her eyes. And there, in the middle of the busy farmers’ market, Spencer felt like a teenager whose girlfriend had just slipped her hand down his pants for the first time. Which, of course, he had never experienced so he didn't actually know what that would feel like.

Knowing better than to disobey her, Spencer leaned forward into her hand and took a bite of the remaining fruit, leaving behind only the endocarp, while adjusting his satchel to hide the prominent bulge in his crotch. It was the way she looked and the way she looked at him, the way she made him feel like-

“Are you alright?” She asked.

Spencer swallowed the fruit, his throat tight. “Just peachy.”

If he thought that was torture, nothing had prepared him for the actually cooking part. The space between the cabinets and the kitchen isle was narrow, which meant their bodies always brushed whenever she passed behind him, and he was already a sweaty, blushing mess.

Just be yourself, he reminded himself of what Derek had told him. "Hey, umm," Spencer stammered, drawling off, "did you know that until refrigerators were invented in 1834, salt was widely used to preserve meat."

He heard her soft laugh behind him, immediately turning around at the sound before realising she was bent over the counter, trying to reach something on the highest shelf and he had just inadvertently placed himself right behind her backside.

For some reason he couldn't even begin to explain, his first instinct had been to touch. Luckily, though, he had managed to stop his hands mid air before he could effectively ruin everything, but now all he could see was the black fabric of her pants stretching over the roundness of her hips and the warm pressure against him and-

"Spencer!"

He started, finally looking away. "What?"

She chuckled again. "As much as I appreciate your ability to be a walking encyclopaedia, I'd really enjoy it if you could put your height to good use and pass me the pie dish."

"Of course." Spencer shook his head, clearing his mind. "Yeah, I can do that."

She stepped aside, allowing him to grab the item from the cabinet. "Thank you, darling," she said, grinning.

"No problem," Spencer quipped, wiping his clammy hands on his leg pants as he subtly made sure his predicament wasn't too noticeable.

"Great! You can go ahead and knead the dough before stretching it over the dish."

"Yes, ma'am." His brown eyes went wide when he realised that he'd just said it out loud. It wasn’t even his fault. There was just that natural authority about her that made him very compliant.

She laughed once more, softly, looking up at him almost endearingly. "You can call any m word you like, darling."

His start stopped in his chest. Was she flirting with him? He had noticed her body language did not indicate repulsion and she did touch him more than was strictly necessary, but he didn't think she'd actually flirt with him. Spencer considered that he might really have to send Derek the text, but he tried not to get his hopes up too much. He was already nervous enough as it was.

She came up behind him, taking a look at the dough he had absentmindedly tortured and shook her head in amusement. "No, darling, not like that," she cooed gently, coming up closer until her body was pressed up against his. Spencer gulped nervously, acutely aware of the way her breasts were being squashed against his side.

Then her hand wrapped around his over the dough. "You do it like this, Spencer," she whispered. Her fingers lodged themselves between his, applying light pressure, making them bend to her will. "You need to feel it. Are you feeling it?"

Spencer was certainly feeling it, but not in his hand. He would almost be amazed at how a simple touch on his hand could make him radiate warmth and make all the blood in his brain rush to his dick, if he weren’t becoming so lightheaded.

She kissed his arm over the fabric of his shirt. "Here, let me show you." He felt her free hand slide across his stomach and down to his belt. His body jerked at the touch.

"What are you doing?" He asked, his voice raspy and sounding like a whimper.

Her hand stilled over the now undone buckle. "You want me to stop?"

"No!"

It came out embarrassingly loud and he might have felt ashamed for it, hadn't she managed to remove his belt and open his pants in record time. She pressed her palm to the front of his boxers, cupping his bulge. The fabric was thin and damp, doing little to numb the sensation of her touch. Spencer knew there was already a stain from the pre-ejaculatory fluid he was leaking, but he couldn't get himself to look down. Two senses at once would be too overwhelming and he was already trembling.

At first, she just ran her the tip of her finger up and down his length, making sure to trace the small slit where the wet fabric clung to the damp head. He shivered against her and let out the cutest, most delicious whimper she had ever heard.

"Do you like how it feels?"

"Yes." He choked out the word. His eyes were shut tight, focusing on the sensation but then she surprised him, sliding her hand inside his boxers. And, oh God! Spencer panicked, if her hand alone already felt this good, how could he possibly survive being inside her - "Stop," he moaned urgently, his hand frantically rising to grab hold of hers but it was too late - it was too good.

"Oh, my darling boy," she sighed gently, pressing another kiss to arm as his dick pulsed in her fingers, making a mess of her hand and his boxers.

"I am so -" He didn't know what exactly he was apologising for and he didn't have the time to find out. The bell rang while he was still enjoying the aftermath of his first non-solo orgasm.

Panic set in. He had never gotten around to text Derek.

"Don't worry, darling," she said reassuringly before sliding her hand out of his boxers and bringing it to her mouth to lick it clean. "I'll go get the door and you go clean yourself. Don't want everyone to know how naughty you really are, do you darling?"

[yeojaa]

stay gold.

pairing.  jjk x f!reader.  rating.  explicit.  tags.  blond!jk being a good boy?  idk.  that’s literally it.  wc. 3k.  beta reader.  @hobi-gif​, ofc.  author note.  this was meant to be pwp but i cannot shut up so here is this mess that is neither pwp nor something with a legit plotline. 🤠 blame blondie.

Having a content creator boyfriend is fun.  Usually.

You get to go on cool trips, he gives you all of the random shit his sponsors send him, and you get to preen like a cat that ate the canary when his DMs blow up with hundreds of messages.  

Sure, there are the downsides.  All his stupid pranks - the ones that piss you off when you’re trying to do your makeup, the ones that have him dunking ice cubes on you while you’re in the middle of a shower - and his perpetual recording, camera glued to his hand and if not that, then his phone.  There are the rude comments - the oh, that’s his girlfriend? He could do better was a common one - and the long hours he spends editing, holed away in his office;  the beyond inappropriate packages he gets in the mail, thongs and other things that he immediately tosses away with a reassuring tilt of his pretty head.

You don’t mind it though.  He enjoys it, thrives on it, and you’re there to support him.

But you’d never expected this.

This Adonis standing in the doorway, freshly styled strands pushed back from his forehead, glimmering gold falling across his eyes.  He looks, for lack of a better word, unreal.

(You’re not often speechless.  Can’t be, when you’re dating someone like Jeon Jungkook and everything he does either makes you laugh or infuriates you.  Boring isn’t a part of his vocabulary and you’ve learnt to keep up with his antics over the years.)

(Still, this comes close, stealing all the air from your lungs.)

“Hey, baby.”  It’s his usual greeting, offered without hesitation as he crosses the threshold and tosses his keys into the catch-all by the door.  Kicks off his chunky sneakers and peels his sweater over his head, effectively tousling the tawny threads.

He’s so handsome it’s outright disgusting, leaving you gaping up at him from your post on the couch.  Gives you very little to work with as he shimmies down the hall, grabs an apple off the kitchen island, and then not-so-gracefully plops himself down beside you.  

You still haven’t found your words by the time he takes two gigantic bites, flesh crunching between his teeth, big doe eyes sparkling like he’s stepped right out of a Disney film.

“D’you like it?”  

Did you?  Well, obviously.

You’ve never imagined Jungkook blond.  He’d gone through a phase in college, colours of the rainbow rotating through the ends of his hair.  Brown, red, orange, blue.  You’d loved each hue but this was something else entirely.  (Different even from the two months he’d spent as full-on ginger, committing far too hard to his Haikyuu!! Halloween costume.)

This version of him is steeped in some twisted fantasy, a dream crafted by years of bedtime stories and happily ever afters.  It screams Prince Charming and has you reaching for him before you know what you’re doing, threading fingers through the surprisingly soft silk that curls over his ears and looks so lovely next to the silver of his piercings.  

You mean to be gentle, to comb delicately through flax but fuck.  He looks so good you want to devour him.  (You can only imagine your face - a lovesick puppy brought home from the pound.)

There’s still apple in his mouth, juice tracking down his chin because you’re really making it quite hard for him to chew when you’ve got him like this, two hands on either side of his face, holding him in place.  Inspecting him like a piece of meat as he peers at you, deceptively innocent and amused.  “That’s a yes?”  

An answer comes in the form of a kiss, of limbs rearranging and settling directly into his lap.  Knees wide, chest to chest, you can’t even be bothered by the sickly sticky feel of his skin, the way his hands are too cold to be creeping up beneath the hem of your - his - shirt.

(Where had he put the apple?  You know it’s not finished, two bites in and left to roll all over the rug.  You’ll give him shit for that later, when you’re not so distracted.)

“You look like Barbie,”  you mumble against his lips, into the warmth of his mouth.  You ignore the way he laughs, swallowing it down with a pass of your tongue and too much spit swapped, a string of saliva caught between you when you come up for air. 

Somehow, you’re still lightheaded, all your thoughts framed into the familiar silhouette of the boy beneath you.  Cherry red lips - your fault, from all your biting and teasing and the balm you’d applied earlier - and blond hair.  Who would’ve known that was your weakness?

(Deep down, you know Jungkook as a whole is the issue.  That it’s your stupid handsome boyfriend with his lopsided smile and bunny teeth, dimples and that scar on his cheek.  This is just a new layer to be explored, another reason you love him added to the Jungkook Best Boy jar that sits front and centre in your mind’s eye.)

“Don’t say that,”  he groans, equal parts reproach and affection, palms resting where they belong, nestled over your spine.  Long fingers toy with the soft cotton of your thong, brushing over the seamless material with small repetitive motions. 

You realise then his hands aren’t the only things heating up.

The two of you have an understanding, an abiding awareness of the boundaries of your relationship and the roles you take on.  Best friend, occasional sucker for the sake of a TikTok, lover.

He knows how much you hate your dirty laundry being aired - does his very best to never post anything that might be misconstrued, ensures he only ever portrays you in a good light because the internet could be cruel.  (Even if he argued with you in the quiet of your home, he’d keep you safe outside of the four walls.)  

You know how he needs his quiet time but that sometimes, a night out was unavoidable, a part of his life he - and by extension you - couldn’t always say no to.  (Even if you were achy and tired by midnight, glaring down at your phone as he made his rounds, exchanged contact details and rambled about shit that meant nothing.)

He’s learnt to make your eggs the way you love them:  soft in the centre, covered with too much pepper.  He never washes your clothes in hot water (not after The Great Sweater debacle) and he always makes sure not to use your special memory foam pillow.  

You kiss him goodnight without fail and play with his hair until he falls asleep;  you bury your face against his chest when he’s had a long day, signing your love with the felt-tip of your lips.  You bring him fresh cut fruit when he’s been working for more than three hours and wash his hair when he’s stressed. 

Knowing each other was easy;  loving each other was like breathing.

This, though, is different.  New.  Special.  

He’s never been like this before, glazed over in the eyes, patience wearing thin.  Sat so well, picture perfect beneath you and cornsilk crown lighting his entire expression up like a halo, he’s ethereal. 

“Baby,”  he whines, grits through his teeth as you roll your hips that much slower, the glide impossibly smooth thanks to the lychee watermelon lube he’d received to his PO box.  (One of the items you hadn’t thrown away from that package, together with a handful of other toys that’d come in handy over the months.)

You’re shameless, soothing a hand across his cheek, thumb slipping past his lips.  (You ignore the noise of indignation, meet it with a twinkling laugh of your own.)  It sweeps over his tongue, pressing down in tandem with the second sound - one that echoes out of his chest, a growl that pitches into a whine and makes your ears buzz.  “Hi, baby.”

“Stop teasing.”  It’s practically begging - or as close to it as Jungkook will get.  It draws a smile and another pass of your thumb, gliding across his gums to slot against the interior of his cheek.  You’ve got him fishhooked, immobile, even as he glares up at you.

(He’s so, so handsome.  Looks utterly out of it even as he tries to harden his gaze, coerce you into doing what he wants with that stare that makes your heart lurch pathetically in your chest.)

“You don’t like this?”

You know he does - that he loves being pampered.  That he’ll rarely ask, instead pouting at you from wherever he sits until you turn to putty under his gaze and smother him in all the love you have to offer.

“I do.  I just—”  The rest of his words don’t come, stolen by a gasp when you grind against him, swollen head of his cock bumping against your clit.  He’s making a mess of you both, back arching, hips rising, hands fisted into the sheets even as he chases friction like a dog does its tail.  The warmth between your legs is so close he looks as if he’ll lose his mind, rutting against your cunt like just the right angle might get him what he wants.  “Fuck, baby.”

“I’m trying,”  you retort, mouthful of teasing that only earns you another glare, some poor semblance of one as he bites into the webbing of your hand, bucks up impatiently.

“Please.”  He tries again, a different tactic this time, all sugar-spun sweetness.  Strawberry shortcake rather than sour cherry pie, so eager to get what he wants that he’s not above pulling out all the stops.  A hand risen from the sheets, digits decorated in ink swimming over your skin, sinking into the meat of your thigh.

(He doesn’t push though.  Knows you’ll pull the moment he does.)

“Please?”  An echo chamber, endlessly teasing, and a ducked head, lips finding the sweat-slick column of his throat.  Just one drag of your tongue has him crumbling further, careful composure slipping with each swivel of your hips, the edge of your teeth.  There’s nothing but desperation radiating off him, demand choked back when you drift lower, tracing over his chest, teasing him in the ways you know best.  

It’s all so unnecessary, drawing out what he wants until he’s a goner, three seconds from combusting beneath you.  You’d give him anything he ever asked for - offer it all up on a silver plate, a meal fit for a king.  This is just fun, different and exciting. 

You relent with a minor adjustment, settling yourself against him, face dropped into the crook of his neck.  “Slowly.”

He repeats after you, uncertain and hopeful;  his hand falls further, warmth descending to pull you close, hold you still.   As much as he needs this - needs you - he loves the slow burn just as much.  The stutter of his pulse gives him away, erratic beneath your touch.  He’s a thousand miles above the clouds, floating on cloud nine;  every second passed is another tingle of his toes, a tightening of the coil in his stomach.

When he aligns himself against your core, pre-cum pearling over his tip, he does exactly as you’ve asked.  Sinks into you at such a leisurely pace you wonder if you might be the one who splinters apart, shatters into a million tiny pieces at the way he splits you open.  

“Good?”  Jungkook asks so nicely it’s impossible for you to say no, to deny him this tiny bit of reassurance.  

(Maybe it’s the way he looks, crowned in glittering gold, painted by Fra Angelico.  Or maybe it’s how his smile spills like sunshine, a peachy pink horizon dragging over the apples of his cheeks, burnt red like their namesake.)

(Whatever it is, it’s everything you want, packed perfectly and pouting.)

“Good boy,”  you purr, breath hitching once he’s sheathed to the hilt, seated so deeply within that you swear you can feel him in your throat.

You’ve never felt so full before - close to overflow, taunted and taxed by ridges and veins, each flex of his hips that drives him somehow further within your fluttering walls.  So full you might burst, that you can’t possibly hold yourself together when he begins to move, fucking you tenderly, as if he can feel the weight of the moment.  

There’s something happening.  A shift in the air, in the axis of your planet that revolves around him.  It falls on its side, spins wildly out of control, and you’re emotional.  It’s not just his hair - that gilded crown he wears, heavy heavy heavy like aureate coin - or the impossible dark of his eyes - blown out, an entire galaxy devoured by the supermassive black hole that is his pupils.  It’s the things you can’t see, the pieces beneath skin, soft and jammy, the tongue-tart sweetness.

(The thing with Jungkook is that he doesn’t let go, refuses to fully submit, always so careful to regulate his voice when things get to be too much.  He’ll blink back his tears, stifle a sob, even as his breath disappears from nothing but a delicate brush of his chest.)

You take his vulnerability as a treasure, hold it close and craft a chest for its home, promise to keep it safe even while you're the one who poses the most danger.  When it’s your teeth and tongue that eviscerates the soft of his flesh, makes him keen and gasp, heart pounding like hooves, beat imprinted against, under, into your palms.

When he begs you to move - manages the request in a broken articulation that makes you giggle - you give, swivel your hips in a figure eight, an infinity of motion that never ends.  

You take all he has to offer and sing your praise into the wet of his mouth.  Lick over teeth and gums and trade spit for love;  know there’s only more where that came from, that the fountain begs to overflow as he finally - finally - breaks that much more, gripping your hips gentle as can be.  Hands soothe up and down, an unspoken plea in how he thumbs your hip bones, taps hopefully over the small of your lower back.

He doesn’t need to speak for you to hear him. 

It’s more than a kiss forming against your skin.  It’s a confession of adoration, sealed by the frame of his mouth, cemented by the sting of his teeth.  It’s I love you without saying it, plastering the pecks along your spine, placing them safely in all the spaces you’ve created for him.

It’s also an apology, because he’s just torn your castle to pieces, shattered your entire fantasy into smithereens.

He hadn’t expected you to react the way you had, rolling off him as if he hadn’t just been chasing the sweet bliss of release, splitting your walls and making you wail above him.  It has him pouting, utilising the one thing that melts you down like candle wax.  

“Baby,”  he whines, reaching for you, needy and horny and so hard he imagines all the blood has rushed from his head straight to his cock.  Everything spins when he moves with you, scrambles across the California king to paw at your hip.  

He’d been so good for you - wasn’t that enough?

“Don’t,”  you grumble, searing his insides with just one look.  (It shouldn’t be as hot as it is.)

“But—”  A plea punctuated by groping hands, eager as always, smoothing over the swell of your ass, flesh squeezing between knuckles.  He’d normally let this go - fuck into his closed fist in the shower after he’s done something to cut playtime short - but he can’t help it now.  He’s been on the edge for so long, lit up in neon that demands to be seen, heard, felt.

“Don’t dye it again.”  

Oh?

That has him reeling, laughing, such a stupid grin across his face.  It devours everything else, spearing dimples into place as he pulls you against him.  You can feel his smile forming against your skin, the wet drag of his tongue as he sucks a welt into the sensitive spot of your shoulder.

“You wanna play with Barbie, baby?”  It’s such a stupid line - utterly sophomoric and riddled with teasing and yet the delivery has you shivering in his arms, equally childish huff splitting your lips.

Jungkook doesn’t listen to you often - not about silly things like this - but he figures he can, just this once.

“I won’t,”  he chirps, sneaking another kiss, stamping another smooch.  It’s working exactly as he wants, stilling your protesting limbs as he cages you to him, slips his hand back where he most wants to be.  The glide is perfect, a mixture of arousal and fruity lubricant;  he slips a finger in without resistance, grinding his palm against your clit. 

