#but I have plan to try to pull off bisexual lighting on them

[nocek]

well hello there, please don't mind me using valentines as motivator to at least finish this lineart (but hey, it worked!)

now time for colors and trying to pull of complicated shadows.... yeah. that's going to not be as fun as this part >.<

[rogueddie]

Change / Gloom

It's not hard to figure out that Eddie is gay- or bisexual? Steve isn't sure. All he knows, undoubtedly, is that Eddie Munson likes men.

The rumors from high school definitely do a lot of the heavy lifting in regards to Steves revelation. But he knows what it looks like when people are attracted to him. He knows exactly what it looks like when people try to hide that they're attracted to him.

His first test was simple; stretch. The bottom of his polo always rides up and, as expected, Eddies eyes lingered on the slither of skin on display.

A simple test. An easy one.

The second test is not so easy- it requires Robins help and she's not the most subtle. Luckily, she's as keen as he is on getting him a boyfriend (specifically, an Eddie-shaped boyfriend), so she puts in as much effort as she can at being convincing.

Eddie admitted to her that, yeah, Steve is attractive. That he also finds Steve attractive. And not in a straight way!

("What the hell does that even mean?" Robin had asked, when Steve insisted that she needs to clarify that. "If he's attracted to you, it can't be straight!"

"It totally can," Steve tutted. "Tommy was attracted to loads of guys in a straight way."

"I'm going to ignore that because we don't have time to unpack any of that-")

He hadn't expected Robin to be so convincing, or for Eddie to be so open yet. It ruins his very thought out plan in the best way- he only needs to confirm if it's more than just physical attraction now, and that's the easy part.

"You're late," Steve greets. He leans his hip against the doorway, crossing his arms.

Eddie rolls his eyes. "So sorry, princess. You gonna let me in?"

"Say please."

"Please." He shifts, trying to look annoyed, putting his hands on his hips. The hall light illuminates his face too well for Steve to miss the slight blush.

Steve steps back, beckoning him as dramatically as he can manage without feeling like an idiot.

"Eddie!" Dustin calls, waving him over to the couch.

Robin already helped Steve make it so there's only two spots left open... Eddie, like they'd hoped, choses the corner so he can lean over to talk to the kids.

Once he's checked the door is definitely locked, peeking into the kitchen to make sure the back door is also shut, he plops down on the sofa. He shifts, stretching his legs out so his thigh is pressed up against Eddies.

It's not until the movie starts that Eddie leans over and whispers; "what are you doing?"

Steve quietly hums, raising an eyebrow.

Eddie gently kicks his ankle. "That. And at the door."

"I can't be friendly?" Steve whispers, with a teasing little smirk- it always used to have girls stuttering.

"Not like this," Eddie hisses. "Back off."

"What? I was just-"

"I know. I'm telling you to stop."

Steve slowly pulls back so they aren't touching as much- where they're sat doesn't leave much space.

He feels unmoored. He's never felt so wrong about his chances- even at Scoops Ahoy, despite his attempts, he knew he was probably going to get rejected. He's not sure he has ever been so off.

"I'm getting some popcorn," Eddie says quietly, towards the mid-point of the movie.

"I'll help," Steve quickly offers, jumping to his feet before Eddie can turn his offer down.

"Hey," Robin pipes up, grabbing his arm and giving him a light squeeze- reassurance, comfort. "Make me that ice cream shake I like."

"Understood," Steve nods, giving her a lazy salute.

It takes a good few minutes to make, giving the two of them more time alone in the kitchen.

She's giving him the green light.

"Sorry about that," Steve says quietly, once they're in the kitchen. "Didn't mean to come on too strong. Or, like, if it's too public. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

He doesn't say anything for a long moment. He keeps his back turned to him, waiting in front of the microwave, shoulders hunched to his ears.

Steve isn't sure whether he should say anything else. He looks uncomfortable. Steve isn't sure if speaking up would make it worse or-

"Who told you?" He eventually asks. He finally turns around, expressions dangerously blank. "Was it Gareth?"

"What?"

"He probably meant well," he ponders. His smile doesn't reach his eyes- it makes something uncomfortable squirm in Steves stomach. "He never did have the displeasure of meeting King Steve."

"Eddie-"

"It's ok though, right? You didn't mean to make me uncomfortable."

"What the fuck are you talking about, man? Are you mad that I, like... know? Is that it?"

"Is that it?" Eddie repeats, mockingly. "No, Harrington. I don't care that you know- most people guessed it, what's one more? No, I care that you're making fun of me."

"I'm not making fun of you."

"Really? Could've fooled me."

He turns back to the microwave- it dings, but Eddie stays there, pretending to be busy.

Waiting for Steve to leave.

"I'm not making fun of you," Steve tries again, hating how wobbly his voice sounds. "I was- I mean, I thought maybe, you, um... but if not, that- that's ok, I can, like... fuck."

Eddie slowly turns, frowning, looking slightly more concerned- but the suspicion still lingers. "Spit it out."

"I thought you might like me but I don't know if it's just physical so I thought I'd try and flirt as a way of testing the waters before actually trying to ask you out," Steve rushes out in one breath.

"You were... actually flirting?" Eddie blinks at him, slowly. "Seriously? Not a joke? But... what? I thought you were straight?"

"So did I," Steve shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. "Never really, um... thought about romancing a guy before."

"Before..?"

"Before you."

"Holy shit." Eddie goes to pinch himself- stopping at the last second with a shake of his head. "If I'm dreaming, don't wake me up."

"This is your idea of a good dream?"

"You know damn well it is, you little brat." Eddie laughs, shaking his head again, in disbelief. "I've fucked this up a bit, huh? Can we start again?"

"Oh. yeah, sure, of course, uh-"

"Wait, no, I don't have the patience for that," he quickly darts around the kitchen table, grabbing Steves waist and pulling him close. "This alright? Not gonna say psych?"

"If you don't kiss me right now, I just might."

"Say please."

[steddieas-shegoes]

firsts and seconds

for @corrodedcoffinfest day one prompt 'firsts'

rated t | 1000 words | cw: alcohol mention | tags: i would die for gareth emerson, i don't think you understand, bisexual king gareth emerson

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

Gareth is the baby of the group, always has been, always will be. He's a year younger than Jeff and Frankie, and four years younger than Eddie. He was behind in everything, but it just was how it was.

He was a drummer and they needed one. The fact that he was the best drummer in a 100 mile radius helped.

But because of them hitting the ground running the moment he graduated, he didn't really get to have much of a regular young adult life.

He didn't really have much of a rockstar one either.

He had three extremely overprotective big brothers constantly by his side making sure he didn't do anything dumb, but they also made sure he didn't do anything at all.

"Promised your mom we would watch out for you," Jeff said.

"Last thing we need is you getting involved with some girl and ruining the band," Frankie said.

"Don't rush it, man," Eddie said.

But Gareth was now 20 years old and had never even kissed a girl. Or a boy, he didn't know what he was into. How could he? None of them would leave him alone long enough in the bars he was technically too young to get into to try.

Tonight. He would find a way to shake them tonight. He'd find a girl in the crowd, he'd buy her a drink, and he'd hope that she'd at least be willing to check this one thing off his list.

If he was gonna be a rockstar, he should get to kiss someone.

They were playing a smaller venue tonight, opening for a band that was bigger than them in theory, but not in talent. Story of their lives.

Hopefully, everyone would be distracted by the main act to not pay attention if he slipped off.

He was dripping sweat, cursing the fact that these small venues never had decent ventilation or fans for them to cool off, and the stage lights were always too close, building up a furnace on the stage.

His drums were packed, his shirt rolled up to help him cool off the best he could while he sipped on water. He hadn't even gotten a beer tonight, a nervous flutter in his stomach that he didn't want to make worse with feeling bloated from the combination of hops and heat.

"Gare!" Jeff's voice interrupted his walk towards the bar.

Dammit.

"You wanna head out? We're all so fuckin' hot."

"Yeah, yeah, let me just grab another water. Feeling kinda lightheaded."

That was definitely not the right thing to say. Jeff's mouth turned down in a concerned frown.

"Well, let's get you outside then. You need some fresh air. Eddie!" Eddie yelled back in acknowledgement. "Get Gareth a water!"

"I'm okay, I can get it." He argued, desperate to let his plan work. "You guys head out, be there in a few."

"Like hell am I leaving you alone when you're not feeling good," Jeff wrapped his arm around his shoulders and started pulling him towards the door. "You gotta speak up sooner."

"Jeff. Please."

Something in his voice must have alerted Jeff to the seriousness of his plan because he quickly pulled his arm away.

"What's going on?"

"I just need to be alone for a bit. Please?" Gareth wasn't afraid to pull out the pout. The pout worked on his mom every time. It had to work now, too. "Just for a little bit?"

Jeff searched his face, probably trying to see if there was something he should be worried about.

"I'll distract them for 15 minutes. But that's all I can guarantee," he finally agreed. "Whatever it is you're planning, please be safe. Please."

"What the hell could I possibly get up to in 15 minutes?"

Jeff sighed. "Don't ever ask that question to Eddie or Frankie."

He walked away and Gareth watched as he convinced them both to walk outside, probably to get some fresh air. He probably didn't have to be that convincing.

God, it was so hot.

The bar area of the venue was crowded, a lot of people taking the break between sets to throw back a shot or chug a beer. He genuinely did just need a water, so he forced his way through the people and got the attention of the bartender.

"Not a fan of beer?" A woman in a black dress and leather jacket asked him. She was smiling, sipping on something that could be water, might be a vodka tonic. The lighting wasn't good enough to see bubbles.

"Not a fan of being hot," Gareth smiled.

"Awful confident of you."

Oh. Oh shit. Was she flirting with him?

"Trying something new tonight, I guess."

"Oh? Anything in particular?"

Gareth liked her smile, her eyes. She seemed a few years older than him, closer to Eddie's age.

"Well…I've never actually kissed anyone before," Gareth figured honesty was the best policy.

"Never?" She didn't believe him, but that was okay. She'd figure it out if she let him make a move.

"Never."

"Let's give it a go then."

So he did.

She leaned in, closed her eyes, and he was having his first kiss. He didn't know her name, he was surrounded by hundreds of people, and he was certain that stars were exploding behind his eyes.

She pulled away after a few seconds, smiling, winking, and walked away.

"Damn, she didn't even give you a name?" A guy to Gareth's left asked, watching as she walked away.

Gareth shook his head. "Didn't need it."

The guy touched his arm and smiled at him, much like the woman had before.

"I'm Evan. You're the drummer, right?"

"Sure am."

"You wanna have a kiss with someone you know the name of?" Evan asked.

Gareth wasn't about to pass up this opportunity, so he nodded.

When Evan kissed him, he saw fireworks.

Stars and fireworks.

"Wanna come outside?" Evan asked.

Gareth shook his head.

Firsts and seconds were enough for now.

[zestyaahbutler]

any nsft headcanons on Walter/ or young adult Walter?

Nsfw Headcanons for Walter

MDNI 18+ ONLY 🔞

This is such an old ask and I'm not sure why I was so intimidated to answer. Whoopsies

FYI as the asker said, this is all young adult to old Walter. Don't be a goofy and go in my inbox asking for young Walter. No seriously you're gonna get blocked.

That being said, enjoy!!

--------------------------🧵----------------------------

While Walter acts as the Hellsing butler and is seen as polite, I reckon its different in the bedroom.

He grew up while serving Arthur Hellsing who is a known womanizer. His practices definetly rubbed off. As a vampire hunter, butler, and university student at one point, he would've barely had time to commit to a relationship. Prostitutes would've been a semi regular indulgence for him.

Hes likely had flings but they never last too long besides a few dates.

It was never a problem about whether he could pull, he's always been a handsome and charming man, it was how well he felt he could commit. He never wanted to ruin a relationship because he was far too busy and wasn't ready.

As for orientation, I personally see him as a closeted bisexual. Only because of the time period he grew up in, I don't think he would ever admit to himself that he found another man attractive in a romantic/lustful light.

With his partners he's typically a dom to account for the whole family butler role. Its not neccesarily that he dislikes his job, but it's mainly just taking control in a part of his life that he can't get in his work life.

How rough or unaccomodating he is really depends on his mood. He's capable of being a gentle dom who gives praise for how well his partner is pleasing him as he is with using them like a means to an end that only benefits him.

@aristocraticpeasantgirl once mentioned that he would be the type to being his partner tea with extra sugar for energy as aftercare. On the topic of that, he'd be great at serving his partner after the fact. If he's with someone then he definetly goes the extra mile to make sure they feel loved and comfortable afterwards.

It's common concensus among Walter simps that he would be one kinky mother fucker. But that man definetly knows he needs to make sure his partner's boundaries accommodate that. He always asks before doing and when trying something new, he eases his partner in. There is always a plan in case he oversteps. Yeah it's a bit of a joke that he is that formal even during love making but he aims to please even when he is the one on top.

Walter is a leg man for women bur definetly someone who enjoys good arms on a man. The girl doesn't neccesarily have to be slender or more on the plump side, he's all up for whatever his partner has as long as he gets to run his hands up their thighs. He mainly enjoys whenever his partners contrast his own slimmer physique. He's up for the more toned or plumper individual.

For him he loves it when his partners are either way shorter or taller than him.

As for kinks, BDSM, rope play, role play, knife play, wax play. I don't think there's anything he hasn't tried or atleast thought about. Doss he have ones he won't do, of course but relatively he's up for anything. He's a sadistic bastard. That being said, he'd let his partner take control if we're able to wear him down enough.

He enjoys the journey more than someone who only wants the destination. Foreplay is a must and he enjoys torturing his partner and making them beg.

👏LET👏IT👏BE👏KNOWN👏

This man still definetly would fuck in his older years. So you too, can yearn to grind this man's bones into dust. It becomes less pressing as he gets over but it doesn't mean the desire ever ceases. We literally see this dude do acrobatics at 69. He still has it in him to break someone else's back. He is definetly still healthy enough to still have a good libido. If anything, he likely regrets not being more impulsive when he was younger. If he lived as a vampire, he would definetly explore his more selfish desires more.

@hellogreyeyedathena has a great post for that.

Thank you for the ask! If anyone else has any specific headcanons they'd like for other characters, just ask! I'm bored and will someday get to them when I'm motivated enough.

[writing-by-night]

Seven Days to Christmas Countdown: Day 2

Pairing: Peggy Carter x Angie Martinelli

Prompt: Cartinelli - Peggy surprises Angie with her first proper Christmas in the modern world

Word Count - 1.2k

Peggy knows it hasn’t been easy for Angie since she came to the modern world. When the anomaly Howard and Whitney somehow created brought her and Angie to New York, albeit a century later, she was terrified too. Somehow, Steve’s alive here. She’s glad to have her friend back, but she wouldn’t date him, not now. Anyways, he and Sargent Barnes are finally together like they should have been if they’d been able

The first year they were here, Angie broke down crying when they were first shown a video of New York Pride and she’d finally told Peggy what she’d already suspected — she was lesbian. In the same breath, Peggy had confessed as well to liking more than one gender. Later, Steve had taught her the term bisexual — his identity, and now it seemed also hers

A few months after that, Angie had gotten tipsy with Wanda and come home to the little apartment near the Avengers Tower they’d gotten with the help of Howard’s son and confessed to being in love with Peggy. And Peggy? She adored Angie, and loved her. It hadn’t taken too long after that for two bedrooms to become one and the twin beds to be pushed together, then those beds to become one larger bed.

Peggy had retaken her job as SHIELD director, quickly fitting in. Angie had considered trying to act again but decided to take a break for the first time, keeping house for the two of them, as she called it, and finding friends amongst the Avengers — particularly Wanda, a young witch with a kind heart and soft accent who had been taken under the women’s wing.

Now, it was December, and neither woman had said anything about making plans to celebrate the holidays. Their apartment had a wreath on the door courtesy of Jenna Simmons, a sweet younger shield agent who Peggy had been surprised to discover somewhat idolized her. But besides that, it looked the same as always. Pointsettias on the mantle instead of the usual bouquet Peggy got for Angie maybe counted, but really they were barely counted, at least in her opinion.

So, while Angie was out shopping she did the only logical thing — she called the boys and asked them to pick up a tree while she got some decorations for it, quickly wrapping the lights in before her girlfriend arrived home. She set out the ornaments on the table along, moving to the kitchen to start some baking along with dinner

-

When she heard the door open, Peggy slipped out to the living room, smiling brightly with an apron tied over her clothes as she watched Angie slip in. It took the other woman a moment to notice as she kicked off her shoes and set the groceries on the side table.

“Darling,” Peggy greeted with a smile, stepping closer

Angie instantly lit up as always, hugging her tightly. “English! You’ve been cooking?”

