#and yet it’s the best kind of sleep you’ll ever get

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hiiii

Can you do something about the batboys (specially Tim and Damian cuz they are my fav)?

With a reader who loves hugs, like A LOT

And it is simply spontaneous to want to hug.

Dick

He loves your spontaneity and your hugs.

He finally has someone who can eagerly accept his out of nowhere hugs by reciprocating with your own hugs.

You have a hug off to see who can hug the other the most as it never fails to make both of your days better, and it acts like a really good pick me up when you both need it most.

Dick could stay in your arms forever if he could and hopes that you feel the same as it acts as a way of communicating without the usage of words. Dick can convey how he felt to you in certain situations throughout all types of hugs possible.

Tight hugs for when he thought he wasn’t going to come back home to you, or when he fears that you wouldn’t love him anymore or for times where he just needed to feel you against him.

Soft, gently, comforting hugs for when he feels like being more affectionate with you, maybe even playful and or wanting to just show you that he cares about you as while he’s a charmer, meaningful words tend to fail him on multiple occasions.

Protective, ‘don’t touch them or else’ hugs where he keeps a tight and firm grip on you as he pushes your head into his neck while he poetically cocoons you in his arms as to keep you out of sight of anyone he thinks is no good for you.

Other then them, dick will always await for you with open arms almost instinctively, knowing he’s going to get the best hug of a lifetime as thought you haven’t seen each other in a long time and not five minutes. Dick just loves you and your spontaneous hugs.

Damian

Fight instincts are strong in Damian.

So when you first try to hug him, his sword was drawn within inches of your face as fast as you could blink. He’d never hurt you, no. It’s just that his body was tuned to react within seconds to any potential danger against him, and unfortunately his mind made him think that your hugs were threats.

So once he realises what he had done on impulse, he apologise and sheathed his sword and tells you that he’s not yet use to your kind of affection due to his upbringing and that he’ll try to become accustomed to it eventually; Which he does but his response to your hugs is rather stiff and almost robotic but you were more then happy to take what you get, and if this is the most he can do right now then you’ll accept it.

However when he does start to get use to your hugs and doesn’t feel like he has to draw his sword every time, but he tends to melt into your touch like a stray cat being shown love for the first time. He closes his eyes and burrows his head into your neck as he tightened his grip on you, as though you’d vanish if he were to ever let up his hold.

He doesn’t want you to hug him in public, he’s not comfortable with it as he would when you’re hugging him in private, but he couldn’t fault you if you were to hug him after an highly emotional moment where you thought you’d loose him, Damian understands but he just prefers to have you hug him in private overall.

It also lessens the teasing potential for his brothers and he gets the alone time with you like he so wished for.

Tim

Finds comfort and reassurance in your hugs.

Seriously your hugs are what Tim needs after a long and arduous mission alongside his brothers and sisters.

He doesn’t even flinch at how out of the blue your hugs are, he just accepts your hugs no matter what and will sigh heavily as he practically falls asleep in your arms.

Please help this man get some proper sleep for once in his life, the detective stuff can wait, it’s not going to go anywhere anytime soon just please take a break.

He’s more then reciprocal of your hugs and appreciates the love you pour into them as they help ease the worries within his head as he rests his head against yours, allowing himself to slow down and appreciate what was in front of him.

Your hugs -despite their spontaneity- have a calming affect on him and they worked wonders for when he needs sleep as his mind tends to keep him up at night. So now with you it’s a bit more bearable as you would cradle his head to your chest, letting him focus in on your breathing and your heart until that’s all the last thing he remembered before drifting off to sleep.

Jason

It takes Jason some time to get use to your spontaneous hug feasts. At first he flinches and almost shies away from your hugs as he doesn’t acquaint any physical contact as soft, or warm or comforting like you did. In fact he viewed it as the opposite.

So it takes time for Jason to become comfortable with your spontaneous hugs and once he stops flinching and shying away from them, he grows addicted to your hugs and awaits each and every time that you decided he looked like he needed a little hug or cuddle.

He -much like Damian- would melt into your hugs, tighten his grip on you and would find that everything fades away the moment he’s in your arms; His mind clears of all stress and all he can think about was how perfect each and every one of your hugs were every single time.

He also never wants to leave your embrace, ever, he just refuses and claims he needs five more minutes in your arms and would groan in annoyance if you were to attempt to pull away.

‘Stop moving away from me.’ He’d groan. ‘You wanted to hug me so hug me!’

You chuckle at him whenever he got like this but oblige to his wishes regardless as you didn’t have to heart to stop hugging Jason when he’s practically clinging onto you like a koala bear. So you just remain where you are until five minutes become a full day and you and Jason are shuffling towards the bedroom together to cuddle until you feel asleep.

Needles to say Jason grows to love your hugs however they come and when they come, for they help him get through the day.

Bruce

He’s not use to your hugs yet either and it takes him just as long-if not longer- as Jason to get use to them overtime.

His muscles would tense and that’s about it.

He’s use to being hugged by the likes of Jason and Damian and Dick when he got older but your hugs were different then theirs, and sooner or later Bruce had developed a sixth sense for whenever you’re going to hug him, and would smile to himself whenever he heard your footsteps and little giggles before bracing himself for you hug.

‘You heard me didn’t you.’ You’d always ask and without hesitation Bruce replied with in a playful manner; ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about my dear.’ Which only made you pout as you tightened your grip on him while burrowing your face into his broad back.

There would even be times where you’re about to hug him, but Bruce moves just in times as you were going to hug his waist and stares at you for a bit before opening his arms and letting you run into his chest. He doesn’t mind your hugs now and then when he’s not busy as he doesn’t like neglecting you for his work; So he tries to at least let you get all your hugs out while you could before he had to indulge in his work that takes up a huge amount of his time.

Like Damian he likes to have you hug him in private, he’s a well know public figure and Gotham isn’t exactly safe and so he prioritised your safety above all else. So while he’ll interlock his pinky with yours or have your arm locked in his in public, he’ll let you hang off of him as reward in private while he rests his hands over your own in means of keeping you there.

Alfred finds it sweet seeing Bruce be affectionate with you and probably has a picture where Bruce is embracing you fully, his head resting atop of yours while your face was smothered against his chest, your face bearing the widest smile possible in comparison to Bruce’s face of calm serenity.

[renskaji]

strawberry lip balm

hayato suo x reader, wc: 2.5k, req? yes! find it here.

You’re not sure how you’ve managed to last so long with Hayato Suo as your friend. 

It’s not like he’s rude, or a slob, or any type of unkind—he wouldn’t be a Bofurin member if he was. But there’s something about him that drives you absolutely crazy, and not necessarily the good way. 

The problem is, you never know what he’s thinking. 

Which is a little ridiculous, considering you’ve grown up with him. In a town as tumultuous as Makochi—at least, until Umemiya took the lead—people stuck with the familiar. And you were lucky enough to befriend Suo, who volunteered to protect you without ever once actually being asked. 

Sometimes, you think that you wish you could go back in time and keep yourself from meeting Suo, because then you might save yourself more than your fair share of headaches. 

But you don’t think you’d ever actually do so, because he’s your best friend and genuinely tolerable to be around, nine chances out of ten. 

Like that very moment, when he humored your request for a late night convenience store trip that ended up at a nearby park to enjoy your feast. It’s not something you would have done on your own, too afraid of wandering outside at night, but since your personal bodyguard agreed to join you, you know you’ll be safe. 

Currently, you’ve found yourself on the swings, rocking back and forth slowly while munching on the snack you just needed to have that very moment. Suo, despite teasing that he’d leave you to your fate in the nighttime in favor of getting his much needed beauty sleep, stands watch at the edge of the swingset, your drink in his hand. 

“Are you sure you don’t want a piece?” You know his answer will be the same as always, but it doesn’t stop you from offering him a string of sour gummy candy you’ve been snacking on. He shakes his head, tassel earrings swaying with the movement, but his smile doesn’t falter the slightest. 

“Definitely doesn’t go well with my diet,” He tells you in a bright tone, and you roll your eyes despite feeling the corners of your lips curve up, popping the last piece of candy in your mouth. 

“I’m still not convinced your diet is real,” You counter with the same declaration you make each time once you’ve chewed and swallowed. Suo smoothly shrugs one shoulder, still irritatingly smirking, and you tip your head back with a groan at his non-answer. “Seriously, you’re the worst. I can never tell when you’re lying or not.” 

“I never lie to you,” He reasons calmly, and you snap your head in his direction and scoff. The empty candy package is shoved in your pocket, and within seconds of you extending a hand out for your tea, the cold bottle is pressed into your palm. 

“You lied to me this morning when you said Sakura thought I was weird!” You’re arguing with him, but you’re both smiling, and Suo is far from phased at being proven wrong. You watch as he grins wider at the memory, at your momentary outrage that morning when you thought Sakura didn’t like you—until he pulled out a bright ‘just kidding!’ that had you swatting at his shoulder. 

“I prefer to call that a joke rather than a lie.” Suo tilts his head when he counters, and you’re not able to miss the sudden spike in your pulse as you watch the action. It’s endearingly adorable, but you feel a smattering of red start to burn the tips of your ears. 

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” You’re not sure whether or not your words are meant to admonish his version of differentiating between a lie and a joke or the fact that you just found something he did cute enough to blush at. 

You’re not sure how he’s done it, but he’s found a new way to annoy you by drawing out that kind of reaction from you. 

“And yet here you are, suffering beside me.” 

You can’t argue with that, so you settle on narrowing your eyes at him threateningly. His smile doesn’t waver, and your heart does the weird jump thing again, so you retreat with two losses in a row. 

There’s a slight chance that Suo can read your mind, because he’s extending his hand to grab your drink before you even open your mouth to ask him to hold it again, and the thought makes your face twist into a pout without thinking. You do hand him your drink, though, because you need him to hold it while you reapply your lip balm. 

“Now, now. I’m doing you a favor. What’s with the pout?” He teases, tapping the side of your drink to get his point across. You’re not sure how to say ‘I’m mad you know me so well because it’s making my heart tick and I don’t know why’  without sounding like a freak, so you settle on staying silent. 

That might be your next mistake, because it only gives Suo the option to watch you meticulously apply your lip balm. His uncovered eye tracks the movement, his smile unwavering but there’s a glint in his gaze that you can only recognize because you’ve known him for so long. 

“What?” You find the courage to ask, but only because it sounds like a way to start an argument. Bickering with him is normal, comfortable. You feel more at ease snapping at him while he makes endless snarky jokes than you do attempting to dissect just why you’re suddenly blushing around him. 

“What flavor is your lip balm?” He asks casually, head tilting once more in that horribly infuriating way of his that you’ve never once minded but now is driving you crazy. You think you might be coming down with a fever, because there’s really no other explanation for why you’re suddenly so warm under his unwavering stare.

“Strawberry.” You’re thankful your voice comes out steady, even if your hands shake slightly as you recap the balm. “It’s new, but I think I like it more than my others.” 

“Hmm.” His hum is too casual, and you’ve known him long enough to recognize when he’s planning something. Still, there’s no preparing for what comes next. “Mind if I taste it?”

Your world feels like it’s tilting on its axis, and there’s absolutely no stopping the rush of color that blooms across your face. It’s inevitable, really, that with all the comments Suo fires off on a daily basis that surely one would fluster you beyond your limits. 

You just weren’t expecting him to be so flirty.

“You’re an ass.” You counter, giving him his own nonanswer type of answer. It doesn’t help that you’re suddenly being mentally flooded with images of Suo trying your lip balm. His shiny lips, tipped upwards in their familiar smirk, tongue darting out so coyly to taste—

Oh god. 

You want to kiss Hayato Suo. More than you want to kick him in the shins.  

“Well, that’s not nice.” His words fit the monologue in your head so well that you momentarily panic that you might’ve said something out loud that you weren’t supposed to, but then you remember you just called him an ass, and surely he’d have a bigger reaction if he’d heard you say you want to kiss him. 

“Fine.” You wobble a little on the swing as you stick out your hand, a small tube of strawberry lip balm resting in your palm. You hope he doesn’t see the way your hand is shaking with your recent discovery about yourself, but it’s Suo, so you know he does. It’s more of a matter of time until he calls you out on it rather than if he’ll do it. “Here.” 

For a moment, Suo doesn’t move. You’re desperately trying to think of what angle he’s playing, but you’re drawing a blank. It doesn’t help that you’re also trying to process the fact that you’re probably in love with your childhood best friend at the same time, either. 

When Suo does move, it’s not to teasingly take the balm from your hand, like you expect him to. You’re not exactly sure why you expected him to do what you assumed, anyways, but it doesn’t keep the surprise from your face when he ever-so carefully sets your drink on the ground by the swingset post. 

And suddenly, he’s standing in front of you, towering over your seated form. If you thought your pulse was racing earlier, it’s absolutely jackhammering now. He probably could hear it, too, because for a reason you can’t explain, Suo steps closer until he’s directly before you, hands gripping the chains of the swing you’re sitting on to brace himself as he leans forward.

“What if I wanted to taste it from you?” 

He’s smirking, like a cat playing with a mouse. And you’re definitely the mouse. 

“Suo,” You can’t look at him, so your attention is fixed on your abandoned tea bottle on the ground. There’s no helping the bite to your voice, and you hope it helps convince him you don’t like his newest game. “If you’re just trying to be funny, stop it.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. If anything, he leans closer. There’s never any winning with him.

“And if I’m not?”

It’s a dangerous question. Time seems to be slowing down around the two of you, and your focus finally finds him again. Your brows are knitted tightly together, face scrunched in confusion and the slightest bit of embarrassment. You can’t let yourself think that he’s being serious, not when you’ve known Suo long enough to know how he can commit to something he thinks is funny. 

But you don’t think he’s the type of person to toy with your feelings. He’s an insufferable tease, but he’s not cruel. 

“Would you quit with the nonanswers?” You huff out, pouting. You know your face is an unholy shade of red, but you’re slowly putting dots together that you didn’t even know existed ten minutes ago. “I can’t read a thing you’re thinking, and it’s driving me insane.” 

“Can I show you what I’m thinking?” His smirk takes on an edge of something else, and he somehow inches closer like it’s no big deal. There’s only a few scant inches between your faces, and you’re nearly certain you know what he’s hinting at and desperate to not be wrong. 

“No. Tell me.” You meet his stare head on, a new swell of bravery rising up in you when you read the admiration in his gaze. It’s not the look of someone annoyed at the bit being ruined, and you think your chances of being right about what he means only rises. “And then if I like what you’re thinking, then you can show me.”

“You drive a hard bargain.” His voice goes lighter, but he doesn't make any move to lean away from you. You think it’s a good sign, but his proximity isn’t exactly helping with your ability to think. “Alright, then. I’d very much like to kiss you. I don’t care at all about the lip balm, save for the fact that it’ll make your lips all the more softer.” 

And. Well. You did ask him to tell you what he’s thinking. You just weren’t expecting such candor, but you’re once again reminded to never assume you know what he’s thinking. 

“Suo. Are you lying?” There’s not really a part of you that thinks he’s lying at this point, because his attention keeps darting to your lips before bouncing back up to your eyes, but you know you need to say something and that’s all that comes to your mind. 

“No.” The answer comes so easily to him, and he doesn’t give you the chance to argue some more. “So, may I show you?”

He’s smirking again, but this time you think he looks more genuine. It might also just be all in your head. You think he looks more genuine because you finally believe him, but either way, you really want him to kiss you and it’s making your head dizzy with disbelief on the night’s turn of events. 

“Mhm.” It’s all you can manage. It’s embarrassing how you’ve been reduced to pure mush by a few sweet words, but it makes Suo tilt his head to the side in the way that used to irritate you, but now you realize that annoyance might’ve been unrecognized affection all along. 

“What’s the matter, now?” He damn near purrs, and your face begins to flame for the umpteenth time that night. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Would you just kiss me already?” You hiss through clenched teeth. The dark night around you isn’t enough to hide the evidence of your embarrassment at being so needy, so direct, but Suo looks so heavenly under the combination of a few old street lamps and the moon shining overhead, you think you can find it in yourself to ignore it.

He chuckles, the sound making your brain short-circuit when the tension of the evening is added on top of everything. 

“Sorry, you’re just so pretty when I tease.”

Suo yanks on the chains of the swing you’re seated on, pulling you closer to him in one swift moment until you’re crashing against him and his mouth captures yours in the kiss you had been demanding only seconds earlier. You’re not prepared for the sudden movement, and you think that was the point of why he tugged you closer instead of leaning in, and you would make a mental note to yell at him about it, but you’re not capable of doing anything but kissing Suo. 

You’re not sure why you ever thought that you and him could be just friends when kissing him feels as world-shatteringly right as it does. The first few seconds are clumsy due to your shock, but you regain your composure enough to tug on the front of his coat to keep him close. 

It’s almost too easy, kissing him. Like maybe you’ve been kissing him for years and you just didn’t realize, but you know that can’t be true, because you’d never forget the way his touch sends your skin buzzing all the way down to your toes. 

When he pulls away, he’s infuriatingly composed. You’re panting, trying to remember just where you are in the world now that you don’t have his lips on yours to distract you. Which is a monumentally hard task, because he’s still holding the chain of the swing close to his body.

Hayato Suo licks his lips purposefully, humming in thought, smirk pulled to the side.

“Strawberry’s good.” He settles on answering, and you find yourself completely melting in your place. If your new normal is finding your best friend mind-meltingly attractive, then you’re screwed. “We can try cherry lip balm next.” 

He grins wide and proud, and you pick up on the implication of his words instantly. 

“I think I hate you.” 

You really, really don’t.