“R-really?”  Of course you don’t believe him.  He messes with you too often, plays too many pranks.  (He deserves that.) 

His promise comes too easy, driven by how nice you feel, how pretty you sound when he presses another digit in along the first.  The scissor of his fingers is languid, exploring for the spots that make you breathless as he hums a noise of affirmation against your neck;  he fucks you open as if he has to, as if you aren’t already dripping, eagerly sucking him in.  “Really.”  

“Put it in then, Ken doll.”

He laughs - and then he does.  In bed, with your knee hooked over his, pace slow and sure and sinful.  In the shower, bent over with his hands bruising your hips.  In the kitchen for a late night snack, another apple in his mouth and your hands in his hair.

Maybe blonds did have more fun. 

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice​ @youwannabelostandnotbefound​ @codeinebelle​

[amysteriousmessenger]

‘Love Bites’ Vampire!Saeran Choi Drabbles

Hello! This is one of my slightly belated pieces for @mysme-rbb, which I worked on with the very, very talented and sweet @amagicalduckling <3 Their art is so beautiful and I’m honoured to have been paired with them for some Saeran pieces! Please check out @amagicalduckling for more of their beautiful artwork, they are criminally underrated!!  Tw: mentions of blood, biting, vampirism, rough kissing Will be under the cut after Ray!

Vampire! Ray Drabble

Ray was melancholic by nature, you knew that, but you’d never had been able to guess why it if hadn’t been for that fateful night in the garden. He always did such a good job of hiding his fangs from you and brushing his hair over his ears so you couldn’t see their slightly pointed tips. He always kept his distance as best as he could, never coming too close into your personal space. You’d assumed it was out of respect and the nervousness of overstepping the boundaries, this idea was always aided by the fact that he usually looked a little bit strained whenever he was in your company.

The way you came to find out about Ray was because you had foolishly pricked your finger on a rose that he had been trying to show you outside. With the beautiful arrangements only being illuminated by moonlight, it had been difficult to see what you were doing, and you’d placed your finger directly onto the little spike and yelped in pain. As soon as you had pulled your hand back, to indicate what had caused you to cry out, Ray had immediately brought his own hand up to his mouth and feverishly covered it. You were confused and thought that perhaps Ray was sensitive to the sight of blood, but it was when he turned to run from you that you saw the white, iridescent fangs peering from behind his lips. You saw them, and he knew that you had. Ray ran at top speed away from you, leaving you with the drop of the blood slowly dripping down the side of your finger.

You felt a little lightheaded from the sight and had to stumble your way over to the bench, a… vampire? Surely, such things like that didn’t exist. They weren’t real. They were myths. Folklore. Children’s horror stories to tell before bed. And yet, as you considered Ray, really thought about him, you realised how quickly it all added up. He was so pale, sickly looking even at the best of times. You’d thought that the prominent blue veins on his neck and wrists was a result of his pasty complexion, but that was clearly not the truth of the matter. It also occurred to you that you never really saw him during the day, but he had always excused this fact as he must work arduously long hours and the only time he could find to get away and visit you was into the early hours of the night. While you supposed that there was at least some truth in that statement, it didn’t help the fact that it aligned with what you thought could be coming into fruition. Was he really a vampire? Had he been trying to hide it from you for all this time?  

And those fangs. Those could not be denied. They were the teeth of a predator, a hidden threat that he had tried so hard to keep a secret from you. So many questions raced through your head, and yet all you could worry about was where Ray was. He had left so quickly, clearly a bit distressed. You felt somewhat guilty for your own carelessness, but how were you to know? There was no way you would have guessed what was really happening here at Mint Eye. You had only been here to test a game, for crying out loud.

Suddenly, you felt anxious to be alone in the gardens at night, especially without Ray. Even if he was hiding something this serious from you, he was still the only person that you had gotten to make yourself friendly with. Well, in his case, more than a little bit friendly, but that was besides the point in that moment. You stood, trying to find your way through the maze of flowers and get back to your room but with little success. As you turned the corner, you spotted a figure at the other end of the path and it caused you to cry out in surprise, maybe slightly even in fear. It was Ray.

You’d never thought that the sight of Ray would ever frighten you, but as he stood there, pale and gaunt surrounded by the red flushes of rose petals, you had to wonder how you hadn’t realised it sooner. He looked guilty, and scared. So, so scared. You put your hands up to him slowly, asking if he was okay, but instead of receiving any sort of reply about his own wellbeing, Ray flurried out several apologies at you. He averted his gaze downwards, as though he felt as though he was no longer allowed to look at you directly for what he was. You stared at him as he spoke, focused on the slight protrusion of his sharp teeth over his lips. It was obvious that he had practiced speaking without making them visible, so you could only really see them if you were already looking for them.

‘Ray… It’s okay.’ You whispered, coming a little bit closer to him. He took a step back, moving his back up against the roses further so that he was surrounded by them. If it had been at any other moment, you would have taken the time to think about the fact he looked like a delicate portrait right then, the passion of the red surrounding his pale frame. But alas, you did not have that luxury.

‘It’s not! I scared you, oh how could I ever forgive myself! How could you ever forgive me for this! I should have been able to show more restraint… My savior was right, she’s always right…’ He replied almost frantically, to the point where you weren’t quite sure if he was talking to you or telling you his own inner monologue.

‘M-My Savior said that I’m not strong enough yet, which is why I find… you difficult to be around. I want to be around you always but- she says you’re too tempting for someone like me.’

‘Too tempting…?’ You asked, a slightly unsure as to what he meant. That was, until he gestured to your bleeding fingertip, and it suddenly made more sense to you. ‘I don’t mind if you… want to be around me. I want to be around you too.’ You added, attempting to phrase it in the same way that he did, since he was clearly skirting around using certain vocabulary. It made you realised that there was a good chance that Ray was unhappy about the fact he wanted you in such a way. If he allowed himself to get too close, he would inevitably bring you pain.

As you stepped closer to him, you watched as he reached his own leathered hand towards his mouth, anxiously biting onto the tips of the fabric. He wasn’t just chewing it, he was really biting it, to the point you were worried he might hurt himself.

You were suddenly moving quickly down the path towards him, ‘Ray! Please, stop that. It’s okay! I’m not scared of you.’

‘I’m scared that I might hurt you!’ He almost wailed. You knew that there was an obsessive nature to Ray, which walked hand in hand with his melancholy, but you knew that he wouldn’t hurt you like this. For the most part, he was tender-hearted and sensitive. Of course, he had room in that heart for hate, but yet, so much more room for sensitivity.

‘You’re not going to hurt me. I trust you.’

‘Please, be more careful with who you award your trust to. I don’t deserve it.’ He replied, but pulled his own glove away stiffly, since he didn’t want to worry you any further. At such a distance, he had nothing to distract himself from the pull he felt towards your blood.

‘If you want it, take it. I don’t want to see you be so strained over this. I don’t know what’s happening here at Magenta, but I know that you’re good. And kind.’ You were at his side, offering your hand to him. Initially, he tried to move his body away from your hand and cover his teeth again with his hand, but it was evident that he was growing more and more needy by the passing second. You tried to assure him that it was okay and reached out a slightly shaky hand to his cold cheek. ‘And I want to help you.’

After a few moments of tentative consideration, he took your offer. Ray watched your eyes as he held your finger in both of his hands, as though it was something fragile, delicate even. He hesitated before bringing it to his own lips, the thin line of dark red suddenly giving a burst of colour to his otherwise exceedingly white pallor. He gently took the blood that was already at the surface of your skin, closing his eyes as he did so, but you couldn’t decide whether it was out of shame or whether it was to savour the moment between the two of you. You gasped as you felt the sharpness of his teeth graze against your skin before he let the tip of them bite into your soft flesh, producing more of the red he was so desperately craving. It wasn’t as painful as you thought it would be, but your heart was still racing, nonetheless. When he was done, he pressed a single, sorry kiss into the palm of your hand and apologised for hurting you, adding that he was undeserving of your pain as he wiped the rest of the blood away with a handkerchief out of his pocket.

‘I’d rather be hurt a thousand times over than for you to have to suffer even once…’ He whispered into the darkness of the garden. Not that he would feel bold enough to tell you, but Ray undeniably saw the poetry in tasting your blood. He’s ashamed of what he is, but he relished in the fact that you were willing to share such a vital piece of yourself with him like this. He entirely made a mental plan to carry the handkerchief with him at all times, as a token and reminder of this newfound connection with you.

Vampire! Suit Saeran Drabble 

Meeting Saeran was an experience unto itself, let alone processing the surprise you received in how differently he treated you and himself. Saeran doesn’t hide what he is in the same way that Ray did, he acts proud of it. A shining example of what Mint Eye could offer to people with the Elixir, but only if they were strong enough to deserve it. He’s the strongest Believer and the strongest Vampire produced from the Elixir, The Savior said it herself. She called him her ‘One True Offspring’. When you had asked what that meant, since Ray had never mentioned anything like that to you, Saeran had angrily snapped that firstly, he shouldn’t have to answer your questions and secondly, it meant that he had been turned using The Savior’s own blood in the Elixir given to him. That meant that he was special, and better than anyone else there. He repeated that a lot, but you were never quite who if he was saying that to you or to himself but he clearly made an attempt to believe it, at least for his own sake.

Saeran carried himself around Magenta so differently to Ray, you heard his footsteps from down the corridor when he wanted you to know to anticipate him and yet you never heard him when he suddenly appeared behind you. He was most definitely choosing when to make his presence known and when he wanted to startle you from standing silently around a corner. Saeran certainly disproved to you the lore that Vampires needed to be invited into rooms in order to gain entrance, as he came in whenever he pleased. He never hid his fangs either or tried to cover his ears either with his unkempt hair, if anything, he seemed to enjoy the attention that could be brought to them by smirking at you or asking if ‘you like what you see, Princess?’ You could feel the anger in his voice, he was practically dripping with a rage that he did not know how to release properly. It weighed on his shoulders, and somehow seemed to push him in on himself to the point where he was constantly forcing himself to stand taller, to be louder so that he would not be entirely consumed by it. The atmosphere he carried was tense, to say the least. It seemed to make him paler. Saeran’s dark undereyes were no longer something a simple goodnight sleep could fix; they were almost bruises of their own. Purple, sunken.

While he was not lacking for blood in the same way that Ray had suffered without, it appeared that Saeran was overworking himself to the point that the added sustenance did little to actually aid him, so he kept on coming back for more and more each time. He appeared at any hour of the day or night, which suggested that he was no longer really sleeping, or if he was he was only sleeping for very short amounts of time, and it was really showing him his face. You were sure his appearance must have sat somewhere between Dorian Gray and his portrait, beautiful yet rotting. The way he felt on the inside was slowly, yet surely, manifesting itself. He was so capable of kindness, and yet he never allowed himself to admit to it. If Saeran didn’t have his cruelty, he didn’t have anything. He needed to hold onto it to hold himself together as the Persecutor.

His kisses were rougher too, leaving your lips feeling puffy, tender, and always breathless. He seemed to thrive on the fact he could make you feel so weak, as though it was precisely your weakness that gave him the strength he needed to carry on this strained life he led. He’d sneak up behind you frequently, with the confidence that Ray never quite found, and bury his face into the side of your neck, running rough kisses along it until you sigh against him from the touch, not even bothering to move your hair out of the way as he did so. Even as he kissed you like this, he’d taunt you for enjoying his touch so much in comparison to Ray, who barely ‘had the guts’ to touch you freely. Saeran would lift up your finger to show him the tiny bite impressions that Ray had originally left, only to have Saeran go over them more harshly with his own bite, before moving back up to your throat.

He dragged his fangs along the thin skin of your neck, so you knew it was coming, before promptly biting you. He doesn’t try to be delicate like Ray, and he’s more likely to take too much blood and leave you feeling woozy. He’ll take as much blood as he wants, really. Once you inevitably faint in his arms, he’d usually carry you back and placed you on the bed, but only so he can reprimand you for being such a burden to him. He’d never admit to anything else, especially not to feeling bad about pushing you to your limit.

‘Heh… Don’t look so happy with yourself, your blood tastes like shit anyway. I should go and find someone better, someone sweeter.’ He smirked before laughing, his eyes alive with a frantic excitement. He still had a small steak of blood running down his lips and onto his chin, which he promptly wiped away onto his black suit sleeve without releasing you from his unwavering gaze.

There were times when he’d suddenly stop laughing and looked at his blood-covered hand in disgust, before dragging that same gaze over towards you. He’d look at the redness on his hands and try to wipe it away, even after it dried and would not budge without soap and water. Saeran would still furiously rub his skin against the fabric of his clothes in a vain attempt to wipe his slate clean. You were never able to decipher what Saeran felt in the moment that he decided that ‘play time’ was over, but he never seemed happy about the outcome of the collision the two of you had found yourselves in, even when he was the one that instigated it. He’d half-assedly throw a bag of food from the kitchen at you, telling you that you ought to be grateful for having such a kind master for feeding you, before promptly turning on his heels to leave and slamming the door shut.

He was complicated, that was for sure.

 Vampire! GE Saeran Drabble 

Saeran had been through so much, and yet he was coming out stronger and stronger from it each day. He had a lot to process, about himself, the things that had happened to him and the things that he has done to other people, especially to you. Saeran had a difficult time accepting the he hurt you. He understands that he did it and he has accepted the fact that he did it, but somehow his heart never wanted to believe it. No matter how many times you told him he needed to forgive himself for it, Saeran knew that he never could.

He tried to make it up to you in every way that he could think of. He was so loving, so caring. He always served your food first, gave you extra helpings and always made dessert for afterwards. His food was always so well made, filled with all the vitamins and minerals that your body could have possibly needed and always tasted like he had been cooking his whole life. He’d even try to feed you the last few bites if you’d let him, just to make sure that you’d gotten enough food. It’s sweet, and he does it out of care, but there’s a part of Saeran that does it because he feels as though he needs to make amends to your body for the way he treated it.

He’s not keen on drinking your blood, he feels as though he’s taking advantage of you and doesn’t enjoy the fact that he has to hurt you to be able to do it. He’d looked into alternatives that he could try, such as blood banks or from animals, just any means of supply that didn’t involve hurting you. It didn’t work out very well and in the end it started to do him more harm than good, so he usually just tried to wait for as long as he can in between biting you. And even then, he waits for you to offer because he doesn’t want to pressure you into giving up so sacred for him, Saeran would much rather have himself suffer than to make you feel any sort of uneasy around him.

He was a lot more considerate and knowledgeable about the outside world nowadays, and would look into various ways of making it less painful for you: the most effective one to date being numbing creams. He’s not a fan of the chemical taste of the cream in his mouth, but he would happily deal with it if it was for your sake. While he did still have a preference for your neck, because it felt a little bit more romantic to him, Saeran would always give you the choice on where you wanted him to bite. He knows it’s not his body to dictate, and if anything, he actually wants you to put some more of your own rules in place about it. He’d be more than happy if you wanted him to do it somewhere less visible so that you could hide it from people. As long as you weren’t hiding your actual relationship with him, he wouldn’t mind. He’s very understanding of the fact that sometimes it is a little awkward to have marks like that in public and that you didn’t want to answer questions from strangers all of the time.

He was very gentle with it, making sure to apply the numbing cream beforehand and to avoid any particularly sensitive spots while never biting too deep. Saeran never took more than what was absolutely necessary either, even if you told him that it was okay to do it. You figured that he always remembered the time that Saeran would make you faint after taking too much blood, and that it must weigh on his consciousness heavily. Telling him to take more than the bottom-line wasn’t something you frequently told him to do though, since you already knew he was restraining himself and trying to put some boundaries in place for your own protection, so you didn’t want to push him. He cleaned the area after drinking from it and pressed a little patterned band-aid onto it and sealed it with a kiss, just for good measure. It really didn’t sit right with him that he had to hurt you like this so he tried to make amends for it wherever he could.

He always wiped his mouth before he kissed you, since he thought it would be rather cruel to make you taste the blood that you had just willingly offered up to him. You’d find the taste unpleasant anyway, even if Saeran enjoyed it. Saeran was rather poetic at the best of times, but it was especially true when he was feeling a little bit drunk off of your love (and blood). If you ever asked him what your blood tasted like, he’d write you a verbal essay on how sweet it is. It’s intoxicating to him and it always had been, even when he was both Ray and Saeran. The two of them were so confused by their sudden feelings and this undeniable pull towards you that neither could escape from. If you let him, he’ll probably even get a little bit cliché with how he feels like he’s reached some form of enlightenment by your blood being the thing that can kept him alive, along with how he can feel your love beating through his veins and giving him strength. Sometimes you can’t help but cringe at some of the things that Saeran says, but he means it in such a sweet way that you find it even more affectionate.

In times like this, Saeran was so adorable and kind-hearted. He generally felt a bit bad about himself, since he knows that he can’t ever become a human again as a result of his time in Mint Eye, so you have to make the extra effort to love him in this moment. You cupped his face with both of your hands and told him how precious he was to you and that he is, and always will be, the most important thing in your life.

Vampire! Unknown Drabble

There were no words that allowed you to accurately describe Unknown. He was exactly that. You never quite knew what he was thinking and for the most part he definitely relished in that fact. His actions were unpredictable, and he barely seemed to keep a routine for too long, lest someone figured it out and learned to predict his moves. Everyone walked on eggshells around him out of fear and uncertainty, and he seemed to enjoy it. He found it humorous, even. He enjoyed taking you by surprise in particular, it was his main form of entertainment. You were a toy for him to play with when he got bored.

He was sort of what you expected a modern-day vampire to be, look-wise and attitude-wise. His attire was certainly a change. It felt as though he was trying to actively reflect the anguish he felt within, but at the same time, it was an external threat. A threat that if you got too close to him, you’d be in danger of getting hurt yourself. The spikes were enough to ensure that, even if Unknown wasn’t. He reminded you of Saeran, but you could tell that there was a stark difference between the two of them. Unknown rarely displayed anger in the same way that Saeran did, it was certainly there, but it wasn’t as explosive. Sometimes it was cold, warped, and vindictive underneath layers of you weren’t sure what. Like Saeran, he made little attempt to hide his fangs or ears, but he didn’t necessarily show them off unless he was actively trying to taunt someone. It was more as though he didn’t care about them until they were of use to him. At which point, he’d smirk and release the sharpened canines: a spark of excitement in his eyes inviting you closer, to dare test him.