“I have,” Peggy nodded with a warm smile. “Decided to make a surprise for my lovely girl”

It seemed that that was what helped Angie register her surroundings — the tree in the living room, the carols on the radio, the cookie sheets cycling through the oven to cool on the counter, and the decorations waiting to be put up. “Oh doll! You didn’t-”

“Oh, I did New York,” Peggy chuckled, pulling her further into the room. “I figured since we didn’t really have any plans, it would be nice”

Angie’s eyes were sparkling as she looked at the decorations, lifting them up for examination before she went towards the kitchen, surveying the dinner keeping warm and the cookies cooling. “You made cookies?”

“Of course I did darling, what would Christmas be without biscuits?”

“Biscuits? You and your British English,” Angie giggled, wrapping her arms around the taller woman’s neck.

“Well, I am a Brit,” she pointed out as she swept her girlfriend up

“Yeah yeah… now shut up and kiss me”

Peggy chuckled at that, setting Angie on a very small square of empty counter and kissing her soundly. “As my lady wishes”

Angie gasps softly and Peggy smirks proudly, kissing her nose before going back to cooking. “Pegs-”

“That is my name,”

“You can’t just kiss me like that and then stop,” she pouts, tapping her lips

“So… you’re asking me to ruin you?”

“N-no- I mean yes- but not right now? Just- more kisses please-?”

Peggy grins and returns happily, setting hands on her hips and kissing down Angie’s neck, nibbling at the sweet spots. “Absolutely, angel…”

-

In the morning, Peggy wakes up to find Angie sprawled over her, their bodies tangled together closely, as well her lover in clothes that clearly don’t belong to the smaller woman, the blankets cocooned around them.

It’s been too long since they’ve had a lazy morning, and Peggy is finding herself inclined to embrace it, reaching for her phone to order food while Angie sleeps.

Half an hour later, Angie blinks awake, warm eyes looking up with sleepy adoration.

“Pegs?” She yawns softly, cuddling in closer like a sleepy kitten

“Yes, darling?” Peggy’s hand cards through her hair, soothing and protective.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?”

That hurts Peggy’s heart, the fact that Angie’s assuming she cares more about work than her wi-girlfriend -just girlfriend!- and in hindsight… she’s been too busy

“No, love.” She kisses Angie’s hair, holding her close. “I’m taking off until after New Years.”

She hasn’t, not at all. She has the same leave as everyone around the holiday — three days around Christmas or half days for Hanukkah, various accommodations for whatever holidays are relevant. But oh well — she’s director. Well, co-director with Nicholas Fury and just above Maria Hill, but that just makes a better point. The world can wait

And based on how Angie lights up at the words, it’s the right choice

“Really? You’d do that for me?!”

“Of course I would New York. You’re my wife.” The word slips out before Peggy can catch it, too natural for her to notice at first

“You rea- wife?”

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit, shit.

She shouldn’t have said that. Right-?

“I’m so sorry- I didn’t mean to say-”

“-Margaret. Peggy, listen to me-” Angie’s eyes are bright with tears and now Peggy’s freaking out more until the next words come. “I want to marry you, too.”

Peggy freezes, holding her closer.

“You… you do?”

“Yes! Of course I do, you complete idiot!” she’s laughing now, holding Peggy’s face to kiss her

“Wait- does that mean-”

“Yes, if you want it to, English.”

Peggy blushes. “I have to admit… I wasn’t expecting or planning on this to propose…”

“So… you’ve thought about it?” Angie teases, deepening the blush

“Possibly..”

“What did you plan?”

She’s caught off guard by the question, but recovers quickly enough.

“Well… I would have taken you to a nice date first… maybe that bakery you like down by the tower. I’d have taken you on a drive then, rented some place away from it all.. proposed to you in a special place.” Without noticing, Peggy’s let her hand trail patterns over Angie’s back. “I’d find a place for us to be just us for a while”

Angie looks up with soft eyes, holding her lover’s face. “We can do that still… call it a pre-honeymoon.”

“So.. we’re engaged now?” Peggy’s eyes sparkle as she kisses Angie’s forehead.

“Yes, we are”

[benwvatt]

links to all my heartstopper fics!

hello! I am a fanfiction author! please enjoy links to all my 7 heartstopper (nelspring) fics so far. they’re all hyperlinked up at the fic title.

all of my heartstopper fics can be found here

memories painted in much brighter ink (4.1K, rated G, set in canon + light angst and healing)

“Nelson!”

Nick groans.

“I heard you got a boyfriend.”

“So?” Nick responds, and then he wishes he’d had the heart to make up a better comeback.

“I -” Harry fumbles. “I’m… happy for you. I think it’s, er, good.”

Harry Greene realizes how awful he's been to Charlie and Nick, and he apologizes to them after some deep thought and realization about what an cruel person he's been.

i like you inconveniently, you’re bringing out my dopamine (1.5K, rated G, set in canon)

“I think that’s because you have inner beauty,” Nick murmurs softly. “It’s not just your looks.”

Charlie really tries not to, but he blushes madly. “Dammit, Nick. That was so - ugh, so ridiculously smooth. Are you sure you don’t have this spell, too? ‘Cause I think I’m getting attached to you.”

“Well, maybe your magic’s rubbing off on me.”

Nellie yawns, clearly bored by the boys. They’re too busy flirting to pay any attention to her. The sheer nerve! She is the most important thing in any 一 no, in every 一 room!

can’t keep this beating heart at bay (2.0K, rated G, canon divergence)

Charlie laughs. “Sorry - you were telling me about teaching?”

“Yeah, I really like it so far! I’m a third-year, so I started getting some actual fieldwork to do recently.” Nick kicks a stone by the side of the road. “Your brother’s cute.”

“...Just my brother?” Charlie catches Nick’s gaze.

“You-” this is a disaster. “Listen-” This is a bisexual disaster, specifically. “I think you’re cute too.”

In which Nick is Olly's French tutor, Charlie has a crush on Nick, and Olly is so tired of watching these disaster gays try to flirt.

retriever? I hardly know her! (2.2K, rated G, dog walker AU)

'Oh god, oh god, he’s wearing rainbow shoes. Is he gay, or just extremely unaware that gay people exist?'

So there’s this boy. Man?

Boy? Fellow? Gent?

Cute Park Guy™ is either a professional dog-walker or someone with a large, bumbling group of pets. This is probably his day job; he plays tug-of-war with leashes and chew toys and, from time to time, Nick’s heartstrings.

In which Charlie is always at the dog park with a group of dogs, Nick is there with Nellie, and they both pine after each other softly from across the field.

it’s all an epiphany (0.7K, rated G, canon + light angst)

“Hey, weirdo,” Charlie whispers. “Whatcha doin’?”

“Oh! Hi. Sorry.” Nick rolls over between the comforters, hair on his legs grainy against them. “Dozed off for maybe two hours.” He smooths the longest curls back from Charlie’s temples and kisses there.

“Nghhh, Niiiick, go back to bed. That’s not enough time.” And, after a pause: “Are you feeling okay about David’s birthday coming up?” Charlie asks.

In which Nick despises his brother, even if they're only arguing in his head, and he falls even more in love with his boyfriend.

you make my dreams crumb true (1.8K, rated T, canon + wedding planning fluff)

“Hey, do I get to smash cake in your face at the wedding?” Charlie asks. He tries a slice of raspberry, closest to him. “Wow.”

“Depends, do I get to do it to you?”

Charlie gazes over Nick slowly. “Uh - yeah!” He’d misheard that at first. ‘You can do stuff to me after, too,’ he considers, except this is a public place.

In which Nick and Charlie try to pick a wedding cake flavour and flirt madly the whole time. Late-twenties Nick, unfortunately, still thinks bubblegum is tasty.

it’s an extremely rushed love story (baby, just say yes) (1K, rated G, fake engagement)

Dear god, this plan with Tao had spun wildly out of control. “You’re-” Tara sat down very slowly. “Engaged.”

Nick pulled her into a bear hug across the sofa. “And all because of you two!”

Darcy settled into the couch cushions as if they would fall apart if they hit the cotton too quickly. “Right.”

To get revenge on Tara, Darcy, and Tao for setting them up on a blind date they didn't agree to, Nick and Charlie pretend they're sickeningly in love and engaged.

[adarafaelbarba]

Request for the smutty one liners, please! 😘

“Your shirt got a little dirty, how about we take it off?”

With ADA Barba 😁😏🥰

Thank you!

Smut under cut 😏 Hope you like 💋

You eyes went from the stain on his shirt to his face.

«I don’t have another one here.»

«Well good thing I keep one neatly folded in my drawer just in case, sir.»

A groan left his lips, «You’re a life saver.» He went on to start on his buttons before you stopped him.

«Let me, sir.» You hoped it sounded how you had planned it. Your eyes never left his as you unbuttoned it.

And soon enough he got it, a little light going off in his head as he, «Oh…», his bottom lip caught between his teeth. «Ms. Y/l/n--are you trying to be unprofessional at work?»

«Me, unprofessional? Never sir.»

«Come on now. We both know what you’re trying to do here.»

Lifting yourself up on your toes, you finally kissed him, having wanted to since you first started working for him.

Rafael’s arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close as he kissed you back, his tongue pushing its way into your mouth.

Finishing the buttons on his shirt you pushed it off his shoulder, breaking his hold on you.

«Tell me what you want, cariño.»

Your lips went down his neck, nipping at the skin there.

«You.»

He didn’t have time to respond as you started kissing down his body, moving his undershirt so to mark his skin.

«H—how do you want—me?»

«In my mouth.»

«Anyone—could walk in—on us!»

Rolling your eyes you let him run to lock the door.

As soon as he was back you grabbed his belt, quickly unbuckling him.

He was freed moments later, and the sight of his cock right in your face was enough for desire to pool deep inside you.

«Are you second guessing?» He asked, a little breathless.

«No. I want this, I just—fuck, you’re big.»

His laughter dies as you give him an experimental lick from base to head before taking him into your mouth completely.

You just couldn’t get enough of how he tasted.

Rafael struggled to find words, and stood there, his hands clenching and unclenching as you dragged him closer to his release.

«Stop—»

You looked up at him, letting him drop out of your mouth, but rubbing him instead, «What’s wrong sir?»

«Don’t want to cum in your mouth.»

«I swear if you don’t I’ll burst—»

His eyes widened at that, and he asked if you were being serious.

«Let me taste you, sir, all of you.»

The way you said it had him gasp, but he agreed, and you took him back in your mouth to finish him off.

With a final suck, he came down your throat, a loud moan erupting from him. You grabbed his twitching hands and placed them on your head, looking up at him as if to say ‘fuck my face’.

And he did, using your mouth to get through his release, praising you as he did.

Once he went soft you let him drop from your mouth. You wiped your lips, looking up at him.

«Fuck, that was—something else, y/n.» Rafael helped you off the floor, pulling you in for a kiss. «Let me repay you later.»