[puck-luck]

i know you said a while ago that you’d consider writing for mat barzal but aren’t sure how to go about it and im just up late thinking about how barzy gives me suchhhh best friends to lovers vibes like hanging out ALL the time to the point where everyone assumes you guys are dating anyways, dropping literally everything when either of you needs the other, and things slowly progressing between you guys without either of you realizing it until one day one of your regular sleepovers is filled with so much sexual tension that you end up having crazy sex all over his apartment

closer than close | mat barzal

warnings: friends to lovers, fighting with friends (anthony beauvillier's ex emma simard), sharing a toothbrush (grosser than unprotected p in v IMO), (speaking of!) unprotected p in v, french kissing, booty callllll, sex in unconventional places (against a wall), fingering, dirty talk i guess, allusions to squirting but it's kind of left up in the air so... enjoy!

pairing: mat barzal x fem!reader

wc: 3,911

“You’re at Mat’s again?” Emma demands. Her outrage is no surprise to you. Ever since she and Tito broke up, she’s been more and more against your friendship with Mat. Sometimes you think it’s because she’s jealous that you remained friends with Tito’s friend after that ended, but sometimes you think she’s just mad that you’re denying something that isn’t there.

You shrug, untying the long socks from where they’re wrapped in your hair. The curls look good this time, unlike the last time you did heatless curls like this. Mat made fun of you relentlessly when they frizzed all over the place and curled all the wrong ways. “I haven’t left yet,” you reply. “I’ve been here all weekend.”

“Don’t you have work soon?” Emma asks.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m getting ready.” You squeeze a bit of toothpaste onto Mat’s toothbrush and pop it into your mouth. Emma makes a face at you and you make a face back. It’s simple– you forgot your toothbrush and Mat said you could use his. “And then I’ll probably come back. Mat’s injured and I’m bored in my lonely apartment, so we’re keeping each other company.”

Emma mumbles something you don’t catch.

“What?” you press. “What did you say?”

“All of this and you haven’t fucked,” Emma repeats, the look in her eyes growing sharp. “You keep denying it and keep denying that you want Mat and that he wants you, but you’ll spend three straight days at his apartment, sleeping in his bed and using his toothbrush. When are you going to admit that you guys are more than friends?”

“We’re not more than friends, Emma,” you say with a frown. “We’re close, but we’re not that close. I wish you’d stop saying that.”

Emma shakes her head and scoffs. “I have to go. Call me back when you figure things out.”

She hangs up and you frown, taking in the blank screen before you. You take only a split second to revel in confusion before you finish getting ready for the day. 

You try to push Emma’s comments out of your head, but they stick with you. You get to work and you’re still thinking about the look on her face through that tiny screen. You’re on your lunch break and start overthinking your friendship with Mat. You’ve always slept in the same bed because it’s easier– you’ve never wanted to mess up the pristinely folded sheets in his guest room. Plus, it’s not like you and Mat cuddle or anything. You stay on your side and he stays on his. You may have woken up with his arm over your stomach once or twice, but that’s a subconscious reaction to the chilly winter air. Mat keeps the apartment insanely cold. It’s not a surprise that his body tried to seek out your warmth. Even as you’re leaving for the day, you’re debating whether or not you should just go home to your own apartment rather than go back to Mat’s.

Your phone chimes with a text. It’s a picture of Mat and a steamer pot on the stove. He’s flashing a thumbs up in the picture and the accompanying message says, Making those dumplings you wanted! Hurry back or I’ll eat them all ;)

That sorts out your plans for the night. You don’t spare a second glance at the phone, nor the blue and orange hearts that you once put next to Mat’s contact name as a joke and never removed. 

The thought doesn’t cross your mind again until you’re laying on the couch with Mat, watching a movie before you go to bed. His head is on your lap and you’re carding your fingers through his hair. 

“That’s nice,” Mat murmurs.

It’s the first time he’s spoken in a while and it draws your attention to his lips. He’s practically falling asleep on your lap, eyes fluttering and nearly purring like a cat. Just this morning, you said you don’t cuddle with Mat, but here you are. He’s been pretty touchy today, or, maybe, you’re just noticing it more because Emma planted a seed in your mind.

You hum, twirling a strand of Mat’s hair between your fingers. You hope he doesn’t buzz it again. He’s done it twice now and, even though he can pull off the buzzcut, you prefer when his hair is this length. 

His lips are plush and pink and, well, Emma declared that you needed to figure it out. One little kiss, a tiny peck… that could be the end of it. You wouldn’t feel a thing, and neither would Mat, and you can tell Emma with absolute certainty that you and Mat are just friends.

You lean down and connect your lips for just a second. There’s no bright moment of realization washing over you, no life-changing feeling accompanied by a choir of angels. You kiss Mat and then you pull away.

He’s got that stupid look on his face, eyebrows raised and lips parted. “What was that?” Mat asks. 

You shrug. “Just wanted to see something.”

Mat seems to buffer. “By kissing me?”

“Yeah. Emma thinks we’re lying to ourselves when we say we’re just friends.”

“Emma… Tito’s ex?” Mat seems caught off guard. “She still thinks we’re hiding something?”

“I mean, she’s not the only one who thinks we’re more than friends. I’ve been thinking about it all day, so I just thought I’d go for it and see if I felt anything.”

Mat frowns and sits up. “You can’t tell something like that just from that measly little kiss you gave me. No one would feel anything from that shit. We have to actually kiss.”

A laugh bubbles up from your chest. “Actually kiss? What does that mean?”

“With tongue,” Mat replies. “If you still don’t feel anything after you kiss me with tongue– I’m pretty damn good with my tongue,” he sidebars with a wink, “Then you can tell Emma that she was wrong and you were right.”

“It just sounds like you want to kiss me with tongue,” you tease, squinting at Mat suspiciously.

He grins and wiggles his eyebrows at you. “We’re friends, but that doesn’t mean you’re not pretty,” Mat says. “I’m not against kissing you.” 

His words seem laden with a bit of seriousness, even though his smile and eyes are bright and joking. You don’t have the time to probe at that, not before Mat is reaching out and cradling your face in his palm. 

His smile is smaller, more gentle. His hand is warm.

When he pulls you in and parts your lips with a pass of his tongue, you feel a splash of dizziness run through your bones. Mat guides you, kissing you deeply. You can feel every curve of his mouth against your own. Almost immediately, you get the feeling that you should be memorizing this and noting the details.

Mat pulls away before you’re ready. “How was that?” he asks.

You blink at him for a moment, mouth opening and closing but not producing sounds.

He starts to laugh. “Speechless, huh?”

Your dumbfounded look turns to a glower. “Don’t brag, Mathew.”

“How can I not?” he teases. He thumbs at the side of your lip, wiping something from your face. “I just kissed you stupid.”

“Whatever,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest and turning back to the TV. 

You finish the movie without talking. His arm remains on the back of sofa during the duration of the film. You’ve never been more aware of Mat’s body next to yours, nor the space separating you. His arm is practically around your shoulders, but there are inches between your bodies, and your skin feels like it’s vibrating off of you. You go to bed with Mat, as normal, but in silence. There are miles between you and Mat in his king-size bed and for the first time in a long time, you consider going to the guest room.

The following morning is no better. You’re getting ready for work, packing your things up, making breakfast, and preparing to leave Mat’s apartment for at least the rest of the week. You assume that he’s still asleep, since he doesn’t have PT until the afternoon, but you hear footsteps padding down the hall as you reach the front door. He follows you all the way to the doorframe, resting his hand on the crown moulding and looking down at you.

“Have a good day at work,” Mat mumbles. “Are you coming back here tonight?”

You look away and shrug. “I should probably go home for once.”

Mat is silent for a beat too long. “Okay,” he says simply. “I’ll miss you.” Mat bends down and presses a kiss to your cheek, catching the very corner of your lips. He pats the doorframe and gives you a wave as you start down the hallway. Your first few steps are slow and confused, because what the hell is happening and why did Mat kiss you again, but you feel like running by the time he closes the door behind you.

You’re distracted at work. It’s worse than yesterday. You feel jittery. When you go home at the end of the day, your apartment feels empty. You crinkle your nose and rub your arms, trying to warm up. It’s weird being alone for the night after staying with Mat for a few days. You got really used to being next to him, eating dinner with him, watching stupid shit on the TV while laying on his couch, and sleeping in his bed.

You lay in bed, unable to sleep. You toss and turn, scroll on your phone, try and sleep again, and fail. It’s 2am when your phone vibrates with a text and you check it immediately, hoping for something interesting.

It’s Mat.

‘Miss you :(’, he says. There’s a picture of him pouting into the camera, his bedside lamp turned to the lowest setting, just bright enough that he doesn’t need to use the flash. 

Your mouth automatically matches Mat’s. You sigh, zooming in on his tousled hair. You scroll across the picture, lingering on Mat’s bare chest. You stare for much too long. Much too long… to be considered friends. Mat’s kiss has really messed with your mind and now you can’t stop thinking about him and his tongue and his hands and–

You bury your face in the pillow and groan. You don’t bother to change out of your pajamas. You throw on your bathrobe, just to combat the cold, and within fifteen minutes, you’re hitting the buzzer to call up to Mat’s apartment.

“Hello?” Mat’s fuzzy voice comes through the speaker. 

Idiot, you admonish in your head. Who answers the buzzer at 2am? Especially when you’re a desirable athlete… God, Mat, you’re so dumb.

“It’s me,” you say. “I couldn’t sleep either.”

You hear the door click, unlocking, and you push your way inside. Your foot taps impatiently as you wait in the elevator, arms crossed over your chest. As the doors open, you spot Mat waiting at his front door, leaning against the frame like he was when you left him this morning.

His face is lined with sleep and there are lines on his chest like he just scratched an itch. 

You’re kissing him again as soon as you get close enough. You throw your arms around Mat’s neck and he wraps his arms around your middle, lifting you up until you naturally twine your legs around his waist. 

Mat’s kissing you back, moving into his apartment and closing the front door behind him. His bottom lip is between yours. You suck and nibble it, soothing the skin with your tongue after you bite hard enough for Mat to groan. His hands are planted on your behind now, kneading the skin.

“So you’ve been thinking about it too,” Mat breathes out between kisses. 

“All day.” Your hands work up into his hair and pull.

Mat shivers and his mouth drops open at the tug of your fingers. He turns toward the wall and pushes you up against it, trapping you with his body and pressing his groin against yours. He’s deliciously hard and you grind down on the bulge in his sweats. Mat moans and separates his lips from your mouth, instead trailing them wetly down your neck.

“Bedroom,” you tell Mat, voice hitching when he leaves a bite on your pulse point.

“Fuck that,” Mat replies. He pushes your shirt up and over your head. “Can’t wait. I couldn’t sleep because I was thinking about this.”

“Fucking me against the wall?”

“Having crazy sex with you all over the apartment,” Mat corrects. “You know when you’re about to sleep and then you feel like you’re falling and you wake up?”

“Yeah?” you respond, confused.

“It was like that.” Mat comes back up to kiss your lips. “I’d almost fall asleep and then I’d see you here. I’d see you bent over the kitchen counter or the arm of the sofa. I’d have you against the tile in my shower, then over the sink and I’d wipe all the fog off the mirror so you could watch. You’d be laying on the dining room table and I’d be between your legs, then I’d be sitting at my desk and you’d be between my legs.”

“Sounds tortuous,” you joke. 

“It was torture to see you like that and not have you,” Mat says in complete earnest. “That kiss broke a fucking dam for us, I swear.”

“Emma’s going to brag about getting us together,” you say.

“Don’t tell her,” Mat replies simply. “I’m on Tito’s side of the breakup anyway.”

“That’s not how friendship works.”

“Clearly, we don’t have any idea of how friendship should work,” Mat laughs. His eyes are twinkling with mischief. “I’m about to fuck you against the wall and we’re ‘just friends.’”

“We’re going to have to talk about that,” you tell Mat. 

“Now?” he asks, his middle two fingers finding your clit over your panties and rubbing.

“After,” you confirm. You pull him back in for a kiss and roll your hips into Mat’s hand. “After, for sure.”

Mat chuckles into your mouth. He shifts your panties to the side and slides his middle finger into your cunt. “Wow, look at how you’re taking me,” Mat says. His nose knocks against yours when he turns his eyes toward your core. “So wet. Bet you taste good, too.” 

You whine when he removes his finger from your entrance, annoyed. That feeling vanishes shortly after you’re emptied, once Mat brings his finger to his mouth and hollows his cheeks around the digit. Your eyes go wide and your mouth drops open, drool pooling on your tongue. 

Mat smirks. His finger leaves his mouth with a pop and he then licks both his middle and ring finger, wetting them and bringing them back to your core. Mat leans in as he presses both fingers into your hole, his tongue sliding against yours as he curls his fingers inside of you.

“Oh my God,” you say to yourself when Mat’s thumb comes into contact with your clit. If his kiss was stuck in your head all day after just a few seconds with his tongue in your mouth, then this moment will be seared into the blank space behind your eyelids for weeks.

“Just me,” Mat teases. He kisses over your neck, sucks on the corner of your jaw, and gently takes your earlobe between his teeth. He tugs, then drops the soft skin and breathes cool air over the skin just beneath your lobe. 

You shiver and throw your head back against the wall, baring your neck to Mat. He takes full advantage of it, but the location of his mouth is the least of your worries. You’re too preoccupied with the way his fingers are dancing inside of you. You feel your insides jump when Mat comes into contact with your g-spot, playing with the soft spot fixed at a seemingly random and elusive point on your inner walls, biting down on your lower lip to stop an embarrassing sound from escaping you.

Mat’s hands are busy– the one inside of you and the other planted on your side, helping hold you up against the wall– so he can’t remove your bottom lip from the confines of your teeth. Instead, he hovers right in front of your face, just close enough to kiss, but he doesn’t make the move to unite. 

You get the message, dropping your bottom lip in favor of kissing Mat’s. He smiles into the kiss and squeezes a third finger inside of you. You can feel his muscles tensing, the rippling of his forearm and bicep traveling all the way up to the place where his arm meets his torso. 

“I don’t want to come like this,” you declare in a high voice, shaking a bit as Mat brings you right to the edge and nearly pulls you over. “I want to come on your cock, Mat, fuck me.”

“You can’t give me two?” Mat asks.

“It’s not that I can’t,” you whine. “I just want you inside me.” You dig your nails into Mat’s upper back when his fingers continue to piston against your sweet spot. “Fuck, Mat.”

Mat slows his fingers and relents. “Hold on,” he says. He presses you further into the wall, no space between your bodies.

You tighten your grip around his neck and lock your ankles around his waist.

Mat pushes his sweats and underwear down. They fall to his ankles and he tugs at the crotch of your panties again, making sure to tuck them securely out of the way so that he can guide his cockhead to your dripping center. 

You don’t realize that your nails are creating red half-moon crescents on the fleshy skin covering his traps until Mat captures your wrists between the fingers of one hand– his thumb and forefinger around one and his other three around the other– and holds them against the wall above your head. You whimper and tilt your hips forward, pulling him closer by the linked ankles at the small of his back. 

“Fuck, baby, I didn’t know you were so desperate that you’d claw me up,” Mat says. Humor is laced throughout his tone. He brings his shoulders up and tenses them, then releases the tension. His cock pushes inside you all the same, despite the discomfort he might be feeling. You barely hear him, anyway– not with his cock dragging against your walls and kissing your insides like that. 

Your mind is stalling, feeling like it’s trapped by the grip that Mat has on your wrists. “Mat,” you keen, trying to bounce on his length as best you can while hovering against the wall and contained by Mat’s body. 

He presses his lips against your cheek before shifting his hips forward and drilling into you, knocking the breath from your lungs. Your mouth opens in a gasp and Mat flicks his tongue against yours. His fingers squeeze your wrists with each thrust– the pleasure from his tip knocking into your cervix plus the pressure against your skin, arms raised up above your head, pairs together in a way that had your mind spiraling. 

The noises that come from Mat’s mouth don’t help– he’s grunting and groaning and his breath is heavy. He’s never silent, never, and you know that if you close your eyes, you could get off to his noises alone. 

“You feel so good,” Mat compliments in a low voice. His cooing tone fills your ears like how a sink drain sucks all the water away, creating a whirlpool and gulping for more. “Tight and wet and squeezing me, fuck, we should’ve been doing this for ages.”

You nod your head in assent, eyes shut tightly as a coil of pressure screws and tightens in your abdomen. Mat’s words dissolve in to babbles, the blood rushing to your head. Your pulse booms in your ears as he talks on. Mat’s hand digs into your side, the soft flesh of your waist giving in order to make room for his fingertips as he bucks wildly into your heat. Your slick and the slide of his cock creates a squelching, clapping sound each time that his pelvis collides with yours. Your clit, swollen and aching to be touched, brushes against Mat’s abdomen with just enough friction to send you over the edge, quivering in his arms and arching your back as your climax crashes over your being and overtakes you. Your jaw practically pops with how wide and unhinged it becomes, strangled and drawn-out mewls spurring Mat on while you come in his arms and on his cock. 

Almost simultaneously, Mat’s head dips and his hips stutter, white cum shooting from his slit and painting your walls. Mat continues fucking you through your aftershocks and his own, with gravity taking effect almost immediately– as he draws his cock out of you, just to shove it back in, the mixture of your cum drips from your hole and creates a mess that you and Mat will notice in the morning and gape at before breaking out the cleaning supplies. 

You breathe together. Mat’s movements slow and he crowds your body, plastering himself against you. His heaves are wet against your neck, drinking air back in. As Mat catches his breath, he starts to mouth against your skin, planting a series of kisses along your collarbone and shoulder. 