When he wanted to feed from you, he’d summon you to wherever he is rather than coming to see you himself. After all, you were a failed experiment who couldn’t even do your job of talking to the RFA correctly; being an assistant was the best job you’d be able to manage, so he told you that you ought to be grateful for it especially since Magenta wasn’t in the habit of keeping ‘useless’ things around for very long.

He was usually desperate when he called for you because of the long hours he forced his body to endure, even throughout the daytime when he’d naturally be sleeping. He entirely believed that because he’s strong, he wasn’t allowed to feel anything except for that strength, so he had to keep himself at the same standard of work every single day in order to maintain it. He’d burn the candle at both ends and then continue trying to light the wick. When you thought of him, there was always one particular instance that came to mind when he had no choice but to display an element of weakness to you, and it enraged him. He had been out on a recon mission for The Savior and had over-exerted himself in the process, sustaining an injury. He had crashed into your room afterwards, panting and holding onto his bleeding wound, drinking enough blood in one go that he’d made you  back onto your bed with light-headedness. He hadn’t done that since, and rarely pushed you past that point, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t willing to dance with the limit of it. He’d say it was because he preferred to tease you with it, to savour what belonged to him, even though you knew it wasn’t his only reason for taking it slow.

How he bit you depended on what mood he was in, but his typical go-to is to have you sitting on his lap while he’s at his desk and facing him so that he can pull you towards him by your hips, making sure that your collarbones are already level with his mouth. He shouldn’t have to do any of the work, he wanted you already in position for him.

Unknown’s hands were roughly on your shoulders, both pulling you towards him and holding you steady. He bites first, kissed later. There’s little warning to feeling his teeth, except for the second or so beforehand where you feel his hot breath fan over you, just before you feel the sharp break of that skin underneath. Sometimes he’d hover for a few seconds longer than usual because he sought the thrill of you not knowing when the pain was coming. He has a preference for the neck and collarbones, not that he’d never explain why to you but, simply, he doesn’t think he should have to anyway. You’d have laughed at the cliché nature of it, but you’d rather he kept it to the same area instead of spreading it all over your body. That being said, he had bitten your thighs a couple of times when your neck had been a little too sore for him to drink from there, when the skin needed time to heal.

Unknown swapped between biting and kissing at your neck, making his way up towards your mouth to continue the blood-tinted kiss there. Each time you tasted the metallic tinge on your tongue, it left your breathless, but not as much as the bite he’d leave on your lower lip did. You wouldn’t admit it to Unknown, but those kisses were some of your favourites that you had shared with him.

Not only did he leave your skin with actual bites, but he made point of littering your throat with lovebites each time too. As though the real bites weren’t enough for him, Unknown always had to go one step further with his act of possession over you. It was a cocky game, in his own mind, he needed to show that you were his and that no other Believer was permitted to look at you in the same that that he did.

When he was done and needed the wipe the blood away from his face, he’d wipe it straight onto the back of his hand. He’d make no effort to properly clean it until he went to wash his hands, it didn’t seem to bother him.

 Vampire! Savior Saeran Drabble 

It’s ironic, to Saeran, that crosses and biblical imagery did nothing to inhibit a Vampire, especially considering how linked the two aesthetics were. They truly went hand in damned hand. Mint Eye had always been steeped in Catholicism, as it was the core religion of the previous Savior, but as Saeran was forced to take the throne, he had not made any changes to those principles. He had been taught to instil and swallow those same beliefs in himself as they had been handed to him, even if they were not truly his own. He had been prepared in such a way that he would be able to take over Mint Eye when he had truly reached the peak of his strength and was intended to forge a new way for the organisation.

You had been bathed, dressed, and summoned to the throne room, where many Believers and the Savior in question were already gathered. You’d heard whispers that you were going to be cleansed, but the atmosphere you found yourself in did not seem to fit the one you associated with a cleansing. However, The Savior had yet to conduct a ceremony of his own since taking the throne and you started to fear that, perhaps, you were to be the leading spectacle. You walked between the Believers, as you were told to kneel before Saeran.

He was so lifeless in comparison to the Saerans you had once encountered before him. He was so sad, empty. At the very least, Ray’s melancholy had an element of hope to it, but as The New Savior stood before you, there was little more than a shell of the man that you had come to know. Your interaction with him was limited, but it was so plainly obvious to you that he was just being used as a pawn, a pawn in disguise of the King. It seemed distinctly sacrilegious to have a vampire dressed in religious garments, but you supposed that Saeran had probably not received a choice in either of those matters.

Another Believer came up from behind you and asked for your wrist, which he then wiped over with disinfectant fluid before presenting it to The Savior. Saeran reached out his hand to grab your arm, pulling it towards him. He was silent as his teeth suddenly found their way into your wrist, but he barely took more than a small mouthful of blood. Even with your arm in his grasp, Saeran said nothing and continued to just plainly stare ahead into the masses, occasionally throwing glances in your direction.

‘Are you ready for the next initiation step?’ He asked. You could still see your blood in his mouth, the thin line of red providing a stark colour contrast to the rest of his chilly pallor.

‘Yes.’ You replied.

Once done, he turned and pushed the red Elixir bottle towards you, tilting it into your open mouth. It was lukewarm and overwhelmed all of your senses with the metallic taste of blood and chemicals. It burned. Tasting blood like this felt so wrong. You felt it fill your mouth and you forced it down your throat swallow, gasping for air as soon as it passed. Was that… his blood? In the same way that he had been given his Savior’s blood?

You were asked to stand as Saeran took another step towards you. You tried to watch his eyes, looking for any hint of the life that Ray and Saeran had once brought to them, but The Savior in front of you had clearly managed to subdue that hope. Or rather, he had been forced and conditioned to abandon it.

Almost sombrely, he pressed a small kiss against your lips; causing you to once again receive a fresh taste of blood. Except this time, it was the remnants of your own that had been left on his own tongue. There was little free affection in his kiss, and it appeared to be more about the process of the initiation rather than anything to do with kindness or tenderness. It only lasted for a second or so and was nothing intimate, ending almost as soon as it had begun. He pulled away first, placing the bottle that he had been previously holding back onto the throne room altar.

You were hugely aware of the fact that you were still being watched by an entire room of people and felt so exposed, so seen. It was uncomfortable to have to wait there for it to be over when you would have much rather have had this be a private affair: not that you had been warned in advance anyway.

He pressed his bloody lips against your forehead, leaving a red stain against your skin. Saeran then reached a cold hand towards your face, dragging his thumb across the bloody kissmark and smearing it into the shape of an eye. A baptism.

Vampire! SE Saeran Drabble

He was trying. Saeran was really trying. Being around people was difficult, well, everything was a little difficult for him. It was taking all of his energy to adjust and process things, so you rarely saw him during the day. He was always pretty low energy and spent the majority of his time asleep or alone, with you only ever really catching glimpses of him at night. You guessed that it was at least a good thing that he was catching up on the sleep that he had deprived himself of for so many years, even if it meant you rarely got to see him.

Saeran didn’t really talk to anyone anyway, only you and his brother. That is, whenever he can be bothered to talk to Saeyoung as he often complained that he’s too tired for conversation. He usually didn’t have the energy to talk to his brother that much because of how hyperactive the other was. Saeyoung understands that Saeran needs time, even if it hurt him to not be able to pull his brother close after all of those years apart. Irreparable damage had been done where they would need years to repair it. There were even a few tense moments where Saeran had thought that Saeyoung was taunting him, or not trusting him, by wearing his crucifix necklace. Of course, his brother tried to explain that that was not the case and that Saeran wasn’t affected by religious symbols anyway, but it still seemed to annoy him. Eventually, Saeyoung stopped wearing his necklace and kept it in a drawer next to his bed, feeling as though the faith he believed in was probably redundant now that he knew how it had been tainted by the people he trusted.

Saeyoung had offered to let Saeran drink his blood before, as a way of making reparations to his twin, but Saeran flat out denied it: saying it would be disgusting to drink from him. He also threw in the comment that Saeyoung’s blood would taste ‘like shit’ because of his diet anyway, which was entirely understandable. Neither of you could fault Saeran for that.

Saeran felt rather conflicted and tentative about drinking your blood, often feeling pangs of guilt for how he previously treated you as Unknown. He often waited right up until he was pretty desperate before letting on that he was in need, and you’d have to realise on your own that his tiredness was not just coming from social exhaustion. He probably wouldn’t ask, so you’d have to offer.

When it happened, it usually happened in the same way with Saeran turning you around so that your back was facing him and you couldn’t look at him. He already felt some sort of way about biting you in the first place so the last thing he wanted was to have to look into your eyes as he did it. He felt more comfortable like this, and he felt as though he could take his time rationalising it a bit more when he wasn’t being watched. ‘Don’t turn around.’ He said tiredly. He sighed, clearly feeling a little awkward but not wanting to rush into it. It would be in this moment where he thought about how roughly he used to do it to you and wonder where he had gotten that confidence from. Truly, it felt like a lifetime ago.

Saeran placed his hands onto your shoulders, pausing right above where he was going to bite for a few seconds, letting his hot breath fan over you until he finally broke the skin. He wasn’t as rough as he used to be, and it was quite obvious how much he had been restraining himself by how quickly he drank. ‘Sorry.’ He whispered under the wight of the guilt. He always sounded like he was crying when he did this, even if you didn’t see any tears fall. You placed your hand on top of his own just to let him know that it was okay. Saeran wasn’t one for words, so he appreciated the support even if he didn’t tell you that directly.

He sat behind you for a few moments while he calmed down, his thumbs ever so slightly rubbing circles into your shoulders; a rare sign of intimacy from him. He doesn’t kiss you in that moment for a number of reasons. He felt parasitic, and he didn’t want to tie that emotion to affection. And yet, undeniably because he doesn’t want you to see him for what he is. Saeran carries a lot of shame, especially when he’s feeling so vulnerable as he does when he’s in that state. He wiped the blood from his lips onto the back of his sleeve, but would change his jumper shortly afterwards because it made him feel dirty to even look at. Saeran didn’t want to sit with your blood on him, that was cruel to the both of you.

You’d often find that he’d leave you a little gift the next day but would claim to not have any knowledge of it. It was always a little thing that only he would think to bring you, such a small flower from the garden or one of his snacks out of the kitchen.

[jaminjims]

heartbeat || p.jm

@jiminiestanposts requested: Hiii, could I request a top male reader x bottom jimin please?? Where the reader likes jimin but jimin doesn’t like him back. After a few months, though, jimin gets jealous when the reader and another member seem close, and this is when he realises that he loves the reader. Angst at the beginning, but fluffy at the end when reader and jimin get together😊 Thank youuuuuu!! 💜💜💜

a/n: ahh its been awhile hasn’t it? over the past few months sooo much has changed for me! i’m getting into the colleges i applied to (hallelujah) and i’m almost done with the college craziness (hopefully)! i’m so sorry this is posted so late, but my computer broke a few months ago and is still broken, so i had to write this using my phone (which was icky) but i hope my writing skills aren’t too rusty. thank you so so so much to the lovely jiminiestanposts for requesting and i hope this is what you were looking for bub! (also, i hope everyone has had a good holiday and is staying healthy!) 💖💖

pairing: jimin x male danceinstructor!reader

genre: angsty at the beginning, christmas fluff at the end <3

words: 2.1k

warnings: unrequited love (at the beginning), sadness, jealousy

~**~

Your hands were numb as you walked into the BigHit building. This winter has been grueling and even you can admit to being a baby when it comes to the cold.

You shrugged off your jacket and pulled off your hat once you entered one of the many dance practice rooms that BigHit had within its walls. Setting up the sound system was almost second nature as you were rounding the three month mark of being one of BigHit’s dance instructors. You technically weren’t supposed to be promoted as early as you were (you had been working as a back-up dancer for only a year before being promoted) but one of the instructors was on leave because his wife gave birth, and it quickly became apparent that the dance staff needed another set of hands for teaching.

But the other dance instructors didn’t look down on you for being promoted out of necessity, as did any of the other background dancers. They agreed that out of all of them, you were one of the most talented because of the sheer amount of power you held over your body and the dominance that you portrayed when you were dancing. Because of the talent you held, you were assigned to work with BTS themselves.

Today however you were working with the trainee’s because Miyoung, a fellow instructor, got sick with the flu and needed someone to take over. You were glad to help, but most of the trainee’s weren’t glad that you were teaching. You’ve been told that the way you taught was really hardcore and labor intensive, especially to people who don’t train with you often, but you just wanted them to be the best they could be.

The trainee’s didn’t see it that way.

So when the time came when you announced that practice was over, all of the younglings dropped to the ground and heaved out groans of relief. You could’ve sworn some even fall asleep.

It was then that Jimin decided to peak his head into the door of the practice room and smile at the scene. The trainee’s all scrambled to their feet to greet him but he just smiled and told them to rest. They made their way out of the room, thanking you timidly as they went.

Jimin started walking over to you and your heart skipped a beat. “Hyung! I thought we talked about working the young ones to death!” He laughed and you would’ve felt lightheaded if you weren’t leaning against the mirrored wall.

“If they wanna be as good of a dancer as you, Jiminie, then I have to be hard on them.” You laughed, still a bit out of breath.

Jimin just hit you on the shoulder and scoffed, “You are better than me 100 percent, hyung.”

You swore this boy was out to kill you.

Park Jimin was perfection in human form. While you wholeheartedly agreed that everyone in BTS was handsome (you had no qualms admitting it out loud) Jimin just did something to you that the other boys didn’t. His personality was nothing to look over, either. All Jimin had to do was be himself and you were there at his beck and call.

Ever since you had started working as BTS’ personal dance instructor, it was like a part of you that you didn’t know was missing fell into place. You had become fast friends with all of them, and there was a certain calmness you felt around them. They were like a family, and you were surrounded by that positive energy almost instantly and brought into their circle.

For a while you passed off your growing affection for Jimin as that. You were enveloped by the good vibes they gave off and that was how you rationalized suddenly wanting to be around Jimin. Hold his hand, make him smile.

But eventually you had to face the music. When your thoughts started to stray to him whenever you had any free time, or when you fantasized about kissing him, taking care of him, you knew what had happened.

You were falling head first in love with this man. (if you weren’t in love with him already)

Yet, you were also scared of what the implications of that were. You started to question yourself more. How does he feel about you? Is he even interested like you are? Does he feel the connection you do? There were so many questions and sometimes your feelings got overwhelming. There have been a couple close calls when you almost confessed just to get it off your chest.

But it’s not like you could just go around confessing your love to one of the members of the world’s biggest boy band.

You almost jumped when you felt a head on your shoulder. You looked down and got a face full of Jimin’s hair and you felt your skin burn where his bare arm touched yours.

He suddenly looked up at you with his big doe eyes and a pout on his face, “What’s on your mind? Are you ok?”

No, you were not ok and he was the reason.

You tried to sort through your thoughts as he looked at you like that, but all you could hear was your heartbeat all the way up in your throat. You were suddenly overcome with the strong urge to kiss him and pull him into a hug so you could protect him from the world. You battled with yourself as the both of you looked into each other’s eyes.

Screw it.

You pushed yourself off the wall (causing Jimin to stand up straight as well) and leaned down before you had the chance to chicken out (where this sudden braveness and affection came from, you would never know). Your lips met his soft ones as you grabbed his head in between your much larger hands.

It was sweet and soft, and you had no intention of deepening it if he didn’t want it. A few seconds went by before you felt his tiny hands push against your chest.

You leaned back and looked into his shocked eyes. Your hands were still cupping his cheeks as he struggled to make a sentence, “Y-Y/n I-“

You interrupted him; you had to let your feelings be known. It was unfair to both of you at this point, and you felt like you were going to explode. Besides, you were already to far over the edge to stop now. “I love you. I am in love with you, Park Jimin.”

His eyes widened even more than before and his mouth parted in disbelief. The room seemed to hold its breath with you as you waited for his response. After a few seconds he stepped back with a frown on his face.

Oh.

“I’m sorry Y/n, but I don’t feel the same.”

Oh.

He left the room, almost slamming the door behind him. In his place was the love that would never be reciprocated.

So much for not confessing.

~~

It had been two months, three weeks, and six days since you confessed. Not that Jimin was counting or anything though.

After the Confession of 2020™️, as he had dubbed it, he’s felt rather misplaced. He doesn’t really know how to describe it.

After he had left the practice room that day, Jimin almost ran back to the dorms. His mind was on overdrive and he didn’t even know what to think, let alone feel.

You loved him. Not like, but love.

He couldn’t fathom how you, the dancer that got promoted in a year (that was a record), the guy that fit in so easily with him and his brothers, the one who had such a deep voice it made something inside him tremble, was in love with him. He was angry at first; how could you just say something that monumental, just out of the blue like that? What was Jimin even supposed to say? The lack of regard you seemed to have for his feelings on the matter made him angsty and upset.

What made him stop and think was the fact that you had pretended like nothing had ever happened.

You went back to treating him like you did before and didn’t bring it up again. But, there was a certain air about you. You seemed sad, and if you were a little more distant than usual, Jimin pretended not to know why when it was brought up one night while BTS was having dinner.

But after thinking about this for longer than he would like to admit, he realized that you only had his feelings in mind.

You decided to not let your feelings get in the way of your relationship with the others. You acted like nothing happened because he had rejected you, and you didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable.

Jimin felt like an ass after he figured it out. Of course you would be that considerate, that’s just the type of person you are.

The kind of awkward ‘what happens now’ energy surrounding you both went on for a couple more weeks, but it was when Jimin saw you in the practice room, lights off, head down, and shoulders shaking that he realized maybe you weren’t as ok as you made yourself out to be.

He wanted to go in and check on you, apologize, do something to make sure you were ok.

In the end, he didn’t.

Maybe that’s why, months later, he felt an uncomfortable prickly sensation deep in his gut when he saw you leaning against Hobi-hyung, laughing with tears in your eyes.

Yeah, he just felt guilty. Nothing else.

Yet that same prickly feeling only amplified when he saw you hanging out with Hoseok, dancing with him, grabbing lunch with him. Jimin didn’t get it.

All he knew was that he wanted you here with him instead of his hyung. He wanted you to be laughing, dancing, and eating with him, not anyone else. All of a sudden you were the one that he was thinking about. What were you doing at the moment? Were you smiling? Suddenly he missed your smile. Were you happy? Now he wanted to talk with you, to make you laugh.

This was getting ridiculous.