«Sounds perfect.»

~~~

Tagging: @thatesqcrush @storiesofsvu @plaidbooks @beccabarba @itsjustmyfantasyroom @detective-giggles @appletreesinwinter @misscharlielulu @cycat4077 @alwaysachorusgirl @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @bisexual-dreamer02 @xoxabs88xox @beatrice-san @meetmeatyourworst @bullet-prooflove

[youreacroftlara]

When the bell above the door chimes at ten to five, signalling a customer has just walked into the cafe, Ava is relieved that she finally has something to do.

She places the two bags of coffee beans she’d been trying to juggle – yes, she was that bored okay – back on their shelves and turns to face whoever has just entered the cafe.

Ava is not prepared, however, to come face to face with the prettiest woman she’s ever seen. Because shit, this is not just any old customer, ohhh no. The person who has walked through the door just so happens to be Ava’s secret customer crush.

Crush, yes, because even though she’s only served her, like, once – and Hans the other three times (not that she’s jealous or anything) - Ava’s pretty confident that she’s a little bit in love with this woman.

But can you blame her? She’s drop-dead gorgeous - her hair is perfectly tied back, enough so that it shows off her delicate jaw and under the glow of the cafe lights, her skin shimmers like caramel.

There’s a dusting of freckles on her cheeks and on the bridge of her nose that Ava wants to spend hours mapping. But the real kicker? It’s the woman’s big, beautiful hazel eyes that take up the entire room, the same ones that bore into Ava’s soul every time she asks for a flat white with oat milk.

Which is precisely what she orders when she reaches the counter Ava’s standing behind. “Good afternoon, please can I have a flat white?”

Did she forget to mention the woman is fucking British too? Like goddamn, Ava’s bisexual ass never stood a chance.

Ava flashes her a dazzling smile, praying it doesn’t come off as creepy or anything.

“Sure! You take it with oat milk, right?” she clarifies, which draws a look of surprise from the customer.

“Yes, with oat milk,” the woman nods, giving her a small but impressed smile that turns Ava’s insides into mush.

She wishes she knew her name, but the woman only seems to come into the cafe during the quieter hours. She’s never around for the morning rush when Hans instructs his baristas to ask customers for names so they can write them on the coffee cups… oh!

Ava’s a fucking genius. Why doesn’t she just ask the woman now under the pretence that she needs it for her order? Ha, this plan is foolproof!

She picks up one of the smaller takeout cups and a pen and pulls off the lid. “Can I take your name?” Ava asks, feeling smug with herself for thinking of such a clever idea.

The customer’s face turns into one of confusion. “My name?” she says slowly.

“Yeah, you know,” Ava explains, tapping the pen on the side of the cardboard. “For the cup.”

“Oh, okay” the woman replies, looking a little lost. She doesn’t reply straight away, and instead glances around the cafe with a raised brow.

At first, Ava isn’t sure why the woman is so confused by her request, but then it dawns on her. The cafe is completely empty, and Ava’s crush is the only customer here. It’s obvious that she wouldn’t need to take a name for an order when there's no one else in line. Ava mentally kicks herself for not considering this sooner.

Oh smooth, Ava, real smooth.

Her face feels hot, and there’s a moment when Ava considers backtracking and brushing off her previous request, but the woman finally speaks up before she gets a chance.

“It’s 'Beatrice,'" she offers kindly, her tone warm.

Ava is so shocked that the hot customer has actually decided to humor her request, that she nearly misses her name entirely. She clears her throat and reiterates. “ Beatrice ?”

“Yes,” Beatrice clarifies, looking far too amused about this whole situation.

Ava feels hot with embarrassment at her failed attempt at subtlety. "Right, Beatrice," she repeats, hastily scribbling the name onto the cup before affixing the lid. "Thanks for that…I’ll just, you know…go make your coffee!” She points to the machine behind her.

Ava turns to start preparing the order, but Beatrice calls back out to her before she gets a chance to make a start.

“Wait, don’t I need to pay first?”

Shit, yeah. God, how could she forget one of the most important parts of the customer journey?

Ava turns back round to face Beatrice and rings the register. “Oh…yeah ha! Silly me!”

Well, on a scale of one to ten on how flustered she’s feeling right now, Ava reckons she’s a solid eleven and a half. What is it with her and hot women? She can leap from buildings that are hundreds of feet in the air, or swing at speeds of up to sixty miles per hour, putting her body through countless g-forces, but when she tries to talk to one pretty girl, all her normal motor functions fly out of the window.

“That’ll be $5.50,” Ava stammers out once she’s finally put Beatrice’s order through the till. “Cash or Card?”

“Cash if that’s okay,” Beatrice pulls out her wallet and fishes out some dollar bills. She’s just about to hand them over when her eyes shoot open almost comically. “Oh my god,” she gasps. “You’re bleeding!”

——————

Or, the spider-man coffee shop au - read it all here!

[lokittystuckinatree]

Hi. I’m a bisexual and genderfluid (currently only MCU, but hoping to expand) Loki fan that makes content for Genderfluid MCU Loki cause the series writers are queer baiting double crossing cowards. I am also a diehard yet careful Sylki shipper who genuinely feels like a traitor for shipping Sylki at times. I often think I should abandon ship, but the ship has been a bright spot through some of the worst trauma of my life and personally resonates with me so deeply I do not believe I will be able to fully sever myself from it. Sylki is my otp. My conscience is fighting my heart, and has been for a while now.

A. I understand that while the romance is a brilliantly executed metaphor for healthy self love based in Loki’s own struggles with self loathing and self obsession, (and Sylvie’s to an extent,) between two characters who intentionally click and contrast very well, the romance as presented in canon has offensive elements such as contradicting Loki’s genderfluidity by making Sylvie the token woman variant, giving Sylvie AoA Loki’s broken horn, and not explicitly refuting the idea Loki, a presumably amab genderfluid person, would love Sylvie, their “female self,” based off narcissism and ‘autogynephilia,’ instead of sharing a soul, mutual understanding and similar trauma…as most Sylkis understand to be the case.

B. I acknowledge that these problematic tropes should never be ignored and must be changed, though they won’t be in canon. This infuriates me. I often ponder if even interacting with canon Sylki in a positive way betrays my other genderfluid peers who have genuine criticism with the series and the ship, but I have come to the conclusion the way I uniquely enjoy the ship is not harmful. I am willing to change my conclusion if necessary, and I have been trying to open up the conversation over the harmful parts of the show with other sylkis. So far, they have been very receptive and truly well meaning.

C. If you want something done right… do it yourself. So I took the mistakes the writers made and I fixed them my fucking self in fanon by showcasing MCU Loki’s genderfluidity in a respectful way, demanding headcanoning (amab?) androgynous girlflux she/they Sylvie, and writing the Sylki relationship as based in understanding and admiration of each other as individuals, not shallow love for themselves. Anything that gets added to insult next season will also be changed by me, if possible. To me, Sylvie Laufeydottir is a perfectly tailored and suited love interest for MCU Loki and a clever way of adapting Sylvie Lushton to the MCU (with the addition of more Loki traits as she is a Loki variant). Thus it is my personal belief she is too interesting of a character to scrap.

C. I am planning to raise hell when if the writers pull anymore transphobic bullshit next season… down to boycotting Marvel or going on strike or even leaving the ship if it gets bad enough. The last option would…break me. I have very little light in my life left, due to personal trauma I do not feel comfortable sharing, and Sylki and it’s community have genuinely been one of my last few comforts. If I truly I must jump ship for the good of others, I will try my hardest to brave the lonely sea.

D. I do not condone the mess we were given, I do not perpetuate it, and I am not responsible for the harm it causes. I am condemning the same problematic writing choices, and petitioning to change the same uncomfortable elements that Sylki antis do, just via a different approach. Instead of throwing the existing romance away, I fix what we were given, preserving the parts I liked and rejecting what was offensive. I am not anti Sylki altogether, and I am not pro Sylki altogether. I am a genuine critical thinker. My blog is Sylki as it should have been, not how it was.

💚

[artzychic27]

Just doing something over here, casually tagging @nerd-chocolate and @razrrosamond

Welcome to the Shorties Host Club!

Your hosts this evening are Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Alix Kubdel, Cosette Bellamy, Raelynn Rococo, and Ismael Prisk, and Rose Lavillant

Nath is the unquestioned benevolent dictator

They all cosplay. Constantly.

Alix is everyone’s impulse control

No one knows how the club was started. It just appeared out of nowhere

Cosette is the chaotic bisexual, always tempting people into doing something crazy for the sheer thrill of it. It drives their guests crazy

Nathaniel is the disaster bisexual who can barely say two words to a cute person before blushing and hiding behind his sweater paws. The guests just eat it up

Alix and Ismael are the “unattainables,” meaning they flirt, but brush off anyone trying to flirt with them

Raelynn is that one short minding her own business, just dressing nice as her hair blows in the wind and doesn’t seem to notice a dozen guests staring at her in awe

Rose is the sweet bisexual and is always braiding guests’ hair or holding their hands

One day while planning their next event, Maël Chevalier, a transfer student somehow finds his way into their base of operations. (The art classroom) He seems like an average height person and of course, the Shorties Host Club tries to flirt with him

… Oh, but he breaks a fancy vase, so… His soul belongs to the club now. Now he’s their errand boy

While explaining to Maël his duties, Raelynn notices he’s having some trouble balancing. Almost like..:

Rose realizes next when Maël looks so cute holding her stuffed unicorn. No tall person can look that cute and innocent…

Ismael and Alix are third and fourth when they notice Maël’s shoes, specifically the soles…

Cosette is fifth when she realizes how light Maël is when picking him up and pulling him away from some clingy girl who wouldn’t take “no” for an answer…

And then finally… Nathaniel sees Maël’s true height without his shoes…

Shorties Club Meeting!

Nathaniel: So… We’re definitely keeping him.

Cosette: Hell yeah! We need fresh faces!

Ismael: I don’t like him.

Alix: What? You’re jealous he’s cuter than you?

Ismael: You shut your sassy mouth!

Rose: But Ismael, this can be how he repays us for the vase.

Ismael: But I like having an errand boy. I feel like a big shot.

Raelynn: I’m just wondering why he felt the need to be average height; he’s adorable!

Nathaniel: Hmm… Find the school he went to.

So, turns out Maël’s ex always treated him like an object, literally and metaphorically talked down to him, and picked him up without consent just to show who’s in charge

He wears the shoes because he’s insecure and afraid of people treating him the same as his ex

… Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. If anything, the shorties are running things around here. They make a shit ton of money by making tall people blush

[write-and-buried]

Wanna Bet?

Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Summary; An assistants assistant. that's all you are. so why does he keep looking at you like you're a banquet and he's starving

Word Count; ~6k

Content & Warnings; this is consensual filth. some illicit drug use (weed) oral sex (f!receiving), use of inanimate objects as sex toys, mentions of bisexual king Dieter, offers of money, spit kink, squirting, innocence kink, overstimulation, unprotected PinV sex, messy sex, anal play.

Author Note; I am a whore for this slut. um... happy oscar season I guess??

This work contains explicit adult content and is intended for audiences over the age of eighteen. By continuing to read you agree that you are 18 or older, have read the content and warnings and wish to proceed

Working as the assistant to an assistant was never boring. You followed Sharon around like a hummingbird, handing her things before she could ask for them, getting her coffee, and her client’s coffee and maybe having time for your own espresso. It was all part of the plan, the long plan, assistant, then assistant, then production, then lifelong career in Hollywood.

Days like this were the hardest. Sharon was screaming down the phone at you. Her orders were sharp, peppered with curse words as she directed you to find the number for the most discrete crime scene clean-up crew you could and then get your ass to set.

“I-is there, sorry, has there been a crime?” Your voice was shaky on the phone, balancing a cup tray of Sharon’s triple shot vanilla oat milk latte and the black coffee her client favoured.

“No, it’s just Dieter, trying to put me in an EARLY FUCKING GRAVE” she screamed, clearly directed at someone in the room with her. You heard the chuckle, distant and tinny as the line went dead.

It didn’t take a crime scene crew. You found a 30-minute housekeeping service and paid them double with an authorised cheque, pulling into the lot five minutes after they did. White shiny van spewing cleaning products into the parking space, three women in jumpsuits and a grin.

You stepped over the threshold and immediately could see why. Liquor stained almost every surface. There was whipped cream on the walls, chocolate sauce on the furniture, permanent marker signatures on a white couch. Sharon was in the bedroom, standing at the door to the on-site bathroom, shouting over the sound of a shower.

“They’re coming to film on set today for behind-the-scenes extras you hedonistic douchebag. You couldn’t have waited a day?”

Passing Sharon her coffee you looked around the bedroom, similarly trashed. You could see a tiny wastepaper basket, overflowing with used tissues and condoms, the sheets half pulled off the bed. Your eyes landed on the vibrator still tangled in the sheets and you felt your cheeks turn red as the shower switched off. There was some kind of harness, a dildo that seemed longer than was medically safe and electric yellow, the room smelling of artificial strawberry, the pump bottle of lube on the nightstand.

“But then sweet Sharon, how would I bed one of the reporters”

He emerged in a cloud of steam. His hair was curling around his ears, the ring glinting in the light as he stepped out of the bathroom in boxers and a tattered robe to boop Sharon’s nose with a grin.

“Oh, who… is… this?” His voice dropped an octave as he looked at you, eyes trailing slowly up your body. You felt like you were wearing lingerie, wrapped like a present for him with the way he was looking at you, instead of the ripped jeans and band tee.

“My assistant” Sharon said, delicately stepping in front of you, shooing you away with a hand gesture as she shoved an iPad under Dieter’s nose. You could feel his eyes lingering on you as you left.

He remained in the periphery for the next few months, always looking at you like you were the Craft Services table, something to pick over, consume with fervour. You mostly ignored him, ignored the clutch in your belly when he looked at you like you were a five-course meal, caught in a few jabs before Sharon stepped between you. It felt like she was keeping him away from you, but you were too scared of her rages to ask if she was.

*

You were like a little mouse. Skittering around his life in your ripped jeans and worn band t-shirts. He liked you. Liked the way you flushed when he looked at you. You couldn’t meet his eyes for longer than a half second before your cheeks darkened, your fingers trembled. He loved it.

Sharon warned him off you the minute he saw you, traced that delectable figure in a hungover fog. He received the standard lecture, cowed like a schoolboy as she ranted at him about how you were far too young for him (true), that sleeping with anything not nailed down was bad for his image (also true) and that you would never be interested in him anyway (definitely false)

She should have learned her lesson with Eric. Her last assistant, and that smug little grin when she introduced him, as if the fact that he was male was ever going to stop him. The look on her face when she’d woken him that morning, curled around Eric and still covered in body paint. Eric worked as a writer for another studio now, coming over every few months to smoke weed and play video games, jerk off white Dieter tongued his ass. He was a good man.

You were caught in his teeth. Clogging up brain space with that little giggle he heard from around the corner in his kitchen. Did you have a boyfriend? A girlfriend? Did you giggle like that when you came? How was he going to find out?

He just needed to wait. To lull Sharon into a false sense of security by not hovering around you like a hummingbird. Shoot you conspiratorial smiles from under his sunglasses as he lowers them on the bridge of his nose. Jerk off in the shower to the way you swing your hips when there is music playing.

*

It’s so late. There’s grit in your eyes and a tension in your shoulders as you make your way to his trailer. Just drop off the script pages and you’re done. You can go home, eat ramen, collapse into bed. It’s been a long week, right at the tail end of Oscar season. You’re proud, but exhausted. Sharon’s starting to murmur about you moving onto your own clients soon, six months in the business and you feel like you’ve finally proven yourself.

You can smell the weed before you knock on the door. How he’s still awake after a twelve hour shoot you don’t know, the idea that he would crash in his trailer rather than take advantage of the driver the studio offered to take him home is a mystery. He shouts for you to enter within a half second.

He’s sprawled out on the couch, an ornamental bong on the IKEA coffee table, a chacuterie board balanced on the edge. That bathrobe must be fused to his skin, you think idly, covered over by the makeup and wardrobe department in the early morning.

“Mr. Bravo? I have the pages for you for tomorrow”

“Dieter” he says, his voice syrupy and thick as he looks at you. You’ve gotten better at hiding your reactions, the quiver in your thighs at his voice. You still can’t meet his eyes, but given the way everyone fawns over him, you’re sure he thinks it’s normal.

“You have an early call time, so I’d suggest getting to bed”

“Sharon’s a bad influence on you little mouse” he says with a laugh, leaning forward to pack another bowl. “Stay a bit, you look exhausted. Want some food? Want a bowl?”

“No thank you”

“Want a redbull?” he grins, nodding towards the fridge. They’re a sponsor of the movie, and you’ve been shamelessly living on them for the last two weeks, clutching to the cans like they’re a lifeline. “Take one, I don’t drink it, they aren’t good for you”

That makes you laugh, a giggle erupting from your chest as you look around the trailer. There are empty liquor bottles, fast food wrappers, something you’re sure is cocaine residue on the counter.

“My body is a temple, baby” he says, joining you in a bark of laughter, relaxing back on the couch. “Check it – they sent me an advance copy”

It’s a nature documentary, HD underwater shots of schools of colourful fish, frolicking dolphins, a soothing narration.

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I asked for it. I’m an Oscar Winner, I get what I want”

You can’t suppress the shiver from that, tingles down your spine as you chance a look at him. He’s in underwear and that robe. He’s taken a shower from the day, his hair curling damp around his ears. It reminds you of the first time you saw him, and the first time he looked at you like that.

“Come on, little mouse. Have some food. They always send too much”

You find yourself nodding before you can stop yourself. Good sense robbed by exhaustion you grab a Redbull and perch as far from him as possible, crossing your ankles and grabbing a slice of cheese, some honey, some fruit. It’s ridiculously good, a groan of pleasure traps itself in your chest as you bite a strawberry.