“Oh my God,” you repeat again. 

Mat’s grip on your wrists relinquishes and your arms drop to his shoulders. His cock slips from your pussy as it softens, but he places his hands again on your ass and keeps your legs around his middle. He hums and kisses your cheek, then your mouth. The kisses are less rushed and frenzied now, matching the original kiss he gave you that filled your mind and stayed there. 

“Take off work tomorrow so we can fuck all over the apartment,” Mat suggests between kisses. He’s finally on the move again, making his way to the bedroom with you in his arms. “That was only one of the ideas I had.”

“I can’t take off work for sex,” you reply. Mat lays you on the bed and you pull him down with you. “But I can stay all weekend again.”

“Yes,” Mat whispers in a celebratory voice, grinning widely when he pulls away. He disintangles himself from your arms and legs, collapsing onto the mattress beside you, in your normal spots. “Do I need to go and buy a toothbrush for you so you don’t have to use mine?”

“Get one of the good ones while you’re at it,” you tease. “Use that big hockey budget and get me one of those electronic ones that’s a waterpick when you swap the head out.”

“Careful,” Mat says. “If I buy that one, I’ll start using your toothbrush.” He pulls the covers over your bodies and holds his arm out so that you can cuddle into his side.

For the first time while awake, you curl up with your head on his chest and throw your leg over his thigh. Your hand comes up to cover his heart and Mat presses a kiss to your head. 

“We’re not going to be just friends after this,” Mat tells you.

You laugh. “No, I don’t think we will.”

[2cupids]

warnings! virgin!mingi, cuckold, oral (m. receiving), male masturbation, cowgirl position/riding, mingi cums in reader’s mouth and has a little bit of an exhibitionist kink. mdni (17+).

length. 1.8k+

you stand in front of the bathroom sink with your toothbrush still in hand as you stare at your boyfriend in disbelief. did he really just say what you thought he did?

cuck!yunho simply laughs and loosely wraps his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder. “i’m serious, babe. just promise me you’ll think about it at least.”

you hold his soft gaze in the mirror for a moment before leaning down to spit out the toothpaste. a sigh leaves your mouth as you exhale. “fine. i’ll think about it, but don’t get your hopes up. got it?” your tone is firm, but there’s still that playful edge to your words.

that handsome smile starts to form as his lips twitch upwards at the corners and he places a kiss against the side of your neck. “thank you, pretty. you know i’d never push to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.. just want you to think about it.”

so you do.

over the next few days, you think about the new kink your boyfriend told you about. you weighed the pros and cons, your brain full of possible ‘what if’s’. yet, you knew the type of people you and yunho were and that your relationship was built on the basic fundamentals like communication, understanding, and emotional maturity to name a few. the more your mind pondered on the thought, the more appealing the idea became. plus, there was something you couldn’t get out of your head; a guy plowing you while yunho watched from afar. it turned you on.

it’s not like the guy he suggested you have sex with was ugly or anything, in fact he was far from it. the man was none other than his childhood best friend, mingi. after all, he would share anything with one of the people he trusted the most, and that included his beloved girlfriend. and it just so happened that the tall, attractive man had a crush on you, too.

no matter how well mingi thought he hid the fact from you two, you both could tell mingi thought you were pretty by the way he began to act around you. both of you found it cute though, and yunho took it personally as a compliment.

a little over a week after yunho first proposed the idea, you had made a decision. you agreed to sleep with him. after talking to mingi and him agreeing to it as well, all that was needed was to pick a day. that’s how the three of you came to be inside your bedroom right now. this was going to be a saturday night that none of you would ever forget.

sitting in the corner of the room, yunho’s dark eyes are fixed on the sight of you and virgin!mingi just a few feet away from him. your lips wrap around mingi’s angry red, oozing tip and a low groan rips from his throat. he balls his fists into the sheets of bed as you bob your head up and down his length, your tongue grazing the thick veins of the underside while your hand twists around the remainder of his dick.

mingi pushes himself to sit up and watch you work your magic, leaning back on his forearms and focusing his eyes on you. he watches in awe at your hollowed cheeks around his cock struggling to take as much as your can of his girth as your saliva coats his entire length, giving him a wet, messy blowjob.

he’s captivated by your every movement and how you work him so well, it’s like you’re some kind of pro. the moment you look up at him through your lashes his breathing falters. your other hand slides down to fondle his balls and his hips are bucking up, forcing more of his dick further down your throat. thick moans spill out of his mouth and yunho sits satisfied in the corner, proud to watch his girlfriend’s skilled mouth pleasure his friend.

your tongue is circling the head of his dick one second, and the next you’re pulling off him and opening your mouth wide as your hands start to work around the entirety of his length now because you can tell he’s getting close. your pretty eyes give him a seductive look as you coax him to cum in your mouth and on your tongue.

a few more drags of your hand down his shaft and he’s spurting cum all over the muscular appendage, his chest heaving up and down as he catches his breath. you turn your head over to where yunho was sitting, wanting to show him that you caught it all, only to find him not there anymore. the drawer of the bedside table opens and yunho pulls out a condom before turning to you, catching the very last moment of you swallowing the other man’s sperm.

he steps over to you, his bulge just a few inches from your face as leans over and takes your face in his hand, kissing you to taste a little bit of leftover cum that lingers on your tastebuds as your tongues swirl against each other. “now let me see you ride him, princess.” he commands, whispering in your ear with a deep voice you recognize all too well, it’s one that comes out anytime he’s aroused. he hands you the condom and heads back over to the chair, palming himself over his tightened slacks with a dominant look in his eye as he stares at you intently.

the thin latex stretches around mingi’s dick and a few seconds later, you’re straddling his waist as you position yourself to take him inside you. mingi watches in the dim light of the room as your wet pussy sinks down onto him. another deep moan escapes his throat at the way your walls wrap around him so tightly and he can already tell he won’t last long the minute you start to move.

the sounds of your breathing merge together, your soft whines of pleasure mix with mingi’s much deeper, more guttural breaths as they dance with each other. if he hadn’t been so attentive, he would’ve sworn this was some kind of twisted, extremely lucid wet dream of his because how many guys can truthfully say they’ve been lucky enough to be in a position like this?

his eyes lazily roam over the pretty girl on top of him. a few of your curls have stuck to your forehead and your glossy lips are parted to let those pretty noises tumble out. his eyes take note of every curve, mole, freckle, or stretch mark that’s imprinted on your skin and it makes you appear even more flawless than you already are in his eyes. you're stunning, no doubt about it and to have such a beauty right in front of his eyes and to be his first makes his heart swell just as much as it makes his dick throb.

the way you touch your body as you look down at him through lidded eyes feels absolutely surreal. it’s not even been ten minutes since your warmth first sheathed him and you took his virginity, that he realizes he’ll be cumming again in no time. with the way your walls flutter around him and the weight of your body against his, and his best friend in the corner watching...

wait, what?

oh yeah, that’s right. he almost forgot yunho was over there. his eyes flicker over to him and immediately trail down to where his large hand strokes his dick as he watches with his head thrown back. mingi can’t bring himself to look away just yet, and yunho’s eyes suddenly meet his and he throws him a smirk, making mingi slightly flustered from being caught. “fuck...”

somehow that makes the situation get even hotter as the rush from the realization he’s being watched flows hot through his body. the heat pools in his stomach again as his second orgasm starts to come into sight.

his hands drift over your flesh tenderly as he gropes and massages your body, the feel of your skin underneath his palms sending him into a frenzy. jerking his hips up to meet yours in a perfect sync, he plunges his dick even deeper inside you as he whimpers pathetically underneath you. “ah–! i’m…i think ‘m–,” and mingi can’t even finish his sentence as he tethers on the edge, so desperately close to cumming.

a cute, slightly crooked front tooth peaks out from underneath his plush top lip as his mouth hangs open, heavy pants coming from his chest as the stimulation to his dick is about to tip him over the edge. you study mingi’s face as you’re on top of him and you can’t help but feel a little cocky that you’re the one that’s making this poor virgin feel so good. a theory pops into your head and you decide to test it out. your hand on his abdomen glides up further to his chest, and twists his nipple between your fingers, and that’s the final push.

that was all mingi needed and with a loud groan, he’s spilling his cum inside the condom. not long after mingi finishes, a breathy grunt comes from the other side of the room as white hot spurts of yunho’s seed lands on his hand and tank top.

both men take a moment longer to calm down than usual for entirely different reasons, but yunho recovers first and comes over to you and presses his lips to yours as you're kneeled on the bed next to mingi, no longer sitting on top of him. “you were wonderful, baby. thank you.”

you hum quietly and cross your arms. “yeah, i know i was,” the side of your lips curl into a faint arrogant smile. “but i didn’t cum, so how exactly are you going to make this up to me?”

yunho chuckles at your mock angry expression and kisses your forehead, his arm wrapping around your shoulder to pull you closer as his fingers caress your skin. “oh, don’t worry, pretty girl. you’ll get to cum as many times as you want. i promise.” the two of you share a few more kisses before you feel mingi shift on the bed to throw the used condom in the trash.

a smug grin is plastered high upon yunho’s face as he moves closer to mingi and slaps his arm lightly. “better than you could’ve ever imagined, huh?” mingi laughs and makes a small sound in agreement before giving you a shy compliment along with a plethora of thank you’s as his eyes glance over at your naked form.

yunho’s eyes shimmer with mischief as he looks between the both of you. “so what do you say? you up for another round, a threesome?” he directs the question more so to mingi rather than you as he moves to a position where he can hold eye contact with you while bending over to whisper in mingi’s ear.

“and if you make her cum, i’ll even let you hit it raw, buddy.”

tagging <3 @cavities-and-carnations @cheezemanz

cleo’s note. ik it might sound crazy, but this is one work that i can honestly say i’m proud of and it might be one of my favorites. thank you for reading, feedback is appreciated!

[batchilla]

False Accusations (You know I KNOW right? Chapter Two)

Let me first say thank you for all the kind reception part one received. It was … a surprise, and a welcome one.

Also, a massive thank you to @sunnie-angel for beta reading. If you haven’t read their work… Do yourself a favor and check out their masterlist!

This Chapter takes place over a few days in two mini stories., and I would appreciate being told if at any point this causes confusion. Currently how I’ve done it is as tilted segments. Content warning: this chapter has themes of sexual harassment in the workplace up to the point of groping (from an OC), and corruption. Proceed with caution. Be safe.

The morning after. You are going to murder your partner, Grayson. Perhaps with a gun. Maybe your own two hands. Or maybe you just need coffee.

It's probably the coffee thing. Coffee, then you’ll decide if you're going to kill him and how. As you sit at your table, surrounded by notes you’d made at 4am, the urge to throttle Grayson slowly subsides. You hadn’t slept a wink. You’d had a weird night. But if you were going to do this, help him find this killer… you’d need a plan for if it all goes to hell. A diversion. A plan so that if you’re made, maybe the killer will think you’re on the wrong track. A dummy investigation. But simultaneously one that you won’t overthink, so that you can devote your time and brainpower to the truth. Luckily for you, you have the perfect person to pretend to accuse. After all, your partner, Grayson, is an incredibly weird guy. 8:55 am finds you walking into the station sipping your third coffee of the morning, only to find Grayson sat at his desk. Shirt pressed, tie perfect, hair shampoo commercial glamourous yet slightly messy. The urge to murder your partner returns, just a little. How dare he be so… normal? So unaffected? How dare this man fight crime by night, and be smiling at you as he is now, chipper and bright and perfect, before 9am? The nerve. Maybe you could hit him with a patrol car and claim it was an accident. “Morning detective… Long night?”

Oh.. This fucker. Your partner, Grayson, is the most annoying man alive. You hate how badly you have to fight the urge to grin at the sheer audacity.

She looks exhausted, the poor thing. Dick remembered the feeling, but at some point he’d adapted to running on less sleep than was by any means reasonable. He hoped she wouldn’t need to. That this would be over in a few weeks and she’d be back to getting a full eight hours. “Morning Detective… Long night?” She glares at him like he’s caused personal offence. He raises an eyebrow at her to prompt a response. Inside though, he panics. Had he done something wrong? Could she suspect? No. no of course not. But whatever she said next would surely be important. It was a test of sorts. What would she say she’d spent the night doing? Would she betray his alter ego? Could she sell the lie if she didn’t? “Just had a night in, had a little too much to drink,” she shrugs, opening her bag and removing a notebook. Casual, calm, partially true and nearly impossible to disprove short of a blood test or breathalyser, and even then there was deniability. Dick nods, and looks back down to his computer to hide the grin that splits his face in half. He knows he can’t dwell on it, knows he can’t act on it, but it’s completely unfair that she was that smooth. That helpful. She’d agreed to help him - as Nightwing - instantly. Her words about how Blud owed him a debt had played in his mind on loop for the rest of his patrol. He knew what it felt like to fly. To flip through the air at dizzying heights, gravity a mere afterthought. It was cruel, frankly, that he’d found someone who made him feel even better than that, only for her to be someone he couldn’t be with out of principle and professionalism. It wasn’t that he objected to her as a partner - short of his family, she was possibly the best he’d ever met. Frankly, if she was transferred to Gotham, the bat signal would be turned on far less frequently. And he didn’t object to rules about dating fellow officers, especially one’s partner. Objectively it made sense. But it didn’t change the fact that her smile was the best part of his day. That on the rare times she laughed he could swear he heard an angel just straight up quit its position in the heavenly chorus out of pure envy. That when she’d said she’d help he’d wanted nothing more than to grab her face and kiss her till she was breathless. But he can’t. Or at least Dick Grayson can’t. A new voice breaks him from his spiralling thoughts. “Detective Grayson.” The man standing behind his partner's desk has a hand on the back of her seat, preventing her from swivelling around. 

“We haven’t met yet, I’m Sergeant James McElroy. Seems you spent most of my first day back stuck on a stakeout.” “Pleasure.” he responds, with all the charm he’s learnt to use at galas and parties, forcing down the venom incurred by the way his partner had seemed to lose a gallon of blood at the sound of his voice, and the way she had seemed not to breath since the name was spoken.

He's not touching you. Of course not. He knows better than to do anything so blatant. It's how he’d gotten away with it for so long last time. He doesn’t touch you, or say the things he was so clearly thinking. He would masterfully walk the line between making you feel unsafe, alone, and naked, while never crossing over into anything actionable. Till one day he had. It had been in a crowded lift where he’d used the crush as an excuse to grab and to feel, whispering something vile in your ear. 

He’d figured he’d gotten away with it when you tried to tell your captain and he’d asked if you had a witness. You’d thought he’d gotten away with it too. Till a uniformed officer, Janet Rodwell, had stepped up to have your back. You should have known, really. For the second time in 24 hours you feel like a fool. But while the first time it had been accompanied with a dizzying realisation of love, this time the realisation is dark and chilling to your core. You’d thought you’d won, that it was over. But he’s back and he’s not touching you, but you feel the ghost of his hands all over. You can’t win. He’d been sent away and you thought you were safe again, but he’s back and he’s a sergeant now. Because Bludhaven, as it is, rewards men like him. You can’t bring yourself to look over your shoulder at him, so you look straight ahead, across your desk and to your partner’s adjoining one.

It's not Dick Grayson’s eyes you meet though. They aren’t cheerful, carefree and beautiful. Well, they are beautiful. But they are angry, intelligent, and fierce. You meet Nightwings gaze, and you feel the claws around your lungs relax, even if they do not recede. 

His partner did not rattle easily. Did not panic unnecessarily. 

Pinned down by the Penguin’s smugglers, he’d thought their goose had been cooked unless he could work at his true capacity, so he had shot out the lights and gotten to work. He’d taken out nine, but been unable to find the tenth, until he’d heard the struggle. 

She’d taken him down blind, without drawing her gun. When he’d asked her why she hadn’t, she’d told him she’d lost sight of him in the chaos, and was unwilling to risk it. He wished he hadn’t shot the light out so he could have seen it. 

Still, he had been oblivious. It had hit him like a batarang to the face last night, in that moment where she agreed without hesitation to help him find a serial killer. He’d known she was beautiful, and brilliant. That he had a crush. 

He’d realised last night he was in far, far deeper trouble than that. So, if she was frightened and upset by the presence of this man, then Dick would take his looming over her as a serious threat. He trusted her gut. “You haven’t introduced yourself to my partner, Detective—-” He’s cut off with a dismissive wave that boils his blood. “Oh we’ve met. In fact, she was my partner first. Until the misunderstanding.” There are many ways to snap someone out of a panic. He’s seen sheer rage do it many times. As it does now. “There was no misunderstanding,” she says, her voice firm, her teeth gritted. “Well. I want you to know-” he moves from directly behind her, to her side, leaning down over her, invading her space. Dick wanted to hit him. “I understand that what I did could have been seen as invasive, and you may have felt that I overstepped. I have completed a course, as demanded by HR, and will attempt not to cause you to feel that I have been inappropriate again.”

She takes a deep breath. He can practically hear her count in his head. He stands, moving around the desk to stand beside her, not quite a barrier but a comforting presence, or at least he hoped. “Well. Whatever occurred, we have work to be getting on with, if you don’t mind.” It takes a great deal of the restraint his training has given not to add the words ‘you bastard’, or something far more creative. “But of course. Detective. Detective.”  