It was Christmas Eve, but Jimin was anything but cheery as he saw you hugging Hobi in greeting, thanking him for letting you spend the night on Christmas.

Was it just him or could he see you blushing?

All of a sudden, without really knowing what he was doing, Jimin pulled you away from Hoseok and marched you both into his room. You were surprised at the action and a little concerned as you looked at Jimin’s agitated face.

“Hey, are you alright? What’s up Jiminie?”

His heartbeat sped up.

You frowned when he didn’t answer your question. You put your head to his forehead because he looked a little red. “Are you sick? You don’t feel like you have a fever.”

Jesus christ, was this what it felt like to you when he would do anything? He could barely hear you over the sound of his own heartbeat. He wouldn’t be surprised if you could hear it too.

Your eyes softened when you saw tears at the corners of his eyes. You whipped at them softly, “Hey, whatever is bothering you, you can tell me.”

It was quiet for a minute and just as you thought he wasn’t going to answer, Jimin inhaled sharply.

“I love you.”

You paused, short-circuiting for a minute as you processed what he said.

He stepped closer to you, “I love you, L/n Y/n.”

His lips timidly met yours and before you knew what you were doing, you were kissing him back, full of passion.

You put every once of love, sadness, everything into the kiss to try to convey what you couldn’t say in words. You put your hands on his cheeks and tried to push him closer.

Once the two of you parted for air, you looked into his eyes. “God, I love you so much. Park Jimin, you have no idea what you do to me.” Both of you were a blushing mess.

A very small part of you wanted to be angry at him. He made you go through all that heartache, for what? But you would worry about that later; right now, you just wanted to be close to him.

You pulled him into a hug and his small hands found their place at your sides, tugging you closer. Jimin giggled into your chest, feeling lighter than he has in the last few months. “Merry Christmas, Y/n.”

You kissed his head, a giddy smile on your face. “Merry Christmas, Jiminie.”

[end]

~**~

end note: for some reason i love this fic so much!! maybe it’s because it’s my slow progression back into writing for them, but something about this one hits me in the feels (in a good way). i hope you guys have an amazing new year (here’s to hoping 2021 is bounds better than 2020!!🥂) and christmas break. again, thank you so so much to jiminiestanposts for the amazing prompt! and i want everyone to know that i support them and that they are loved 💖💜❤️

masterlist

request something!

taglist: @boba-tea1206​

[wisteriashouse]

desire.

pairing: rengoku kyoujurou x reader

genre: fluff, slight nsfw

word count: 4811

This demon is unlike any other that you’ve faced before.

“Kyoujurou, pressure the left flank and drive it towards the middle! We’ll corner it with a pincer attack!” You call out as you leap through the treetops, relying on the meagre light of the half moon to see where you’re putting your feet. Beneath you on the ground, Kyoujurou calls his affirmation, keeping tight on the demon’s tail. “Remember to keep an eye out for his Blood Demon Art!”

It’s the first time either of you have seen a Blood Demon Art like this one. Instead of the usual ability to hurt or deal damage in the most unexpected ways possible, this demon’s ability makes you deeply besotted with the first thing you lay eyes on. The spell had not been limited to animate creatures, and both you and Kyoujurou had solemnly promised to never speak of this night ever again.

After a while, however, you and Kyoujurou had gotten much better at avoiding the bright pink smoke that the demon released — although the spell was potent, it was short lived. Darting forward, you leap down from the trees as Kyoujurou thrusts forward with his blade, forcing the demon to jump out of reach and right into your path.

With a shout, you grip your sword tight and swing. “Breath of Snow, First Form, Snowflake Slash!”

The demon, unable to dodge your attack, screams as your blade cuts through his neck as easily as slicing running water. In that moment, familiar fuchsia clouds erupt from his body, enveloping you in them completely. You gasp in surprise, throwing your hand over your mouth, and leap away urgently to avoid breathing it in, but you’re a little too late. A few meters away, you can hear Kyoujurou calling for you, panicked.

You stumble towards his voice and out of the dissipating smoke, feeling a little lightheaded. “I’m fine.” You reassure Kyoujurou the second he dashes over to you, concern written all over his face. “I just didn’t expect the demon to make a last ditch effort like that, so I was taken by surprise. I won’t let that happen again.”

Kyoujurou waves the remainder of the pink smoke away from your face before glancing behind you. “It seems that the demon has been slain indeed!” The body has already started to disintegrate into ash. He turns back to you, carefully looking over your form for any injuries. “Are you sure that you are alright? You must have inhaled a lot of the smoke just now. Do you feel anything off?”

A little confused as well, you simply shrug. You had expected yourself to have already been trying to kiss the life out of a rock on the ground, or perhaps be in a passionate embrace with a tree. “Maybe it’s because I’ve already slayed the demon that its spell has no effect? I’m just a little hot and sweaty from the battle and I really want a shower...” You clap Kyoujurou on the shoulder lightly with a reassuring smile before sheathing your sword. “Come on, our work here is done. Let’s head back to the town for the night.”

He nods, but then fixes his gaze sternly on you. “If you feel anything strange, tell me immediately!” His golden eyes are filled with worry for you, and warmth blossoms in your chest in response. “Understood?”

You hum in agreement. “Of course.”

As if the two of you had already used up all the luck you had on defeating that demon, the first inn both of you had come across only had one available room. Too exhausted from the fight earlier to search for another inn, you haul Kyoujurou with you to your designated room, good naturedly ignoring the man’s protests that you should get the room. 

“You can sleep over there, and I’ll sleep over here.” You tell the Flame Pillar after pushing him into the room with you. He stands rigidly in the doorway, still hesitant, and you laugh at the conflicted expression on his face. “Come on, Kyoujurou. It’s the middle of the night and the two of us need to set off early tomorrow morning, so we should get as much rest as possible.”

“Yes, but it is not proper for me to sleep in the same room as you!” Kyoujurou tries to protest, looking at you helplessly. “I could sleep outside while you take the room, and-” You put one hand over his mouth, cutting off his words.

“As if I’d allow you to sleep outside when we have two perfectly good futons in the room.” You scold as he looks down at you seriously, golden eyes bright even in the dim light of the room. “Really, Kyoujurou, you’re so sweet and honorable that it’s a little annoying. You’re a man of principle and a precious friend. I’d trust my life with you, Kyo.”

You feel Kyoujurou swallow under your palm at the weight of your words before he reaches up to pull your hand away from his mouth. His gaze doesn’t leave yours. “Then I will not break the trust you have in me.” He says earnestly, squeezing your hand. Satisfied with his acceptance, you smile at him and hold out your hand playfully. “So, janken to decide who gets to shower first?”

Kyoujurou pulls a rock, while you put out a paper. You suspect he lost on purpose, but he admits nothing with that unflappable smile of his, shooing you to head to the baths first while he lays out the futons for both of you. 

As you gather the robes the inn has provided you, you fan yourself with one hand, staring out of the window in confusion.

Why is tonight so unbearably warm?

>>>

Kyoujurou is stirred awake in the middle of the night.

“Kyoujurou...” The voice calling out to him is familiar and yet not, so desperate it almost sounds like a whimper. He briefly wonders if it’s a dream, because the owner of this voice would never speak to him in this manner. His arm is shaken again, more insistent. “Kyoujurou, please wake up, I need your help.”

The second time his name is called, it’s undeniable: it’s your voice.

And you need him to be awake right now.

He’s reaching for the sword lying next to his bedding before his eyes even fully open, sitting upright and searching for you. “What happened?” He asks urgently, turning to look at you... and the sight that he’s greeted with has his heart seizing up in his chest.

You’re curled up in a ball next to his bed, shivering uncontrollably, soft pants leaving your mouth. Panic floods through him at the state you’re in, and in an instant he’s by your side, dropping his sword onto the bedding. “What’s wrong?” He brushes your hair from your face as gently as he can, and is shocked to feel your forehead damp with cold sweat. A cold? A fever, perhaps? It must have been serious enough that you couldn’t make it over to his bed on your own two feet. “Are you feeling unwell? What do you need?”

A little whimper leaves you, and the sound tugs at his heartstrings. Heart pounding in his chest, Kyoujurou quickly moves to slip his arms under your body to lift you onto his bedding, before he rushes to pull on his haori. It’s clearly an emergency. “Just wait here,” he says urgently, “I’ll find a doctor and get back to you immediately-”

His eyes finally adjust completely to the dark, and whatever words he’d been about to say die in his throat, replaced by a choked intake of breath.

Your fingers are buried under the hem of your sleeping robes, your hips rocking against your palm as a stream of needy whines escape you. It’s his name, Kyoujurou realises, mind blank as he stares at the wanton expression on your face, unable to look away. You’re touching yourself as you moan his name.

“T-the demon’s... ability!” You manage to get out, between tiny, hiccupping moans and a pained whimper that sends the blood right to his groin. “I woke up and I felt like my body was burning... I tried everything I could do to get off, but nothing works!”

Kyoujurou swallows the small lake in his mouth before he forces himself to move, dropping to his knees next and averting his gaze to look away from the sinful noises your hands are making. There are tears gathering in the corners of your eyes, and he tries to ignore the heat pooling in his own belly. Focus. He chides himself sharply. You’re suffering the effects of that demon’s spell, and he’s the only one who can help you. Focus!

“What do you need me to do?” He tries to keep his voice steady even as you let out a little cry of desperation, clearly unable to find the satisfaction you need even as you grind against your own hand. “Some water? A doctor?”

“No, I need you to touch me, Kyoujurou,” you force yourself onto your hands and knees, and in the next second Kyoujurou finds you in his lap, your mouth on his neck, sucking and biting frantically. A sharp groan escapes him when your teeth tug at the skin of his collarbone, his hands coming up on instinct to steady you as you squirm in his lap. He can feel you soaking through the cloth of his robes. “Kyoujurou, please, touch me, kiss me, anything...”

“Wait-” He tries to say, but then your mouth is on his, hot and wet and his mind goes blank. All he knows is the intoxicating scent of you that surrounds him, more potent than the demon’s spell, and the heat of your mouth as your tongue slips into his mouth, stroking his and begging him to play along. A shudder runs through his entire body. “Wait, you cannot-”

“I’m begging you, Kyoujurou, I need you!” A frustrated sob leaves your mouth and you grind yourself against the firmness of his thigh, your entire body shaking like a leaf above him in want. He’s painfully hard and you’re utterly relentless, not giving him a single moment to breathe. “Please, I’ll do anything, just touch me!”

His breath lodges in his throat. “I-”

Clearly too impatient to wait for him to actually do something, you push him down so that he’s sprawled over the bedding before your mouth drags down the exposed skin of his chest, your fingers slipping down to his groin and squeezing. A trembling moan escapes him as pleasure flares through him like a red hot flame, burning and licking at every nerve ending in his body. He can’t find it in him to push you away.

Instead of you, Kyoujurou feels like it was he who was struck by the demon’s spell.

“Kyo...” You beg, pressing kisses all over his cheeks and forehead, and his heart stutters alarmingly at the intimate nickname that only you call him by. “Take me, please. That’s all I need. I need you in me.”

“Please, you need to stop-” He tries to focus, but then you’re rocking against him and he lets out a choked moan of your name as he trembles beneath you, trying to keep his hips from bucking up into yours with sheer self will. His breath falters into short, heaving pants, head spinning, and he’s losing himself, pulled closer and closer to the edge. No, no, no-

I’d trust my life with you, Kyo.

Your words from earlier hit him like a punch in the gut, ice in his veins. He’s never felt so ashamed of himself.

Right. You trust him. You trust him with your life. And he’d promised never to break it, not now, not ever.

You pull his fingers into the wet heat of your mouth, sucking desperately on them and Kyoujurou nearly whimpers at the feeling. Why did it have to be you? He wonders, heart pounding in his chest. Anyone but you, he would have easily been able to push away. It was you, only you-

You bite down on the pad on his finger, and Kyoujurou snaps.

In the blink of an eye, he’s the one of top, one of his hands pinning yours above your head. You’re taken by surprise, looking up at him with wide eyes filled to the brim with desire, your chest heaving beneath him. “Yes, Kyoujurou.” You pant, legs winding around his hips to draw him closer to you. “Come on, just take me already-”

“This isn’t what you want.” Kyoujurou breathes, more to himself than to you. You whine beneath him in protest, but he forces himself to turn his ears from your breathless pleas. “I won’t allow myself to do anything to you when you’re in this state of mind.”

He reaches for the belt lying on top of his uniform, looping them once around your wrists and tying them tight. Realising what he’s going to do, you panic and begin to thrash about in his grasp, sobbing his name desperately.

“The demon’s spell should wear off in a while.” Kyoujurou murmurs, wrapping you so tightly in his bedding that you can’t move an inch. The cry of distress leaves you pierces Kyoujurou all the way to his heart.

He leans over, brushing the hair from your eyes with a shaking hand. “I’m sorry, darling.” Letting himself be weak in one regard, he bends down to drop a gentle kiss on your sweat soaked brow. “But the one I don’t trust around you is myself.”

With that, he grabs his sword and flees the room, never turning back.

>>>

If there is a hole, you want to bury yourself in it and never see the light ever again.

The lust induced haze that had clouded your mind the night before had lasted throughout the night, only dissipating in the face of the sun’s morning rays to leave you utterly mortified at what you’d done. Briefly, you wish that the spell hadn’t worn off so that you wouldn’t have to feel this embarrassment.

Kyoujurou had entered the room only after the sun had risen, his usual confident gaze averted as he undid your trappings, both of you too awkward to look at each other in the eyes. As he frees you, you can see the dark shadows under his eyes - had he been awake the entire night?

Kyoujurou had, in fact, been awake the entire night, ears plugged with scraps of fabric as he kept watch outside your room in case any stranger got too close to your room.

“Are you...” Kyoujurou begins hesitantly as he wipes your face with a damp towel. “Are you... alright?”

You nod without a word, eyes firmly fixed on your toes, unable to look at your friend. How do you apologise? How do you say sorry for making things so awkward? You had practically tried to force yourself on him last night, and gods bless him, he had resisted you as if you were the Muzan himself trying to corrupt him, which wasn’t too far from the truth.

“That’s... relieving to hear.” You can hear the strain in Kyoujurou’s voice, and then he’s rising to his feet, moving quickly towards the door. He’s already dressed in his uniform and haori, his sword hanging from his hip. “When you feel well enough to move, you can head to the tavern below for breakfast. I’ve asked the innkeeper to make you porridge that’s nourishing and easy on the stomach. You should take it easy today since you’ve had a rough night yesterday. I’ll be going first.”

Panic floods through you; you haven’t apologised yet, and that strange air is still hanging between the two of you like a thick smog. You hate it. “Kyoujurou, wait-” You try to say, but before you can continue your sentence, he’s already gone.

Feeling utterly rejected, you sit there on the bedding, fingers twisting into the sheets anxiously.

He doesn’t hate you, does he?

The next time the two of you do meet, it’s at the semi-annual Pillar meeting.

About a month has passed since the ‘incident’, and while you would usually use this time as a opportunity to catch up with Kyoujurou, excitedly chatting with him about all the things that you’ve done over the past months, this meeting is different.

Kyoujurou won’t even meet your eyes.

You spent the entire meeting lost in your thoughts, not unlike Muichirou but perhaps several times more anxious. Even Sanemi pointed out your inattentiveness with a scowl and you tossed a rock at him, leading to both of you snapping at each other like squabbling kittens until Oyakata-sama had raised a finger to his lips to shut the two of you up.

After the meeting, the rest of the Pillars had dispersed to their own business, and you’d desperately tried to search for Kyoujurou. The Flame Pillar was naturally loud and quite difficult to miss with his bright hair, so the only reason to as why you couldn’t find him would be that he was avoiding you.

You felt your heart sink, anxiety twisting in the pit of your stomach.

Maybe he really hates you? Does he not want to be your friend any more?

The thought frightens you more than the prospect of fighting an Upper Moon. Forcing yourself to think, you rush to the Rengoku Estate as quickly as possible, searching for your friend.

The moment you reach the Estate, Senjurou sees you at the gates and his eyes immediately light up like miniature twin suns. “You’re here!” He calls delightedly, dropping his broom and rushing over to tackle you in a hug. “Older Brother came home earlier without you, so I was wondering where you were! You still haven’t taught me how to make sweet potato wedges for Brother to eat!”

You smile at Senjurou, patting his hair down gently. “No rush.” You try to say as calmly as possible even as your heart races. He’s here. “Before that, could you tell me where your brother is first? I need to talk to him about something.”

Senjurou might not have any talent as a Demon Slayer, but he is extraordinarily perceptive when it comes to emotions. His eyes widen in worry. “Did you and Brother have a fight? Is that why he came home without you today?”

You swallow.

“No, not a fight. It’s difficult to explain.” You say hesitantly as you squat in front of Senjuro, so that the two of you can talk eye to eye. “Something awkward happened between the two of us, and I’m not sure if he still wants to be friends anymore.” Senjurou looks at you in concern, before he reaches over to pat your hair, trying to comfort you.

“I’m sure Brother will want to make up with you.” Senjurou reassures you earnestly. “I mean, Brother loves you! He talks about you all the time, and he always looks so happy when he does. He’ll definitely still want to be your friend! If he doesn’t...” Senjurou’s voice trembles. “If he doesn’t, I’ll not make him roasted sweet potatoes anymore!”

A small laugh escapes you at that and you kiss the crown of Senjurou’s head lightly. “Thank you, Sen, but Kyoujurou might actually die without your roasted sweet potatoes.” Feeling a little better, you glance about the Estate. “Then, could you tell me where he is? I’ll talk to him right now.”

“He’s in his room.” Senjurou pulls you to your feet and pushes you in the direction of the residences. “Hurry! And good luck!”

Giving Senjurou a hasty wave, you leap over the rooftops to Kyoujurou’s room, landing lightly on the engawa outside, so familiar that you recognise the pattern of the woodgrain beneath your feet. Kyoujurou and you had spent so many days here at the Rengoku Estate before both of you became Pillars, training together in the summer, drinking tea in the spring, roasting sweet potatoes in a pile of leaves in autumn and making snow angels in the winter. All those memories are the foundation of your relationship with Kyoujurou, and the more you think about them, the more terrified you are that you’ll lose your best friend.

Hesitantly, you knock on the washi sliding screen.

“Kyo?” You call, fingers twisting in the hem of your haori. “Can we... can we talk?”

“Ahh, y/n, is that you?” His voice is energetic and bright as usual, but it sounds stiff; this isn’t the tone he usually adopts when he speaks to you. “I’m sorry that you had to come all the way over here, but I’m feeling rather tired today. Can we speak another time?”