You feel Dieter shift beside you. You can almost feel him looking at you, watching your lips as you lick a stray drop of honey from them. You sit for a while, eating the fruit from the edges of the plate, feeling your senses come back into focus with some caffeine and something in your stomach. He’s quiet, he doesn’t move. But you still feel like you’re in a cage with a tiger.

“Well, thank you Mr. Bravo, I really should be going” You stand, wiping your hands on your jeans as you reach for your bag.

“Wait” he says, sitting slightly more upright, running his hand across his jaw. It reminds you to schedule an appointment with his barber, it’s too scruffy. It looks messy, not deliberate.

“Can I make you cum?”

Its like a bucket of ice water over you, the shock constricting your lungs as you feel your whole body react to his words. It’s crude and startling, the way he says it casually, one arm slung over the back of the couch, his lips speared wide in a grin. You sputter for a second, trying to figure out an answer.

“P-probably not?” you answer, honest if a little too revealing and you purse your lips shut immediately.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.

“No-one ever has” you admit.

God, why. What did that Red Bull do to your brain, what cords were disconnected with the jolt of caffeine that made you say that without thinking of the consequences. You know the consequences. But you don’t move. You stand there, prey before a predator and wait, watch from the corner of your eye as the grin spreads slowly over his face.

“Bet I could”

It makes you clench. Its cockiness and arrogance and everything you should hate from someone like him. Older than you, with a lecherous grin and eyes that wander past your collarbones. He’s blatant and obvious and there’s no hint of malice in his gaze.

You scoff, trying to play off your reaction as incredulous disbelief. That you’re unaffected. That you require more delicate and gentle handling into a tempting subject. That you require seduction, not some horny rumpled stoner type offering an orgasm like he’s sharing his chips.

“Ten grand?” He says, raising his eyebrows. “Each?”

“What do you mean?”

“If I can’t make you cum, I’ll give you ten grand. Every time I try and fail”

“I’m not going to let you… dig around inside me like you’re exploring a cave Mr. Bravo”

He laughs, its rich and warm and slides down your skin like chocolate. You’re fighting your body now, resisting the urge to walk closer to him. There’s still a coffee table between you, you feel safer with furniture in the way. It seems to calm your itching skin. Your clothes suddenly feel too tight, you have the desire to take them off.

“God, who have you been with? Come on. I’ve been thinking about it for months little mouse. Can I try? Pretty please?” he flashes you an exaggerated look, sweet and sultry and begging. He still hasn’t moved from the couch.

“I don’t want to be paid”

“You can pay me. I’m worth it” That grin again, the one that makes you weak in the knees. “Or whatever you want. Come on, I want it even more now I know I’ll be the first one to get it.”

“I want that” You point, shaking finger towards the statue on his counter. The Oscar is so shiny it sparkles in the dim lighting, a dominating presence in the room. He’s had it a week and won’t let anyone touch it.

“You can have it. Go on, grab it”

It’s cool under your fingers, the smooth contours of it finely crafted up close. His name is engraved on the bottom in cursive print. You remember his speech from a few nights before, short and grateful, showing none of the cocky attitude on display.

“I’m not going to chase you little mouse. If you want it, you’ll have to come here”

Its four steps. Its an eternity. It’s enough space to change your mind, to leave without another word, another question. You know he’d let you. You’ve watched him from the corner of your eye, the way his hands never touch someone unless they nod approval, his frequent check ins before intimacy scenes on set. He shut down a whole production one day because an actress was cold, refused to shoot another second until they got heaters and blankets. He’s respectful, if not entirely without shame. You’ve watched him kiss wardrobe assistants at the door of this trailer, catering crews, models, extras. Everyone leaves with a smile.

“Sheets are fresh” he says quietly, as if reading where your thoughts are about to turn. “Change them everyday myself”

“You clean up after yourself” you say, dreamlike as you move to kneel next to him on the couch, the statue weighing heavy in your hand.

“Well, I like it messy. Come here”

His hand curls like smoke around your jaw, encouraging you closer to him. He smells like spearmint and weed and when he kisses you your head swims. His hand feels big on the back of your neck, rubbing a soothing rhythm down your pulse as he lets you settle into it, the feeling of his plush lips on yours, the gentle moulding of his mouth to yours, the suck of your bottom lip between his teeth.

He shifts, slowly, like a cat stalking its prey, to wrap arms around your back, pull you a little closer, his mouth turning a little more insistent. You find yourself laying back for him, a tangle of limbs as he tucks hair behind your ear, strokes down your jaw with thick fingers until you open your mouth for him, let him taste your tongue. He matches your whimper with a groan.

He licks down your neck with a smile, slowly working his lips over every exposed piece of skin. You’re rolling your hips without thinking, feeling the slip of your underwear as you reach for him, feel the soft warn fabric of that robe cover you both, the warmth of his bare chest.

“Open up” he says quietly, running his thumb over your bottom lip.

“W-why?” You ask, your voice cracking.

“Because I’m going to spit in your mouth. And I want to watch you swallow it. Is that okay?”

It’s the asking. It’s something so filthy and debauched phrased so politely, your pulse hammering in your chest as you clench, feeling damp between your legs as he traces the curve below your lip. You could have been fooled, that he was going to be gentle, be sweet and timid with you, treat you like something precious. But his gaze betrays the hunger in his gut as he looks at you, patiently waiting for you to obey.

Your mouth opens. He grins.

Dieter knows he has you when you moan before swallowing. That it’s going to be easy to make you fall apart. You’re already senselessly grinding against his thigh, letting out these little whimpers that are driving him insane. He should have taken something, stocked up on more Viagra before this, because its likely he’s going to blow his load the first time he feels your cunt grip him.

So be it. He’ll just get creative, because the way you’re squirming on his couch is making him fucking crazy, and he’s not willing to stop until you look as messy as he feels. You let him take your shirt of, unbutton your jeans and peel them free, leaving them in a dishevelled heap on the ground. Your cheeks flush when he studies you, those curves that have haunted him now under his hands.

Plain coloured bra, matching underwear. You look put together and perfect underneath him. He traces the curve of your hip with a burning desire to tear you apart. Your eyes are wide as you watch him, shimmering slightly with blown pupils and desire, you look almost nervous, as though that first display of debauchery has unlocked something in you, found a piece you didn’t know was hiding. He wants to unspool that thread.

There’s a wet spot on your underwear, and he can smell the sweet perfume of your arousal as he traces his fingers across the flat of your belly, nosing up your neck to taste your mouth. He wants your lips swollen, kiss bitten and shiny. He wants you covered in him actually, spit, cum, whatever he can, marking his territory like a beast.

“How do you want it little mouse?” He asks, running his finger along the hem of your bra. “Fingers, or mouth?”

God you’re so cute. You can’t meet his eye to answer the question, and he’s going to spend his time with you changing that. He wants to have you asking, no begging, for what you want, a gaping sloppy mess for him. But this hurdle first.

“um. I… I don’t…”

He kisses you to swallow the hesitation, yank the shame out from wherever its hiding and discard it as useless. It doesn’t have a place with him, you can ask him for anything, and he’ll give it to you. The Oscar statue is still held loosely in your grip as proof.

“I’ve been thinking about what you taste like” he says, running his hand up the back of your thigh. “Jerked myself half raw in the shower thinking about licking you open for me.”

Oh, that did something. Your back arches deliciously and he has a brief moment of knowing just how perfect you’re going to look seated on his cock. He feels himself leaking into his boxer shorts, knows he has a wet spot to match yours. But he has to ignore it, his dick is so much less interesting than the way you’re biting your bottom lip for him.

“We’ll start there then” he says with a grin, a quick nip of teeth to your neck.

God, you smell like heaven. All warm and sweet, like fresh blueberry pie, dusted with sugar. He pulls your underwear off, settles himself between your thighs and stares. Glistening wet and spreading open for him, like dew on a flower in the morning, he can’t help the growl that rumbles through his chest as he spreads you open, watches a drop of wetness appear and slide into your skin.

You’re frozen still. You can’t move, can’t breathe, with the way he’s looking at you. Beneath you’re skin you’re crawling, climbing the walls as he kisses the inside of your thigh. The sounds coming out of him are sinful, grunts and moaning as he mouths across your belly, runs his hands down your hips to soothe you, your legs relaxing further open as you wait.

He spreads you further open, that gaze, like you’re a banquet, amplified a thousand times as you watch his untamed curls disappear between your thighs, the heat of his breath on your opening, the depth of his inhale.

“Oh, little mouse” he breathes, sounding worshipful, a man at an altar. “Thank you for letting me try”

He softly sucks your clit at first. Just enough to make you moan, your back arching at the feeling of his soft lips encircling the hardened nub, tongue swirling gentle circles as you clutch the Oscar in a death grip, your hand flying to your mouth to muffle it.

“Fuck, fuck. You taste like heaven mouse.” He says, looking up at you with a grin. “Don’t be shy, let me hear.”

You nod, taking your hand away, fluttering it awkwardly, unsure of what to do. Dieter grabs your wrist, planting a kiss right over your pulse before it puts it on his head. He gives a wink, another grin.

“Don’t hold back for me, okay?”

You smile at him, grateful for the permission to actually relax, and when his mouth descends again, you do. You just let it take your senses, the flick of his tongue, the iron grip he has on your thigh, holding you down and open for him, the vibratory rumble of his mouth against you as he laps at the wetness like a stream. His mouth trails lower, tasting everywhere, lifting you higher, licking you lower.

“D-Dieter” you manage, as his mouth probes lower still.

“Oh fuck, I like that. Say it again” He pulls his mouth from you.

“Dieter” it makes you giggle, the goofy grin on his face as he bites his lip and nods.

He’s playful when he returns, smiling against your folds as you chant his name in a way that makes it feel so ridiculous, leaks the last of the tension from your body as he laughs along with you, smearing his mouth across you in a way that makes you tingle.

“That’s good little mouse. Now you’re all warmed up, are you ready?”

“Yes Dieter”

“Fuck I like that way too much” he groans, pressing his forehead into your stomach. “You just relax for me, okay”

He pulls you into his mouth, your ass hanging off the couch as he spreads you with his shoulder and really starts. It takes you half a second before you realise everything before was foreplay, was him getting you ready for this, a relentless assault on you, spreading you open with thick fingers, spearing you with his tongue as he moans hungrily into your skin.

You’re writhing against the grip he has on you, his tongue wide and flat as he licks you, hole to clit and back, circling and pulling back to spread you open and spit on you, watch the way you clench around it with a satisfied hum, pull your clit between his teeth and suck, relentless pressure, spiralling you out as you anchor yourself to reality with your hand in his hair, one fist gripped around the statue, warm now beneath your palm.

“Fuck, Dieter, fuck, oh my god”

He would grin, if he wasn’t so focused. He can feel it, the tension in your belly, string waiting to snap as mouths hungrily at your cunt. He wasn’t lying, you do taste like fucking heaven. He’s half rutting against the couch, his cock whining for friction as he pries you open further, raw and shiny with his spit, fluttering and clenching around his tongue. He’s half rabid for it – watching as you squeeze your eyes shut. Next time. Next one you’ll look at him, he’ll press his forehead right against yours and watch as you come undone.

It's glorious when you do, the breathy little shocked noise that proceeds the detonation, spilling sweet across his tongue with the arch of your spine, the sharp tug in his hair as you ride his face, chasing the rest of it, shuddering and shaking all at once as you say his name. He has to grip his cock through his boxers, so he doesn’t come on the spot.

He sinks two fingers deep inside you to feel the stretch around his fingers, the way you pulse and pull him deeper, the sound of it, sloppy and wet making him want to sink his teeth into you. He settles for resting his cheek on your thigh, watching as the colour fades from your skin, your shaky breaths in tandem with the curl of his fingers.

“Too much?” he asks idly, swiping upwards to watch your hips cant. You shake your head, biting at your lip as you try and ask for more, words failing. He knows anyway, licking your release from your thighs, the rolling of his knuckles inside you a pleasurable hum.

“I’m going to eat your ass now little mouse” he says.

And then he just does. No hesitation, holding you open to spit again and lick it up, the zing of electricity up your spine making you cry out as he pushes your legs back, folds you in half and spreads you open for his mouth, pressing and furling and sucking on the rim of you until you’re mewling his name, squirming desperately, for something, for anything.

“You need to be filled up” He says with a dark smile. He positions your hands to hold yourself open, humming idly at the sight, all your shame forgotten, your skin sweaty and warm. “Open”

He kisses you again, licking against your teeth while he gropes for something on the ground. You can feel his belly pressed against your cunt and you give in to the mad desire, rolling your hips against him as he presumably searches for a condom.

“You trust me?” he asks, looking at you with a smile. You nod, curious.

Your eyes go wide when he holds up the Oscar statue, sucking the head of it into his mouth in a way that makes you think of things you shouldn’t. Him on top of you, fucking into you, another man standing, feeding him cock, his eyes rolled back as he’s used…

Its warm when it breaches you. Unyielding and hard inside you as he works it in, slowly watching it twist, pulling it back and forth, sawing just the tip against your front walls.

“Dieter”

“Fuck baby, I know, this is better than winning the damn thing. I want you to cum on it for me, okay? Make it really belong to you”

It’s a stretch, its foreign and hard inside you, like nothing you’ve ever felt as he twists until he finds a spot that makes you cry out.

“There it is. You scream out if you need me to stop, okay?”

You nod, breathless, robbed of speech as he moves the statue inside you, just fast enough that you can hear the messy wet squelch of it, the raw vulnerability of your position as you hold yourself open and allow this to happen, want it to happen.

“Oh, it feels… oh” Your voice is broken, wrecked and high pitched as he moves faster, a pressure like you’ve never felt in your stomach. You can see the bulge of it in your belly, it makes you want to look away.

“Keep looking at me. Please?” He says half a whisper as you meet his eyes. “How does it feel”

“Good, it’s, oh it’s good… full, I feel so full”

“Oh, this is nothing, I’m gonna split you open in a minute, you’re gonna feel me in you for days baby. I just want to see this; I want to see what your face looks like when you cum”

Its sloppy, you feel loose and open as he fucks the statue into you faster, dripping more spit to smear messy across your clit as that feeling of fullness spreads to your extremities, every nerve exploding with it as you struggle to breathe, the intensity of his gaze on you as he thumbs your clit.

“There you go, I can see it, it’s coming yeah? You’re gonna come all over me aren’t you, get me all nice and wet, just like you. I’ll fuck you right after, split you open on my cock, you’re gonna love it, I want you to lose all that control for me, scream nice and loud for me, I wanna hear my name when you squirt all over my face little mouse.”

You can’t look away from him, you don’t even realise that he’s not moving anymore, that your hips are doing all the work, rutting into the statue and his finger alike chasing release that feels like a cliffs edge. He keeps running his mouth, spewing nasty filthy words at you and calling you beautiful in the same sentence, making you quiver and clench and yearn.

He pinches your clit, and you shatter. It’s an explosion, its nothing you’ve ever felt before, birth of the universe as he pulls the statue free and you gush all over him, just like he wanted, drenching that stupid robe and his face seconds before he puts his mouth on you again, drinking your release like man wanting to drown.

“Dieter, oh… oh my, Dieter… please” You’re a mess. Your muscles have stopped responding to commands, limp against the couch as he laps his fill of you, coming to share your flavour, licking it against your lips. You can feel him, pressed against your cunt, somehow still in his boxers, rutting against you. “Fuck me, please fuck me, please”

There it is, that’s what he wanted, he wanted you just like this, needy and desperate and wrung out before he sinks his cock into you. It’s a miracle he hasn’t cum yet, the way you burst across his senses like candy coated fireworks, clutch and claw and him. And now you’re asking, now you’re begging him to fuck you and he can’t get his underwear off fast enough. The wet slap of his cock against your folds makes him want to cum and he has to grip himself tight to make sure he doesn’t make goddamn fool of himself in seconds.

It's a stretch. He’s prepared you and its still a stretch, your legs wrapped around his waist as he breaches you, the blunt weeping tip hot and thick as your body yields to him. He swears under his breath, yanking down the cup of your bra to bite a nipple, making you arch and clench around him. He feels good. Heavy weight on you and in you, dragging against your walls deliciously as you tilt your hips to guide his way.

He kisses you, messy and hungry and moves. You’re so wrung out, so lost in the fog of him that you can’t do much but take it, feel him slide deep enough your back arches, your bodies slapping together as he grips the couch above you, hoists you higher on him and fucks you.

He’s good. He’s better than he has any right to be, slamming against a spot inside you that makes your body tremble, wrung out and pliant against his hands. He’s talking, you think, or maybe moaning, the noise a harmony to your own as he fucks faster, deeper, harder. His knees must be getting shredded by the carpet, but he doesn’t seem to notice, his gaze fixed on your face as your body climbs again shrill vibrations of pleasure through your system.

“Tell me” he snarls. “Tell me you’re going to cum on my cock.”

“Dieter. Dieter, I…” You can’t get the words out, choked in the back of your throat as he grips your jaw.

“Come on, say it. I want to hear it, Dieter, I’m going to cum. Dieter you’re going to make me cum. Please, I gotta hear it, you’re so fucking tight for me, I can feel your perfect cunt squeezing me baby, I’m gonna lose it, I’m gonna paint that perfect body with my cum, you’re gonna look so pretty all covered in me baby come on, cum for me, say it.”

“Dieter… Dieter, please, please I… gonna cum”

“Good fucking girl”

He slams into you, unhinged and breathless as he pulls back to watch where he disappears into you, gripping your hips hard enough you’re sure they’re going to bruise, your eyes not leaving his as he fucks you, wet and sloppy as you lose control on him again.