Your hands shake as you sit back down in your seat. Your partner, Grayson, returns to his own, his gaze - Richard’s gaze, never leaving your face, crumpled in concern. “I don’t want to overstep… but are you alright? What … did he do?” “I…” you want to tell him, in part. Or maybe you don’t, and you want him to know without having to go through the ordeal of rehashing it all. Maybe by consulting whatever ‘oracle’ he used as nightwing. But you can’t right now. So you don’t. “I… need some air.” Your partner just gives you a comforting smile, a nod, and lets you leave without question. Wingding in the window 

It's five days later, on his patrol, when he notices it. The wingding left in her window. He stops on the roof of the building adjacent to her. As far as city roofs go, this one’s relatively nice. Someone’s placed some potted plants around, in an eclectic attempt at a rooftop garden. Some of these pots contain small pebbles as cover for the soil from the wind. Grinning to himself, he takes a handful. 

Was this a good idea? No. 

Was it deceptive? Well, no more than anything else he did as Nightwing… well, maybe a little more. 

But it hurt, holding her at arm's length, when a part of his soul he tried to ignore yearned to be as close as she would allow. He knows it’s not good. He knows it’s a violation of the utter trust she seems to hold in Nightwing. Really, it would only make things even more messy for his chances as Dick. But he wants to make her smile. Blush, even. He knows she finds him attractive, and in both contexts, but he wants more than that. Over the last week he’s realised just how much he wants to have with her, and it terrifies him. 

If it was simple lust he could deal with it.  But it wasn’t, and so here he was, about to attempt the cheesiest move known to hallmark films, just to see if it would make her laugh at him again. 

He’d managed to be professional while surrounded by highly capable, badass women in skintight clothes for most of his life. He’d had crushes before and gotten over them. He wanted everything with her. And that was not something he knew how to handle, given the mess of their situation. Dick shakes his head, snapping himself out of his doom spiral. He had a detective to meet, and a serial killer to find.

Bap. Bap. Bap. You look up from your book. You’d been getting ready for sleep, wearing your cosy pyjamas, curled up in bed with a book and a hot chocolate. You go still, listening. Bap. Bap. A pause. Then, the rap of knuckles on glass. “I ran out of rocks”

You know that voice. “With you in a moment.” You pull on a dressing gown, and take a moment to curse the fact that your slippers are rabbits before pulling the curtains aside. Nightwing is crouched on your windowsill. You lift it, stepping back as he enters through the window with all the grace of a cat. You know that you shouldn’t be embarrassed to be in your pyjamas, it's late, you had no means of knowing when he’d arrive. But he looked divine in that suit. An adonis. And you're in your old bathrobe and bunny slippers. Truely, you must have done terrible things in a past life. “Nice footwear.” Nightwing says with a smirk. Curse him. Curse his cheekbones and the way his lips look so damn inviting. “You picked up what, five rocks?” you sass right back. Nightwing makes a noise you suspect was supposed to be a scoff, but is more of a squeak. “Do you see a lot of pocket space on this?” 

“Fair.” you say, leading him out of your bedroom and into your living room. He sits on your couch, one leg spread wide, the other’s ankle resting on its thigh, as you open a drawer on your coffee table and produce your masterpiece. Nearly five metres of red string. Names, photos, dates, all studded with pins so pressed so tightly in they haven’t a prayer of accidental removal. You prop it up on the coffee table. 

Maybe your friends were right. Maybe you did need to touch grass. A line of thought for later. You look at Nightwing, who’s no longer relaxed and laying back on your sofa like he owned the place. 

Its years of maintaining a poker face in interrogations and more recently, dealing with his shenanigans that prevents you from grinning. 

He's as pale as you’ve ever managed to see him, and leaning forward now, elbow on knee and chin in hand. “Well, this is… impressive.” He sounded like he’d inhaled helium. “Shall we start with Sergeant McElroy?” you offer, smiling your best ‘there’s nothing wrong’ smile, enjoying making him squirm. “You seem to have … a significant amount of evidence against Detective Richard Grerson?” You fight the urge to roll your eyes as you take a ruler, poking your picture of him between the eyes. You hadn’t planned to do him first, you’d hoped to discuss evidence that would actually lead somewhere. 

This was still going to be fun though. You take a deep breath, and pause for a suitable level of dramatic effect, and begin your game. 

“Detective Richard Grayson. He’s my partner. He’s an excellent detective, and a good man. You might have heard of the charity he founded.” Nightwing makes a noncommittal humming noise. “But is it all too good to be true?” you ask, moving to your first notecard. “Exhibit one. He asked about the file. On its own, innocuous. But then, exhibits two through four. He’s prone to frequent disappearances on cases. He often knows a little too much about the criminal underside of Blud. Things that I have triple checked are not in any police database.”

You run a hand through your hair. “He’s a highly trained combatant. I once saw him take down nine men armed with guns, in the dark. They don’t teach that at the police academy.” “No? No.” Nightwing says, clearing his throat. “I mean yes. That is… suspicious.” “Incredibly. Which brings me to exhibit five. Now I’m no behavioural analyst or shrink. But I know my basics. Childhood trauma and instability can have… lingering impacts. I… don’t feel the need to dredge up his past, but I did look into it… and it’s grim. He was then taken in by Bruce Wayne. His relationship to his father, whatever it is, is something he’s even tighter lipped about then… everything else honestly. It’s not on the board because it’s circumstantial at best… but he has this skill of being able to hold long conversations and yet you come away not having learnt anything deeper about him.” 

He was pretty sure he’d been nodding for a good thirty seconds at this point.  

It would be funny if it didn’t hurt so much. 

The worst part was that it was all well reasoned. Practical. He had done everything she accused him of. She had just drawn a far more down to earth conclusion, that he was a corrupt cop, rather than Nightwing. 

It made sense. Too much sense. How could he shut this down without seeming invested in his own innocence? 

That isn’t what causes his lungs to burn though. No. The root of that was that even if he’d forced himself to maintain a professional - if friendly - distance from her, he would have hoped that she trusted him. 

But in this moment, looking at the evidence, looking at her holding that ruler to his photo’s face like a judge's gavel ready to condemn… he knows. He knows that she will never look at Dick the way she does as Nightwing, happy to see him, believing in his mission, ready to help as soon as he’d asked. Even if he clears himself of this crime, she would surely suspect him of others. 

He’d known it, at least on one level, ever since he’d first met her. He knows it now all the deeper, and he wants to scream. Dick Grayson will never get to tell her how truly wonderful she is.

How highly he regards her. 

How she is one of the reasons he keeps fighting for Bludhaven. 

Dick Grayson will never get to tell her that he loves her. 

But… perhaps Nightwing could have something. Because if she was his north star, then the way he’d felt when she agreed to help him had been like being engulfed by a supernova. 

If she was water, then seeing her cosy and ready for bed and smiling as she let him in through the window had been an oasis in the Sahara. 

If music was the food of love, her attempts not to laugh and stifled giggles over his peeps popcorn had been a symphony orchestra. 

But he’d never have her as himself. Not at all. Nightwing though? She at least found him attractive. Aligned with his ideology. No, he’d never feel that warmth of 10,000 stars directed at the real him. 

No, he’d never be able to be quenched by her life saving presence. 

No, he’d never feel her laughter shaking his bones as if in a musical crescendo.

But even the dimmest and most distant star gave off some light.

Even the last drop in an empty water skin was better than nothing.

Even the memory of a melody could be sweet. True, he would only ever have scraps of her affection. True, he could flirt, and perhaps go even further… but he’d never truly be with her. 

But who was a starving man to deny scraps of sustenance? He’d take what he could have and try to ignore the lingering hunger. 

“Perhaps we should discuss… another suspect?” he prompts, realising how long he’s been silent. How long she had been too, watching him with a strange, concerned look.

She nods, and moves on to their Captain.

Dick is almost relieved when some ten minutes later Oracle calls in a robbery downtown. “Well - sorry Sherlock.” He takes a picture of her board for further study. “I’ll be around next week to continue this discussion, and look over this in my own time till then. Duty calls.” “Be safe,” She says softly, as he’s halfway through the window He looks over his shoulder. “As you wish.”

Chapter Three Taglist: @jasontoddproblems

@sunnie-angel

@stormz369

@love-theangel-blog

@torchbearerkyle

@interwebseriesfan24

@love-theangel-blog

@alwaysnervouswitchprince

@underlinekasis

@tiredsleepyandreading

@soradragon Banner credit is to @strangergraphics

If you would request to be added to my taglist, please reblog the fic. Honestly please just reblog it anyway? I worked hard on this. Nothing more demotivating than a fic getting only likes. If you want part three, reblog part two. 

[tteokdoroki]

the consequences of constellations izuku midoriya ── ᡣ𐭩 ˙ ̟🩰 !!

⋆˙ᝰ about ! you’re in love with your best friend and you’re sleeping with him too… so you count the constellation-like freckles on his back to cope with the idea that he doesn’t love you in the same way. ( 2K )

warnings ! minors blank and ageless blogs do not interact. nsfw, suggestive, smut, angst. characters aged up to 20s, friends with benefits, unrequited love, mutual pining sorta, experimental piece, i wanted to play around with metaphors to do with space, fem!reader, pro hero!deku.

how do you always end up back here?

the answer remains a mystery to you, really. out of all the things that human-kind are capable of, their powers and prettiness, their strength and their stamina — even their knowledge used to invent the space shuttle that traverses the wonders of the uncharted starry abyss…and you still end up here. 

you always end up in the same place — amongst the crumpled linen of pro hero deku’s one bedroom condo. it’s high up enough that it just touches the skyline, it dips past the surface of powder blue skies into the inky black canvas of night to which you find yourself falling victim to sinful touches and muted whispers of pleasure.

it’s the same every time; izuku calls and you answer without hesitation — come rain or shine. you’ll often tumble past the threshold of his apartment with regret and pain pushed to the back of your mind because you’d much rather kiss him and taste the cigarette ash on his tongue in the moment than think logically or have some sense about you. in your world, there’s no better feeling in the world than deku’s masterful, scarred hands spanning out against the base of hour spine or napping out your curves. nothing beats the euphoric high you get from his hips smacking against yours almost in tune with the beat of his heart. 

he pulls you into his orbit. he places himself at the centre of your universe. he fills you up both physically and mentally to the point where every inch of your body and every corner of your heart is overcome with a scorching need for izuku midoriya, like you’ve been engulfed by the sun, it tingles at the tips of your toes and fingers to the top of your head. when he moans your name after every orgasm you share together desire lights up within you like a solar flare — you feel special, desired and maybe even loved.

but this is just sex.

it’s always been just sex, especially to izuku.

there’s a risk in allowing yourself to believe it could ever be anything more, and yet, you can’t stop yourself from indulging in this sweet fantasy every time you end up tangled in the pro hero’s expensive sheets. how could you not when he fucks you like you’re the only woman he’s ever loved. 

playing pretend in your head while he sends shooting stars of ecstasy across your line of sight.

shame and regret always hits you like a truck right after — forcing you to deal with the derailing reality that is loving someone who doesn’t want you back and sleeping with them just to get close enough to that feeling of adoration. it’s bad in the morning, but worse at night after deku has cleaned you up with a tender touch and tucked you in for some sleep — rolled onto his side as his own breathing evens out and his consciousness floats away into the depths of deep, empty space. 

you think that he’s still sleeping when the constellations of honey brown freckles on his back begin to blur and your vision swims from unshed tears and you curl in on yourself. claw marks and crescent moons from your perfectly trimmed nails have left their mark on his golden skin, etched between sun-spotted freckles and a collection of faded battle scars — if you look close enough, one might mistake the surface level wounds you’ve left on deku’s body as an attempt at scratching through the space-time continuum to be closer to him. 

izuku stays awake, hoping that you’ll find the strength to get up and leave him so that he doesn’t  have to turn around and pretend to love you again. though, there’s a selfish wish rooted in the back of his mind, longing for you to stay. for you to play make believe for a little longer, to wish upon the North Star and beg for some kind of grace from god — hoping that izuku midoriya will love you some way, somehow. 

he’ll fake it for as long as he can, if it means being the only person to touch you and hold you and kiss you. he’ll pretend to rip every star in the sky for you and breathe false affection past your lips with every kiss if it means he can replace the pain in your lungs and help you breathe a little easier. because in his own twisted way, izuku cares about your feelings…at least to some degree. he’d rather pretend than end things right here, right now. maybe that’s his saviour complex and his instinctual, dire need to save people who doesn’t need saving. 

maybe it’s because this little arrangement has gone on for far too long, to the point where he can’t tell what hurts you or what doesn’t.

when the bulking pro hero shifts beneath the linen sheets, you hand bolts out to grab him — and, as if you’re protecting the embers of a dying flame, a fading star between your fingers, you pull him back into your chest. grasping onto him, holding out for something. you’re afraid that if you let go, izuku will disappear into space’s abyss and you might never get to have him like this again. another selfish wish. this time from you, not from him. 

don’t go. you want to tell him. don’t fizzle away. you want to say. you know that it’s wrong to want to keep someone you can’t, who won’t love you, around. it’s testament to how much respect you have for yourself, how much self worth you have. which, from the looks of it, is little to none. you feel like you might die without izuku, even if what you have of him is so little. a plant with a crane its neck reaching for even the tiniest bit of sunlight to grow… that’s how you feel about izuku’s…affections for you. even if it’s not real love, you still yearn for it and blossom underneath it. even if you should let him go because you love him, you don’t want to.

out of fear that he may not come back. 

when izuku says your name, whispers it into the black hole of the night — he treats it as if it’s made of gold. the syllables heavy on his tongue, weighing it down with a force of gravity. “are you awake?” he adds, despite feeling the shake of your limbs behind him from crying. he speaks slow and tender, the gravel of the early morning still in his voice. 

your breath hitches warmly against his bare back like a mist over his sun spotted freckles. “no.” a dishonest answer that would have given you away instantly had the evergreen haired hero not already been up and listening to you cry. you sound strained, stuffy and he knows your pretty eyes are probably a putrid red and that there’s snot stains left in tracks on his satin sheets. and maybe, if he loved you like he should — this wouldn’t have happened, he wouldn’t feel so much guilt to the point where he feels sick to his stomach.

loving you is dangerous territory, like a trip to the uncharted parts of deep dark space. the concept alone is terrifying enough to send icy blood through izuku midoriya’s veins where he’s usually so hopeful and fearless. if he lets himself, for even a second, fall in love with you — there would be a chance your life would change for the worse, a chance that you wouldn’t be able to bare the long nights without him or the weeks where he’s gone. you hardly see deku now, how would you cope when he’s finally yours but too far away from you to touch. you could be in the same bed and he would still be light years away, galaxies ahead of your own train of thought because he is constantly thinking of who and how to save next.

not to mention the very fact that his existence is a threat to your livelihood, with villains lurking around every corner just waiting for a chance to make the number one weak…

…loving izuku midoriya would be like standing still in the middle of a hurricane on jupiter. 

no one would be able to withstand the largest storm in the universe, not even you, and the strength you find in loving izuku. 

still, you’re a liar and izuku knows it. even if he’s not supposed to. the bed creaks beneath his weight as he rolls over to face you, freckled cheek sinking into the cotton hills on his pillows as he finally sets his emerald sights on you. “you must be dreaming then,” he laughs fondly through his nose when he speaks, bringing a thumb up from underneath the duvet to swipe away your drying tears. the ones you tried so desperately to hide. water doesn’t fall in out space, it drifts endlessly and becomes a liquid with no form. izuku wishes you weren’t crying over him. 

shrugging, you lean into the man’s touch, letting deku cup your cheeks and trace your smile lines that don’t seem so smiley anymore. the early morning moonlight ( the sun has yet to rise ), illuminates the stars in his mossy eyes that practically plead for you to let go, and your heart lurches painfully. he feels sorry for you. “i hope so.” comes your tired whisper. embarrassed and heartbroken, you look away and tuck your face under the duvet — chin brushing your naked shoulders, skin bare and bitten and bruised from the night before. “if i am, i don’t want to wake up.” 

“what happens in your dreams?” capturing your chin between his fingers, izuku tilts your gaze over to him — inquisitive, cautious as if you’re an alien life form and he’s trying his best not to scare you away. he doesn’t quite understand you, why you keep returning to him , only to find yourself naked, vulnerable and heartbroken the next day. 

“you love me back, i think. we’re more than what we are right now.”

bitter selfishness tacks itself to the back of your throat like bile — you know that you’re being unkind and greedy to izuku by voicing your thoughts out loud, begging him for even the tiniest slither of love but what’s worse is the lack of compassion for yourself. the endless torture you inflict on your being just waiting for the number one hero to maybe love you back. 

in away, it makes you deserving of one another. whatever it is that the two of you have is no healthier than a pack of cheap cigarettes from the combini at the top of the road. a nicotine addiction that neither of you seem to be able to quit. humming into the moonlit void, deku brushes a thumb over your streaked, pudgy cheek — tracing the tear stains and the tracks left by the lines in the pillowcase. 

his eyes shimmer like the Milky Way on a clear night as he looks at you, strands of longing twisting within the vibrant green flecks in midoriya’s eyes. it must be lonely for him out there — he’s in another universe of his own and you can hardly compare to or comprehend it. “are you still dreaming?” he asks.

reaching up, you grab his wrist from underneath the covers — feeling his pulse beat steadily underneath the pad of your thumb. “i hope so.” you repeat your words from earlier, lashes fluttering against your cheeks — heart pounding. 

“then i’ll love you how you like,” midoriya agrees, masking his sadness with his signature hero smile. the one he uses to let the people he saves know that everything will be okay. even when it’s not. izuku treats you like a damsel in distress and maybe you are. you need saving from yourself, from him and he knows it. you both do. “at least until you wake up.” 

nodding, you close your eyes and lock off the rest of your senses — listening to only the sounds your steady breathing mingling in your own personal pocket of space. time freezes for the two of you, you don’t know how many light years it’s been before you speak again — but izuku’s warmth is still there, still enveloping you like the brilliant rays of the sun at the centre of your universe. he doesn’t dare cast you out into the icy cold of space. not yet.