His words drive a dagger straight into your heart. Does he really not want anything to do with you anymore?

Before you know it, a tear has escaped your eye, followed by another. More and more fall as you try to wipe them away desperately, trying your best to steady your voice. “O-okay.” You manage to get out, a little hiccup escaping you as you turn around to leave, but then door is suddenly flung open, and you turn around in surprise to see Kyoujurou standing there in the doorway, looking utterly panicked.

The moment he sees your wet eyes, his face goes stricken and he closes the distance between the two of you with a few quick steps, wrapping you in a familiar embrace. “Oh, no, darling, don’t cry, I-” At his words, you only cry louder, burying your face in his chest and clinging to him so tightly you’re sure you must be suffocating him. Instead of pulling you away gently, however, he presses tender, soothing kisses to the crown of your head. 

“Don’t hate me.” You wail outright into his shirt. “I’m sorry for what happened, it was all my fault. I don’t want you to hate me, Kyo.”

At your words, Kyoujurou lets out a self deprecating sigh and buries his face in your hair, one hand combing through the strands in an effort to calm you down. “I couldn’t hate you.” Kyoujurou promises quietly, and you sniff in response. “Not now, not ever. I apologise for making you feel that way. Look at me.”

You hiccup, unwilling to remove your face from his chest, and shake your head.

Kyoujurou lets out a soft exhale, pulling you tighter against his chest. You can feel his heartbeat through the fabric of his uniform.

“That night, it wasn’t your fault in the least, it was the demon’s spell.” He says firmly, trying to make sure you understand. “Instead, it was my own feelings and desires that I could not control, and I was ashamed of myself. I did not know how to apologise, hence I acted like a coward. I am truly sorry.”

That was why he’d been avoiding you the entire time? Surprised, you look up at him to see his brows furrowed, lips pressed tightly together as if he’s truly ashamed of himself. You shake your head frantically.

“You didn’t touch me of your own will, Kyoujurou.” You insist, lacing his fingers with yours and squeezing tight. “You didn’t break the trust I had in you. Kyoujurou... you’re a wonderful man. You just proved to me even more that you would never do anything to hurt me. You-”

“But I wanted to!” Kyoujurou spits out the words like they’re poison in his mouth, you stare up at him with wide eyes. “I wanted you to kiss me and touch me, and I wanted to do utterly despicable things to you as well! I’ve been dreaming about it for months, and I’ve loved you for longer! I wanted to let you do all those things in spite of knowing that you had put your trust in me, and I-”

His words are cut off when you press your finger to his mouth, so softly that it feels like the first snow against his lips. 

Your heart seems to have stilled in your chest. “Repeat that again, Kyoujurou.” You breathe. Kyoujurou goes deathly still in your arms, and you hear him swallow. His heart pounds so hard in his chest you can feel its beat against your palm.

“I love you.” He whispers, his voice almost choked with emotion. His golden eyes are fixed on you and only you. “I love you very much, to the extent it terrifies me.”

“If I were to say that I felt the same... and asked you to kiss me now,” your lips feel unbearably dry and he lets out a small groan as your tongue darts out to wet them. “What would you do?”

“Love you back even more until there is nothing left of me to give.” Kyoujurou promises breathlessly, his hands gripping yours tight. Every word that leaves him is a vow of its own, its sincerity rivalling that of his dedication to the Demon Slayers. “And kiss you until my breath runs out.”

You take a deep breath, and take another step forward, until your body is pressed entirely against his, so close the heat of his body warms yours to the tip of your toes.

“Then make good of your promise, Kyoujurou.” You breathe. “Kiss me.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. In the next second one of his hands are at the back of your head, pulling you forward gently so that his lips can meet yours, his other hand cradling your jaw as if you’re the most precious thing in the world. You raise your own hands to bury themselves in his hair, his lips sliding along yours as you kiss, your eyelids fluttering shut.

When you part your mouth slightly to flick the tip of your tongue against his lips, Kyoujurou lets out a low groan deep in his chest before his own tongue slips into your mouth, your breaths mingling as you try to press yourself as close to him as possible. You can feel yourself growing lightheaded, but you can’t bring yourself to pull away, all you can think about is how you want more, more, everything that Kyoujurou is willing to give.

Luckily for you, however, Kyoujurou notices that you’re slowly dying from asphyxiation and pulls away so that you can gasp your breath back into your lungs, a light chuckle leaving his lips as he looks over your flushed cheeks and reddened lips. 

“Beautiful.” He says, and your cheeks burn. Burying your face in his chest, Kyoujurou laughs brightly at your shyness, trying to coax you out. “Come on, let me see that face. Passion looks absolutely exquisite on you, my darling.”

You shake your head in his embrace, utterly embarrassed at his words. “How do you still look so calm?” You complain as you look up at him, and Kyoujurou chuckles. He takes one of your hands and presses it to his chest, and you can feel his heart racing under your palm. “My heart does not calm when you are near, I can promise you that.” He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “It has been this way for years.”

The sound of something dropping makes the two of you turn your heads, and you’re shocked to see Senjurou standing at the end of the engawa with his mouth hanging open, a tray of roasted sweet potatoes at his feet. He stares at the two of you, eyes clearly taking in your flushed expression and putting two and two together.

You really need a hole to bury yourself in.

“So...” Senjuro’s voice is tiny. “I assume the two of you made up?”

“Well, yes-” You squeak out, mortified at having been caught in such a scandalous position by the child who’s looked up to you as his elder sister. You subtly try to extricate yourself from Kyoujurou’s grasp, but he only grins exuberantly at Senjurou

“More than that!” He shouts gleefully, his smile so bright its almost blinding. “We feel the same!” You let out a squeak when Kyoujurou scoops you easily into his arms, his lips dropping a flurry of affection all over your face until you’re sure all the blood is in your face. “We’re together!”

Senjurou’s eyes light up and then he’s throwing himself in for a hug, Kyoujurou laughing like he’s the happiest you’ve ever heard him in your entire life. Utterly embarrassed and too happy to say a word, you only bury your face in your hands, trying to hide the flush of your cheeks.

“I won’t break the trust you have in me.” Kyoujurou vows, his lips nuzzling into your hair. “Everything I promised, and even more than that, I’ll make good on all of them.”

You smile shyly, and kiss the tip of his nose.

“I believe you.”

[aliixen]

Soft[Christa Lenz x Fem!Reader]

Okay so I’ve got some ideas in my head that I need to get out. This was one of them, I started writing them down because they just keep coming to me and I;m still on my attack on titan brainrot, so please bear with me. This is a short one shot where reader is part of the 104th Cadet Corps and Christa’s best friend. There are no amazing things here, just pure fluff so if any of you need some sweetness today, here you go. Enjoy!  ❤️

Note: Sorry for mistakes and bad writing, I’m still a novice and English isn’t my first language. I also have a problem with writing short snippets because I always end up making them longer and longer, adding new things so this is one of the first I managed to write and not turn into a story with chapters 😖

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- You should watch out for yourself dummy! You’re always making me worried! - Christa said as she cleaned another cut on your face, a result of your recklessness during training session - What if something happened to you and I wouldn’t be there?

- Relax Christa, it’s just a small cut! It will heal in no time so it’s not a big deal - you gave her your award winning smile to show her everything was alright but it quickly turned into a pout when she gently smacked your forehead with her small hand - Meanie.

- Oh don’t be like that you big baby. Besides, you always say that it’s just something! If you’d only watch out for yourself more… - you saw a glint of worry in her eyes and it made you feel guilty about your actions.

You often got hurt while you were training and Christa, your best friend, was always there to help you, knowing you had a knack for getting in trouble. Today was no exception and once again you found yourself sitting on Christa’s bed in the shared room, her soft hands treating your injuries as you gazed into her blue eyes. You were alone and it was hard to focus on anything else since for the past few months you grew to love your dearest friend, although you kept it to yourself, too afraid of losing her to even try and do something about it.

It was no wonder. Christa was a literal angel, both in looks and character and everybody knew it. That was why she was so popular with guys and girls alike, her good heart and sweet smiles always making them feel like they were being graced with the presence of a goddess. 

You were the lucky one that got the privilege of calling yourself her best friend but you were still far behind Ymir. Ymir. Every time the two of them interacted together you felt jealousy tug at your heart and even though you hid it well it was still bothering you greatly. There was no chance for you and Christa happening, yet the possessiveness inside you wanted her to be only yours, to the point that you stopped hanging out with her while Ymir was around. It just hurt too much. Maybe that was the reason for your recent rise in times you got injured. It meant being alone with Christa like right now and you would do anything to have more of those moments.

- What is it? You’re spacing out again Y/N. Are you sure you’re alright? - Christa’s worried voice reached you and when you focused on the present, you realised she was closer than before, so close that your noses were brushing. Christa stared into your E/C eyes, searching for something before she pressed her forehead against yours. You could have sworn your heart stopped for a second as a crimson red blush spread across your cheeks, her presence this close to you rendering you speechless - Hmm, you don’t have a fever...but your face is all red! Do you feel lightheaded? Or hot? I can bring you some water, you just have to wait a…

- No! Please don’t go! - you cut her off, unable to stop yourself from reaching out for her as she was about to turn to leave. Your arms wrapped around her middle and you pressed yourself into her stomach with your eyes closed, afraid that if you open them you will have to see her reaction to your sudden outburst. And you didn’t want that. You weren’t usually clingy but today was actually the first day in two weeks that you got to be alone with her. You didn’t want that to end so you just squeezed tighter, holding on so that you could get just a little bit more time with her.

- ...Y/N? Hey, it’s alright. I’m not going to leave, so open your eyes, please? For me? - her warmth and soothing voice calmed you enough to loosen your grip on her but not let go completely. Your heart jumped when you felt her pet your head gently, running her slender fingers through your hair and the gesture made you calm down. You breathed out and slowly tilted your head up to look at her, meeting her light blue eyes that emanated such kindness and warmth - So? Tell me what’s going on, please. I don’t like it when you’re bothered by something. Oh no. Did I do something wrong?

- No! No! It’s not your fault, it’s just that...No, I’m sorry, it’s stupid anyway - you hid your face from her once again but she was quicker than you and before you could successfully bury your head between your arm and her shirt she managed to grab you, squeeshing your cheeks playfully as she made you look up once again.

- Tell. Me. - Christa said in an authoritative tone that was accompanied by a pout and the combination made you smile slightly as you watched her tenderly. Even when she tried to be firm, she was still as cute as ever. If she was going to give you this face, how were you supposed to keep quiet?

- I just...I missed you. Being with you - you managed to get out, ignoring the lingering fear that gripped your heart - We don’t see each other as much as we did with all this training and stuff.

- What do you mean, silly, we see each other everyday! - she gave you the biggest smile she could muster to make you feel better and the butterflies in your stomach danced at the sight.

She was right of course, but that wasn’t what you were talking about and you wanted her not to worry about your weird behavior. Unfortunately, due to her sweet nature, you knew she would do everything in her power to get to the bottom of the problem and help you, so you had to tell her the real reason eventually. You detangled yourself from her form, feeling a sudden wave of courage and confidence wash over you before standing up and grabbing her face in your hands, the same way she did to you just a minute ago. You towered over her and watched as her expression formed into one of surprise.

- I know, but it’s not the same. I meant we don’t see each other like that anymore, just the two of us...I like that. Having you all to myself, I mean - her blue eyes widened at your admission and you couldn’t stop the blush spreading on your cheeks up to your ears, their tips red, betraying your emotions - I like being with you, you know...and I, umm...I mean, maybe I shouldn’t be saying this, but...oh my god, why am I stuttering….I….I’m sorry, I don’t…

Your embarrassing rambling was stopped when you felt Christa’s lips on yours, a state of shock paralyzing your senses that couldn't process what was going on. The softness and sweetness of her lips was all you could focus on and you couldn’t believe this was happening but for now you decided to not dwell on it and simply kiss her back as your heart fluttered in your chest. Your best friend, this beautiful, gentle angel was here in your arms and you couldn’t be happier. This was all you wanted. To your dismay, as soon as you started to move your lips against hers, Christa pulled back quickly and covered her mouth with her hand as her face became red in an instant.

- I’m so sorry Y/N! I don’t know what came over me, you just looked so cute when you rambled so I… - she started to explain herself but was interrupted with the sound of your chuckling. She stared at you for a few seconds before a pout appeared on her face and she stamped her foot on the ground, seemingly irritated - Geez, why are you laughing!

- I’m sorry, I’m sorry! - you managed to get yourself under control and gave her a cheeky smile. Taking a step forward you closed the distance between you two and ruffled her hair, too happy to worry about the possibility of making a mistake - I’m not mad or anything! I like you Christa, so I’m really happy right now.

- Wait, what….? You like...me? - her face became even redder as you leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on her nose and smiling gleefully. She averted her eyes, opting to look at the floor instead and you had to stop yourself from squealing at how cute she was - But I thought...I mean you weren’t hanging out with me as much as we did before and I got worried and then...I realized I like you too?

She almost whispered the last part and you had to focus on what she was saying to hear, but as you did, you felt an immense amount of happiness fill you before you grabbed Christa and lifted her in the air, turning around with her in your arms, her sweet laugh echoing through the room.

- Y/N! Put me down, we’re gonna fall! - she protested but her eyes were closed and she seemed just as happy, her hands squeezing your neck tightly in an attempt to hold herself up. As your head started spinning you thought it was time to stop your twirling before you really fall down, so you slowed down but still kept Christa in your arms, refusing to let her down just yet. She was now as high as you thanks to your hold and it was all so perfect that you couldn’t resist the urge to kiss her again. She squealed against your lips before relaxing in your embrace, her gentle hands tightening her grip on the back of your neck. Both of you smiled into the kiss, happy to finally be together like you were supposed to. You broke the kiss and leaned your forehead against hers, gazing deep into her blue eyes that you grew to love so much during those hard months of training. They were still the same as at the beginning, warm, kind and making you feel like this world might not be so bad after all.

- My sweet darling… - she blushed at your worlds and let go of you to hide her face behind her hands, the tenderness of your words making her heart beat twice as fast, in par with yours.

- Stupid! You’re making me blush, quit it! - you smiled and grinned at her, knowing that this would only be the beginning of your teasing now that you were together. She would learn that soon enough.

- Never, my dear. I like you too much.

- Oh, you. I like you too, dummy...

[hcywards]

pool — jj maybank

summary: in which y/n finds a stranger floating in her pool

words: 1.7k+

t/w: mentions of abuse, swearing, a make out session

note: y’all seem to really like jj and i cant say that i blame you,,,, so here you go

     Y/N frowned, looking out of her window with the confused nervousness of a girl who could see a stranger in their pool at nine in the morning on a Saturday — because she could, and she wasn’t sure why he was there or how he’d managed to get there.

     The blonde boy was splayed out across a floatie, one arm covering his face from sight, and Y/N figured he was either asleep or had just woken up. His clothes were soaked — he must’ve gotten fully in the pool at some point, and, despite her fear, Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of him rolling off of the floatie in the middle of the night. 

     He didn’t look like he belonged on her side of the island. No, he was definitely a Pogue, and, from what little Y/N could see, an attractive one, too.

     But that was besides the point — the point was, there was a stranger in her pool when he hadn’t been the night before, and Y/N wasn’t sure if he was a murderer or not.

     She gulped as she tossed on an oversized shirt. not wanting to waste too much time getting dressed and potentially miss him as he got out. She didn’t take her eyes off of him as she backed out of her bedroom, and the second he was out of sight she was whirling, sprinting through the house with her heart hammering in her chest, thoughts clouded as she tried to get back to a place where she could see him again.

     By the time she made it out of the house, he was awake, back facing her as he tried to jump out of the deep end of the pool. Y/N watched with fear clogging up her throat, but she eventually managed to get out: “Hey! What the hell are you doing?”

     He jumped, falling back into the pool and spluttering as he whirled to face her. Now, Y/N knew for sure that he was attractive, and, under his wide-eyed stare, she couldn’t help but blush.

     “Fuck!” he exclaimed, knowing he’d been caught, and he turned away from her again, jumping up and out of the pool and starting to run through Y/N’s yard. Y/N rolled her eyes and began charging after him, and when he stumbled over a football, she managed to catch him, pinning him down to the floor and pulling her phone out from where she’d tucked it inside her bra. He winced as she moved around above him, and she frowned, but didn’t say anything, just stopped moving.

     She probably should’ve called the cops sooner, she thought, and she cursed herself internally as she tapped in the three digits.

     “Wait!” the blonde boy she had trapped beneath her blurted out, and she looked down at him with an arched eyebrow, thumb hovering over the green button threateningly. “Please, don’t call the cops. I’m sorry.”

     “Why would I not call the cops?” Y/N almost snorted. “Please, enlighten me.”      He gave her a smirk, and she rolled her eyes, turning back to her phone, and he whined beneath her, before blushing at the realisation of how that’d look to anyone who might’ve been watching.

     He’d have to leave that bit out when he told the Pogues about this later, if he didn’t want to be teased about it for the rest of his life.

     “Okay, sorry!” he pleaded. “I’m sorry. Please, don’t call the cops.”

     “Look, you’re going to have to give me a valid reason,” Y/N stated, and he sighed, nodding.

     “Yeah, yeah, I know, me being hot won’t cut it,” he bantered, and she hit him lightly in the ribs, causing pain to flare up across his side, spreading like a wildfire. He let out a yell, and then quickly clamped a hand down over his mouth. Fuck. The girl above him arched her brow even higher, giving him a silent question, and he sighed. How was he going to answer that believably? “Uh. . . I fell down the stairs?”

     Y/N sat up a little higher on her knees, so that no part of her body was touching his, and frowned. “Dude, I can tell that you’re lying. Tell me what happened.”

     “Why should I? You’re going to call the cops anyway,” JJ responded, but when Y/N just frowned a little more, he sighed. “Okay, I. . . got into a fight with Rafe.”

     “Bullshit, the Camerons are on vacation,” she shot back.

     JJ groaned, cursing himself for suddenly forgetting how to lie. “Right, they are.” He ran a hand over his face, trying to think of anything else to tell her. “If I told you it was actually Topper I got into a fight with, would you believe me?”

     Maybe it was the fact that she was straddling him that was impairing his ability to talk his way out of this. He liked to think that that was the case, though, really, he knew that it was because he’d been crushing on her since the day he first caught a glimpse of her at the Boneyard party a few years ago, laughing and talking with Sarah. Kie had been with them, too, as it’d been on her Kook year. JJ had only looked over to give his friend a grin, but having seen Y/N, he’d immediately forgotten what he was doing.