He pulls out, enough to slap his cock against your clit as you cum, soaking him again with a high-pitched whine. Your eyes are just focused enough to watch him, angrily fisting his cock as he watches your cunt clench around nothing.

He comes hard and slow. Spraying ropes of lava hot cum across your chest and belly, roaring your name as he wrings every drop from his body, shaking as he squeezes your thigh, the meat of your ass.

“Oh, you’re fucking perfect” he says, his lungs shaking with the effort to breathe in.

You look a mess. Hair wild and tangled, mascara clinging to your lashes from tears you don’t know you’ve shed, lips swollen and skin sweaty, painted with his cum. You look like a painting, an artwork, something he designed, and he comes down from that shaking high with a sense of peace settling deep in his stomach.

He has to taste your mouth again, see if it changes in the sweaty afterglow, if you’re just as sweet and pliant for him. Your nails scratch into his scalp, sending warm shivers down his spine as he collapses on top of you, smearing his cum across his own stomach, licking into your mouth.

“Dieter” you whisper after a few moments.

“Oh, I’m never going to get tired of hearing that” he says, burying his face in your neck to hold you even closer. “Sorry you lost”

That makes you laugh, that giggle that feels like sunshine on his cheeks as you keep stroking his hair, across his shoulders. He pulls back, tugging you upright as you protest weakly, allowing him to lift you into his arms.

“Where are we going?” You ask, happy to be carried, hopeful for a bed.

“Shower first, dirty girl”

“Me?” Your indignant squawk makes him laugh as he lifts you bridal style with ease, you slap weakly at his chest.

“Yes you, messy little mouse. We’re gonna get you all clean, lay you down on my nice sheets so we can mess them up again. I think I want to cum on your ass this time”

“You have a 6am call time, you can’t”

He laughs, that same smooth rich feeling rippling over you like water.

“Wanna bet?”

[trashywritestrash]

Boyfriend

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x reader

Word Count: 1.1k+

Warnings: FxF, reader cheats on boyfriend, no real smut but detailed mentions of it, reader and Natasha fit the same size clothing, sexy kissing, a couple swear words, bisexual reader, Natasha is sexy, 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI, not proof read

A/N: My inspiration is obvious but the song is sexy so can you blame me? 😏 This is my lil gift to y’all for getting me to my next follower milestone

gif by chunkyfunkygal

Natasha’s stuck behind the bar, watching you out of the corner of her eye. This is what she’s done all night so far; watch you like a predator stalking it’s prey. And there you sit, completely unaware.

Just when she’s about to back off, Natasha spots her chance to strike. Your boyfriend of seven months decides to call it a night, leaving you at this party by yourself. Well, not totally by yourself. Because moments after he leaves, Natasha swoops in.

“Michael’s heading out?” She asks casually, setting a drink for you on the countertop. Your favorite.

You nod, giving her a small smile. “Yeah, he’s gotta be up early tomorrow. I’m not ready to go though.”

“So what will you do here all alone?” Her voice is smooth and seductive. You wonder if Natasha’s aware of the effect that voice has. You’re sure she is.

“Text a little, talk a little, drink a lot.” You laugh but you both know it’s not a joke. If you’re honest with yourself, you didn’t stay because you wanted to party. You stayed because you felt a pull. Towards what, you weren’t sure, but you knew that in order to find out, you needed to stay.

Natasha tilts her head the slightest bit, her little smirk never leaving her lips. “But everyone else is dancing. Do you really plan to sit here instead?”

You shrug. “I don’t have anyone to dance with.”

‘Bingo’, Natasha thinks. “Well, we can fix that.” She steps out from behind the bar and grabs your wrist, gently pulling you to the dance floor, leaving no room for argument. Not that you would.

Out on the dance floor, everyone stands close, bodies grinding and swaying to the beat of the music blasting through the speakers. Natasha pulls you close— maybe too close for two women who are just friends. But again, you don’t mind. The pull returns and you smirk, getting a good idea of what’s going on here. And it’s so fucking wrong, but it feels so right. Natasha’s hands stay on you and the two of you dance. Like she wants to hold onto you forever and never let go, selfishly keeping you all to herself.

She leans in closer so you can hear her speak over the sound of the music, her breath tickling the outside of your ear. “Michael does this a lot, doesn’t he?” Natasha probes, knowing the answer already. At every Stark party, every night out with the team, every event, Michael leaves early. The only time he doesn’t leave early is when he doesn’t show at all.

“Unfortunately yes. I think these things just tire him out; being around all these people.”

“He seems tired a lot. And forgetful.”

You frown. Was it that obvious? For the past few months it’s seemed like he forgot everything. He forgot dates and anniversaries. Hell, he forgot your birthday. But you forgave him. You always forgave him.

“Why do you put up with him? You could find someone better.” Natasha purrs right against your ear, her lips tickling the skin there. “I could do it better.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat as Natasha softly presses her lips just below your ear, trailing them down your jaw and down to your neck. The kisses are light and you could easily pull away if you wanted to. You don’t.

“Fuck.” You whimper breathlessly, wrapped around Natasha’s finger before she’s even done anything of real consequence. 

Natasha’s kisses become stronger. She is still gentle with you, but everything feels more solid and less like a whisper of what could happen. “I’d remember shit. I wouldn’t leave you alone at parties. I could keep up with you, in every way imaginable.” Natasha isn’t trying to sell you the idea, she’s stating facts. Michael is failing at being a boyfriend. She could do it so much better than he is. You just have to give her the chance to prove it. “Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll stop. I’ll leave you alone just like he did, but only if you want me to.”

Your head rolls back, giving Natasha better access to your neck. “God, please don’t stop.”

That’s all she needs to hear. She was holding herself back before, but now that she has you, she’s going to show you why you should stay with her. Natasha harshly presses her lips against your collarbone, sucking on the spot. You can’t see it, but you can feel the vacuum and the tiniest bursting sensations, and you know she’s leaving a subtle hickey. Marking her territory in a way that only the two of you will know. Even in the middle of the dance floor, you’re in your own private world. Before it can go too far, Natasha grabs your wrist once more, leading you away from the party. Once the two of you are further away, she asks “Do you want to keep going?”

You don’t need any time to think about your answer before it comes out as an eager whisper. “Yes.” With her hand around your wrist, Natasha pulls you to the elevator.

—————

Waking up in Natasha’s bed doesn’t bring the guilt that you thought it would. You thought you’d regret it, that you’d look at her and think of Michael and how worried he must be. But when you look over at her sleeping figure, all you think of is how gorgeous she is. How soft her skin felt against yours, how good it was to run your hands through her hair, gripping it in pleasure. Her moans and the words she spoke against your lips and between your legs. The hours you spent exploring each others bodies, taking your time ensuring that you saw and felt every single part.

Reluctantly standing, carefully avoiding waking Natasha in the process, you reach for your phone. Good thing you keep a charger in your purse, since you didn’t go home last night. No messages from Michael. You sigh, but you don’t know whether it’s out of disappointment or relief. 

You decide that you might as well make breakfast for the two of you, since Michael obviously isn’t missing you right now. You grab a random shirt off the floor, not checking it first. Once it’s slipped over your head, you catch your reflection in the mirror. This is Natasha’s shirt, not yours, but it fits. It brings a pleased smile to your lips. Not only does the shirt fit, but Natasha fits too. Better than Michael ever did. She was right; she could do it better than him.

—————

If you enjoyed this or would like to read more of my work, please consider liking, reblogging, or tipping my Ko-fi!

[ragnarachael]

kinktober — day seven; roleplaying with loki

paring: loki x reader

warnings: fingering,,, loki eating pussy again, not very graphic description of squirting. listen, it’s apparent i may just love writing loki eating you out. it’s the bisexual in me.

notes: i decided fuck it we’re keeping the same roleplay idea. so a rockstar situation have at it besties

kinktober tag list: @theaudacitytowrite @user8292 @itsz-justea @marvelsmysterywoman @stardust-galaxies @milly-louise @geeky-politics-46​ @lanablakee​ @thinkingth0ts​ @minssmutblog​ @abasiclokiwhore​ 

kinktober masterlist | feedback | kinktober taglist is here! fill this out to be apart of it!

"Y’know,” you hum, holding the neck of your beer bottle loosely as you lounge on the dressing room couch. “I’ve heard guitarists finger faster. That true?”

Loki’s laugh reverberates through the room as he continues wiping the sweat off his face with a towel, dark green polish shining in the shitty lighting the small venue had in the rooms. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would, actually,” you chirp, taking a swig of beer. “You did ask your bodyguards to grab me, so I can only assume it’s for that. I don’t have much luck with attractive men in bands.”

He’s laughing again as you shift in your position. Your legs move to swing over the edge of the couch to plant your feet firm on the ground before you’re letting your legs fall open. Your skirt’s trying it’s best to hide the green lace you’ve worn specifically for this occasion. You’re just waiting for Loki to turn around at the right moment—

You never knew how pretty Loki could look staring at you completely dumbfounded with your legs open on a random couch.

“I was hoping for a bit more talking before this,” he rasps, tight black shirt peeling from his body before he’s making large strides with those lanky legs over to where your legs are spread open over the couch’s edge. “But, it looks like you’re more than eager to find out just how fast I can be.”

His hands land on your plush thighs, spreading them even wider so your skirt is riding up higher and higher to expose the small piece of fabric covering your cunt. 

“Please,” you breathe softly, shifting your hips a bit to angle your cunt perfectly for Loki. “I didn’t wear the green thong for nothing.”

Loki’s heady laugh graviates between your legs, closer and closer to the quickly dampening fabric. “You seem to have this planned out to a T, my dear.”

“’Course I do, not everyday you fuck a rockstar,” you tease. “Let’s see just how fast those fingers are, shall we?”

“We shall.” Loki’s smirk is the last thing you end up seeing before he’s instantly curled his fingers into the lace fabric of your thong, tugging it away from your folds and promptly burying his face between your legs to take your clit between his lips.

You’re already moaning loud, your head falling back against the wall. Your hand find where Loki’s is holding the thong away, taking the job over for him to have his full attention on your cunt.

“How helpful of you,” Loki muses, barely pulling away from your clit. The puff of air he lets out against your pussy makes your hips buck forward into his face, your folds brushing against his chin. “You’re so needy after talking about my fingers, christ.”

“Get on with it,” you whine, shimmying slightly. The two of you didn’t have much time left in this dressing room.

“Okay, okay,” Loki chuckles, diving back onto your clit as his newly free hand starts to trace your hole to tease you. You buck your hips into his face again, groaning at the slide against his face.

Thankfully, you found out, guitarists do in fact finger faster than most.

You found out twice, ruining the couch in the progress, actually. And Loki’s get up.

“Fuck, fuck, Loki!” You squeal, hand nestled deep into his hair as his lips suck on your collar bones, the loud and fast sounds coming from where his hand was jackhammering in and out of you nearly drowned out. You tensed your body, feeling Loki’s other hand brush against your clit before you were literally gushing against Loki’s hands.

You collapse against the couch, limp from the second powerful orgasm in a row, Loki’s hands slowly stopping their movement before he’s keeping his position. He’s hovering over you, covering most of you if anyone were to barge in and ruin the moment.

He pressed his forehead against your sweaty one, and you laugh breathlessly, your nose nuding against Loki’s. And soon enough, he’s laughing with you.

“How’s that for spicing up your life?”

“It was great,” you reply. “Though, Stark’s probably going to kill us for the charges for cleaning this couch, rockstar.”

“I’d say it was worth it, I didn’t think you’d be this worked up over seeing me fake playing the guitar.”

[litterateur97]

Can you hit me with the cute/fluffy Lawmane headcanons? 👀

Ah I don't have many headcanons that are cute and fluffy as I mostly ship them in a very sexual and unhealthy way, but I'll name some for you!

In Canon

L picks on Misa because she's cute, but also a serial killer and he doesn't know how to cope with his attraction to her. He's mean to her to push her away and to punish her for making him feel something towards her. He's only ever nice to her to get what he wants from her and use her to his advantage, but I think there is a small sliver of truth in his compliments of her that he won't admit to himself, and definitely won't admit to others.

He was lying when he said he was a fan of her work, he wasn't initially a fan, but he did look into her work for the case and was surprised by what a talented model she was. He definitely kept her magazines because he thought she was hot.

He also thinks she's a talented actress, and mostly uses this to his advantage for the case, but it also makes him cautious of her and is why he doesn't try to stay close to her like he does Light. He simultaneously overestimates and underestimates her. He locks her up in a more intense way because he sees her as a major threat at first (and also probably because of his repressed sexual desires tbh). He knows she's planning something before she goes to meet Higuchi, but doesn't say anything because he thinks her plans will serve him well, but also sees her as very impulsive (dangerous) and thinks it's better to react to her than act with her. At the same time, he still does just see her as a pawn in the battle between him and Light and doesn't use her to his advantage as much as he could have.

L leans in close to Misa all the time because of his desire for her, but he's very oblivious to the fact that he does it so much and only notices when she pulls away. He justifies it by saying he was purposely trying to put her on edge so she would slip up during questioning.

Misa found L attractive in their first meeting. She calls him unique, which I think others thought that was her nice way of saying ugly, but one thing we know about Misa with all her gothic obsession is that she actually likes things that are different. She also wouldn't straightforwardly compliment his looks because she's dating Light and knowing how she thinks, she'd probably see that as a form of cheating.

Misa knew L was the one who touched her butt, but didn't want to cause a scene and embarrass him, so she laughed it off. I'm not sure if this actually bothered her or not, she may have seen this as normal behavior from men, but it's probably one of the reasons why she continues to see him as a pervert and call him one despite not knowing he was the one who locked her up in the fetishy way.

I think Misa calling him a pervert and questioning his relationship with Light is actually because she sees through him better than others and is able to pick up on his sexual orientation (I believe he is bisexual). Misa is more socially intelligent and much better at picking up on body language than the others (she could immediately tell that Light wasn't into her, that's why she agreed to being used and hoped he'd eventually fall in love with her). So she can tell L is attracted to her, but also notices his tension with Light and believes he's attracted to Light as well (at least sexually).

Misa thought L was going to try to break her and Light up, so when he compliments her and says she's meant to be with Light, she decides she was wrong about his intentions and agrees to be his friend. I think she genuinely liked L after this, she's even nicer to him after this happens, but Kira and her relationship with Light is her first priority so she of course doesn't have any qualms about killing him to get what she wants.

If L had realized what an advantage Misa could be to him, he would have attempted to seduce her and it would have worked if he had played into her insecurities with her relationship with Light and showed her he could treat her better. I think Misa could have genuinely fallen for him and he may have eventually grown to love her back depending on how their relationship played out. I think it would have been similar to how @gigantomachy1916 has written her story Oleander.

If Misa had met L first, I think she would have fallen in love with him instead of Light. She needed something to cling onto after the death of her family, and would've reached out for something larger than herself that could give her the sense of protection and justice she was missing. Surely a God would give her that, but the world's greatest detective could give her that too. I think it would play out similarly to how I've written my story Death Note: A Slightly Different Note.

Well this actually ended up being way longer than I thought it would be lmao. It wasn't even that cute or fluffy, so sorry about that. I will write another post on this one that shows my cute/fluffy headcanons for them in fanon.

[btssavedmylifeblr]

Void - Part 7 (M)

title banner by @rude–jude♡

Genre: Sci-fi with a little angst and a LOT of smut

Pairing: BTS x Reader (yup - all seven)

Summary: You are the only female crew member on a 12 year space mission with seven handsome men. The sexual tension is real, y’all.

Word Count: 10.9k

Part 7 / ?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Warnings: explicit sexual content, alcohol masturbation, voyeurism, more non-monogamy

The men at the table stare at you, dumb-founded. Jungkook’s mouth hangs open. Hoseok hides his mouth behind his hand; his eyes are wide with shock. Jimin spins around, trying to gauge the others’ reactions. Namjoon leans back in his chair, face unreadable, his chin resting on his hand as he looks from you to your powerpoint. Jin laughs uncomfortably then clears his throat and silence falls again.

Yoongi speaks first. “You put sources on your powerpoint about how we should all start fucking?”  

“It’s important to cite your sources,” you mutter, shuffling your feet.

Taehyung sits up straighter on his cot. “Are you saying we should start fucking you or each other?”

“Well, the bonobos do both. They are fully bisexual. Almost all aggressive contests are settled by sex. Even when two males squabble over a female, they often resolve it by rubbing their genitals together.”

“What?” Hoseok injects. “You want us to start rubbing our genitals together?” His cheeks blush.

“No, no, no.” You shake your head. “I meant you all should have sex with me.” Your own cheeks heat up as you say it. “I can’t control what you do with other people. In an ideal world, it would be both. But it seemed best to start with me.”

Jungkook mouths the words “start with” to himself, still staring at the table.

“But like, how would that work logistically?” Taehyung asks.

“Well, there are seven of you, so that could be like one per day. Take a week off for my period.”

Jimin splutters, whirling to face Yoongi. “Did you put her up to this?”

Yoongi shakes his head, frowning.

“No one put me up to this!” you argue. “This is what I think is best for the mission.”

An explosion of opinions pours out of all the men at once. Hoseok is swearing under his breath. Taehyung is trying to get Jimin’s attention, but Jimin is arguing with Yoongi. Jungkook wants to know how you decide who goes first. Jin says something to Namjoon that you can’t hear.

“So, um…” You struggle to regain command of the room over the chatter. “My period starts tomorrow, so take a few days to think about it.”