“then i’ll try to keep dreaming, i’m not ready to wake up just yet.” comes your quiet voice as you lean forward to press your forehead against izuku’s freckled one.

not yet.

he exhales, deep and sad, but cups your face a little tighter and draws you in a little closer. “me either, not yet.” 

not yet. together, wrapped up in one another, the two of you decide that you'll stay lost in the web of constellations for a little bit longer. 

not yet.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai & recommend elsewhere.

[daisymbin]

promise me ice cream! - jeon wonwoo

warnings: slightly insecure wonwoo?

pairings: jeon wonwoo x reader

genre: drunk confessions, friends to ???

wc: 1.3k

a/n: I'm not quite sure what I did to deserve 223 of yall following me but thank you 🥺

drunken confessions series

check out my masterlist! // wonwoo's m.list

your best friend, wonwoo is sprawled on the bed, looking more like a puddle of drunk affection than his usual composed self. he's clinging onto you, he wedges your leg in between his own; hugging it like it was a bolster as his head rests on your lap as if it were a pillow, his arms wrapped around your thigh, not wanting to let go as if it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. his gaze is hazy, eyes blinking slowly as he stares up at you, his lips curving into a drunken smile, “you're so pretty.” he says as you chuckle while you run your hands through his hair; messaging his head a little to relieve the potential headache.

“why'd you drink so much tonight?” you asked, “its not like you, you're not usually like this.” wonwoo lets out a deep sigh at your question, “you were talking to jun all night and…i dont know, i just didn't like it. i got jealous. it's like…you’ll never pick me.” he says with a pout, eyes closing shut. “jealous? of jun?” you frown, trying to make sense of his words. if only he knew, “don't be silly, you know i talk to jun all the time but you'll always be my best friend. there's nothing to be jealous about.” you reassured. “& i’ll always pick you.”

“you're breaking my heart.” wonwoo mumbles so soft, you almost would have missed it if it weren't for a drunk wonwoo clinging onto you for dear life, heightening all your senses & leaving your heart beating so fast. “what do you mean, wonwoo?” 

"you’re my favorite person," he says, his voice soft and slow, like he’s trying to convince himself of something. "i don’t know if i’ll ever be your favorite, but... you're my favorite." his hand gently strokes the inside of your thigh, sending shiver down your spine. his fingers light against your skin as if he’s trying to memorize the feeling of being this close.

you smile as you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach. you’re a little amused yet also, a little taken aback by the way he’s acting; he's never been like this. you gently run your fingers through his hair, trying to coax him to sleep even though you're sure he’s already half asleep. & maybe you're also just taking advantage of the situation and being a little selfish; having him like this.

"i’m just me," he continues, voice drowsy and laced with alcohol. "i’m just wonwoo, you know? just regular, plain ol' wonwoo. but you're... you're perfect. sparkly. i don’t even know why you ever looked my way years ago, let alone be friends with me.”

you laugh softly, but it’s mixed with a hint of sadness, wondering how he could ever think that about himself. "you’re not just wonwoo, you know that, right? you’re more than that."

wonwoo shakes his head, but his grip on your leg tightens. "no, no, no. i’m just me. i’m just wonwoo, and you’re... you’re so pretty and you're so kind. you're such a good person...so much better than I'll ever be. that's why you would never like someone like me."

his words sting more than they should, but you can tell he's too drunk to mean them fully, right? that's what you hoped for at least. you want to tell him how wrong he is, how much you care for him, but instead, you sit in the quiet, letting him speak his mind as he clings onto you, his drunken ramblings the only thing filling the space between you two.

after a moment, he sits up a little, his gaze suddenly lighting up with a burst of energy. "ice cream," he says, as if it’s the most important thing in the world right now. "we should go on an ice cream date. right now. let’s go."

you glance at him, blinking in surprise at the sudden contrast. it’s already past 4AM and he’s drunk, this is not the time for an ice cream run date. "wonwoo," you say softly, trying to get him to focus. "it’s really late. we’re not going for ice cream right now, okay?"

he looks up at you with wide, sad, hopeful eyes, and you can’t help but find it endearing, even if it’s a little ridiculous. "why not?" he asks, his pout deepening, and his grip on your leg tightening again as he drags himself impossibly closer to you. "i want to go on an ice cream date with you, please?” 

you laugh, though it's full of affection and fondness. "wonwoo, you’re drunk & it’s really late. we’re not going anywhere. you can’t go out for ice cream right now, I don't think you can even walk straight, did you forget how I had to haul you back here?"

he pouts even harder, his lower lip trembling slightly & he almost look as if he’s about to start crying any time as he sits back and crosses his arms, looking like a grumpy child. "but i want ice cream. now. i’m hungry."

you can’t help but smile at his stubbornness. "we’ll go tomorrow, okay?" you promise. "i’ll take you out on an ice cream date tomorrow. I'll even let you pick all the flavours you want, even if its 5 of them."

wonwoo tilts his head to the side, staring at you with a suspicious frown. "tomorrow? don’t lie…i’m only asking you now because… this is a dream, you wouldnt reject me in my dream, would you?" he asks, his voice filled with doubt. "because i know you won’t really take me for ice cream tomorrow when I wake up. you don’t like me like that. you’re just humoring me."

"wonwoo, i promise, tomorrow, we’ll get ice cream," you reassure him, your voice gentle and warm as you stroke his hair again, trying to comfort him.

but wonwoo still looks disappointed and doubtful, his shoulders slump. "tomorrow will never come. this is all a dream. you’ll wake up, and i’ll be... i’ll be just me. plain wonwoo. i won’t be good enough for you. you will never pick me.”

your heart aches at the way he’s talking. he doesn’t believe that you like him, doesn’t believe in this moment, in the promise of tomorrow. "wonwoo, i’m not going anywhere," you say, taking his hand in yours. "i'll be right here when you open your eyes when the sun rises & i'll tell you all the reasons why you're more than enough. i really do like you, I love you, and tomorrow, we’ll get ice cream. i promise."

he looks down at your hand, still not fully convinced. "promise?" he asks, his voice small and fragile.

"promise," you say firmly, hands finding his as you lock your pinky around his.

wonwoo hesitates for a moment, then sighs, his expression softening. "okay...okay," he murmurs, closing his eyes as he rests his head back on your lap, your hands instinctively go back to playing with his hair, he's completely content now. "ice cream date tomorrow. i’ll wait for tomorrow...even if it doesn't happen it's okay..at least im laying on your lap now…at least you’re playing with my hair now…at least now i know what it's like to hear you say you like me too.”

you smile, brushing a strand of hair out of his face, watching him drift off to sleep in your lap. even though he’s drunk and unsure, you know he believes you somewhere deep down. & tomorrow, you’ll take him for ice cream, just like you promised. and maybe, just maybe, tomorrow, he’ll realize how much you really do care about him, & how much you really do love him.

[yandere-daydreams]

Screening: Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978).

Pairing: Yandere!Carlisle Cullen x Reader (Twilight).

Word Count: 2.1k.

TW: Wildly Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Medical Malpractice, Blood, Controlling Behavior, Deliberate Social Isolation, Misuse of Prescription Drugs, and Generalized Twilight. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

It might’ve just been the isolation getting to you, but you were starting to think that your doctor wasn’t completely human.

Not that you’d ever say so out loud. At best, it was awful thing to think about a man who’d only ever been kind to you and, at worst, it proved yet another symptom to your ever-developing, ever-worsening illness had cropped up and would need further treatment to correct. You knew better than to say things that would make you seem more sick than you already were, but it was hard to stop yourself from lingering on the idea – especially considering you only had books, sleep, and his company to pass the endless time. Admittedly, it’d been a while since you’d seen another person, but you could’ve sworn he was paler than he should’ve been, to the point of bloodlessness. He never ate or drank around you, but sometimes when he spoke, the light would catch on his teeth in a way that made them look too sharp, too prominent. You might’ve been dreaming, but once, after you took your medicine but just before you fell asleep, you swore you saw him taking the cap off of the blood sample he’d taken a few minutes prior, like he planned to do something aside from—

You heard a door open and instantly, your paranoia was dismissed in favor of more interesting stimuli. In this case, that came in the form of your doctor, Carlisle Cullen, stepping into your bedroom, an inhumanly perfect smile already painted across his inhumanly perfect lips.

…maybe you should tell somebody about your little conspiracy. If only to be absolutely sure that you were really losing your mind.

“Good morning,” he said, and it occurred to you that you hadn’t thought to check the time, yet. Your life existed in three states: alone, asleep, and with Carlisle. Only that last one really mattered – the other two could easily be lumped into the same category helpfully labeled ‘waiting for Carlisle’s next visit’. “Have you been keeping yourself busy?”

“I’ve only been awake for a couple hours,” you explained, shrugging as he took his usual seat in the chair left next to your bed. He was always polite enough to ask about the boring details of your day, and you were always embarrassed enough to skirt around just how little you had the energy for. Most of the time, it was all you could do to pull yourself out of bed and yourself to eat before retreating back into your little safe haven. On a good day, you’d be able to go for a walk, maybe respond to a few of the calls you were constantly missing, but most days weren’t very good. “Reading, mostly. Thanks again for the recommendation.”

The book he’d lent you – a dry historical drama with characters as bland as water and a plot as boring as sin – sat open on your lap, but you’d only gotten through half a chapter before giving up. It was hard to believe Carlisle was only a few years older than you, sometimes. You couldn’t imagine how someone who seemed so young could have such awful taste.

Still, he looked pleased, his pleasantly aloof expression taking on a defined note of satisfaction. “It’s important to keep your mind occupied while your body’s recovering. You wouldn’t want to waste all of my hard work by letting yourself die of boredom, now, would you?”

“No, doctor.” It was stupid to try, but he’d set himself up for it. You couldn’t seem to stop yourself, your heart beating just a little faster as you grasped blindly for the impossible. “You know, there’s this friend of mine who keeps asking when she’ll be able to visit, and I thought it might help pass the time if—”  

“You’ll have to find a way to let her down.” Carlisle’s voice was smooth, calm. You did your best not to sulk, but still, he let out a labored sigh, only a touch too professional to roll his eyes. “It’s for the best. It’s good that you stay active, but you know what’ll happen if you overexert yourself, don’t you?”

Vaguely. It was hard to remember the details of your condition, and you weren’t in the mood for another lecture. “I do, doctor.”

“And you’re going to behave your check-up, aren’t you?”

“I am, doctor.”

“And that’s why you’re my favorite patient.” Your compliance was rewarded with a beaming smile, an appeased nod as he pulled his old-fashioned leather doctor’s bag into his lap. “We better make good on that promise before you change your mind, then.”

You didn’t protest. Honestly, you didn’t say much of anything. You never talked during your exam, preferring to let Carlisle go through the necessary motions with as little interference as possible. Instead, he filled the silence with mindless chatter about his children and how they were doing at the local public school, the hospital’s ongoings since you were unofficially discharged, and your favorite – Forks’ particularly colorful smalltown gossip, from the sheriff’s wayward daughter moving back into town to the spike in bear sightings on the local hiking paths. “It’ll be a busy week,” he mentioned, as he finished taking your blood pressure. “You might have some unexpected company, after all.”

At that, you perked up. You met nearly all of Carlisle’s assistants (medical students, you guessed, judging by their ages) by now, and even if you didn’t care for all of them, it was still nice to see someone other than him. Your least favorites were the dark haired twins – the wiry boy who always seemed to be biting back a smirk and the pixie-like girl who always acted like she knew something you didn’t – and you were particularly fond of the blonde girl… Rosemary, or maybe Rosaline. She was nice, compassionate, kind enough to keep you company even when Carlisle wasn’t in the room. More importantly, she brought interesting books – romance and horror, novels like Dracula and Carmilla and Interview with a Vampire, always handing over with a sweet smile and a hushed reminder not to let Carlisle know she was breaking his rules. Looking back on it, you probably shouldn’t have accepted anything she tried to give you. You would’ve hated for her to get in trouble just because she was trying to be nice.

Rather than voicing your overwhelming bias, you watched intently as he slipped the loose cuff off of your arm, tucking it back into his bag and removing something else, something long and silver and sharp. Immediately, your gaze shot back to your lap, your throat going dry in an instant. The next time you managed to spit something out, it was nearly too quiet to be audible. “…is there any chance we could, uh, I don’t know,” You paused, shrunk into yourself. “…skip the phlebotomy, this time?”

Carlisle’s answer was as swift as it was ruthless. An airy laugh, a jagged twist to this smile as he took up the needle properly and turned it over in his hand, looking for defects. It was already attached the glass syringe and, even worse, an empty vial; just a touch bigger than you remembered it being, the day before. “And take that kind of risk? How little do you think of me, (Y/n)?”

“It’s not you, it’s just—I already feel a little faint, and you take one every day, and—” You cut yourself off, inhaling sharply. “I just don’t know if it’s really necessary. Considering how careful you are and everything.”

“You’re right, I am careful. Which is exactly why I have to do this each and every time I come to see you.” He sighed, shook his head – suddenly more of a patronizing, paternal figure than any kind of medical professional, let alone peer. “You understand, don’t you? Without regular testing, your condition may worsen, and if you get any sicker than you are now…” You stiffened as he trailed off, bracing yourself. You knew what came next, what always came next.

“You’ll have to go back to the hospital, angel.”

It was strange, how a voice as smooth and as beautiful as his could be so difficult to listen to.

You didn’t like Carlisle. You hated his condescending smile, his repetitive rambling, his terrible taste in books and his creepy little students. You hated how little he let you do, how he talked about your illness – always skirting around the details, never giving you enough information to know whether you were on the verge of dying or a few days away from making a full recovery. No, when you were honest with yourself, you didn’t like him. Hated him, even.

But you couldn’t go back to the hospital, with its blank white walls and sobbing patients and strange, mind-altering drugs that put your sleep and made you feel like someone was biting into your throat. It’d been a miracle when Carlisle first told you about his domestic services, when he offered to have you discharged in exchange for only the promise that you wouldn’t seek care that didn’t come from him. Arrangements were made, your rent and bills taken over by some nameless, faceless local charity, and for the first time in months, you got to go home. You could live with Carlisle and his once weekly, now daily check-ups. You could live with the fact that you didn’t remember the last time you’d gotten to make a decision for yourself.

And, if you had to, you could live with paying for your freedom in blood, too. As long as it meant you didn’t have to go back to that terrible place.

Once again, you didn’t say anything, but you didn’t resist as he sighed and ran a sterilizing pad over your forearm, the antibiotic strong enough to burn. You clenched your eyes shut, but that did nothing to block out the feeling of a thin elastic band being wrapped around the crook of your elbow, of his needle pushing through your skin and burrowing into the vein underneath it. There was a second of pressure, of knotted soreness, and then, the syringe was gone and you were left feeling just a little colder, just a little more empty than you had before.

Even after opening your eyes, you kept them trained on your lap. You easily could’ve spent the rest of his visit in silence, but metal clinked against glass as he rushed to cap his vial and suddenly, you needed to hear the sound of your own voice. “I think I might be getting paranoid,” you managed, with a breath of a laugh. “For a few minutes this morning, I was able to convince myself that you were… I don’t know, an alien studying humanity, or something.”

“If I was, I’m sure that I would still pick you as the best possible specimen for my examination.” It was hollow comfort, but you smiled anyway, nodding along. Your medication came next, in the form of a small, chalky white pill that you still struggled to swallow under Carlisle’s vigilant gaze. You managed to choke it down, though, and as always, the effects were instant; a sudden clearness, blankness, followed shortly by an exhaustion so thick and so heavy, you couldn’t remember what it’d ever felt like not to be tired. You tried to hold yourself up, but faltered – buckling under your own weight. Carlisle chuckled as he caught you, helping you lay down with a soft squeeze to your shoulder, a feather-light kiss to the top of your head. “Sleep, angel. It’s good for you.” And then, his grin still pressing into your scalp. “And try not to dream about vampires, this time.”

So he did know about Rosalie’s books. Pouting, you shrunk into yourself, letting him drag the comforter over your abruptly immobile body as your eyes eased shut, as he pulled away – a vial of your blood still warm in his hand. It would’ve been impossible to stop yourself from falling asleep, but you managed to stave off unconscious long enough to watch him remove the vial’s carefully applied seal, to unscrew the air-tight cap with the kind of tenderness you’d only seen him use while taking your temperature or petting his fingers through your hair after he thought you were already too far gone to remember. He did a lot of things when he thought you weren’t looking, didn’t he? You’d never really noticed that, before.

Through your eyelashes, you watched him bring the vial to his lips before everything went dark.

[riverbends]

Hear me out pope takes readers virginity 😅he'd be so sweet about it (in a pope way)

he’s known you for quite some time now and you’ve managed to help him ease his guard down. he probably met you at the beach or deran’s bar or just anywhere that didn’t hold the accursed imprint of smurf. while it’s a complete mystery to pope, you were suddenly fond of him in the way you’re fond of strays.

he’s not sure what you are to him, but, no matter how much he tries to filter it out of his conscience, you’ve got this way of leaning into his space without really physically making contact. when you’re together, he feels phantom touches of your elbow whispering against his forearm or your knee barely brushing his. you are not privy to the goings-on of the cody family, so he tries his best not to rope you into the mess of it.

maybe one night he’s dropping you home and you stall in his car before he bluntly tells you to say whatever you’re trying to avoid.

“do you wanna come in?”

the question paralyses him. you know pope, he has to fully digest something sometimes before he can find his voice. except he just looks at you blankly and now you’re worried you’ve crossed boundaries.