     They’d never had a proper conversation, of course. Every time he was mowing the L/N’s lawn, Y/N was out, and every time he was delivering food to the house, she was upstairs, and every Boneyard party, it was a boy getting drinks from JJ to bring to her. He wasn’t surprised she didn’t recognise him, if he were honest, but that didn’t upset him any less. After all, it kind of hurt to discover that he was nothing but a Pogue to her, when she was the girl he imagined every Touron was, and thought about when he went to sleep, and then again when he woke up.

     And of course it had to be her yard he decided to spend the night in.

     “No, JJ,” she responded, snapping him out of his thoughts. “I wouldn’t believe you.”

     “Great,” JJ muttered to himself, and let out a long, drawn out breath despite the stabbing at his side when he did so. “Okay.” It couldn’t hurt to tell her, right? After all, she didn’t know who he was. How could she tell anyone about it? And it wasn’t as if the cops didn’t already have their suspicions. “It was my dad. That’s why I’m here, actually — to get away from him.”

     Y/N sighed, putting her phone down and looking at him closely, wanting to make sure this wasn’t a lie. “That’s a hell of a story, pool boy. I guess I won’t call the cops.”

     Neither of them moved for a moment after that, seeming to forget where they were and what they were doing. Y/N couldn’t even feel the water seeping into her shorts, and JJ forgot that she was basically pinning him to the floor, her hands pressing down onto his. However, when he remembered this, all breath seemed to be taken from him, and suddenly he felt his cheeks heat up as he realised their close proximity — and it seemed to be getting smaller, though he was unsure which one of them was leaning in. Perhaps it was both, but suddenly her lips were on his, and his eyes were shut as her hands moved to his hair. 

     He forgot about his dad, forgot about the pain in his ribs and forgot about anything other than Y/N as his tongue slipped between her lips and his hands moved to pull her onto his lap properly.

     This was the exact same as all of his hookups, though it felt nothing like it. It felt right, like he was only ever meant to kiss her, and it felt passionate rather than lust driven, calming and overwhelming all at once. He couldn’t think of anything but her when he kissed her, and he didn’t want to, because, for once, he didn’t have to imagine his lips on hers. And sure, it could’ve been just teenagers being stupid, but it felt like a lot more than that.

     She gave his hair a light tug to pull away for air, and he smirked at her. Something inaudible slipped past his lips as he pressed a kiss to her neck, and she cursed quietly, grip on his hair tightening as she let out a gasp. He grinned against her skin at the reaction, never wanting this moment to end. He had to pull away again, though, looking up at her staring down at him with swollen lips and a pout.

     Holy fuck, he could get used to this.

     “Sorry to ruin the party, but I don’t usually have sex in someone’s backyard,” he joked — in reality, he just didn’t want to take his shirt off and reveal his bruises and scars to her. It wasn’t exactly a turn-on, to say the least.

     She nodded, laughing as she stood up and took his hand to pull him up. “I don’t have sex with boys who I don’t know the name of, anyways, stranger.”

     JJ laughed at that. “It’s JJ, and I know yours. Y/N.”

     Y/N nodded, not even questioning how he knew her name as she lead him into her house. “You need some new clothes, JJ, and I could make breakfast, if you’d like.”

     JJ grinned, suddenly aware of how hungry he was. He couldn’t remember the last time he ate. And Kook food? Who was he to turn down such an offer?

     “God, I really like you,” he suddenly blurted out, and then his eyes widened as she turned to him with a narrowed-eyed gaze.

     She laughed, though, and he nervously laughed with her. “That’s a hell of a declaration coming from someone I’ve just met, but thanks for the gratitude. And it’s nice to know I’m that good of a kisser.”

     JJ smiled, a genuine, happy smile, and he felt like a Kook with all of their forgotten troubles. It felt odd to him that, even though he’d only just met her, Y/N was making him feel as lightheaded and carefree as she was, but it felt great, and he didn’t want it to ever stop.

     Needless to say, JJ managed to get her number and a few more kisses that day — as well as a plan to meet up the next day, and an offer to stay at hers overnight.

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@thorsangel @dpaccione @ceruleanjj @thatsonobx @spilledtee @supremestarkey @babypogue @sadcupofcoffee @sacredto @poguemacking @outrbank @ilovejjmaybank @calumbroutledge

[thrillridesz]

our song ▫ changmin

➳ pairing: idol!changmin x producer!reader ➳ genre: fluff ➳ word count: 2.1k ➳ requested?: yes

a/n: tbh i wasn’t too sure how to go about this request so i kind of just tried to think of some sort of plot to go with it and hopefully this isn’t trash ><

“Hey, we’re here. Wake up.”

Elbowing the sleeping figure next to him, Younghoon rolled his eyes as the latter shifted in his seat. As the others began to remove their seatbelts and disembark from the vehicle, Changmin rubbed his eyes lazily and barely even noticed how messy the other members were softly holding back their laughs at his atrocious ‘bed’ hair. Bleary-eyed and still relatively half asleep, he peered out the car window to see that the car had stopped outside an unassuming office building. 

“Oh? We’re here already?”

“Obviously. Let’s go, sleepyhead,” Haknyeon chuckled, pulling him at his wrist as everyone started to make their way in the building. 

Grunting, Changmin practically had to peel himself away from the comfort of his seat and as he plodded heavily behind the other members into the building, he felt like a complete zombie. He was lightheaded from fatigue, his dark circles were darker than ever and his voice was raw from the previous night’s stage. All in all, he was in no mood to participate in any recordings of any sort today. Yet, here he was in the recording studio, feeling like he would rather be anywhere but right there at that exact moment. 

Lounging on the couch in the waiting room as the other members chattered amongst themselves, Changmin watched as Younghoon disappeared into the recording room. He could briefly hear faint voices engaged in conversation from behind the door, no doubt exchanging pleasantries before the recording. Resting his head on the wall behind him, Changmin tried to ease himself back into slumberland. This was going to be a long day. Recordings usually take days and having heard the general tune of the new track, this one was definitely no exception. If anything, it might need a longer time to nail.

As he sat, Sangyeon and Chanhee were at a corner; trying to harmonise for the nth time and the frustration was becoming apparent on their face with each passing second. Thank goodness he had already practiced the night before. While the others had been busy catching up on their much needed rest, Changmin had been up singing. He had the tune on loop and at one point, he could have swore he almost sang his voice raw. He never liked going into practice or recording clueless or unprepared.

In a way, it could be both a blessing and a curse. The producers never did take very long with him but it also meant that his own perseverance costed him his rest. Closing his eyes, he mentally recited the lyrics again in his mind, rapping his fingers on the table to create a beat.

“Just gotta follow the beat,” he muttered softly to himself. He barely even noticed it but it wasn’t long before he slipped back into a nap.

A particularly loud shriek pierced through the quiet afternoon and in the tiny waiting room, it sounded even worse. Awaking with a start, he looked around wide eyed at the source of the sound.

“Chanhee, do you plan to scare us to death?” Juyeon asked, picking up his phone from the floor.

“Sorry, you guys.” The culprit apologised, a reddish tint appearing on his cheeks.

Changmin rubbed his face with his palms before gazing up at the clock and did a double take. It’s been a whole hour?

“Who’s in there?”

“Younghoon.” Eric replied matter-of-factly.

“Still?”

“Yeah, not sure why either.” The boy shrugged before turning back to his phone.

Just as he said that, the door creaked open and out stepped Younghoon.

“Really sorry for how long that took! Thank you!”

There was a sheepish expression on his face as he trudged towards the rest and as soon as the door closed behind him, he plopped himself down on the couch with a sigh, causing it to dip down with his weight.

“You guys...”

“What is it?”

“Would you guys believe me if I say the producer is probably the most beautiful person I’ve ever met?”

There were several hoots that followed as someone threw pillow at his face which he blocked, a chuckle escaping from his lips. 

“I’m serious!”

“You better be,” Sunwoo retorted, a cheeky grin on his face. 

Changmin observed the banter between the other boys with a slight smile. Sometimes, he wondered how he got so lucky to be able to become band mates with these people. Sure, they may be crackheads but they were the best kind of crackheads he could hang out with. 

“Ji Changmin?” A soft voice called from the room.

As he stood up, Hyunjae said in a teasing tone, “Help us check if the producer’s really as pretty as Younghoon said.”

“You guys are such weirdos.” Changmin laughed, rolling his eyes.

Stepping into the room, he felt that same sense of awe he had right from the very first time he had entered a recording studio. The sight of the professional mics and sound panel in the room never failed to install a certain of excitement in him. It brought a surreal feeling which he thoroughly enjoyed and immediately, every shred of fatigue in him evaporated. 

“Hello! I’m Changmin. I’m really excited to be-”

When he looked up, he suddenly felt his words get caught at the back of his throat. His heart began to beat rapidly and he was almost positive that everyone else could hear it. His outstretched hand was frozen in place all of a sudden and he could feel a shiver run down his spine when you clasped your hands in his to give him a handshake.

“I’m y/n, the producer. Whenever you’re ready, just head into the recording room and we’ll get started.” You shot him a warm smile and he had to hold onto the table to prevent his legs from giving way.

Younghoon really wasn’t lying. You were a complete stunner. Everything about you is exactly his type and he didn’t even know he had a type to begin with. 

“Are you ok? You seem a little pale.” 

It took Changmin a moment to regain his composure and realise that he had been spacing out. Wishing that he hadn’t been staring, he shook his head quickly and stepped into the recording room. It was like he couldn’t take his eyes off you. The way you swept your hair up into a neat, little ponytail was just about the most elegant thing he had seen. The way your fingers twirled the pen in your hand was suddenly extremely cool to him even though he had seen other people do it loads of time. 

“Whenever you’re ready, try singing out verse 3.” You said from the other side of the glass panel, flashing him a thumbs up cue.

Changmin stared at the lyric and music sheets in front of him as he placed the earphones over his ears. The words were starting to look foreign to him and he realised with a start that it was due to his nerves. His heart was still beating as furiously as ever and it was making him disoriented. 

He is acting like a teenage boy with a tremendous crush! He really thought he was above all of this but apparently not.

Lifting his gaze up to you, his breath hitched when the two of you made eye contact. He could really get lost in those eyes of yours if he wasn’t more careful. As Changmin began to belt out his part of the song, he realised to his horror that he was going completely off key. 

No, no, no. This isn't supposed to happen. He’s supposed to have had it in the bag. He stayed up all night for this for pete’s sake and now it is all out the window just like that. What made it even worse was when he dared to peek up at you and he felt his heart fall with a messy splat at the confused and puzzled expression on your face. The heat was quickly spreading from his neck and up to his cheeks and before long, they were burning. 

“Um... I think we should try that again? This time, maybe lower your pitch a little and maybe drag out the last part more.” You said encouragingly but all Changmin could think of was how much he wanted to bury a hole for himself to fall into. 

“Are you nervous?”

He whipped his head up to see you standing in front of him with a concerned look, separated by the glass. 

“I... I...”

“Take a deep breath,” you said softly, your voice soothing and comforting. 

Changmin isn’t usually one to believe in taking deep breaths to sooth his nerves but this time, he did as he was told. As he inhaled, he tried his best to calm his own nerves with his fists clenched at his sides and eyes closed. Exhaling, he opened his eyes to see you looking at him with a smile and immediately, he felt his heart jump. 

“Feeling better? Less nervous? You don’t have to be. I get that this track is a little harder to sing so don’t be afraid of making mistakes!”

How can I not be nervous when you’re here?

“Yeah, I guess I am.” A weak smile tugged at his lips.

“Awesome. Let’s get to it.” You chirped and began to reset the sound systems to start the recording again. 

As he waited, Changmin couldn’t help but let his eyes follow your every move. What is it about you that has him so smitten? The more he looked at you weirdly, the more he began to feel slightly less jittery. It was as if being with you felt comfortable. He may be anxious but fundamentally, he felt safe around you. It was unlike any of his previous recording sessions whereby the producer would usually stare him down with hardened gaze, always so ready to point out his flaws and criticise him instead of simply telling him. There was an odd sense of calm that suddenly overwhelmed him and when you gave him the cue to sing, he sang. 

This time, his voice didn’t waver at all, keeping its steadiness throughout. The words rang clear and crisp in the tiny room and flowed gently to the tune, each pitch brought to perfection just like how he had practiced and perfected. As he sang, he held your gaze and for a moment, it felt like there could have been a karmic connection between the two of you. It was like the two of you were exchanging something passionate just through your stares and it not only emboldend Changmin but it also sent a tingly sensation through his body. 

When he finished his verse, you had to look away quickly because of just how intense everything had felt. The way he had looked at you felt so intimate and affectionate that you didn’t know what to do. Sure, you’ve always liked him and he always was one of your favourite members from The Boyz and you may or may not have freaked when you found out you were to work with them but this was different. It felt like the two of you had something for a moment. 

“T-That’s great. I think we’ve got it.” You stuttered.

His eyes widened as he asked, “Really?”

“Yes.” You said hastily before adding, “You were amazing but now I think it’s Jacob’s turn.” 

Changmin could only smile at your words but internally, he felt a small tinge of paranoia in him. Were you saying that because you didn't want to be around him anymore? Did you think he was weird?

“I don’t think you’re weird at all,” you said in a surprised voice.

Crap. He must have been thinking out loud without even realising it!

“Ah, that’s... that’s good I guess.”

“You were exceptional. Don’t ever think otherwise.” You replied softly, looking away as if you were too shy to look into his eyes. 

It took Changmin a moment to register what you had said and when he did, a grin brighter than the sun began to spread across his face. 

“Thank you. That means a lot.”

There was a brief silence between the two of you and never in his life had he ever felt a tension so thick in the air. It wasn’t an uncomfortable sort of tension but rather one that made him feel all soft and jelly inside. 

You cleared your throat and said, “I’m going to call for Jacob?”

As you reached for the door, Changmin blurted out, “ Can we hang out after this?”

Once the words were out of his mouth, he felt in his heart that those were the very same words he had wanted to say, the very question that had been at the back of his mind the moment he laid eyes on you.

Your heart felt like it was soaring as you turned to him, your cheeks beginning to burn as a small spark of happiness bloomed rapidly in your chest. 

“Hang out?”

“Yes,” he smiled and those dimples could have been the death of you if you were a little more flustered. “Hang out together. I’d love to get to know you better, y/n.”

[ladylouoflothlorien]

Sleeping Desires - Part 1

Bofur x Female Reader Word count: 2018 WARNING: This fic will contain mature themes, absolutely do not read this if you are underage, thank you. (18+ only) Summary: This was affectionately titled “Bofur LEMONS for LUNA???” in my google drive, and I think that’s all you need to understand this. It was born from the idea of Bofur having a crush on (read: utterly all-consuming devotion for) the reader, but thinking that it was unreciprocated until he overhears her having a rather explicit dream. This fic will be a multi-part, potentially 2 but most likely 3, so stay tuned.  Additionally, I have turned this into a game of ‘how many euphemisms can I come up with for dwarves?’ This part contains 5, and I’m pretty proud of that.

Bofur settled down with his pipe, back against a tree, as he prepared himself for the long and lonely dark of the middle shift of the night watch. For the earlier shifts, it would not be wholly unusual for other members of the company to still be awake, but by the middle shift the only person not asleep would be the one on watch. That was not to say that Bofur didn’t welcome the solitude. It was true that he was generally a far more outgoing and jovial dwarf than the rest of the motley crew of companions he found himself travelling with, and it was also true that he generally preferred not to be by himself, but there was another truth that he had come to find in recent months; some things are far easier to indulge in when there are no prying eyes to catch you at it.

Now, the particular indulgence that had led to this realisation was not at all a shameful one - leastways not in his estimation of the word - but he had his own reasoning for wanting it to be private all the same.

Bofur took a long drag of his pipe and slowly exhaled the smoke, watching the grey tendrils climb higher and higher before disappearing altogether, and then he finally turned his gaze to the human woman curled up in her bedroll beside him. It was sweet, he thought, how she seemed to have this habit of making herself smaller as she slept, tucking her legs up until the lump created by her sleeping form appeared not all that dissimilar in size to a dwarrowdam. Most dwarrow he knew tended to stretch themselves out when they slept, making themselves look as big as possible. The dwarf thought back as he had done many times to the moment Gandalf had introduced the woman to their company, claiming she’d been sent by the grace of the Valar from another world to assist them in their quest. Gandalf had not specified which of the Valar had been involved in that decision, though if Bofur had to hazard a guess, he’d say it was most likely Mahal scheming to get one of his own married off, for Durin himself knew Bofur would wife her if he had the chance.

But Bofur did not think he would. He knew his own merits as a Dwarf to be sure, and he knew he was a long way off unattractive - both in his looks and his merry personality - but he also knew that he was judging himself on the standards of his own kind. He had no idea what would or would not be appealing to a human woman.

His infatuation for the woman was the source of his new indulgence, which was essentially to gaze upon her most comely form as much as was dwarvenly possible. His desire to keep this indulgence a secret came from his belief that she very likely did not feel the same. As long as none of the other dwarves picked up on what he was doing, he could avoid both the embarrassment she would feel at having to - no doubt - politely but firmly decline his interest and the humiliation that would follow for himself at being rejected in a place where he would be stuck without a place to hide and lick his metaphorical wounds.  

Tonight he had placed his bedroll beside hers - though at a respectable distance apart - and he had set up for watch against the tree that brought him still closer to her. He did not do this as often as he would like, for he was incredibly conscious that if he did so it would be noticed by at least one other member of the company. What would then follow would be relentless teasing, and then no doubt his secret would be outed to all. No, Bofur was very content to merely snatch the few precious moments he could to gaze upon the woman in complete secrecy and thereby forego the risk of discovery.