“Officer.” Namjoon’s deep voice cuts over everyone else and the conversation at the table ceases. “You and I need to speak privately. Now.”

The commander stands up from the table and gestures toward the door. The rest of the crew looks back and forth between the two of you wearing expressions of shock and confusion.

You avoid their gazes as you follow Namjoon’s direction out into the hallway. He steps out after you, closing the door behind him. A flurry of chatter resumes after the door shuts, but it’s too muffled to hear what the rest of the crew are saying. You and Namjoon stare at each other.

“So…” you say, shifting your weight between your feet.

“Let’s talk in my office,” he says, squeezing past you and moving in the direction of the sleep pods.

You examine him from behind as you follow him to his office, trying to gauge what he’s thinking. Are his shoulders tense? Is he angry with you? Are you about to be scolded?

His office is also his bedroom. And you did just offer to fuck him, no strings attached. But of all your crew, Namjoon is the one that you have the most strictly professional relationship with. His walls are almost as impenetrable as yours. But he is a man, right? And men like sex, right? It would have been more awkward to not include him. This wasn’t about personal feelings. It was about the mission. And you were all in the mission together.

________

Sweat pools at the base of your spine under the hot studio lights. A reporter drums her long red nails on her clipboard as the sound technician adjusts the microphones between interviews.

Press junkets are your least favorite part of the job, made all the worse by your mission director insisting you all dress in full launch gear, despite the launch still being two weeks away.

“This is the last one.” Namjoon turns around from his front and center seat to whisper to the rest of the crew.

Yoongi groans, rubbing his face with his hands. “Why do we have so many of them when they all ask the same questions?”

The eight of you have been trapped in this room all day as a parade of different reporters trail in and ask the same inane questions.

This new reporter opens with a softball. “How’s the food?”

“Good!” Namjoon patiently answers this question for the third time today. “The ICSE has recruited the top food scientists to figure out which foods hold their flavor and nutrition best in long term storage. And our chief botanist here is going to keep us well stocked with fruits and vegetables. Right, officer?” He gestures for you to chime in.

“Yup!” You are grateful to Namjoon for pitching you a question that isn’t about you being the only woman in a crew full of men. You’ve already had to explain how periods in space work twice today (short answer: pretty much the same way they work on Earth). “We have lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, peas, bean, soy, carrots, cabbage, chilis, potatoes, lemons, oranges and strawberries, plus a bunch of fresh herbs. They even found a way for us to grow mushrooms out of our culinary compost.”

The reporter makes a disgusted face at the idea of compost mushrooms and pivots to a new line of questioning. “What will you miss most about home?”

“Why don’t we go around the group?” Namjoon prompts. Even your commander seems to be fading in enthusiasm by this point. “I’m going to miss long walks in the fresh air, and my family, of course.”

Most of the crew answers with some variation of friends and family. Yoongi will miss his brother’s cooking. Taehyung will miss his dog who is going to live with his parents. Jungkook will miss long showers and his mom.

“What’s one personal item you’re taking with you?” she asks.

Namjoon is bringing a Chinese elm bonsai tree that he calls his tiny friend. Hoseok is bringing a stuffed Earth plushie given to him by his niece. Jin is bringing vodka.

The reporter narrows her eyes at the mention of alcohol and leans forward. “So what do you do if you feel a crew member’s judgement has been compromised?”

“We have protocols in place,” Namjoon answers. “Tests of cognitive impairment and such. We’re also coached in what we call “expeditionary behaviors” which are key to maintaining peace and cooperation on board.

Yoongi chimes in. “The key to solving all disputes is our ability to be honest with each other. When there is a problem, we sit down as a group and discuss it.”

“Our readers are saying what a tragedy it is that we are shipping seven of our most eligible bachelors off to space for a decade.” She laughs. “Any broken hearts being left here on Earth?”

“Oh!” Namjoon draws back and looks unsuredly at the rest of the group. This was not a question he was expecting to be asked today. “Umm…” he laughs nervously.

“My mom is devastated!” Jin cracks from the back row and the rest of the crew laughs in relief.

But the reporter doesn’t want to let go of this idea so quickly, so she turns to you. “Well, you must certainly enjoy having such handsome crew members.”

“Uh…” To your complete mortification, you actually blush in response. You clench your fist to try to get a grip. To your right, Hoseok’s hand flinches, as if he can feel the need to hold you back. “I’m going on this mission to find life on other planets.” You grit your teeth. “My only interest in my crew is whether or not they do their jobs.”

The woman shakes her head, laughing. “Doesn’t hurt that they look good doing it.”

_______

Namjoon opens the door to his office and gestures for you to enter. The number of papers on his desk seems to have multiplied, which theoretically shouldn’t be possible.

“I’m going to say three words to you,” Namjoon says as he closes the door behind him. “And then I need you to repeat them back to me: banana, river, finger.”

“Namjoon,” you cross your arms. “I’m not cognitively impaired right now.”

He mirrors your closed stance. “Please repeat the words.”

You sigh. “Banana, river, finger.”

He pulls a piece of paper from his desk and wipes it clean, before handing it to you, along with a pen. “I need you to draw a clock face.”

“Seriously?”

“Set it to quarter past eight.”

“This isn’t necessary, commander,” you grumble as you take the pen and paper, drawing a rudimentary clock face and setting the hands to 8:15. “See?” You hand the paper back to him and he inspects it.

He nods, rubbing his chin. “Repeat the three words again.”

“Banana, river, finger.” You put your hands on your hips. “You think my judgement is compromised?”

Namjoon sighs. “Everything seems to be in order. You must admit, your behavior recently has been uncharacteristic to say the least. Are you sure everything is okay?”

“Well, no, everything is not okay, that’s why I’m doing this.”

He leans against his desk, looking you up and down. “I fail to see how fraternizing with the entire crew will improve things.”

The back of your neck heats up in embarrassment, but you press on. You need the commander to be onboard with your plan.

“You admit we have a morale problem, right?”

He nods. “Hard to suggest otherwise. What with all the recent events.”

“Okay, so I was going through the principles of expeditionary behavior last night as I figured out what to do. Principle One:  Communication - talk so you are clearly understood, talk about intentions before taking action, share information freely.”

“I know the principles.” Namjoon interrupts.

“But don’t you see? That’s why I had to call the meeting. Why I had to get everything out in the open, share information freely.”

“That explains why you needed to inform the crew of your relationship with Jimin. It doesn’t explain why you think it would be good to involve everyone.”

“Principle Two: Self-care - manage psychological and physiological health, balance work, rest, and personal time, be proactive to stay healthy and mitigate stress.”

Namjoon arches an eyebrow. “A lack of sex doesn’t damage your health.”

“With all due respect commander, I think it does.”

“There are outlets to relieve sexual urges other than exploiting our only female crew member.”

“Well, they were all trading porn with each other. That’s how this whole thing started.” Namjoon purses his lips in thought. That seems to be new information to your commander. You continue your argument. “Principle Three: Team-care - monitor team for signs of stress and fatigue - which we have a multitude of, cooperate rather than compete, encourage participation in team activities.”

“Are you considering this a team activity?”

“Well, yes. Like the bonobos do.”

Namjoon shakes his head. “Let me speak so I am clearly understood. I can’t prevent you or the rest of the crew from doing what you want to do with your personal time. But I can’t participate in it either. I’m the commanding officer on this ship. It’s inappropriate. We can’t have an equitable relationship.”

“That’s why it’s not a relationship though, it’s just sex. And if everyone involved is consenting...”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Let’s be honest about intent for a minute. Is that really what you want? You want all seven of us?”

“Umm…” Your stomach churns as you are unable to admit that, yes, that is what you want. “I think it’s best for the mission.”

“Part of principle three is to volunteer for unpleasant tasks if they benefit the team. Are you sure that’s not what you’re doing right now, officer?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Though embarrassing to admit, boning your attractive colleagues is not an unpleasant task in the slightest.

“You should also consider the fact that whatever forms do get signed will have to be sent back to mission control. And may get out to the press.”

“I thought HR decisions were confidential.”

“Juicy stories have a tendency to find their way out. Especially when they distract from failed missions that added years on to our trip.”

“I understand, commander. Information must be shared freely. I still think this plan is necessary if we’re going to complete this mission successfully.”

“Okay.” Namjoon sighs, dropping his hands to his sides. “It would seem there is no talking you out of it.”

“No, sir. I intend to implement with full commitment.”

The two of you stare at each other for a minute. An immovable object and an unstoppable force.

“So… should I go?”

“Yes, you’re dismissed.”

________

After the press junket is mercifully over, Hoseok catches you in the hallway.

“Hey, you coming to Tae and Jimin’s quarantine party tonight?” Tonight is the last night you all are allowed to see other people before you enter your two-week quarantine prior to launch. “Seems like you could use a drink.”

“I don’t know,”  you sigh, leaning against the wall.

“What’s on your mind?” He leans next to you.

“That last reporter, she got in my head.” You rub your forehead.

Hoseok rubs the back of his neck. His jawline tenses as he mulls over what to say.

Hoseok is so handsome. And smart. And newly single. He broke up with his girlfriend a couple of weeks ago before signing the final mission papers. And now he was going to be the one of only seven people in your whole world.

In another life, you would want to date him. You’d be dying to go to a party with him and plot how to get him alone for part of the evening. In another life, you would have fallen in love with him. But in this life, he’d been dating someone else for the whole time you’ve known him. And you have a mission.

What’s most grating is that the gossip columnist isn’t wrong. You’d be hard pressed to find a better set of men anywhere on Earth than the seven you were leaving with. They were all attractive, smart, kind, disciplined, athletic young men. It would be much easier to be entirely professional if you had a crew of balding middle-aged men.

“Do you think it's a mistake? Me going on this mission?” you finally ask.

“What?” Hoseok gasps. “No! Why would you think that?”

“The mission director said it was supposed to be only men. That mixed gender crews are too complicated.”

“Have we ever done anything to make you feel like we don’t view you as a professional?”

“No, no, of course not.” Other than being ridiculously good-looking.

Hoseok’s fingers twiddle nervously. “And we won’t. We’re a team. You’re our colleague. This mission is so much bigger than any one of us. And you’re the best candidate for this position.”

“I’m the only candidate.”

Hoseok smiles. “Well, that’s exactly my point. We’d be lost without our biologist. Besides, you were better than all the male candidates even before they dropped out.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Oh yes, I do. Are you forgetting how badly you kicked my ass all over organic chemistry? And I was the chem major! It was such a disgrace.” You both laugh.

You smile at the memory: early morning study sessions, Hoseok bringing you coffee in exchange for your homework help.

“Come on,” he insists. “I know you. You can’t not go. You’re going to be the first woman on Europa. It’s been your destiny since college. Don’t you want to see it with us?”

Yes, you wanted to see it so badly. You picture the two of you looking out over the icy surface together.

“Come tonight.” Hoseok insists. “It’ll be fine, you’ll see. We won’t mess this up for you.”

“Thank you, Hoseok.”

_______

You leave Namjoon’s bedroom and climb into your own sleep pod, the question of what mission control or the press know about what’s happening on this ship weighing on your mind.

Unfortunately, googling it for yourself won’t work. It takes between 10 and 20 minutes for a single signal to get from your ship to Earth, depending on exactly where you both are in your orbits. Then it takes another 10-20 minutes to return. Usually if you wanted to research something, you’d submit a formal request to your research assistants back on Earth,  who would gather a collection of relevant documents for you and send you a bundle of them all at once. But asking your research assistants to assemble a dossier on your rumored sex life was out of the question. You need someone you can trust.

You pull out your laptop and compose the following email.

Hi Dianna,

How are you doing? I’m sorry I’ve been slow to respond to your messages lately, things have been a bit messy out here. I was wondering if I could ask you a favor. Are there rumors about my personal life going around the ICSE? Or in the press? I was wondering if you’d be willing to run a quick google search and let me know what you find.

Thank you! I hope you and Melissa are doing well.

Dianna should have been on this mission with you. You wish you could talk to her in person. You’ll have to send her a video message when you have more time. But you are interrupted in your thoughts by a knock on the door.

“Who is it?”

“Jimin.”

You hit send on the email and open the door.

“Can we talk?” he asks.

You nod and stand to one side to allow him into your pod.

He sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “So I’m confused.” He runs a hand through his hair as he steps into the pod. “Last night you were mad at me for suggesting you date Taehyung. You said you wouldn’t be passed around between crew members. But now you want to have sex with the entire crew?”

“I’m not being passed around. This is my plan. I’m in control.”

He shakes his head. “The end results seem to be the same though. I don’t understand.”

“This way we don’t have to pretend this is something it’s not. It can just be sex, just release. We don’t have to pretend it means anything more than that.”

“But it means something to me.” Jimin frowns. “I have feelings for you.”

You sigh. “They’re not real though. It’s hormones and boredom. It’s just because I’m the only woman here.”

“No it’s not!”

“Yes it is! You didn’t feel this way about me on Earth, right?”

Jimin stammers for a minute. “People can change. Relationships can change.”

“Jungkook and Taehyung didn’t have feelings for me on Earth either and now that they’ve seen me naked they’re suddenly 'in love' with me. That’s not real. That’s just biology. We’re just apes in space with too much time on our hands.”

“Jungkook’s in love with you too?”

“I don’t know. He thinks he is.”

Jimin frowns, but seems less sure of himself. “Is this because I suggested sharing? Cause that was a dumb idea and I take it back.”

“No! You were right. It’s what’s best for the mission.”

“So what? It’s like this or nothing? I have to share you to have any of you?”

You don’t answer him. Currently, no one else has actually signed, so Jimin might get you all to himself anyways.

“Am I… am I not enough?” Jimin asks. “I can be more. I can do better. I can do whatever Yoongi does that you like so much.”

“This isn’t about Yoongi. It’s about the mission.”

“You said you liked me. You said you wanted to be with me. Was that just about the mission?”

“It’s not about what I want.”

“Yeah, yeah… it's about the mission.”  

He turns to go, but you catch his hand in yours. His thumb rubs across the back of your hand. All the men are just as touch-starved as you are. It’s probably unfair that you are playing to that now.

You see an idea flash across his face right before he scoops you up into his arms, kissing you passionately. “I’m going to show you,” he whispers between kisses. “I’m going to show it's real. I’m going to be what you need. My feelings are real.”

Then he places you back down and leaves. You lean against the door breathless.

________

Mistake number one: You should not have challenged Jin to beer pong.

Mistake number two: You should not have said goodbye to your parents and dog right before going to a party full of strangers and booze.

Mistake number three: You should not have gone to find Hoseok when you are this drunk and he smells that good.

You collapse onto the couch beside Hoseok, too tired to stand up anymore. Hoseok smiles to see you, face flushed red.

“Hoseok,” you whisper, even though he’s already looking at you. “Hoseok, I have something important to tell you.”

He leans in closer. “Yeah?”

“Europa’s oceans are ninety-six kilometers deep.”

He laughs. “Of course, I know that! I wrote my graduate thesis on Europa’s oceans!”

“Yeah, but like…” You wave your hand. “That’s like soooo deep. Like not intuitive, you know? Like that’s ten times deeper than any ocean on Earth. I can’t even conceive of how deep our oceans are, let alone Europa’s.”

You scoot closer to him on the couch. “That’s like…” You pull out your phone to do some basic math. “That’s like 120 Burj Khalifas!!”

Hoseok nods. “Yes… It is super deep.”

“Stacked on top of each other!” You slap your knee in emphasis.

“Yes, I know!” He laughs again.

You sigh. “Can I tell you a secret?” You lean in closer and put a hand on his thigh. He leans in too. “There just has to be life down there. I know there has to be.”

“I hope so.” He rests his hand on yours.

“We’re going to find it together, you and I.” You grab his hand and squeeze it.

Hoseok looks down at your joined hands and you worry that maybe you’ve gone too far. Maybe tomorrow this will be an awkward and embarrassing moment. But right now it feels nice. His hand is warm. You wonder if it would be too much to lean your head on his shoulder.

But then Hoseok’s phone buzzes in his lap. His ex-girlfriend’s name flashes across the screen and you drop his hand.

“Sorry,” he mutters, getting up off the couch. “I should take this.” He leaves and the couch next you is colder.

“Hey!” Jin stumbles over to your seating area. “Have any of you guys seen Namjoon?”

“I think he went to meet that girl he won’t tell us about,” Yoongi answers from a chair a few feet away. When did Yoongi get here?

“So everyone is getting laid tonight, huh?” Jin laughs.

“Not everyone,” Yoongi mutters, nursing his beer.

“Don’t be such a grump, Yoongi. It’s basically our last night on Earth! Take advantage!” Jin laughs before wandering back into the crowd.

“I’m not getting laid tonight either!” You yell across the room at Yoongi. More direct than you would be when sober.

He cracks the first smile you’ve seen from him in days, raising his beer into the air in a little clinking motion. You do the same with your plastic cup full of what Jimin had described as “Tae’s jungle juice”. It was red and smelled like tequila.

“Why aren’t you getting laid?” you ask, taking a swig of the juice for courage.

“Got dumped, not really over it yet,” he answers matter-of-factly. “What about you?”

You shrug. “The only men here are about to be my only companions for the next twelve years. Seems like a bad plan to fuck them.”

Yoongi laughs. “Suppose so.”

“Well, don’t you worry. If that reporter is right, we’ll all be having space orgies in a month anyways.”

Yoongi chokes on his beer. “Shit.” Beer dribbles down his chin as he laughs. “I think we need to find you some ice water and a cab.”

“Probably a good plan,” you mutter as you lie down on the couch and close your eyes.