“i’m sorry—”

you’re cut off by the sound of his belt buckle releasing. and then he’s out of the car.

he’s absolutely soundless as you lead him to your bedroom. i won’t go into too much detail here (i’m usually very descriptive about it though, trust me).

but it starts with soft, hesitant kisses, initiated by you, of course. other wise he’d stand there all night, waiting. you help him with his clothes and, at some point, he gently seizes your wrists. he can see the tremor in your hands under the low light. you tell him you’ve never been with anyone like this before, and he’s still holding your wrists between your bodies. eyes searching in the dark.

barely a whisper, he says, “we can stop.”

your heart shrinks in shame, “do you want to stop?” you ask. another pause.

“only if you do.”

and then you’re tangled with him in your sheets, your ankles crossing at his tailbone as his weight presses your body into the mattress. he’s not even inside you yet because he is being so agonisingly slow about it. almost too careful for your appetite.

he’s not holding out on you to be a tease or assert some kind of power of you. he’s really just trying to do this the right way. trying to make it as comfortable as possible. another part of him is also trying to process how and why you’re so desperate for him, practically squirming beneath him with want. he’s never really been desired.

and the moment he gives you what you’re asking him for, you’re both rendered speechless. while you savour the burn of your first breach, he’s relishing in the way you fit him so perfectly. at first, he’s consistently preparing himself to wrench his body away from yours every time you gasp a little too loud or dig your heels into his lower back. he learns, though, that he is not hurting you. you aren’t signalling discomfort through your intensity… you simply want him too much to contain yourself.

afterwards, he is as gentle as he was when he sank himself inside you. when you’ve excused yourself to go to your bathroom, he collects your discarded clothes and remakes your bed, despite knowing you’ll pull it apart once more in the depths of your sleep.

he’s fully dressed again because he’s expecting you to ask him to leave, but he finds himself sitting on the edge of your bed. spine rigid with quiet apprehension. when you reappear, he braces himself for ruin. for rejection.

“can i stay?”

you don’t answer him.

instead, you drag him back into your bed and divest him of his clothes under the covers. not to go for another round, but to feel his skin against yours again.

this warmth he has found here with you, he thinks, is as good as it’ll ever get.

[7s3ven]

NOBODY’S SON, NOBODY’S DAUGHTER. luke (pjo) pt 1

PART 1 > PART 2 > PART 3 > PART 4 (last pt)

( master list )

IN WHICH… Y/N L/N, after spending a decade at Camp Half-Blood, still remains unclaimed. Luckily, Luke is there to keep her company as her good friend. And to, perhaps, provide a bit more.

“I’m in the wind, you’re in the water. Nobody’s son, nobody’s daughter.”

( follows the show - kind of just a oneshot bc i’m bored )

Warnings : fighting, violence, a little too much of a description about injuries

—

Nobody had been this excited about a new kid since three years ago, when a H/C-haired girl showed up holding a Harpy’s head. The new arrival had slain a Minotaur, which Clarisse wasn’t too happy about. She was convinced he was a liar.

Y/N sat in the Hermes cabin, closely inspecting her empty juice box. She had waken up an hour ago yet her good friend, Luke, still woke up earlier. She always wondered where he went in the early morning. Perhaps to get some sword training in before the day started. He was, after all, the best swordsman in camp.

The rays of sun poured through the window, bathing the wooden floor in light. A few of the Hermes kids groaned, knowing Luke would burst through the doors any second and force them to get up. He always did when the sun rose.

As expected, Luke kicked the door open. “Good morning!” He exclaimed, as energetic as ever. “The new kid’s coming today so get up and start cleaning! I’m mainly talking to you guys.” Luke sent the group in the corner a stern look and added, “Y/N, you’re fine.” He pointed at her with his usual boyish grin.

Lately, Y/N had been sleeping in Luke’s bed while he slept on the floor. They took turns switching. Lying on the ground for more than a decade now wasn’t good for the back.

After all this time, Y/N was still unclaimed. It usually took a week or less. Y/N was a prime example of the Gods above ignoring their children.

“He’s the one who killed the Minotaur, right?” Y/N questioned as Luke collapsed onto his mattress, partly to annoy Y/N who was sitting on it. The H/C-haired girl scoffed and playfully rolled her eyes, yet she couldn’t contain the amused smile on her face.

“Yeah. He can join your little monster slaying group. Let’s hope he gets claimed because I can’t deal with a boy version of you.” Luke teasingly grinned while Y/N scoffed and slapped his shoulder.

“You love my company.” She uttered, rolling her eyes.

Luke’s friends snickered to themselves. “More like he loves you.” One whispered to another.

“What’s his name again?” Y/N asked, tilting her head to the side. “Was it… Tom?” Luke stared at her in disbelief before lightly snorting.

“You’re way off, Y/N. Stop thinking, you’ll hurt that tiny brain of your’s. Just do what you do best; sit still and look cute.” Luke ruffled her tidy hair, turning it into a bird’s nest again.

Y/N flung a pillow at him, and glowered at the Hermes boy. “I’m going to kick your ass in capture the flag.” She threatened, poking his shoulder. Clarisse, out of all people, was her best friend. So naturally, she teamed up with her.

“I wouldn’t be so sure, princess.” Luke lightly shoved her which caused Y/N to gasp in disbelief.

“Don’t push a lady, Luke!”

The other campers, already used to their antics, just chuckled. “Hey, love birds!” One of the unclaimed kids exclaimed. “Get a room!” With her smart she was, Y/N assumed she was Athena’s child.

Y/N and Luke liked to play a silly game where they guessed which camper belonged to which godly parent. It was fun. Luke was never wrong until the day he tried to guess Y/N’s.

A year ago, he guessed Aphrodite. His explanation? Because she was charming and she had a certain aura that followed her. And because she was pretty. That was the only time he was wrong because Y/N never ended up in a cabin.

“So, what do you think of the new kid? Which cabin?” Y/N asked as she and Luke walked outside. He shoved his hands into his pockets, laughing.

“Tough call. I haven’t even met him yet. Apollo, maybe?” Luke shrugged and frowned. “I’ll tell ya my guess when I see him.”

“I’m guessing… Poseidon.” Y/N uttered, earning a light snort from Luke.

“No way. Is that your confirmed guess? Being a child of Poseidon would mean being a forbidden child.”

The game had a few rules.

One. You can only take a single guess and once you confirm it, you can’t change it.

Two. You can’t ask the kid you’re talking about. Luke considers that cheating. You can only observe them.

Three. No asking Annabeth because she’s always right.

“I guess. It’s not like I ever win, right?” Y/N laughed, grinning at Luke. He stared at her for a moment before returning her bright smile.

“I know we don’t usually make bets, but if your guess turns out right, I’ll willingly give up in the next capture the flag game after he’s claimed.” Luke puffed out his chest, certain Y/N wouldn’t win.

“And if you win?” She asked, arching an eyebrow.

“You give me your strawberries.” Luke had an obsession with strawberries that everybody, even the gods above, knew about.

“You’re on, Luke.” Y/N held out her hand with her lips curved up into a teasing smirk.

“Good luck, princess. Looks like I’ll be taking all your strawberries.” Luke ran his tongue over his teeth, already being able to taste the sweet, red fruit in his mouth.

He walked off, playfully winking at Y/N. Clarisse, who saw the whole conversation go down, hurried over to Y/N. “Looks like you and lover boy have a bet going in.” She smirked, raising both her eyebrows. “You two are cute together.”

“Don’t mess with me, Clari. We’re just friends.” Y/N rolled her eyes at what her friend was suggesting. She had been friends with Luke for three years now and she had known him for even longer.

“Are you just friends… or you want to be more?” Clarisse leaned forward with that taunting glint in her beautiful eyes. Y/N groaned, shoving her away. Clarisse simply laughed. “Come on, princess.” She mocked.

“Oh, come on, Risse.” That was a horrid nickname given to Clarisse by an Apollo boy who seemed to be obsessed with her.

“Shut up!” Clarisse exclaimed, eyeing Y/N up and down in disgust as if she was the Apollo boy. “You know how I feel about him!”

“And you know how I feel about Luke.”

“Yeah… but do you?” Clarisse tilted her head to the side before her gaze flickered to something, or rather someone, behind Y/N. “The Minotaur kid is out.” She grumbled and sharply clicked her tongue.

“Great. I can see if my stupid guess was correct.” Y/N glanced over her shoulder, watching the boy walk beside Chiron. His hair was curled, much like Luke’s, and blond. Clarisse had wandered off in the midst of Y/N’s staring, but she didn’t mind.

Suddenly, the boy lifted his head. His eyes clashed with Y/N’s, and he almost jumped at how intensely she was staring at him. Y/N merely smiled before turning away.

“So, what do you think?” She asked Luke as they walked towards the Hermes cabin side by side, their shoulders brushing against each other.

“Hard to say for now.” Luke replied. Y/N looked at him and he stared back before the pair burst into quiet laughter. Just locking eyes could make two friends find anything hilarious.

“I assume you’ll take him under your wing? Good luck.” Y/N nudged him with her elbow, which seemed to be a normal gesture between them.

“Thanks, princess. See ya.”

Y/N turned around, almost crashing into a disoriented Percy Jackson. He seemed jumpy and panicked. Of course, how couldn’t he be? He had just unknowingly killed a monster and his mother had been taken.

“Hi. The first day is always rough. Don’t beat yourself up about it.” Y/N muttered to him before she passed by.

She didn’t stick around to hear Chiron announce him. She sighed, wandering aimlessly around the camp. She saw Clarisse talking to her siblings. Y/N had always wondered what it was like to have siblings you could relate to. What did it feel like to understand each other? To go through the same difficulties?

The Hermes cabin was comfortable and friendly enough but it wasn’t the same. She wanted to feel what a true family felt like, or at least was supposed to.

As Y/N had expected, Luke was the first to talk to Percy.

“I’m Luke.” He introduced himself to the boy after the rocky start to their conversation.

“Percy. Hey, uh, who was that girl before? The H/C-haired one?” He questioned, clearing his throat.

“Y/N. She’s nice most of the time the time but a pain in the ass during capture the flag.” Luke chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah. I’m just kidding. Don’t tell her I said that, though.”

“You guys seem close.” Percy uttered, remembering the way Luke looked at Y/N when they talked.

“Yeah. She’s my best friend. Unfortunately for me, her best friend is an aggressive Ares kid.” He grinned, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “Feel free to lie down anywhere. Just don’t get too close to Y/N. If she’s having a monster dream, she kicks in her sleep.”

One of the campers across the cabin groaned. “I know how that feels. The bruise lasted for weeks!” The others burst into laughter while Percy hurriedly made a mental note.

Avoid the pretty girl when she sleeps.

Percy was lucky that Y/N, who lay on the floor a few feet away from him, wasn’t having one of her infamous nightmares. He couldn’t say the same for himself, though.

Percy sat up, panting and sweating. He looked around, realising where he was. Birds chirped in the distant and he could hear the faint sound of chatter through the wooden walls.

“You okay?” Luke asked.

“Super.” Percy sarcastically responded.

“We all have them here, you know.” Luke clicked his tongue and sighed. “Intense, reoccurring nightmares. That’s normal here. Take Y/N for example. When she first came here, no one wanted to get near her while she slept. Girl’s a bloody good kicker.”

Percy lightly chuckled while Luke smiled. “The daydreams and ADHA and dyslexia are normal too. Demigods just process reality differently than humans do. For the first time in your life, you’re just like everyone else.”

“So, are you also…” Percy trailed off, not wanting to sound rude to his first friend at camp.

Luke found his hesitation amusing. “Am I unclaimed? No. Hermes is my father.”

“And Y/N? Is her father also Hermes?”

Luke scrunched up his face like he had just eaten a sour lemon. “Oh, no. Heck no. Y/N’s unclaimed… still. She has been for a while.” The brunette pressed his lips into a thin line as he gazed at Y/N, who was laughing with Clarisse.

“Why hasn’t Aphrodite claimed her? I mean, she looks the part.”

“That’s what we’re all asking ourselves. We all thought she’d be Aphrodite’s kid.”

Boys and girls flocked towards Y/N like she was a muse. It was no secret that out of all the campers, Y/N stood out the most. There was something unique about her, how she always hung around the aggressive Ares kids like she wanted to be one of them.

She was a tough opponent but a little too soft for Ares’ liking.

Too gentle for Ares but too angry for Aphrodite. She was constantly stuck in the middle. It almost seemed like no god or goddess wanted her in their cabin because she had proved herself over and over again.

“How long has she been unclaimed?” Percy inquired. Kids before him had asked that very same question and every time, they were never ready for the answer.

“A decade.” Luke replied, “She’s been here for a decade. Last year, there was a stupid rumour going around that she was fully mortal but that doesn’t make sense. If she was, she wouldn’t be here in the first place.”

“Why so long?”

“Nobody knows.” Luke shrugged. He had wondered that too. And he could see how it was weighing down on Y/N. The unclaimed kid was what campers referred to her as. They used her as an example of what not to do.

“Will she ever get claimed?”

Luke hoped she would. For her sake. He knew how she felt about not having a related family of her own. For now, she was satisfied laughing over silly tales with the Hermes kids.

“So, where does she go during the day? She disappeared yesterday and today.” Percy tilted his head to the side, not being able to spot Y/N anymore. Luke paused. It was uncommon for him to not have an answer to everything.

“I… don’t know. I assume Clarisse and her go somewhere.”

“Probably swimming in the lake.” Grover said, overhearing the two’s conversation.

It was scorching during Summer at Camp Half-Blood. Most stayed in the shade while an occasional kid or two tended to the plants. So it would make sense that Y/N would go to a lake to cool off.

Luke left Percy in the company of Grover and made his way towards the Lake in the middle of the forest. As Grover guessed, he found Y/N and Clarisse and a few other Ares kids swimming in the water or sitting on the nearby rocks.

“Hey, Y/N, your lover boy is here!” One of them exclaimed. Y/N, from her spot in the middle of the lake, glared at him. She huffed before swimming over to Luke, easily heaving herself onto shore.

“Hey, Luke, ready to make your guess yet?” She asked, grinning up at him. “Or do you wanna swim?”

“My guess is definitely not Hephaestus.” Luke said as he sat down in front of Y/N. His gaze flickered to her new swimsuit. “New bathing suit?”

“Yeah. Miya got it for me.” Miya was a child of Aphrodite and favored Y/N quite a lot.

“Ah. No wonder it’s so…” Luke hesitated, “Revealing.” He tried to act like a gentleman but his cheeks flushed every time he even looked at Y/N.

“One more day until I kick your ass.” Y/N laughed as she sank back into the water, returning a moment later with her hair dripping wet and her face shining in the sunlight. She looked effortlessly angelic.

“Are you sure you’re ready to handle Y/N again, Luke? She almost beat you last time.” Clarisse snickered as she floated on her back.

Luke scoffed. “Keyword. Almost.” It was true that Y/N had almost beaten him in his own game of sword fighting but that was because she was becoming increasingly more distracting.

Gone was the shy and quiet kid who always trailed behind Clarisse. With every passing year, Y/N became more headstrong and, well, beautiful. That’s why it was so hard for Luke to keep his feelings to himself now. Even Clarisse could see through his facade.

“I’m ready to make my guess.” Luke finally announced, catching Y/N’s wavering attention. She arched an eyebrow, intrigued. “My guess… is Demeter. I met the kid and he seems gentle. A soft and kind soul.”

“Nice. I guess we’ll find out soon.” Y/N’s guess was nothing but a joke and she’d end up laughing if she was actually correct.

“Join me for a little swim?” Y/N asked, reaching out to tug on Luke’s shirt. He sighed while Y/N merely smiled. A moment later, he gave in. Luke lifted his shirt over his head while Y/N stared at him a little too shamelessly for her liking. Some of the Ares boys teasingly wolf-whistled which made Luke chuckle.

He jumped into the lake, practically tackling Y/N and taking her under with him. “Luke!” She yelled, hitting his shoulder when they resurfaced.

“Oh no. The married couple is fighting again.” Zyra, Clarisse’s half-sister, said. She and Clarisse shared a knowing grin.

“They’re so whipped.” Clarisse whispered, subtly swimming away to give the two more space.

It was the day Y/N had eagerly been waiting for. Perhaps her favourite day at Camp. Capture the flag day.

Clarisse handed Y/N a spear. “I got it fixed for you.” The brunette said. During the last game, Y/N’s spear had broken. She was forced to fight with half of it after that.

Y/N adjusted Clarisse’s armour, ensuring that it was tight enough before putting on her own helmet.

“You’re gonna love this.” She overhead Luke say to Percy as they passed by. “Camp-wide mock warfare. All glory to the victors. Annabeth’s the head counsellor. She’s led our team to three straight wins.”

Y/N looked away, giving Luke the perfect chance to gaze over at her. “Y/N and Clarisse lead the other team. Clarisse is rather… impulsive, though. Y/N’s come up with some good plans but Ares kids always go off the rails.”

“What’s the deal with you and Y/N anyway?” Percy suddenly switched the topic, much to Luke’s surprise. “I mean, you guys say you’re just friends but you’re always looking at each other. And talking. And you stare at her like she’s your world. Sometimes I wish I could look at someone like that.” Percy sighed while Luke was left speechless.

Luke cleared his throat and shook his head. “Let’s just… focus on the game.”

The conch shell blew. Y/N stood side Clarisse, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Heroes, it’s time.” Chiron announced. “The game begins. The first team to retrieve the opposing flag and return it across the river shall be the victor. As always, there will be no maiming and no killing. I trust these rules will be respected.”

He subtly glanced over at Clarisse and her cabin.

“Let the games begin.”