Bofur was torn from his current line of thought by a quiet groan, and after a moment he realised it had come from the very woman occupying the entirety of the free space in his brain. The dwarf frowned. Was she in pain? Was she having a nightmare? Normally she was very quiet when she slept, turning or shifting her position maybe once or twice throughout the night. It was a stark contrast from the dwarves who kicked and flailed and snored loud enough to rattle the tiles off a roof - that is, if there was a roof over their heads, which more often than not on the journey there hadn’t been. The woman rolled over onto her back, and only then did Bofur notice the flush on her cheeks and the furrow between her brows. He felt a cold pit in his stomach, naturally assuming that she had caught a fever, but then her fingers loosely fisted the thin fabric of her blanket and her plump lips parted to let out a quiet but distinct moan. Bofur froze. Or at least, most of him did. Beneath the fabric of his breeches, his treacherous Dwarven steel twitched slightly. The dwarf swallowed and tried not to think on it, forcing his body to relax somewhat and pretend he hadn’t heard anything. The lass was sleeping, and the sound had not been meant for him, he would not dishonour her by pretending that it was. Still, he could not take his eyes off her, and guiltily drank in the sight of her squirming under her covers. Bofur did not think he would ever be granted a more wondrous sight, and so he could hardly be blamed for not averting his eyes. Besides… Whatever line of thought he’d been about to pursue, it was completely halted when the woman’s lips parted once more. “O-Oh, Bofur…” The sheer speed at which a certain part of his body stood to attention was frankly impressive.  Up until that point, though the substance of her dream had been fairly clear, he’d had no indication of who exactly she’d been dreaming of. Now it seemed as though he had confirmation that she was dreaming of him. Bofur couldn’t quite believe it, but then she moaned his name again, and Bofur was really, really trying not to watch the swell of her generous breasts as her quickened breath made them rise and fall more dramatically than usual. Bofur was used to dwarrowdams, who had little more than was strictly necessary to nurse a child…

The Dwarf looked away suddenly, blushing, and feeling rather like a voyeur even though he hadn’t - and could not have - expected that this would happen when he settled down beside her. But then he could hear the sound of her shifting against her sheets, continuing to whine softly under her breath, and he had to look back. Bofur was startled to see that all her shifting about had brought her blanket down around her waist and oh sweet Durin’s Beard this was too much. The strings holding her blouse closed had loosened, allowing the shirt open, and the dwarf was only barely saved from - or maybe robbed of - a glimpse at her pert nipples. His miner’s mattock was rock hard, straining against his breeches and practically begging for some attention, and Bofur had to fist his hands against the dirt to stop himself from doing just that. Bofur refused to get himself off to the dreaming woman. If there was one thing he wasn’t, it was a pervert. Oh, he might’ve gotten himself off quietly thinking of her once or twice - or maybe more than that - but he was certain that there was a line, however thin, between thinking of her whilst he did so and actually doing it with her sleeping form right beside him, letting out little sounds that were not truly meant for him to hear… even if they were meant for a version of him in her dreams.

Oh Mahal she was dreaming of him. The reality of that hit him again, and he had to thud his head back firmly against the tree at his back to clear his mind of any mental imagery the thought conjured. The woman herself wasn’t exactly being helpful. Bofur didn’t quite have the strength to look away, and he could see her hips writhing so aggressively he was truly impressed she hadn't jolted herself awake by now. The miner had to quickly swallow a groan when he looked at her expression again, with her face contorted in pleasure and her bottom lip swollen slightly from being bitten. Suddenly, she threw her head back and her lips parted in a silent scream as her thighs shook violently, and then she slumped back down against her bedroll, panting like she’d just been running. It took Bofur’s mind a second to catch up with what had actually happened before he realised that she had just had a real orgasm from a dream about him, but when it finally clicked the amount of blood that rushed downwards made him so lightheaded he had to plant his palms firmly against the ground to stop himself from falling to the side. The woman groaned softly in obvious contentment, and rolled onto her side, now facing his direction.

“Mmmm, warn a girl before fucking her senseless why don’t you…”  

Now, Bofur really hadn’t needed that. It was honestly a wonder that her words hadn’t made him cum right then and there. After a moment he noticed that his own breathing was almost as fast as hers had been, and he took a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself. It didn’t really work.

About 20 minutes later, when Bofur was sure the woman was actually sleeping properly and wouldn’t be putting on the same display for anyone else, he woke up the dwarf who would be relieving him from his shift on watch; Oin. In all that time, his spear had remained upright, trying to poke through his clothing. A rather unfortunate truth began to dawn on him when he settled down in his own bedroll and attempted to sleep - he wouldn’t be getting any rest until he took care of his little problem and polished his sword. He was ridiculously grateful that it was Oin on watch, as the old dwarf was certain to get tired of holding up his ear trumpet at some point, and when he did he wouldn’t be able to hear the kinds of quiet sounds Bofur would be making and attempting to muffle. Sure enough a few minutes later, the trumpet was lowered, and as surreptitiously as possible Bofur snatched his hat off his head to use as a cover over his mouth in case he wasn’t quite able to catch all his groans in his throat. One hand shakily slipped down into his breeches, fingers curling firmly around the handle of his axe. It was difficult, but he managed to force his hips to remain still as he brought himself to completion quickly, knowing that Oin would likely notice if he moved around too much. He stubbornly tried not to think of the woman, but the tighter his pleasure coiled in his belly the more his mind strayed to her face, thrown back during the height of her passionate dream. In the end, he guiltily visualised her, trying to imagine just what exactly she had dreamt about. It didn’t take him long to spill over his hand, and he cleaned himself up as best as he could with a spare undershirt that already badly needed cleaning. Bofur fixed his hat back on his head, and though he supposed he should really be embarrassed with what he’d just done, he wasn’t. He was certain Oin hadn’t noticed after all, Mahal bless him. Bofur shuffled around on his bedroll until he found a comfortable position and it didn’t take long before his eyes closed and a peaceful sleep claimed him for the rest of the night.  Forever Tags: @sweeticedtea​ @cd1242​ @strongandfreedc​ @pixierox101​ @jotink78​ @luna-xial​ @underthemoon-n​

[bookofjudith]

I received this LOVELY ficlet set in the same AU as ‘a cardinal hits the window’, and it made me cry. thank you so much anon for sending it to me!

                                                 _________

Hi! So. I love your fanfic so much. And I was reading through the comments/threats posted on “Cardinal” and saw one that made a suggestion for a fic set in the same universe that involved Zuko. And the plot bunny attacked. So here it is; self-indulgent and un-edited. Please don’t feel obligated to post this at all! It’s just a thank you for all you’ve written. On the other hand, please feel free to throw this up wherever you want, and to make any changes at all to it. From this point on, it’s fully, 100% yours to do with as you please. May your weekend be lovely!

Warnings: Brief mentions of past character deaths, mentions of injury, mentions of surgery and other hospital things, mentions of child abuse.

It always took long enough for Iroh to register that he was hearing his own mobile phone ringing – there was just always so much background noise in the Jasmine Dragon that he had learned to tune everything but the landline and the words ‘excuse me’ and his name out completely – that it stopped before he got to answer it. Usually, when that happened, he let it be; there was no point dropping things to dive for a call he’d already missed, anyway. But, that afternoon, the phone started up again almost as soon as the last call had died down, and the ringing was close enough to the first that he noticed. Still, by the time he’d carefully set the trays down and fished the device from his pocket, it was silent again. Iroh peered at the screen and felt his eyebrows raise even as his heart clenched suddenly. He had no fewer than eleven missed calls – four from Sokka, and seven from Katara.

The landline rang, but Iroh called for Jin to please answer it, his fingers slow but determined on the phone screen before him. Something was wrong; he could feel it in the very blood his thudding heart was pumping around his body. Something was wrong, because Katara and Sokka wouldn’t be that adamant to get hold of him if it wasn’t. And, oh, hadn’t he had a premonition of ill omens the evening before, when Zuko had asked him to swap out his shift at the Dragon last minute but then had been cagey about why? He should have pressed for more information; should have forced Zuko to tell him why he couldn’t meet his eyes as he mumbled out weak excuses. Meeting somebody who can only make that time Zuko had said. Katara’s coming with. Iroh shouldn’t have let that appease him; shouldn’t have been mollified by the young woman’s presence just because she and Zuko had made such surprising, strong friends in the past few years after their initial rocky start. He should have done more than warn Zuko to take care of Katara, not yet fifteen and therefore more Zuko’s responsibility than any of his other friends, and should have not been so easily reassured by Zuko’s offence at the insinuation that he wouldn’t do all in his power to ensure all those he cared about were safe, but especially the younger ones. He should have –

“Iroh!” Jin stuck her head around the door. “The phone’s for you. It’s Katara. And it sounds urgent.”

Iroh abandoned his attempts to call one of the siblings back and instead half ran to the phone. “Katara?”

“Uncle,” Katara sobbed, her breathing harsh and full of tears. Ice began filling Iroh’s veins as sweat broke out all over him. “Uncle you – you have to come quick.”

“Katara, what happened?”

“You have to get to the h…hospital,” Katara sobbed. “It’s Zuko.”

Iroh’s heart nearly stopped beating on the spot, and he hung up without a proper goodbye.

***

Iroh’s heart didn’t stop beating. But Zuko’s had. If Katara, with her first aid certification, hadn’t been there… If the ambulance hadn’t arrived before he’d crashed a second time…

He’d promised himself, when he’d lost Lu Ten, that he’d never take for granted the spaces a beloved son filled inside his heart and his chest. Never again would he only notice how full he had been because there was suddenly emptiness there. But, despite his promises, he must have still forgotten, because sitting in an uncomfortable waiting room chair while Zuko’s life hung in the balance of the spirits’ and the doctors’ hands, all he could see was the approaching emptiness. What life would be like without Zuko. And he was too numb to even cry.

From Katara, he’d learned this: Zuko had made plans to meet with Azula, to try and convince her to leave Ozai to come to stay with them. He’d been hopeful enough to drop everything to see her, but wary enough that he’d brought Katara along with him as backup. It had started out almost hopeful; Azula had swung between scorn and doubt, between spite and near-broken uncertainty, and Zuko had seemed to really be getting through to her, for once. And then something had changed, and she’d gone on the offensive, dragging Zuko into a fight that had grown worse and worse until Zuko had firmly chosen to walk away. He had told her, out loud, that he was not going to be the person Ozai had tried to make him, that she could contact him if she needed anything or if she was ready to talk, and had begun to walk away. Azula hadn’t liked being left behind. Something in her seemed to snap, and she kept trying to force Zuko to stay. Katara had stepped in, realising it would be easier for her, an outside party, to respond to Azula than it would be for Zuko. Azula had been merciless with her, but Katara had stood her ground. And then Azula had, so quickly Katara still couldn’t understand how or why, brought out a Taser. Zuko had done what he always did – what Iroh had known he would do without thinking about it even as he’d reminded Zuko to take care of Katara: he’d stepped between his friend and harm.

Zuko had gone down, and hadn’t gotten up again, and Azula had zapped him once more in her rage. Katara had shoved Azula off and somehow disarmed her and then fallen to Zuko’s side and had found him unresponsive but panting. And then… then there had been nothing. She couldn’t tell Iroh exactly what had happened after that, but somehow she’d called Sokka on autopilot, and he and Suki had dropped everything to rush over, calling the ambulance as they came. Azula had… disappeared. Katara thought she remembered yelling at Azula to call somebody, and seeing only a face white with shock and horror, staring at her brother’s fallen form. But she couldn’t be sure what had really happened in those moments.

From the doctors, Iroh had learned this: much of Ozai’s complaining about how Zuko was never as fast or strong or energetic or full of endurance as Azula was down to a congenital heart defect. Nobody had picked it up (or so they said, but in Iroh’s head rang Ozai’s voice spitting that Zuko had been lucky to be born) and it had steadily worsened over time, never getting bad enough that it was more than an inconvenience. He would have had mild heart palpitations from time to time, the doctors said. Probably not painful if Zuko had never said anything, the doctors said (but Iroh knew better, he knew his nephew he knew and, oh, Zuko, what more suffering had been kept a secret?). They couldn’t know for sure without a diagnoses, but the worse symptoms would have been that he tired easily, got breathless and/or lightheaded occasionally and had a slightly more rapid heartbeat. Inconvenient, but not truly dangerous. Not until the Taser had been applied directly to his chest.

From the kind nurses he would have flirted with, slightly, if his world wasn’t on the brink of ending, he learned the following: they were doing all they could to fix the underlying damage as well as the damage the Taser had done. They’d tried doing a non-invasive route, first, but had had to resort to opening up his chest. They’d tell him once they heard any other news, they promised.

Katara, Sokka and Suki had been there for an undetermined bit of time at the beginning. Katara, despite being tear-swollen and devastated, hadn’t wanted to leave until she was sure Zuko would be okay, despite the nurses trying to gently but firmly tell her only family was allowed. He is family, she’d snarled at one point, and Iroh had almost had the energy to side with her against the nurse, who hadn’t understood just how true Katara’s words were. Eventually, it had been Sokka who had convinced his little sister to leave. Iroh hadn’t seen it at the time, but sitting in the aching, black eternity of waiting, he suddenly put together the clues he hadn’t recognised before: this hospital haunted that young man in a way that was still viscerally painful. Too much time with his friend who had only recently passed. Too many ghosts, and far too much pain, and his inability to stay, even for Zuko, had finally broken through his little sister’s stubborn fear-love enough for her to agree to leave for the time being. Iroh might have imagined it, but they could possibly have said they’d gather the whole group together in order to wait for news.

It was one of the most coherent things Iroh thought about in that ceaseless agony. The rest of his thoughts were far more incoherent, with only brief flashes of lucidity. No, don’t call his father, I’m his guardian. I will not let his father near him, was the longest sentence he said out loud. The rest were monosyllabic responses coaxed out of some automatic part of himself while his true nature hunkered down like a wounded animal, believing that if he was just quiet and still enough the pain wouldn’t find him a second time.

That wounded animal also had teeth, however, and it bared them in his mind. Why hadn’t a single doctor in the burn unit picked up the heart problems? Zuko had been in their care for months. Why hadn’t Ursa? Why hadn’t Iroh himself? Why hadn’t Zuko just said something? How often had he said I’m tired and meant that his body was unable, unable, unable to do what the world was demanding of it? Why had Zuko gone to meet Azula in the first place, with only Katara with him? Zuko should know by now what a poisonous woman Ozai had made his daughter into. A Taser. Her own brother. Could he arrest her for it? Could he make sure that Azula never again hurt another person? Could he punish her for what she’d done, the way Ozai had punished Zuko so many times?

Shame made him lucid. Shame and guilt and a bowed head of silent apology to his niece. But, even as he meant it, he also did not. There would be time to truly repent for the things he felt toward Azula in those long moments, but that time would come after. He simply… did not have the capacity to forgive and see reason and compassion for his as-abused niece while his nephew – his son, his Zuko – possibly lay dying. Those moments turned him back into the man he’d spent years growing away from after Lu Ten’s death, because, as much as he’d genuinely changed and fought for that change, he was only human. More than that; he was Ozai’s kin.

That shame in him made him think, as the tired doctor walked toward him, that the universe would punish him the same way twice. And all he could think, distorted and desperate, was, please don’t kill him for my transgressions. Nor for Ozai’s or even Azula’s. Please. You’ve done enough. He’s paid enough. He’s done enough reparations for himself that he doesn’t deserve this.

From the tired doctor, Iroh learned this: he was still allowed to keep this son.

Crying loudly in the middle of the hospital was not one of the things Iroh would feel shame about in the days to come.

***

Sweet talking and bribing all the nurses not only meant that Iroh could stay past visiting hours but that he could sneak Zuko’s friends in past the family only rule. Zuko would only be kept in the hospital for a week before being discharged to heal at home, but the kids couldn’t wait that long to see him, and Iroh understood their anxiety. They’d been told to limit it to two at a time, and Katara was almost always one of the two. Some of her tenacity being at Zuko’s side was born of guilt and processing the trauma she’d been through, Iroh knew, but most of it was that near-nameless understanding that had dropped between the two of them, sometime Iroh hadn’t been looking. Suki was second most frequent, Aang and Toph were tied and Sokka… Sokka barely came. Iroh was nearly as anxious to get Zuko home for Sokka’s sake as he was for his own and Zuko’s, because it was obvious that Sokka wanted to be there for Zuko, but just as obvious that the hospital killed him inside.

“It… smells the same,” he’d confessed to Iroh, looking haunted and on the verge of tears.

Zuko whispered something similar to Iroh when he was most inhibited; when calm and focus couldn’t stop the memories of the burn unit from encroaching. That morning, Iroh had found his nephew in one of those moods – anxious enough he was making the nurses frown at his heart rate and anxious enough to snap and snarl to try and get them to stop poking, stop demanding, stop keeping him there – and so he’d made a big show of going to get Zuko his favourite food. It hadn’t helped, much, but it had helped Zuko get his tongue under control a little bit more. Iroh returned with the food to hear murmurs from inside Zuko’s closed curtains, and so he paused and took a peek inside before entering.

Katara was on Zuko’s hospital bed, curled carefully on his left side so that she didn’t jostle or lean on Zuko’s still very broken sternum. One hand was in his hair, and Iroh realised that she was guarding his weaker side as Iroh himself had subtly tried to do countless times. Having somebody trusted there helped Zuko to relax more, and she knew this. Sokka was the other one in the room, and, although he was still in a chair, it was pushed so close to the bed his knees were up to his chest. He was holding Zuko’s hand, and looking utterly unperturbed by that fact.

The most surprising thing was that Zuko was the one speaking; murmuring reassurances and comforts to both of them in a voice still weak and breathy and more raspy than usual. It’s fine. I’m fine. Everything’s going to be fine. You’re both okay. Thank you, Katara. Sokka, buddy, hey… Hey…

Iroh backed away. It wasn’t for him to see. It tasted bittersweet in a sharp way he wasn’t sure he’d ever really experienced, before; Zuko reassuring a friend who had saved his life and a friend who hated hospitals because he’d lost love slowly, painfully, inevitably inside of one. Zuko, surrounded by so much love, this time around, when the first time he’d been so alone and small and quiet and heartbrokenly enraged in a similar bed. That young boy hadn’t even had the pieces to comfort himself, let alone others. And here Zuko was now, being comforted and giving out comfort. Without tripping over himself, without second-guessing, without embarrassment, because that love had become second-nature.

In that moment, Iroh truly began to repent for what he’d thought about his niece. Because he understood all too well why Zuko had gone to meet Azula, and why, even after all this, he’d never stop trying to coax his sister into a proper home.

***

The tense, anxious mood relaxed slightly when Toph began to cackle out of nowhere. “How much does this suck, eh?” she giggled at Zuko.

Zuko rolled his eyes, even though she wouldn’t be able to see it, pinned between Suki and Sokka, who were each gripping an elbow, and hemmed in by Iroh and Katara in the front and Aang at the back, ready to catch him if he fell.

“If I ever coddle you like this, push me down these stairs,” Zuko grumbled at her.