________

When you wake up in the morning, there are still no signed HR forms in your messages. Had you been a fool to think any of them were interested? How much time does it take to decide such a thing? Perhaps by putting the idea out there explicitly, it had lost all of its taboo appeal.

There are two other things waiting for you to notice though: your period and a calendar reminder that today is chili pepper pollinating day. After dealing with the first of those problems in the bathroom, you head for the lab to find Hoseok.

You find the science officer in the lab as always, sitting with his knee tucked up against his chest.

“Hey, um…” You shuffle your feet. Want to fuck me? No wait…

He blinks at you, bleary-eyed.

“Oh, you don’t look good. Were you here all night?” you ask.

“Um, was I? Yeah. I suppose. Lost track of time.” He rubs his eyes, before looking you up and down, then casting his gaze back to the floor.

All you want to do is ask about the forms. Or the meeting. Or what he thinks of you now. But you don’t.

“I need to pollinate the chili peppers today.” Usually Hoseok is the person who assists with that. “But I can get one of the other guys to do it if you need the sleep.”

“No!” Hoseok lurches forward, standing up a bit too rapidly and needing to put his hand back on the bench to steady himself. “I mean, I’m fine.”

You should disagree with him. He is exhausted. But you’d like more time to talk to him.

Pollinating the chili peppers is both time-sensitive and time-consuming, hence why it took two of you to get the job done. There were no insects on your ship to do the job for you and if the plants didn’t get pollinated, they wouldn’t bear any fruit. Chili peppers were your favorite crop. Not only a vital source of Vitamin C, but all your food benefitted from having a bit of spice added to it.

You and Hoseok head for the greenhouse together. The initial set-up gives you something to talk about in the beginning. Hoseok gathers the pollen from one flower onto a paintbrush, then hands it over to you to paint onto the stigmas of each little flower on the next plant.

Slowly the conversation dries up as you fall into a silent rhythm. Other than enjoying the chili peppers, this was also one of your favorite tasks on the ship because of the high likelihood that the two of you would brush hands periodically. It always gave you butterflies. But today he seems extra intent on keeping his distance from you. Was he disgusted by you now? His hands are trembling.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

His hand twitches so hard that a little rain of yellow pollen cascades onto the floor. He curses in frustration before turning to face you. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

"I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“This, um, plan of yours…” he gestures to the vague tension in the air. “It doesn’t feel like you.”

“I’m trying to save the mission. That has always been my top priority.”

“Yeah, I’m still not clear on how this benefits the mission.”

“I outlined it all in my presentation. Plus Yoongi said…” you start to say, but are cut off by Hoseok's derisive snort.

“Look, if you’re in love with Yoongi, go date him, okay? Don’t feel obligated to include the rest of us out of pity.”

You frown. “I’m not… I’m not in love with him. It’s just sex. Just biology.”

“This isn’t you!” Hoseok argues back. “You hated the idea of anyone ever treating you that way. And now you want all of us to… to… use you like that?”  He splutters out the end of the sentence.

“No one is using me! This is my plan!”

He sighs. “Well, I can’t be a part of it. Excuse me.” He leaves you alone in the greenhouse.

Your lower lip trembles and you bite it to stop it. He’s disgusted by you. Yoongi was wrong; Hoseok doesn’t want you. It takes you the rest of the day to finish the pollinating on your own.

_____

There are no forms waiting for you when you wake up the next morning either. Perhaps this was a mistake after all. If the men aren’t looking for release in the same way you are, then there’s no point to any of this. Even Jimin has been keeping his distance, so all you’ve done is mess up the one relationship you did have and offend your commander and colleagues.

Your tablet buzzes with a notification. It’s a reply from Dianna.

It’s great to hear from you! I hope things aren’t too crazy up there. I haven’t heard any rumors at work, but I’ve not been directly involved with your mission. We’ve started the plans for Titan and it’s taking most of my focus. I can ask around though if you want me to. I was surprised to find this article when I googled. Is this accurate? I assumed you would have said something.

Hope you are well! Melissa and I are going to send you a video of our new puppy.

Dianna

There is a pdf of a magazine article attached to the email entitled “Love Amongst the Stars”. At the top is one of the official launch photos of the whole crew that has been zoomed and cropped so that it’s only you and Jimin sitting next to each other. The tagline reads “How two astronauts had to leave Earth to find each other”. It makes you cringe so hard you have to put the tablet down for a minute before you can read on.

It’s some sort of fluff piece about a secret affair between you and the mission specialist. You scan the article, trying to figure out what they know. “A source close to the couple spoke with us...” Who is their source? You haven’t told anyone on Earth about what's going on with Jimin.

“Coworkers said they always sensed a special connection between the two…” This is nonsense. Jimin is one of the crew members you knew the least about prior to launch.

“Other crew members are very supportive…” Uh, sure.

���Maybe we’ll even get our first space wedding…” You groan out loud, closing the pdf.

Maybe that seals it then. You’ll just be space-married to Jimin for the next 12 years and that will be that. The idea makes you feel a bit claustrophobic in your tiny sleep pod, so you throw on your exercise clothes and head for the gym to try to clear your head.

_____

What you call “the gym” is actually just a bunch of resistance bands and cardio equipment stashed into the walls of one corner of the hangar. When the gravity was off, you had a variety of different choices for which equipment to use. There was a treadmill in the ceiling and an elliptical in the wall so multiple people could use the equipment in your off hours. But with the gravity on, the stationary bike on the floor is your only option.

As you begin your warm-up on the bike, you mull over your next move. Why hadn’t any of the other men come and talked to you yet? Jungkook had confessed to you, why wasn’t he signing up now? And Yoongi? Yoongi said he wanted a form only a few days ago. Why did it feel so different now?

Were you stupid? Had you embarrassed yourself in front of your entire crew for no reason? Maybe Namjoon and Hoseok were right and this was a bad plan. You pedal faster, trying to burn out some of the tension in your lungs.

The radio buzzes and Taehyung’s deep voice sounds in your in-ear. “Looking for a location for our biologist.”

“I’m in the gym,” you radio back, pausing your bike ride to catch your breath.

Moments later, Taehyung pokes his head in the door of the hangar. It’s good to see him up and about, even if his arm is still in a sling.

“Hey.” He steps into the room, adjusting his hair with his one good hand. “I need to talk to you about this, um, ape sex thing.”

Oh my gosh, is it finally happening? Maybe Jimin was right. Maybe Taehyung is more interested in you than you had realized. He fishes into his pocket and pulls out his tablet. You wish you weren’t so sweaty and gross for this conversation. Taehyung is such an intimidatingly attractive man.

Taehyung opens up the tablet and flips to the form as he walks closer to you. It’s happening. He’s going to sign the form. Shit. Then what will you do? It’s one thing to say you want to have sex with your whole crew, but what if he’s hoping to go right now? You need a shower.

Taehyung has nice hands. Long strong fingers delicately navigate the touch screen. It seems totally improbable that a man this attractive would be into you, even if you were the only woman in the universe. It adds to your suspicions that hormones are driving everyone crazy. Perhaps if you slept with him once, he’d lose all interest.

He finds the form and then turns his gaze up to you, staring you down with those eyes. It’s a good thing  Taehyung rarely turns his full gaze on you, because it is almost too much to bear. Shit, is he going to sign it? Is he waiting for you to give him some sort of signal?

“You can’t do this to Jimin,” he says.

“What?” Not what you were expecting. “Do what to Jimin?”

“This.” He gestures over the HR form. “Signing these forms with everyone. Having sex with everyone. You’re going to destroy Jimin.”

“Jimin’s the one who suggested this whole thing in the first place.” It’s a lie. You know it's a lie. Or at least a gross exaggeration. But Jimin was the one who first brought up the idea of sharing. All for the benefit of the man in front of you now.

“No way.” Taehyung scoffs, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. “No way was it Jimin’s idea that you sleep with the whole crew.”

“Well…” You can’t bear his gaze anymore and look down at the floor. “He wanted me to sleep with you.”

“What?” He puts down the tablet. “Why would he want that?”

“He, um…” You rub your arm. “He thinks you’re in love with me.”

“What?” There is only surprise on Taehyung’s face. It’s actually a relief to see that Taehyung is as shocked by that idea as you were. “Why does he think that?”

“I don’t know…” You feel kind of dumb now. Of course, Taehyung doesn’t feel that way about you. Look at him. “Cause you told him you were jealous. Cause you can’t stand to be in the same room as us.”

Taehyung bites his lip. “Oh, um, shit, sorry, that’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?” you ask. If Taehyung wasn’t jealous of Jimin, then...“Who are you jealous of?”

“Nevermind…” Taehyung stumbles backward, putting his tablet back in his pocket. “Forget I said anything.”

“No wait,” you get up off the bike to chase after him, catching by the sleeve. As he turns around, you make a show of turning off your microphone. He does the same. “Are you jealous of me?” you ask. “Do you like Jimin?”

Taehyung’s eyes widen and he bites his lip. He glances toward the camera in the corner of the room, then stands up and begins unzipping his jumpsuit.

“Um…” You are distracted by the golden arms that peak from either side of the tank top as the zipper reaches his groin. “What are you doing?”

“Need something to block the camera.”

“We have towels,” you mutter.  But now he’s attempting to peel the tank top up over his head.

“Yeah, but this way anyone watching will think we’re having sex.” He answers. “Shit, can you give me a hand?” In his attempts to remove his shirt, he seems to have forgotten he is wearing the arm sling and is now stuck with his shirt over his head. His injured shoulder is black and blue from his accident with the ROV.

You gingerly try to disentangle him without getting too close to his warm, bare skin. You succeed in freeing him from his shirt and he tosses it up and over the camera.

“You want them to think we’re having sex?” you ask.

“Don’t you? It plays right into your whole ‘save the mission with bonobo sex’ plan.” He zips his jumpsuit back up as he turns around.

“I suppose.” Though the plan was also supposed to be that there would be no more secrets between the crew. “What plan of yours does it play into?”

“The one where Jimin doesn’t realize I’m in love with him.”

Of course, Taehyung is in love with Jimin. That makes so much more sense. They’ve been so close for so long. And Taehyung has always paid very close attention to anything going on with Jimin. “You’ve never tried to tell him?”

Taehyung laughs wryly and shakes his head. “How would that conversation go? Hey man, I know we’ve known each other for years and I’ve already seen you naked and that you just think of me as a friend, but I’m in love with you. I know that’s awkward but now you have to spend the next twelve years with me, knowing that I’m attracted to you when you don’t feel the same way.” Taehyung sighs. “Doesn’t sound like a good plan to me. If he doesn’t feel the same way, I’ve ruined the friendship for nothing and then I don’t even have that.”

“Yeah… I get that.”  There’s something touching about realizing that Taehyung has been fighting the same battle as you for the last two years.

“I couldn’t tell anyone before launch because what if they wouldn’t let me go then? You know?”

“Yeah, the director wasn’t big on sending anyone who might ‘complicate’ the mission.” The two of you share a sad knowing smile.

“Yeah… And I thought it would be fine, you know? I like women too. I’d just date women until launch and no one would know. I wasn’t planning on falling in love with my roommate.”

“I don’t think any of us knew what this would be like.”

“I knew it was going to be a problem. I should have pulled out…” he continues.

Your mind flashes back to your own moment of doubt when Hoseok talked you into still coming on the mission.

Taehyung sighs and leans against the ice drill. “But I couldn’t just let him go off into space without me. Even if he’d never feel the same way, at least he’d still be in my life.”

The emotion in Taehyung’s words makes your eyes begin to mist. “You really love him.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung sighs again. “But he’s in love with you.”

“Well, he thinks he is.”

“What does that mean?”

“He only feels that way about me cause he thinks I’m the only option.”  Maybe he would feel differently if he knew about Taehyung’s feelings.

Taehyung frowns and shakes his head. “You don’t give him enough credit.”

“Oh come on, you know him. How many women did he date while we were in training?”

“A few…”

“And how many of them was he in love with before he found the next one?”  

Taehyung purses his lips. He can’t argue with that. “So why are you with him then, if you don’t think it’s real?”

You shrug, rubbing your arm. “I like him. Lord knows he’s attractive. And he wants me. It’s nice to feel wanted, I guess.”

“You could have that with any man on this ship though...”

You scoff. “They’re all suffering the same delusion. It’s only-available-vagina syndrome. I just want us all to fuck and get it out in the open. Maybe if we could get it out of our system, they would see I’m nothing special. And then we can get back to the mission.”

Taehyung eyes you up and down. “You don’t give yourself enough credit either.”

You shrug. “You wait and see. Jimin will get bored of me. They all will.”

Taehyung pulls his tablet back out of his pocket. “Do you really think that if everyone just like, banged it out, that it would help morale?”

“Well, it certainly couldn’t get any worse.”

“And Jimin thinks I’m in love with you?” He reopens the HR form and stares at it.

You nod.

“What if I signed this? And we let him think that for a little longer? Just until I figure out how to tell him the truth?

“Like we’d pretend the two of us are involved?” Maybe that would help you get the other men on board with your plan.

Taehyung nods. “Would that be okay?”

“Yeah, that would work.”

Taehyung smiles and signs the bottom of the form, then sends it to you. “Thank you,” he says before he leaves you to resume your workout.

______

Other than Taehyung, no one else approaches you over the next few days. If anything, the crew seems to be treating you more professionally than they did before you announced your plan to fuck them all. You have signed forms from Jimin and Taehyung and have been rejected by Namjoon and Hoseok, but you’ve heard nothing either way from the other three. What are they waiting for?

By the time you reach the end of the Monday morning weekly meeting, you’ve had enough waiting.

Namjoon finishes his debrief of the week’s goals and claps his hands. “Anyone have anything else mission related we need to discuss?”

“My period is over,” you announce to your assembled crew.

A muscle pulses in Namjoon’s jaw. “Officer, I wouldn’t consider that mission-related.”

You cross your arms and lean back in your chair. “Just freely sharing information.”

“Already?” Jungkook asks. “I thought you said it would take a week.”

“No, finished this morning. It varies a bit from cycle to cycle.” you answer. Hoseok’s leg begins aggressively bouncing up and down next to you, but you press on. “I need to make a schedule. So I need to know who’s in and who’s out.”

“Ooh, what if you shared out your tracker info so we’re all on the same page.” Taehyung enthuses.

Yoongi scoffs. “Why don’t we just add it to our mission task list then?”

“I’m not clear on why menstruating means we can’t have sex,” Jimin interjects.

“Enough!” Namjoon regains everyone’s attention. “We need clear boundaries between what is personal and what is professional. Right now, you all have jobs to do. Dismissed.”

________

By the time you finish your chores for the day, you have convinced yourself that getting the rest of the team on board is essential to your successful completion of the mission. So you go in search of Yoongi.

You find him in his workshop. Pieces of an air filter are spread out on the workbench and he’s in the middle of cleaning it. You had forgotten that is the actual purpose of the workbench. So much for climbing on top of it and seducing him that way.

He looks up when you enter and you decide to cut to the chase. “I haven’t gotten your HR form yet.”

“Yeah…” He goes back to inspecting the clogged tube in front of him.

“You said you wanted to sign one with me.”

“I did say that, yes.”

“And now you don’t?” You thought if anyone was going to be supportive of the plan, it would be Yoongi.

He sets down the part he had been inspecting. “Have you really thought this through?”

“Yes!” You put your hands on your hips. “I made a whole powerpoint! With sources!!”

“I think it's a bad plan.” He picks up another long tube full of dust and threads a brush through it.

“I thought you’d be onboard with this plan. You said if I was fucking everyone, there’s no need for jealousy.”

“Yeah, well, I was wrong.” He sets the tube down and turns around to look at you directly. “ Is that really what you want?”

Why is he questioning you now? He was the one who put this whole idea in your head. He was the one who knew all your fantasies. “But you said…"

“I know what I said.” He begins pacing back and forth in front of the workbench. “But there’s a difference between a fantasy and a reality. You really want to have sex with a different man every day for 12 years on some kind of rotating daily schedule? Like how we water the crops?”

“You’re mad there’s a schedule?” You try to come closer to him, but he backs away from you, turning back to the air filter.

“Sexual desire doesn’t run on a clock, you know,” he says as he starts to pack up the equipment. “What if you’re not feeling it that day? What if they’re not?”

“I’m just trying to be fair to everyone.”

“But nobody actually gets what they want!” He throws his hands up in exasperation.

“And what do you want, Yoongi?”

He pauses, then deflates, dropping his hands to his sides. “Nevermind, forget about it.” He grabs a wet wipe off the shelf and begins cleaning the dust of his hands, not looking at you.

“No!” He’s the one who has been egging you on this whole time. “You were the one who was all ‘you have to fuck Jimin to save the mission’. You said you didn’t care if I fucked Jimin too. What do you want from me, Min Yoongi?”

“I’m going to go get some dinner.” He mutters, throwing the dirty wipe in the trash and turning to leave.

Oh no. He’s not going to escape you that easily. You need some straight answers. “You started all this, Yoongi! You said every man on this ship wanted to fuck me and none of them do! What was that?” You follow him down the hall toward the kitchen.

He stops and turns around in the middle of the hall. “This isn’t all on me! You made choices too!”

“Because of what I thought you wanted!” you yell back. “What is your deal? First you want me to fuck you, then you dont. Then you want me to fuck everyone and then you don’t. What do you want from me?” Your voice is echoing down the hallway but you are way past caring about it.

Yoongi opens and closes his mouth, then spins back around and heads for the kitchen, with you trailing behind him.

Jungkook is sitting at the kitchen table with a bowl of ramen. He looks up, startled as the two of you barge in.

“And what about you?” You fire the question at your youngest crew member. “Don’t you want to fuck me?”

The poor boy nearly chokes on his noodles. “I, um…” He swallows, wide eyes glancing between you and Yoongi.

You lean against the table next to Jungkook as Yoongi steps around the two of you to head for the pantry, but you see his fist clench as he walks by. You lean closer to Jungkook. “Didn’t you enjoy my video? Don’t you want to see the real thing?”