There was twenty minutes until the next conch shell, which meant game-on. Normally, Clarisse and Y/N would pair up and hunt through the woods for the first few hours. But Clarisse had a different idea this time.

“Good luck.” Y/N said to her friend, slinging her spear over her shoulder. Y/N split up with the rest of her team, taking with her small portion of campers.

“We follow Clarisse’s plan this time. We’re the last defense meaning that if the blue team manages to get through, we fight like our lives depend on it.” Y/N said as she gripped her spear tightly.

“What are going to do?” Someone else asked.

“I’m going to…. look around.”

Luke grunted as a sword piercing his upper arm. He easily disarmed his opponent and kicked them to the ground.

“We give up.” The red leader grumbled, wincing as their brushed their fingers over his cuts.

“I wanna move quick. Straight through the woods for their flag.” Luke uttered.

“Y/N and Clarisse hunt in those woods for the first few hours, you know that. They’ll cut us down.”

Luke grinned, shaking his head. “Annabeth has a plan for Clarisse. And Y/N, as always, is mine. Don’t worry about her.”

“Last time I didn’t worry about her, she almost chopped my head off. By accident!” Chris loudly exclaimed, shoving Luke. Unbeknownst to the pair, Y/N was watching from above in the trees, hidden by the thick leaves.

She skilfully hopped from branch to branch, sliding down in front of her teammates. “The blue team is coming. They got past the other defences. Get in position.” Y/N hid behind a thick tree branch, panting and listening carefully for the sound of Luke’s voice.

She heard a twig snap and peeked her head out slightly to see Luke, Chris, and the rest of their small team. Y/N looked up, signalling to her friends above that it was almost time.

The moment Luke, who was leading the pack, stepped right where Y/N wanted him, she revealed herself. “Now!” She shouted, raising her spear and striking Luke. He easily blocked her attack.

“Thought you could ambush us, princess? Nice try.” Luke chuckled, pushing Y/N back.

“I’d say that it worked just fine.” Y/N retorted, lunging at Luke again. She pinned him to a nearby tree, holding the blade of her spear to his throat.

Chris grabbed Y/N by her shirt, pulling her back. Luke swung his sword at her but Y/N simply ducked to avoid the blow.

She tried to run off to help her teammates but Luke blocked her path. “Where do you think you’re going?” He uttered, playfully furrowing his eyebrows.

Y/N scoffed, kicking his ankles. She pointed at spear at his chest, poking it ever so slightly. “Ready to give up, Luke?”

“In your dreams.” He rolled over, latching onto Y/N’s arm and pulling her down with him. Y/N yelped, quickly scrambling up before he could grab her again.

She looked around at her surroundings, finally understanding what Luke’s plan was. It was to keep Y/N away from her team so that Luke’s could take them down. That left Y/N solely alone, standing between the flag and the blue team.

She panted, glaring at Luke. “Bring it on, Luke.” She muttered, holding up her spear. Luke was the first to make a move. He jumped at her, swinging his blade. Y/N dodged it and blocked another attack from Chris.

She quickly lowered her head, tackling another Hermes kid. Y/N rolled across the floor, swiftly standing up. “You won’t be getting near that flag on my watch.” She kicked Luke and whacked Chris. One of the Athena girls launched herself at Y/N, gripping onto her leg.

Y/N shook her off but the girl’s weight caused her to topple over. The bits of debris grazed at her skin. Chris swung his sword, slashing at Y/N. The blade cut her lower arm and blood welled up from the slit.

Quietly groaning, Y/N heaved herself up. She lightly swayed, unbalanced and a little weak. “Like I said,” She murmured, “You aren’t getting that flag.”

Y/N blocked every attack and blow aimed her way but she was getting slow. She could barely lift her weapon fast enough to stop Luke from successfully landing a hit.

Everything was becoming too overwhelming as she struggled to keep up. It was all a fast blur filled with weapons violently clashing against each other and shouting.

Up above, thunder crashed and lightning flickered through the darkening sky. Rain poured down, drenching the campers.

The thunder got louder and the lightning brighter as the seconds passed until nobody could ignore it. A harsh flash of lightning hit a tree nearby, setting it alight.

“Y/N, watch out!” Luke shouted, reaching out. Strings of electricity rippled around Y/N as a burning tree branch fell towards her. Luke sprinted towards her, dropping his sword in the process. He tackled Y/N, shielding her from harm’s way.

She groaned as she hit her head, black dots swirling around in her vision. She felt numb and her head lolled to the side as she heard shouts of victory followed by gasps of surprise.

“Y/N L/N has been claimed by Zeus, the king of Gods and the God of thunder and ruler of the sky.”

[halfpsychic]

Saint John (John Carter x gn!reader)

Summary: A conversation with your best friend during a quiet moment in the break room. Set during Season 1.

WC: 0.7k

“You know, Saint John is the patron of friendship and love,” your voice rings out in the quiet break room. Carter’s head turns to you next to him on the couch. He’s flipping through a magazine, just glancing at the pictures. It’s been a quiet night so far. Neither of you are tired enough to sleep yet, even though you know you should try.

“It’s a pretty common name,” he smiles. “I don’t think I was named after a Saint.”

“You don’t have to be,” you respond, tilting your head. “But it’s still fitting, don’t you think?”

Something in his chest aches. Love. He does love you. He tells you this sometimes, but when he does, he only ever means it as friends. He’s thankful the room is dim, and he hopes it’s dark enough that you can’t see the blush on his cheeks.

“I suppose.”

You grin up at him. “Come on, you’re my best friend, I think it’s really fitting. I never really had a best friend before you.”

There it is again. That sweet ache in his chest for you. He knows he’s your best friend and you’re his, but hearing you say it out loud again, and hearing you mention love in relation to him, makes his heart skip a beat. A few beats, really. Despite being settled in your close friendship, he never quite thought about himself as someone associated with friendship and love. He had friends, classmates he’d talk to, and a date here and there, but none of it ever stuck. Not like you did. Stuck by his side every day and on his mind every night.

“Are you an expert on saints or something?” Carter asks. He lets the magazine in his hands drop onto the table in front of him and he leans back against the couch.

“No,” you smile. “I just went to Catholic school.”

He lets out a laugh. “Right. What else did they teach you about this Saint John?”

“Well, he’s also the patron saint of authors, and burn and poison victims. So I think I’m pretty safe with you.”

“You don’t need a saint to protect you,” he says. “You have me.”

“I know,” you smile. “I’m very glad to have you. If I ever get burned or poisoned, you’ll be there, right?”

He nods. “Of course. I’ll always be there.”

The sincerity in his voice is striking. It scares you. Despite how often he casually mentions his care for you, it never quite sinks in. You still think every little bump in the road is going to send him running.

“Maybe I should write a book,” you joke to soften the mood again. “Or we could co-author one together.”

“Yeah? About what?”

“Doctor stuff,” you smile. “What not to do in med school.”

Definitely don’t fall in love with your best friend. Even if they study with you all the time, and help you memorize pesky details for exams, and remind you to get some sleep when it’s past midnight and you’re still at the library with all of your textbooks in front of you. Even if they pay for lunch and spend the night more than they should. Even if they’re the only person who understands you.

“We know plenty about that,” Carter laughs.

“Exactly. Easy money. Not that you need any.”

Carter rolls his eyes and shoves you. “Trying to swindle me out of my hard earned money?”

“Maybe,” you smile, straightening up. “Would you let me?”

In a heartbeat, he thinks.

“No,” he answers, trying not to let his true feelings show. Carter bites back a smile and ignores the way his stomach churns. “I want my fair share.”

“Sixty-forty?” You propose with a playful smile gracing your features.

“I get sixty percent?” He teases. “You’re so kind.”

You shove him back. “No, genius, you get forty percent.”

His hair falls in his eyes as he sways to the side. Before he can respond, Benton props the door open with his hand, leaning his head in. “Come on, you two, MVA incoming and we’re getting at least three major traumas. Let’s go.”

Carter shoots you one last smile as he stands up and rushes to the door, catching it before it fully closes, and holds it open for you. You don’t miss how pink his cheeks are in the light that spills in from the hallway. He’s going to be the death of you.

—A/N: a short moment between friends who both wish they were more. i <3 friends to lovers so most of my ideas are based on that. already posted on ao3! my inbox is open!!

[vrystalius]

Giyu’s obsession.

He just can’t risk your relationship, so instead, Giyu’ll watch, steal, think and obsess over you. Maybe even steal your underwear.

Whumptober prompt: Obsession.

Pairing: Stalker!Giyu x gn!reader (reader wears a skirt though)

(Stalker themes, Giyu being a weirdo and pervert, mentioning of nsfw, jealousy towards Sanemi)

His eyes were glued to you whenever you are around. Subtly, of course. He’d don’t want to think that your best friend is a weird stalker that loves watching your skirt sway whenever you walk or how the sauce staining your lips made him wish to lean in and lick it fight off. It scares Giyu how his thoughts mushed together whenever you enter his sight or when he hears your angelic voice. At first, he fought these intrusive thoughts. He forced himself to keep his eyes off you while you trained, deciding consciously to instead stare at the ground and count the sand grains. That way, he’s still close to you and savouring your presence while also not staring at you. But as he’s nearing the hundredth grain, his attention began to wander towards the sounds you were making. Grunts, moans and hisses. His sight slowly moved towards your form and how you were moving. He could see how your muscles tensed and how your sweat was making your skin delightfully glister. A sight for sore eyes. Only for Giyu’s eyes. A sight he needs to see every day, every hour, every minute. His mind wandered further, indulging himself in the fantasy of seeing your skirt ride up, even just a little. He just wants a little, tiny sneak peek of your—

No. He can’t think of you like this. He shouldn’t defile your being like this. You view him as your friend, best friend, he should act like one, think like one, behave like one. And yet, his hands tremble whenever you are near him, sweat runs down his forehead and his lip quivers ever so slightly. Gods, Giyu wants, no, needs you. But he can’t, so he’ll get you in other ways.

Sometimes, he’ll sleep over at your estate. The water hashira’ll come to you and talk about these night terrors he’s been having and will ask to sleep in your guest room, just for the night. You always say yes, your kind soul can’t say no to his face and how sleepy he looks. Giyu’s dressed in his nightwear and equipped with his katana, nothing else. How can anyone say no to him? Especially a person like you. You’ll even tuck him to bed, your hand brushing over his forehead and through his strands, massaging his scalp. Your hand was moving so slowly and gently, his eyes immediately fall shut. His head’ll roll towards you and his arms wrap around your waist in his sleep, forcing you to share the futon with him that night. It’s just that he’s not asleep while pulling you against him. Giyu knows exactly what he is doing and how much he’s pressing his hips against your assets, how his arms were wrapped around you so tightly you could barely breathe. Yet, you never say anything, because poor Giyu is too afraid to sleep on his own. He has nightmares after all.

Other nights, after you go to bed in your own bedroom, he sneaks around your house, inspecting everything he can get his hands onto. He’ll drink out of your used cups and savour the taste of the water, insisting that he is still tasting just a hint of the taste of your lips on the rinds. Other times, he’s stalking around your bathroom, testing different products of yours. He’s desperately trying to find out how you manage to smell so intoxicatingly every day, and after searching through your cabinets for multiple nights, he still can’t find. Giyu concluded you just smell like yourself. Divine. Without the help of anything.

He’s searching through your laundry more than he liked to admit to himself. He’s searching and digging elbow deep for your sweaty uniform you wore during training. Giyu wants to smell and feel it, imagine what it would be like up close to you and how your skin would feel under his palms. His work paid off and he found something even better than your dirty uniform; your underwear. They got stuffed into his pocket quicker than he could think, saving them for himself. He was incredibly ashamed after finding them in his pockets once he returned to his estate. That was the point he stopped fighting his intrusive thoughts. He’s loosing against them anyway.

But something that Giyu always does is sitting outside your bedroom and just listening to your movement in bed and your cute little snores. He wonders, what would you do if you knew that he was being like this? Your best friend, the one you trust the most, is invading your person in so many ways than one. Would you like it? Gods he hopes so. He has done too many things to go back now, and he can’t stop. It’s a delightful addiction for him. One single time, Giyu got incredibly lucky. He sat outside your bedroom as always, his ear pressing up against your door. You weren’t asleep and he could tell, your sheets moving more than usual and your breaths louder, shakier. His heart started racing when he finally realised what you were doing; your moans, the sheets ruffling, the wet noises… he palmed the growing tent through his sleep wear, closing his eyes and concentrating on those sweets sounds you are blessing him with. Imagines appear in his mind, the memory of your training, sitting near him during hashira meeting, the smell of you, your underwear and your moans he was hearing through the walls, everything just melted into one, perfect and perverse imagine, the perfectly crafted fantasy he created for himself. Giyu suppressed a whimper that threatened to escape his lips after hearing you moan for the final time through the walls. You two finished together, on time. How will he explain the humiliating stain on his pants when he’ll ask you how to wash it out. Maybe he’ll get you touch and inspect the stain. The thought of you touching his— fuck. His mind wandered again.

Giyu is patient, very so, but he slowly can’t take it anymore. He needs you. He needs you now, or else he just might really go insane because of your teasing and your smiles.

You tease him with your smell, you tease him with the look you give him, you tease him with your damn body, you tease him just by existing. Giyu’s not the only one enjoying your presence either. He’s not stupid, he sees the way Sanemi looks at you or even talks to you, and how you smile around him. You can’t like him, you just can’t. Giyu might actually break if you do. He might do something he’ll regret, so please stop talking to that piece of shit. Or even better, just stop talking to anyone, ever. Just talk to him and nobody else. No lunches with Kyojuro, no hangouts with Mitsuri, no clinic visits in Shinobu’s estate, no nothing. Everything you do with them you can do with him.

Giyu needs you, and you only need him. If only you saw how much he’s aching for you…

🎃

Nobody requested or asked for this, but this has been on my mind lately. I’m ashamed of this and my cat sat on my lap while I wrote this, and I think she judged me a little XD But I hoped you all enjoyed this anyway, even though it’s different from what I usually write <3

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!

Take care of yourselves <3

Here re the lists of the event I’m currently writing for. I did not forget the other requests you all send in! I’m either working on them once I have time or once the event is over <3

Flufftober (fluff)

Fictober (angst, fluff)

Whumptober (angst)

[loluzzz]

Kiss like you mean it!

Micheal Kaiser Actor AU

cw: hate kissing (???), dry humping, slight exhibition (filming), msub! fdom!

word count: 1.5k

a/n : there WILL be a part two soon i just have to get exams out of the way. not proof read btw so i apologize in advance for any mistakes.

Working with Kaiser has been unbearable. He always has something to complain about you. “you’re too stiff.” “Lean in more.” “open your mouth wider.” you can’t help it that this is the first time you ever had to act out explicit scenes. you guys were casted to act out an affair in a romance drama. you tried everything to be polite to Kaiser when you guys first met but he seemed indifferent towards you. He really could care less who you are. By the time you guys had to go act out the scenes it would always lead to arguing & disagreements among the actors and crew members. you tried your best to hold your tongue. this would really give you a leg up in the film industry. you wanted to be kind to everyone around you but it’s hard knowing Kaiser was there to dim your light.

“I had enough of this. Just follow me lead liebling.” He took your hand and placed it on his neck. He leans down more to reach your lips. you felt like you were falling as he kept moving you around. it causes you to jolt and stand up quickly to prevent yourself from hitting the ground. Kaiser smacked his lip in irritation. “If you weren’t so difficult to work with, we would have been done an hour ago.” He sneered. “I wasn’t ready! I felt like I was about to fall!” you retorted back. “You’re in a love scene, and you weren’t ready?” He said, stand up so he can meet you at your level. “We’ve been doing this for the past hour now, if that little thing spooked you then you’re not cut out for this.” He chided, arms crossed with disapproval.

That last line hurt. How could he say that when you’ve put everything you had into acting. He just doesn’t know you well enough to comment. This leads to another one of your back and forth arguments. “I’d work better if my costar wouldn’t approach me like some middle scholar getting their first kiss!” His eyes twitched in annoyance from your remark. “You’re seriously blaming me?” He asked incredulously. “You don’t even know how to use your damn tongue. You’re worse than the newbie I worked with two years ago.” He replied almost smugly. “You use way too much! I can’t tell if you want to kiss or eat me!” He looked absolutely insulted and appalled at your response. “Are you for real?” He said in disbelief. “This is nothing. I’ve done a lot more than this and you’re the one complaining?” He scoffed. “If anything you’re the one acting like a prude.” He bit out.

Before you could spit out another comeback, the director had just about enough of the bickering. “Enough!” The director yelled out, shutting them down. They’re supposed to be deeply in love in this scene yet it’s hard to showcase it with all the hate they care for one another. Both you and Kaiser look up. “Just take 5.” the director suggested “If you don’t get this last shot right we’re done for the day.” The two of you walked away. You needed your space to just relax. It’s just one scene. You’ll be home free once it’s over. Why does someone with such a pretty face have such an ugly personality? That made it all the more disappointing. As you get your makeup touched up, your makeup artist suggests you guys make up through hate sex. The makeup artist leaned in closer to you, speaking in a hushed and conspiratorial tone. “Hate sex is exactly as the name suggests. You hate each other, and you release your anger by well… Doing the deed.” she told you. “It’ll probably help you guys relax, especially considering how you two have been since this project started.”