“It’s a deal,” Toph said, cheerfully, even as Suki gently – very gently – flicked Zuko with her free hand.

Katara put her hands on her hips. “Say that without panting or wheezing and when you don’t look white enough to pass out and it might have more weight,” she said, primly.

But they did all ease up some as they continued to slowly shepherd Zuko to Iroh’s apartment. There was no elevator, and the stairs were steep, and despite the fact that they might have been a little over-protective, it was hard going on Zuko’s broken chest and still-healing heart. And so they all stuck close, and caught him when he staggered a little, very careful of his broken bits, and finally managed to ease him down onto the sofa. Zuko’s eye widened a little as he looked up and caught them all looming over him, very close, all huddled together.

“Holy shit, you guys – ” he started, sounding exasperated.

“Okay, okay, yeah, back up and give the dude some space.”

Everybody shuffled maybe a step or two away. Suki kept her eyes carefully on Zuko’s face, noting the things Iroh himself was picking up. Suki met Iroh’s eyes and pursed her lips a little before venturing forward with, “Hey… if you want us to rather go and come back tomorrow…”

Zuko blinked at her. “I thought we were watching shitty movies,” he said, in confusion.

“Yeah, but… if you’d rather sleep,” Katara said, catching on.

Sokka let out a rude noise. “Then he can sleep. But, dude, Movie Night Rules apply to you, too, so if you’re the first to go you know you’ll wake up with a Sharpie ‘stash.”

“As long as Toph doesn’t draw it,” Zuko said, and Toph happily flipped him the bird.

Still, Suki met Iroh’s eyes one more time, seeking permission. Iroh smiled warmly at her and made a gently, slowly motion with his hands where Zuko couldn’t see. And so the group arranged themselves, snacks and extra pillows – most of them for Zuko – and set up Toph’s state-of-the-art laptop. Sokka sat to Zuko’s one side, Suki on the other with her leg casually over Zuko’s, both of them as close as they could be without hurting. Toph and Aang sprawled on a futon nearest the laptop, while Katara had a beanbag chair set up so that her back could press against Zuko’s legs while her legs could be used for Aang to lounge against.

Iroh persisted until he captured a great photo of the moment, because he wanted to remember what quiet, strong love looked like for many days to come.

“Who wants tea?” he called as the opening credits started, and he knew their grunts enough to know who had answered and what, exactly to get each of them.

He, just like Zuko, was also no longer alone.

[simsadventures]

Better Like This: Chapter 14: Now You’re Here

Summary: You deal with the newly remembered memories worse than you expected, and you silently wish you never remembered some parts in the first place. But Bucky’s by your side to remind you of your value.

Warnings: little angst, PTSD, anxiety, scenting, a/b/o dynamics, fluff- a lot of fluff, implied smut

Word Count: 2034 A/N: We’re nearing the end so quickly you guys! Thank you so much for sticking with me, love you all so so much!!!

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist

< Previous Chapter

At first, everything was a blur of images, colours and emotions. But then, as if suddenly something snapped inside you, you saw clearly. And it hit you, one memory after another. You felt as if you were in a ring with Muhammad Ali, getting punched left and right, but unlike in a real match, you couldn’t leave. You were trapped inside your own body, forever to be with your memories.

Not that you hated every single one. Not at all. You also remembered the happy times, your family, your friends, all the funny moments at school, or dining and gossiping with Wanda and Vis. Or the moment you first smelled Bucky’s scent, the first moment you realised that the true mate myths weren’t a myth at all and that you wouldn’t be forever alone. That there was somebody made specifically for you.

But then the bad ones came, not only the recent ones with Amber, but also the ones from Police Academy, or your previous unit. All the bullying for who you were, all those harsh words that you tried to put behind you came rushing towards like a truck.

You couldn’t even describe what you were feeling. You wanted this. You prayed for this to happen. And when it finally came, all you wanted was to shut those memories in a closet and keep only those that you wanted.

Bucky was sitting next to you on the bed, holding your hand, waiting for you to say something, to do something, but you just didn’t have the power. Your mind was flooded with all the colours, and you felt like drowning. You suddenly gripped your throat at the memory of Amber choking the life of you, trying to breathe properly. But the memory was so vivid that your own breath was hitching and you could feel yourself growing a little lightheaded.

“Breathe, doll, just breathe, ok? You’re ok now, you’re here with me, and I’m not going anywhere.” Bucky told you in a hushed voice, probably not to scare you even more than you already were. “Here, breathe with me. In-out-in-out-in-“

You tried to concentrate solely on Bucky’s voice, opening your eyes to look into those eyes that you grew to love so much. You breathed with him, and after a while, you could feel your heart rate going back to normal, and your breathing being more on the normal side too. You gripped Bucky’s hand tightly and closed your eyes again.

“Don’t go anywhere, please, Bucky, I know you gotta go to work, but please don’t leave me here alone. I can’t be-“

He shushed you by hugging you tightly while you cried on his shoulder. The stream of tears seemed to be unstoppable, but you felt like you needed it. Needed it to let it all out of your system. To relieve your heart and mind at least a little.

“I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. I made that mistake once, and I’m not gonna do it again. Look at me,” he said, put both his hands on each side of your head and raised it gently. “I’m so fucking sorry, love, that I left you all alone, that I didn’t stay with you, or that I didn’t take you with me! I will never forgive my-“

It was your turn to shush him this time. You simply put your hand on his mouth to prevent him from talking and wiped one stray tear on his cheek.

“None of it is your fault, Bucky. I know you think that because I was alone in your flat, she had an easier path to me. But trust me when I say that she’d find a way anyhow. She is a sick person. If she didn’t abduct me that day, it could have been two days after that, on my way to another crime scene, or something. She would have found a way regardless of you. Please, please don’t even think it’s your fault.”

“But she is my ex-girlfriend, Omega, she attacked you because of me!” Bucky pulled away a little, his chest rising and falling a little more frequently than you liked. Just then you realised, that ever since you woke without your memory, Bucky wasn’t able to scent you and that it had to be taking all of his will power not to sniffle at your mark.

You slowly pushed your hard away from your neck and angled your head so that Bucky would have an easier path to your mark. You put a hand on his thigh gently and said, “would you like to scent me, Alpha?”

Just you saying his title made him snap your head towards your neck, watching the now healed scar with sudden interest. “Only if you are 100% comfortable with me doing that. I can wait another few days, Y/N. I just want you to feel good.”

You wanted to cry again, but this time because your Alpha was the most considerate man you’ve ever encountered. He never pushed you into something you didn’t want, and even if he was an asshole when you met, his attitude changed dramatically, and he was the best thing that happened to you.

“Come here!” you growled playfully, and Bucky didn’t need any other persuasion, as he pretty much jumped at you, resulting in your back hitting the mattress. He didn’t seem to mind as he snuggled his face into the crook of your neck and inhaled deeply. You could feel his whole body shudder from the intensity of his inhale. At the same time, you could feel his entire body relaxing, the tension suddenly melting away.

“I’m ok, Alpha. I’m here with you, and you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon!” You whispered lovingly into his hair. You could feel him lick the mark, but then he stopped and looked into your eyes. “I love you so fucking much sweetheart. I thought I lost you for a second there, and I don’t know what I’d do without you here.”

“Let’s not think about that. I might be a little roughed up, but I’m still standing, and some bitch can’t bring me to my knees.”

Bucky kissed your forehead and looked at you lovingly. You could have stayed there, staring into Bucky’s intense eyes for the rest of your days if his phone didn’t ring. He sighed, stroke your cheek and got up to see who was ruining this moment for the two of you.

“Steve, hey!” Bucky said and listened to everything Steve had to say. He just hummed here and there, but otherwise kept quiet. “Oh, yeah, I almost forgot, Y/N remembers everything now. Yeah, I know, it’s great, can you tell the rest of the team so they wouldn’t worry too much? Great, thanks, will do, you too, Bye!”

“What did Steve want?”

“Just the usual, nothing to worry about.” You could see right through him. He was withholding some information from you! “James Buchanan Barnes! What did Steve really want?” You said and crossed your arms on your chest.

Bucky huffed out, looked at you pleadingly, but when he saw that there was no way around it, he just rolled his eyes and put his hand on your knee. You weren’t sure if he did it to ground you or him.

“Amber told Tony about three other girls she killed but hid their bodies well enough. Well, the team went to see if the bodies were really there, and indeed, they found three young women killed in the way that matches Amber’s MO. He just called me to say she was going for a trial, but that it was a no-brainer.”

You thought about it for a minute. As much as you never wanted to hear her name again, you were relieved that the team got her and that she was no threat to you nor anyone else in New York City.

“Good, I hope she’ll rot in hell! Is there anything I can do to help convict her?”

“NO!” Bucky said a little too loud, and it made you jump a little. “I’m sorry, doll, just the thought of you being in the same room as her makes my blood boil. But I mean it, you don’t have to do anything. Steve’s got a written confession, so nobody’s gonna put you through that. And even if they wanted to, I wouldn’t let them!”

You shook your head at his protectiveness, but it made you smile a little too. It must have been hell for him the last few days, first you not being where he left you, and then the whole thing with your amnesia. You could see that it took quite a toll on him as well. The dark circled under his eyes from always sleeping in the hospital next to you. His skin was a little paler too, and you could have sworn he lost some weight.

Pff, you’d make sure he’d gain his weight back and that he wouldn’t have to be so tired anymore.

“Come here, you big bad wolf! Let’s have another nap, shall we? I think we both need it.” You laid down and tapped the place right behind your for Bucky to spoon you. He gulped hard, started to crawl towards you, but then stopped mid-crawl, and set back on his heels.

“I don’t think I can doll, what if someone comes and-“

“Bucky! Nobody is coming for you or for me. We both need a good sleep, so get your cute ass here, spoon the hell out of me, and we can worry about the world when we’re actually able to function. Ok?”

He knew there was no point of arguing with you, so he just lowered his head and crawled behind you just as he should have. You fell to a beautiful slumber.

Until it wasn’t so beautiful anymore.

You felt as if your whole face was on fire, and there was something squeezing your waist. You tried to get free, but the thing wouldn’t budge. You started tossing, trying to get free, trying to breathe, but it was harder and harder for you. You could feel the phantom of a hand on your throat and yelled.

Bucky almost got a heart attack. He was peacefully sleeping next to you, a good resting sleep after all those restless nights when suddenly he could feel you turning and trying to get his arm from your stomach. He didn’t understand what was happening, his brain still foggy with the sleep, so before he could realise what was probably on your mind, you yelled so loudly he almost went deaf.

“Shhh, Y/N, you’re home, you’re ok, love! Look at me, hey, look at me, Y/N! You’re safe!”

You blinked hard a few times before you shook your head with the realisation that you were in no grave danger. It was just your brain playing dirty tricks on you. You were still shaking from the feeling of not being able to breathe again.

“I couldn’t breathe, Bucky, she was just… I just couldn’t, and she wouldn’t let go and I only-“

You were panicking, and you had every right to. The shit you went through would shake with an experienced soldier, let alone with someone who never was in such an intense situation.

“I know, doll, I know. But you will never have to go through such thing again, I promise you that!”

“I know, I just… can’t shake the feeling of her hands on my body, you know?”

You wanted to get rid of that image, and an idea occurred to you. You grabbed the hem of Bucky’s shirt and pulled him closer to you, so you could feel his hot breath on your cheek.

“Make those memories go away, Bucky, please, just for a bit.”

He looked confused as if he didn’t know what you were asking, but because just the idea made slick pool in your nether regions, he quickly caught the scent of you.

“Doll… If we start this, I won’t be able to stop. I had missed you terribly and if we-“

You didn’t let him finish and just brought him in for a passionate kiss.

/ Next Chapter >

Better Like This Tags:

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[whatdidimissjm]

Could you do a soulmate au with hamilton and Jefferson?

I´m sorry I took so long, I wanted to edit it yesterday, but I was too dead from work haha

I loved writing this and I hope you like it too and thanks for the request!💕

--

Alex is glad when he finally gets home from work, which isn´t like him at all. Normally he´s happy to be there, but today he met his new co-worker. Thomas Jefferson. He was excited at first to meet him, having heard good things about him from their mutual friend James Madison as well as from Washington himself. What both of them forgot to mention though, was what an absolute arrogant asshole the Virginian was. Alex can feel anger starting to boil inside him as he thinks about their first meeting today. He clenches his fists unconsciously, shaking his head, when he realises he´s doing it. Jefferson shouldn´t bother him that much, and he definitely shouldn´t let him ruin his evening. He lets out a sigh, heading to the bathroom to take a shower, which will hopefully calm him down a bit. He quickly strips out of his clothes and steps into the shower, closing his eyes as the warm water hits his skin. He feels the anger and stress from today slowly melting away and just enjoys the moment. Reluctantly, he opens his eyes again, after a few minutes, blinking against the light. He reaches for the bottle of shampoo and just as his hand closes around the bottle, he catches a glimpse of something black on his inner wrist. 

He frowns, turning the arm around to get a closer look at it. Alex drops the bottle of shampoo almost instantly, jumping back in surprise. He hits his head on the glass wall of the shower, but doesn´t pay any attention to the pain, instead staring in shock at the name of his new co-worker written on his wrist in a neat handwriting. 

“No, no, no.”, he mumbles.

This has to be a joke. This can´t be happening. 

He grabs a washcloth and starts rubbing at the dark ink, hoping that it will come off, but of course it doesn´t. He only stops, when his skin is red and hurting, the name still prominent. Alex lets out a frustrated groan, throwing the washcloth against the wall. He stares at the name through tears, a feeling of dread and helplessness starting to grow in him. Thomas Jefferson. His soulmate.

It´s unfair. Why couldn´t it be someone he likes? He lets out a huff. This is just another way life has screwed him over, he really should have been expecting it. 

The water, that has felt so calming only minutes ago, is now almost unbearable, but somehow Alex manages to get himself to wash his hair and body. He feels almost numb when he finally gets to bed, staring at the dark and wishing that sleep would come. His thoughts revolve around Jefferson, his heart feeling heavy. When he can feel tears filling his eyes again, he thinks about calling John, but discards the thought again, instead curls up in a ball and cries himself to sleep.

--

When Alex wakes up the next morning it takes a moment for the events from yesterday to come to mind again. For a few seconds, he allows himself to imagine that it was just a dream, but when he looks at his wrist, still a bit red from his efforts to get the name off, the ink is still there. Black and prominent against his white skin.

Alex gently traces the lines and suddenly, there are tears in his eyes again. It shouldn´t feel like this when you learn the name of your soulmate. It´s not supposed to feel like this. He should feel happy and excited, instead of betrayed and disappointed. For a moment he debates just calling Washington and telling him that he feels sick, which isn´t even a lie, but discards the idea again. He has never been a coward and he won´t start now.

It takes him longer than usual to get ready for work and after a bit of debating, he chooses a long-sleeved shirt, even though it´s said to be the hottest day of the week. He fiddles anxiously with the hem of it on his way to work, afraid that someone will spot the traitorous ink on his wrist. He envies the other people around him, who are able to wear the name of their soulmate with pride and feels even worse for that.

As soon as he reaches his office, Burr appears in the door and informs him that Washington has called for a meeting. Alex follows Burr to the conference room, hoping that the other man won´t notice how much of a nervous wreck he is. He doesn´t know what he should expect, and that´s the worst of it. How is he supposed to react when he meets Jefferson again? How will Jefferson react when he sees him again? He is about to just turn around again, but Burr opens the door to the conference room, and Alex has no other choice than to step inside. When he sees Jefferson already sitting there, his heart does a weird flutter in his chest. The Virginian looks up as they enter, only sparing him a short glance and a nod, before turning around to Washington again.

With a start it hits Alex that maybe his name didn´t appear on Jefferson´s wrist after they have met, maybe Jefferson is Alex´ soulmate, but Alex isn´t his. This realisation feels like a punch in the gut, even more so than finding out that Jefferson is his soulmate. It´s not common, but it happens and with all the luck Alex has had in his life, it honestly wouldn´t surprise him. He feels like crying, but somehow, he manages to conjure enough self-control to walk down the table and take a seat in his usual chair, next to Washington. He does his best not to let his growing panic show, trying out every breathing exercise he remembers. He can barely concentrate on the meeting, his thoughts too occupied with the fact that Jefferson still isn´t paying any attention to him. 

When the meeting ends, Alex hurries out of the room, glad that no one tries to stop him. He closes the door of his office behind him, leaning against it for a moment, before he walks over to the window. He pushes the sleeve of his shirt up, looking down at the name on it. He traces the lines once again, allowing himself a moment to imagine what it would be like to finally have someone to rely on. To not be someone´s placeholder, but the end of the journey, and the beginning of a new one. Alex shakes his head violently to rid himself of those thoughts, nails digging into his wrist, leaving halfmoon shaped imprints on his already reddened skin. It won´t do him any good if he gets his hopes up. A knock on the door interrupts his thoughts, startling him and he quickly pulls his shirtsleeve down again, covering his soulmark effectively. 

“Come in.”, he calls, hoping that whoever needs something from him won´t take too long.

His heart skips a beat when Jefferson enters, and he clutches his left wrist unconsciously.

“Do you have some time? I need to talk to you about something.”

Alex can feel his heart beating loud and fast in his chest, and it takes him a moment to nod. Jefferson closes the door behind him, takes a step toward the chair in front of Alexander´s desk, but remains standing. Alex notes that Jefferson is wearing a long-sleeved shirt as well, which causes a small flicker of hope to ignite in Alex´ chest, but he tries to ignore it.

“Okay, so, we didn´t really get off to a good start, I think, but uhm-“, Jefferson rolls up his sleeve of his shirt, showing it to Alex, with an uncertain smile. “It looks like you are my soulmate, so can we try this again?”

True to the other man´s words, Alex can see his own name in his handwriting on Thomas´ wrist. For a moment he just stares at the ink, not really believing what he´s seeing. Tears are running down his face, but there is the biggest smile on his face. He feels almost lightheaded with relief when he pushes up his sleeve as well, showing Thomas his own soulmark.

“Can I touch you?”, Thomas asks, and Alex nods.

When Thomas wraps his arms around Alex, he holds him almost desperately, like he is afraid that he might lose him again. It should feel weird, Alex thinks, seeing as they don´t really know each other, but instead it feels familiar, like coming home. 

“I thought you didn´t have it. I thought you were mine, but I wasn´t yours.”, Alex admits.

He can feel Thomas hold on tighter.

“No, it´s us. It´s always gonna be us now.”