“Uh...” Jungkook glances at Yoongi again. “Maybe the two of you should talk this out…”

Yoongi’s hands tremble, but he doesn’t turn around, intent on starting the rice cooker. You turn your focus to Jungkook instead. “This isn’t about him. Whatever the flight engineer wants to do is up to him. He knows where I stand. This is about you and I.”  You are going to get a man on this ship to fuck you. Today.

“It’s not like I’m not interested…” Jungkook’s knee bounces up and down rapidly as he watches you. “But I told you I was in love with you and you literally had a panic attack.”

Oh right. That was back when you thought you still had a shot of stopping all this. Before half your crew had seen you naked. Before all of them had heard you having sex. Before you’d announced that you wanted all of them to fuck you. But you can still control this, if you can get them onboard with your plan.

Your tablet buzzes in your pocket. You pull it out to give yourself a moment to think. There’s a message from Jin.

Hey, come find me when you get this and we can talk. I’ll be in the kitchen.

You brace yourself for yet another rejection note. But you click on the attachment to instead find your HR form, Kim Seokjin’s signature scrawled right next to yours.

Holy shit. He signed it. Under no false pretenses. What do you do now?

“What is it?” Jungkook asks.  

But then Jin appears in the doorway. He startles when he sees you. “Oh! I thought you’d still be on shift.”

You shake your head. “You signed the form.”

“What? He did?” Jungkook asks.

“Oh, um, yeah,” Jin answers, laughing nervously. “That’s what you wanted right?”

“Yes, that’s what I wanted.” You stand up and move closer to your pilot. Jungkook crosses his arms. Yoongi finally turns around to observe the three of you.

Jin. Jin with his broad-shoulders and plump lips. Your friend. Your very handsome friend. He’s going to help you save the mission.

“You’re the first one I’ve gotten, so you can go first.”

“Wait, what?” Jin stammers. “But you and the commander?”

You shake your head. “He didn’t sign.”

“You and Taehyung though? I saw him take off his shirt and then cover the camera.”

“Oh right… sorry… I guess you’re the second one. But Tae’s still on shift.”

“Don’t forget about Jimin.” Yoongi helpfully chimes in.

Jin takes a step backward. “But I thought for sure these two…” He gestures at the other two men in the kitchen.

“Nope,” you move toward him. “Not yet.” You suddenly see a way to get them all on board at once.

“Oh, well, um...” His ears are bright red. “Maybe we can talk more about this after dinner?”

“That’s one option…” You lick your lips and find the top of your zipper with your hand, blushing as the next part of your plan unfolds in your mind. “Or you could fuck me now.”

“What?”

“Holy shit.” Jungkook mutters beside you.

Jin dives around you, moving toward the other side of the kitchen. “There are people eating here!”

“Nothing they haven’t seen before.” You begin unzipping your jumpsuit in what you hope is a seductive manner, rolling your hips as you follow him across the kitchen. You have both Jungkook and Yoongi’s rapt attention.

You take a cue from Taehyung and peel off your tank top, throwing it over the camera behind you, leaving you in a bra and the bottom half of your jumpsuit. “Though if these two are going to stay and watch, they better sign the forms as well.”

“Stay and watch?” Jin swallows, hands clenched at his sides.

You grab the waist of your jumpsuit, teasing it down just slightly as you make direct eye contact with Jungkook and then Yoongi. “What do you think boys? In or out?”

Jungkook lunges for his tablet. A satisfying ping on your own tablet confirms that this plan is working. Yoongi just crosses his arms and leans back against the counter.

You drop the jumpsuit, leaving you in nothing but your bra and underwear. You prop yourself up on the kitchen table next to Jungkook’s now cold bowl of ramen.

“What are you doing?” Jin asks, whole face beginning to turn red.

“Look…” You shimmy out of your bra straps so that your bra is only held in place by your hand. “I’m going to need you to fuck me right here on this table, Kim Seokjin. For the good of the mission.”

“Why does putting your bare ass on the surface where we eat help the mission?!”

“No more secrets. No more jealousy. Everything will be out in the open. Like the bonobos do.”

Your fingers tease at the clasp of your bra. All three men stare at you. You lock eyes with Yoongi, daring him to look away. Implement with full commitment. You drop your bra to the floor.

“Stop, stop!” Jin moves toward you as you slide your fingers into the band of your underwear. “Just hang on for one second.” He picks up your jumpsuit from the floor and comes closer, draping it around your shoulders in an attempt to cover you. “Look at me.” He grasps your chin and turns your gaze to meet his. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

You lick your lips. “Yes.”

He kisses you, hard. It’s aggressive, urgent even. His hands are on your shoulders, then sliding down your back, pulling you toward him. Your eyes close as you momentarily lose yourself in it. Despite you begging him for it, it still surprises you how insistent he is. His hands keep sliding down your back, until they reach your buttocks, running over the thin cotton of your underwear and scooping you into his arms. You wrap your arms around his shoulders for balance, and then he is lifting off the table.

He breaks out of the kiss to pick you up even higher and then proceeds to throw you over his shoulder.

“Jin! What are you doing?” You kick your feet into the air.

“I am a man, not an ape,” he says, picking up your jumpsuit and bra and tossing them over his other shoulder.  “And if I’m going to fuck you, it’s going to be in the privacy of my own sleep pod, where the only man enjoying it is me.”

He hauls you ass first out into the hallway, with Jungkook and Yoongi both watching wide-eyed as you are carried away.

“I can walk,” you argue as Jin turns for the sleep pods.

“Nope,” replies Jin, readjusting you on his shoulder before carrying you down the hall.

As you reach the junction to the bridge, your ass runs into something warm and firm.

“What the-” says Namjoon. Your whole body flushes hot as you realize you’ve run butt-first into your commanding officer.

“Shit, sorry commander.” Jin laughs. “Excuse us,” Jin says and continues down the hallway, not setting you down or stopping.

Namjoon has pressed himself up against the wall with his hands in the air, a look of shock on his face. He looks like he is about to say something, but then Jin reaches his sleep pod and sets you down inside and you can’t see the commander anymore.

“Well, that was the best thing that has happened in a long time.” Jin chuckles as he closes the door. “The looks on Namjoon’s and Jungkook’s faces will power me for a year. You okay?” he asks, handing your bra and jumpsuit. “For the record, I’m not expecting anything else to happen here.”

“You don’t want to do anything else?” You hold up your jumpsuit to cover yourself, more disappointed than you would like to admit.

Jin eyes you up and down. “I mean… I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested, but that wasn’t my intention in bringing you here.”

“You hauled me half-naked to your bedroom and your intention wasn’t to have sex?”

“I know, I am such a gentleman, aren’t I?” He laughs, then shrugs. “Seemed like maybe you needed an out. Things were getting kind of crazy back there.”

“But you signed the form? Doesn’t that imply a sexual relationship?”

“I guess I’m not really a ‘sex in front of two other men before we’ve even been on a date’ kind of guy.”

“How about a ‘sex in the sleep pods’ kind of guy?”

“Are you even actually interested in me?” Jin asks, getting more serious. “Because none of what happened in the kitchen felt like it was about me. I don’t want to be some pawn in your plot to make Yoongi jealous.”

“It’s not about Yoongi!” You groan. “Why does everyone think this is about Yoongi?”

“Have you seen the two of you interact recently? There are some seriously repressed feelings going on there.”

You bang your head into the door of the sleep pod in frustration, before looking up at him. “You’re a very attractive man. Maybe I have feelings for you?”

He sighs. “Yeah, but you don’t. You can’t swap us out for each other.”

Shit. The way you’ve been treating the men is exactly how you feared they would treat you. While you fear being wanted because you’re the only woman, you’ve made all the men on the ship feel as though you think them interchangeable simply because they’re men.

“It never occurred to me that any of you would have real feelings for me.”

“Well, you are very dumb.”

“Hey…” You hit him gently on the chest. He catches your hand in his.

“Amazing they would trust such a crucial mission to someone who is so very stupid,” he teases, still holding your hand.

“I’m not this stupid about mission related stuff, just all this relationship crap.” You laugh softly.

“So tragic. Someone with so much training ought to have better sense.”

He squeezes your hand and you look into his eyes again. He smiles a soft reassuring smile and for the first time in weeks, you feel like maybe everything will be okay again at some point in the future.

“You’re a good man, Kim Seokjin.”

“Best man on the ship.” He chuckles.

“Kiss me again.”

He arches his eyebrows. “Why?”

“Because I want you to.”

“Are you sure?”

“Look there’s no one else here right? This is only about you. I want you.”

He kisses you again, tenderly this time. His warm arms wrap around and you realize you’re still naked except for your underwear. You curl into his embrace. He smells good, warm and manly, like good cologne. You run your hands over his muscular shoulders that you can feel through his clothes. It’s slow and leisurely, like you’re savoring each other.

“You sure you’re not a ‘sex in the sleep pods’ kind of guy?” You tease as you slide your thigh in between his legs and feel his erection pressing against you.

He groans, resting his head on your shoulder as you grind against him. “I’d like to think of myself as more of a ‘sex in the sleep pods after the third date’ kind of guy.”

You pause and look up at him surprised. “You want to go on a date?”

He nods. “At least three of them, in fact.”

You smile. “That would be nice. I’d like that.”

He kisses you behind your ear. “So are Mondays my day then? Can I take you on a date next Monday?”

You gasp as he rolls his hips against you, the heat of him seeping through his clothes. “That’s a long time to wait, especially if you’re going to make me wait through three of them.”

“I’m sure we can find other ways to entertain ourselves.” He cups your naked breast in his hand, massaging gently.

“Is there anything in particular you want to do today?” You palm his erection through his pants and he gasps.

“Stop that, you temptress…” He grits his teeth. “I’m trying to be a gentleman.”

“Aww, come on, there must be something I can do for you.”

“Well…” He bites his lip. “I will admit that I am awfully curious what was on that video that got five of my crew members suspended.”

“I could show you.” You start to shimmy down your underwear. “But there was no touching in the video.”

He kisses you one last time on the cheek, before pulling away and pressing himself into the opposite wall of the sleep pod. “Okay, show me. I’ll be good.” He puts his hands up by his head in mock innocence.

You finish removing your underwear, spreading your legs apart as best you can. You trail a hand down between your legs, finding yourself wet already. “It was me masturbating.” You tease around your clit without touching it directly.

He groans, hips kicking forward as he stays up against the wall. “Show me.”

“Well, first I took my fingers and sucked on them.” You narrate your actions as you wet your fingers. “Then I touched my nipples.” Your nipples harden before you’ve even touched them, but you continue to tease them for his benefit.

His eyes dart back and forth between your face, your breasts, and your spread legs, as if he can’t decide where he wants to look first. He licks his lips like a man starving. “Keep going.”

“I’m very wet.” You continue your narration as he clenches his fists. You run your fingers through your wet folds, then hold them up to show him. His hips buck again as he groans, still fully dressed and pressed to the wall. “And then I touched my clitoris.” It’s your turn to moan as you finally touch your swollen pleasure center, stroking slowly and keeping your eyes fixed on Jin.

“Goddamn…” He drops to his knees, hands resting at his sides, eyes fixed on your hand as it strokes around your clit.

“Do you wish it was your fingers right now, instead of mine?” you ask.

He nods, tongue darting out of the corner of his mouth. He begins inching toward you on his knees. “Do you think… maybe…?”

“I thought we said no touching,” you tease when he gets to your feet, his head level with your hand, eyes fixed on your wet cunt as you continue to touch yourself.

“I just…” His eyes flick up to meet yours. “I want to smell you.” A pulse of arousal rocks through you at how eager he is. You nod. He moves his nose right over your pubic mound and inhales a long slow savoring breath, tickling your hairs.

“Ah…” He releases a long, loud satisfied moan. His knuckles turn white, but his face is relaxed. “You smell amazing.” He inches even closer, just millimeters separating you from his face and inhales again.

“Oh shit.” You feel the pleasure skyrocketing as your orgasm catches you off guard. You grab him by the back of the head to stabilize yourself and his nose bumps firmly against your clit.

He groans again, loudly right against you as he grinds his nose into you, letting you ride his face as your orgasm washes over you. You thread your fingers through his hair to hold him in place. He wraps his hands around the back of your thighs to press himself into you harder. You cry out as waves of muscle contraction course through you over and over.

“Fuck…” you both say in unison as you collapse back against the door. Your eyes meet and you both start laughing. He places a light kiss right below your belly button before he gets up.

“Well, I see why that was worth getting suspended for,” he says, unzipping his jumpsuit and using the bottom of his shirt to wipe his face.

“And you didn’t even come yet.” You slide your underwear back up, wondering if he would consider a blowjob to be a step too far before your first date.

“Um, actually…” he gestures down at his crotch and the new wet spot you find there makes your pelvic muscles clench.

“You came in your pants? Over me?”

Jin laughs. “God, you have no idea how sexy you are, do you?” He picks up your clothing off the floor, before kissing you softly on the forehead. “I will have a hard time waiting for Monday.”

“Me too.” You mutter and get a sudden sinking feeling. You don’t want this to be over right now. You want to stay here with him, to cuddle and be held by him, but you have made this very clear to everyone involved that these dalliances are not relationships. It’s just sex. And now the sex is over. Until next week.

You slip back into your clothes and give him one last kiss. You tablet pings as you head out into the hallway and you fish it out of your pocket.

Yoongi: Okay, I’m in.

Below his message is his signed HR form. A swell of smug satisfaction makes you smile as you cross the hall and climb into your own pod. You open up a group message for the five men whose signed forms you now have in your possession and type out the following:

Mondays: Jin

Tuesdays: Jungkook

Wednesdays: Taehyung

Thursdays: Jimin

Fridays: Yoongi

“Saturday and Sunday to be determined,” you whisper to yourself as you hit send.

____

Next part

[live-the-fangirl-life]

The Taste of Your Lips

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn - Surprise Kisses

Who enjoys kissing Rowan more? Aelin, or Fleetfoot?

Written for Rowaelin Month 2021. Day 11: Surprise Kisses

Masterlist | Read on Ao3 | Rowaelin Month Masterlist

Warnings: Language, Light NSFW

855 words

*******

Rowan was lying in bed, his head propped up on the mound of pillows Aelin insisted they own. He'd long ago begrudgingly admitted that they made the room look nice, even if the sheer number of pillows always seemed to mock him whenever he had to remake the bed. Right now, however, the pillows were serving the wonderful purpose of being cloud-like cushioning as Aelin lay on top of him.

She had one leg on either side of his hips, effectively straddling him as she leaned forward to press her chest against his while she wove her fingers through his hair, pulling deliciously whenever his hands roamed somewhere she liked.

Rowan wasn’t sure how long they’d been like that, all he knew was the taste of Aelin’s mouth, the feel of her body pressed into his, and the sound of her soft moans as he palmed her ass.

He loved lazy mornings like this, just relishing in the presence of each other.

There were times when they’d stumble into their room, barely able to shut the door before their clothes littered the floor and Rowan was pushing into her, savoring the moan Aelin never failed to let out at his first sheathing.

There were times when they’d tease each other so thoroughly while out in public—little touches and looks that worked the other up so much they had to sneak away to a secluded closet, or corner, or that one time when they’d joined the mile-high club, much to Aelin’s delight. And his.

There were times when they would look into the other’s eyes with such love and trust that no words were needed. Those nights could last hours, with slow, deliberate strokes that sent them both careening over the edge into bliss together.

Rowan loved all of those instances. But something about this, about simply lying together without a care, kissing languidly—lazily—was something he truly loved. It always reminded him that he and Aelin had all the time in the world.

He couldn’t even remember what they’d been doing before this.

Her tongue glided back into his mouth, curling around his, and causing him to groan and flex his fingers against the soft swell of her ass.

“Aelin,” he murmured into her mouth and he thought he could feel her smiling.

Her kisses became more insistent, more sloppy.

“Rowan,” he heard her say.

He didn’t think he felt her lips form his name, but he was too focused on the feel of her body beneath his hands.

“Fireheart,” he moaned again as he felt her weight press even further into him as her tongue began flicking in his mouth.

“Rowan.” her voice was sharper this time.

Rowan’s hands froze because he knew that he hadn’t felt her lips move from his despite hearing her call his name.

“Rowan!”

With a jolt, his eyes flew open, and instantly sought out the voice of his fiancé. The woman was leaning against the doorframe, her bright turquoise and golden eyes looking far too amused.

Wait. The doorframe?

Rowan felt a tongue lick up his face and he sputtered as he looked down to see Fleetfoot laying on top of him.

“What the—”

He was interrupted as Fleetfoot continued to pepper kisses over his face.

“Argh! Get off,” he grumbled, carefully pushing the dog off of him and onto the ground so he could roll over and scrub a hand down his face, trying his best to wipe away the slobber.

“You know, Buzzard,” Aelin teased, “I feel like I should be offended that you thought a dog’s slobbery kisses were mine.”

Rowan groaned, he knew Aelin wasn’t to let this go easily. She would laugh and remember it for blackmail the next time they were arguing over a movie. Or she’d outright tell their friends and enjoy the flustered, embarrassed look on his face, knowing all the while he'd be planning how to get her back for it. Thoroughly.

“Aelin, please—”

She threw her head back and laughed. “When I heard you moaning my name I really didn’t expect you to be cheating on me with Fleetfoot.” She gasped mockingly.

Rowan dropped back onto the bed, refusing to meet her eyes as he felt his face heat.

“Oh don’t be too embarrassed,” she smirked, walking over to him, “it sounded like a very good dream.”

He leveled a glare at her when he saw the amused twinkle still in her eyes. “Not funny, Aelin.”

Rowan was startled as Aelin suddenly moved to straddle him, just as dream-Aelin had been. His hands instantly found her waist as she leaned forwards to whisper into his ear, “Why don’t you show me?”

All his embarrassment dissipated and he tightened his grip, pulling her flush against him, savoring the way her breath hitched at the sudden movement. Smirking, he brought his mouth a hairsbreadth away from hers.

“It’d be my pleasure.”

She winked. "Hopefully it'll be mine."

He chuckled darkly at the squeal she let out as he flipped them over to hover above her. He smirked before dipping his head and begun bringing his dream to life.

*****

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