At first the idea repulsed you. Sleeping with someone you hate? How would that even be enjoyable? wouldn’t it just be low effort and dull? on one hand you couldn’t see it ever working out considering how stubborn Kaiser is. On the other hand, you wouldn’t mind him just taking you. You guys fit so well together. He took care of himself meaning he always smelt so nice, his body well toned, the palm of his hands and how they perfectly fit on the sides of your waist. You can hate someone and still find them attractive right? The idea spun around your mind so much it became nauseating. You couldn’t think about it any longer as you were called up to get back on set and continue the scene. Kaiser was already there, waiting for you with the most cocky grin on his face.

As you walked up, he sat back down on the couch. There was a slight pause of silence between the both of you. He exhaled and spoke up first. “Ready?” He asked, glancing at you and noticing the scowl on your face. He raised a brow slightly, and then chuckled lowly. “Looking mad already?” He teased. You just wanted to get this done and over with. You carefully placed yourself on his lap, making sure to sit directly on his bulge. He would even go as far as grabbing the sides of your hips and making sure you were positioned properly on top of him. He instinctively held you in place as he looked up at you. He smirked faintly. “No pouting this time,” he told you. ”We need to get this done.”

You leaned in and wrapped your arms around his neck and before you were even ordered to start, you started to kiss him slowly and gently. Your lips moved softly against him in a very sensual manner. Kaiser’s eyes widened at the sudden kiss, but quickly relaxed into it after a few seconds. His grip on your hips tightened as he began to kiss back in turn, matching your slower pace. He closed his eyes, a part of his brain still questioning whether or not it’s in the script for you to kiss him so suddenly but it was quickly overridden by the pleasure. You wanted to take it up a notch. This was your way of getting back at him for all the times he has degraded, humiliated and attempted to humble you while working with him.

You slowly move your hips across his lap, pressing your clothed cunt up against his bulge. The friction between your two sexes felt so good, it caused Kaiser to let out a high pitched moan involuntarily. That sound slipped out so easily that it almost surprised even himself. It was low, and guttural, as if it had been pulled out of the most primal places in his brain. He instinctively pulled you closer against him, letting out another low moan in response as his tongue slipped out to meet yours. He gently squeezed your hips and gilded you against his print. The feeling of you against him, the heat and moistness of your clothed pussy driving him crazy that he’s almost desperate for more. However you’re limited for the time being. You continued to press yourself further and deeper into his print, feeling the tip of cock press up against the thin fabric of your panties. It was addicting. Having him so weak for you when a few minutes ago he questioned your ability of being a good actress. Little did he know he was the one being played and was just a side character in your movie.

He finally pulled back from the kiss just barely to gasp for air, his breaths hot against your skin as his lips ghosted over your jawline before gently trailing kisses down the sensitive skin of your neck. He wanted more. He was going to get more until you guys were startled by the director. “CUT! Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. PERFECT. We finally got it. Thank the heavens we got it!” Although the scene was up, the desire still lingers. You guys look at each other as you pant. You wipe off the saliva that was left over on your lips right in front of him. cleaning up the mess he made. Kaiser was staring at you, breathing a bit heavier now after what just happened. He leaned his head back to let out a deep exhale, running a hand over his hair to try and recollect himself and his thoughts.

“Bout damn time…” he said, watching you get up from his lap and fix yourself. You didn’t want to make it seem like you enjoyed all that much as he did. He would find a way to criticize you about that as well. You simply said “Good work” before walking off the set, remaining calm and collected as if you both weren’t on the verge of climax. He let his gaze linger on you as you walked away, the sight of your figure from behind now imprinted in his mind. He took another moment to lean his head back and steady his breathing. He wasn’t sure why he was feeling so affected by that kiss— the longest and most ‘natural’ one he’s had with you since shooting this project. After a few more seconds, he got up from the chair with an exhale, running a hand through his hair once more. “What a woman…” he mumbled to himself. The hunt continues.

[suempu]

Falls to floor your writing is so lovely Do you perhaps have any kabru x reader sfw/nsfw hcs…

thank you so much for the kind words. “lovely” 🥹 ahh you got me blushing anon lmfao

gn reader + on the receiving end !!!

<3

kabru would be the casual type of lover. he’s nothing but calm and suave with you, which is attractive.

he’s quite attentive of people and you’re no exception. although he really goes out of his way to be accommodating when it comes to you if you’re his lover.

mindful of your expressions and body language. once he sees a sign of you being uncomfortable, kabru will pull you away from the group and talk to you softly.

i feel like he’d be good at taking care of his partner, though he’s not the best, he tries.

kabru’s good at talking you down, grounding you into reality whenever you’re on the verge of a breakdown. let’s say you feel very unstable, he’ll whisper in the most softest tone you’ll ever hear while he holds your hand. he asks permission to touch you beforehand of course.

“here, you can feel my fingers, right?”

“mm.”

“my palm, feel it. you’re here with me,”

“i’m here…”

“good job. can i ask what happened?”

he’s good at radiating a calm atmosphere when you need it and he’s always ready to help you.

praises and compliments come out of his mouth like a piece of cake, he’s not shy when it comes to showering you with love. the whole party is grossed out by him whenever you’re around. it’s like when the parents are being all lovey-dovey and the children just groan out an ‘eww’ (its mainly mickbell complaining tho lmao)

i believe he’s had one or two intimate relationships before you, but none of them has ever lasted long enough as yours. so he’s had some experience before you.

he’s certainly a tease. have you seen that face? that face screams unfairness and mischief (in bed)

kabru loves your whining whenever he purposely denies you release. one moment his fingers will go fast and wild on your most sensitive spots, and the next he goes painstakingly slow.

“aww, but if i let you cum this early, then what about me?”

he’s a cheeky bastard. the real reason why he draws out your orgasms is because he believes that edging you will result to a much pleasurable and hard orgasm for later (he’s right.)

you will get overstimulated with this man, no question about it. he strives to make you cum at least 5-6 times in one session, which is overkill but he really loves the way your eyes glaze over.

kabru loves your tears and whining, though it kind of makes him guilty so he makes sure to absolutely spoil you after.

his hips are bad for your body. with the way he thrusts into you so precisely. its like he already knows which spot to hit, he rolls into you as he teases and whispers in your ear. he’s actually fucking crazy.

“right here? oh yeah, here?”

he moans in time with his thrusts. he loves watching your face, how your half lidded eyes look so lost yet so present. missionary is definitely his favorite position. loves being all up on your face, he kisses your cheeks, forehead, lips, and jaw while he’s inside you.

nights with him are long and wild, but he can go slow and be more gentler if you asked him to. he lives for your reactions, he thinks its really sweet how you trust him so much with your body.

kabru makes up for all his teasing with aftercare. he pants as he pulls you close, hands on your back and caressing you gently.

“you okay? did i break you?”

“shut up.” you breath out hoarsely.

he chuckles, “i love you too.”

he gives you a massage after that, quietly kissing your hips and stomach as his fingers rub at your skin. whispers small apologies while his hands work on your body. he always checks in on you whenever he hears a whine or groan when he touches a sore spot.

while he is content with just sleeping and cuddling in your own sweat, he’ll take you to the bathroom if you want to be cleaned.

solid lover, tries his best, just don’t ever have sex in his own bedroom (its messy)

[klaus-littlestwolf]

Lost Boys Sick!Mate Headcanon

(For whoever requested a Sick Mate Headcanon for the Lost Boys, I hope you enjoy this)

David

•David wants to change you immediately

•He hates seeing you sick, miserable or in any kind of pain and while most people wouldn’t believe David can be sympathetic, for you he very much is

•He has been trying to get you to turn for a long time and while this is a convenient way of convincing you, he really just wants you to get better

•David hasn’t been sick in…several hundred years. He’s the oldest out of the whole pack and so he remembers sickness the least of all of them, the only thing he can relate it to is not feeding for a long amount of time and he knows how painful that gets to be

•He would lay with you in the bed in the cave, whether you live with them in the cave yet or not, that is where you will be staying and you have no choice, he won’t let you be alone while you’re ill

•He often gives you massages whenever your muscles are achy, he knows how good it makes you feel and it makes him feel like he’s able to do something to help you, even if it’s just to relieve a small bit of your discomfort

•He’ll definitely make Marko go out to get you food, though he doesn’t know what kind of food since you keep insisting that you aren’t hungry

•David wants to care for you, he just has no clue how and if you weren’t sick as a dog, it might even be adorable how frazzled he is

Overall Grade of Care: 4/10

Dwayne

•Dwayne would be a major worrier every single time you get sick

•While he doesn’t remember what it’s like to personally be sick, he does remember his younger sister being sick when he was human and dying of a fever, so every time you’re even remotely warm he attempts to put you in an ice bath

•When you are bed ridden he is sure to make you stay in the cave, he’s always by your side and will often sit and read to you until you drift off to sleep

•He tries to keep you fed as much as you’ll allow with your upset stomach and he gives you plenty of water, to the point you wonder if vampires can survive being waterboarded cause you’re ready to kill him

•Dwayne is very much like David, he doesn’t know how to take care of a human that’s sick and he doesn’t understand that sometimes you just need to let an illness run it’s course

•Eventually he would buy some medicine at the store (Marko’s recommendation) and give it to you. He’s completely stunned by how quickly you finally fall asleep with how badly you’ve been coughing but the medicine works

Overall Grade of Care: 5.5/10

Paul

•Paul is chill when you get sick, he knows most of the time it’s just a little cold

•He gives you a few shots of whiskey and smokes a joint with you until you pass out, most of the time you wake up feeling better

•When you don’t however, he becomes frantic

•He will run around like a human having a manic episode. He makes sure you’re as comfortable as you can be, and if you’re not he goes to the store and buys more pillows and softer blankets. Hell get you new pajamas and more boxes of tissues than you’ll ever use

•He cleans the entire area you’re in as best he can in a cave, trying to get rid of germs that could make you sick all over again. It would be funny if you didn’t want to strangle him for moving so supernaturally fast that he makes you even more dizzy which makes your stuffy head hurt more

•He tries not to bother you too much, getting you to sleep as much as he can because apparently humans only heal when they’re sleeping so you need to sleep until you feel better

•He doesn’t quite understand that there’s a limit to how much NyQuil you can take

•Paul means well and he wants to help, he just goes too far with it most of the time

Overall Grade of Care: 7/10

Marko

•Marko is probably the best of the boys to have taking care of you when you’re ill

•He gets you medicine immediately and actually reads the instructions to give you the correct dosage

•He ensures you are comfortable in the bed, making sure to keep the blankets on when you’re cold and removing them if and when your fever gets too high

•When you’re too warm, which seems to be most of the time, he will strip to his boxers and crawl into bed with you, his cold skin making you feel better almost instantly

•He goes to the store and gets you whatever you want but also picks some things for you to make you feel better. He gets you your favorite tea bags to make you hot tea, the Chamomile helping to calm you and be able to sleep better, he also gets you some cans of coke to sip on when your stomach is upset

•He makes you soup everyday to keep you eating, even if you cant hold too much down, it’s not too heavy on your stomach

•Marko will also rent movies (and by rent I mean take them from Max’s store when he’s not looking) to bring back for you two to watch together to keep you entertained

•Marko was a human not too long ago, Paul being the only one younger than him, and he remembers very well how to take care of sick people, he is very good at making sure you get well as quickly as you can

Overall Grade of Care: 9.5/10

Lost Boys Masterlist

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Hey girl can you make more Draco and his kid headcanon please like maybe daily life

I need it

A/n: of course 🥰, I hope these are good!

• General •

•Draco never expected to be wrapped around someone’s little finger—and yet from the moment Scorpius grabbed his pinky as a newborn, Draco was doomed. He’s completely and utterly smitten with his son.

•He tries to be the stern, composed pure-blood father he was raised to be, but it unravels the moment his son does anything remotely cute.

“Scorpius, what did I say about—” “Papa, I made a potion! It smells like honey and socks!” “…Brilliant. Show me.”

•Your Hufflepuff warmth balances out Draco’s sharp edges. You’re the one who insists Scorpius plays outside, helps with chores, and writes thank-you letters. Draco pretends to grumble but secretly loves it.

•Scorpius is the most charming little Slytherpuff ever: clever, ambitious, and sweet as sugar. He wears his heart on his sleeve and will proudly declare:

“I’m like Daddy and Mummy—ambitious and cuddly!”

•Draco is incredibly protective. When Scorpius got his Hogwarts letter, Draco stared at it for an hour, reminiscing and trying not to cry. He insisted on personally inspecting the Hogwarts Express carriage.

•When Scorpius was sorted into Slytherin, Draco was proud—but when he added “but I’m a Puff like Mummy too!”, Draco’s heart shattered and reassembled in the most fragile way. He now refers to Scorpius as “my little House blend.”

•Draco and Scorpius have tea time every Saturday, a tradition you started. Scorpius brings you both hand-drawn place cards (Draco keeps every single one in a drawer at the Manor).

•If Scorpius so much as sniffles, Draco’s already halfway to brewing six potions, sending owls to St. Mungo’s, and interrogating every child in a 3-mile radius.

•He reads Scorpius bedtime stories, and if you peek into the nursery, you’ll often find your son asleep on his chest while Draco is still murmuring softly from an old fairytale book.

•Draco is surprisingly soft in domestic life. He ties your apron when you bake. He brushes Scorpius’s hair in the mornings. He secretly knits (badly), and once made a very lumpy Slytherin-Hufflepuff scarf for Scorpius.

•When Scorpius gets scared at night, he comes running into your room and Draco always lifts the covers for him without a word. He’ll pretend to still be asleep while cuddling both of you protectively.

•Whenever Scorpius says, “I want to be like you, Daddy,” Draco nearly cries on the spot. He holds him tighter and whispers, “No. You’ll be better. Because you’ve got your mother’s heart.”

•Parent-teacher meetings are hilarious. Draco shows up in full black robes, arms crossed, scowling at any professor who implies Scorpius isn’t perfect. You have to nudge him constantly under the table.

•Draco LOVES your Hufflepuff traits, even if he pretends to act above it. He’s absolutely enchanted by how kind, loving, and nurturing you are. The fact that Scorpius inherited your big heart? He thinks it’s the best thing in the world.

•When Scorpius gets his first crush, Draco is not ready. He starts subtly investigating this child’s entire family line until you drag him aside and remind him that Scorpius is eleven.

•Sometimes, late at night, Draco watches the two of you sleeping—Scorpius cuddled into your chest—and whispers, “Merlin, how did I get this lucky?”

Daily Life with Draco, You, and Pre-Hogwarts Scorpius

•Mornings in the Malfoy household are soft and slow. You’re always up first, padding through the manor in fuzzy socks to start breakfast. Draco wanders in shortly after, hair a mess, robe half-tied, muttering, “How is it morning already?”

•Scorpius is the morning sunshine—he runs down the halls with bedhead, dragging a stuffed dragon by the tail, yelling, “Mum! Dad! I had a dream we were Hippogriffs!” He launches into Draco’s lap and burrows in like a baby Niffler.

Draco is absolutely useless until he has tea. You hand him his cup without fail, kissing his cheek. He hums contentedly and watches you bustle around the kitchen, quietly enchanted that he somehow married a literal ray of Hufflepuff sunshine.

Scorpius helps with breakfast. He insists on stirring pancake batter and arranging fruit into smiley faces. He always ends up with flour on his nose. Draco acts like it’s a mess—but he never stops smiling.

•Daily walks through the Malfoy gardens are a must. Scorpius chases butterflies, tells flowers “good morning,” and asks roughly 700 questions a minute. Draco answers every one with dry sarcasm.

“Why do Kneazles have whiskers, Daddy?” “To sense lies. Which means they’d never survive in the Ministry.”

•You and Scorpius often bake in the afternoons while Draco reads nearby, pretending not to be watching. He always shows up the moment the first tray comes out of the oven, claiming he’s “testing for poison.”

•Scorpius adores storytime. He likes sitting between you and Draco, one head on each of your shoulders, as you both take turns reading. When he was younger, he always asked, “Read it like a villain, Daddy!” and Draco would get very into it.

•Draco insists Scorpius learns basic wandless magical theory and etiquette early, but it always turns into a game.

“You’re dueling a Death Eater, not asking him to tea, Scorpius—stand your ground. No, wand up—not twirling it!”

•You both take Scorpius to Diagon Alley once a week for “fun outings.” He’s known by name at the ice cream parlor, the pet shop, and Flourish & Blotts. Draco acts put out when Scorpius begs for a new book or creature… then buys three of each.

•Bedtime is sacred. You tuck Scorpius in with a gentle kiss to his forehead, and Draco always lingers behind. He’ll smooth Scorpius’s hair and whisper, “You did good today, little serpent. Dream of stars.”

•Scorpius has a habit of walking into your bedroom at 2 a.m. and curling into Draco’s side. Draco always lets him, wordlessly shifting to hold both of you. No matter how hard he tries to act aloof, his arms always wrap tight.

•On rainy days, the three of you build blanket forts. Draco pretends it’s “utterly ridiculous” until he’s inside with a book, pretending not to be enjoying himself. You catch him and Scorpius dozing off together inside, both clutching tiny pillows.

•Draco keeps a secret scrapbook with pictures and little clippings from Scorpius’s life: his first smile, his first accidental magic burst, his first wobbly handwriting. He’s too proud to admit it—but he looks through it constantly.

•Whenever Scorpius does something especially kind or thoughtful, Draco leans over and whispers, “That’s your mother in you, sweetheart. Thank Merlin.”

•Scorpius once tried to “propose” to you because “Daddy said Mummy is the kindest, bravest, and prettiest witch in the world.” Draco turned beet red. You nearly cried. Scorpius gave you a dandelion ring.

The manor is full of laughter now—where once it echoed with silence and formality, it now feels like a home. One filled with joy, baked goods, muddy shoes, bedtime kisses, soft sighs, and a love Draco never believed he deserved—but is endlessly grateful for.