#but decided against it at the last second

[traveler-at-heart]

Hot and Cold

Summary: Natasha's playing with fire when a new resident joins the Compound.

A/N: Queen of Angst @esposadejoyhuerta asked for the fluffiest, sweetest, tooth rotting story ever and I was happy to deliver, even after they changed their request to inclue jealousy BECAUSE no one can stop me. Love ya, baby!

Another day, another mission. Since last week’s mess, it seems like Fury’s been finding ways to torture the team.

Yes, at the end they were able to retrieve the drive with the data of over twenty enhanced individuals. But so did HYDRA. And now the Avengers are on a race against time to locate them before the Russians do.

Natasha walks to Fury’s office, not excited at the prospect of risking her life to recruit people who didn’t really want to be found.

“Yes?” she says as soon as Fury turns around. He hands over a very heavy binder. “Is this their criminal record?”

Great, a weirdo with a troubled past. Natasha might not make it out alive.

“No, that’s their academic stuff. She’s a scientist. Crazy smart” Fury explains. “Have you heard of Bio-Thermokinesis?”

“No, not really”

“The ability to manipulate the body temperature of oneself and/or others” he recites, having learned the concept just now.

“That doesn’t sound so bad” Natasha says, closing the folder. It’s certainly better than the last few people she had to chase down.

“Yeah, until she induces a heat stroke or hypothermia” Fury scoffs. “We’ve been failing at recruiting these people. It would be nice to have a win. Plus, she could work in the lab with Banner and Stark”

“I don’t think Nerd Club is worth one’s freedom” Natasha mutters, skimming through the file.

“Well, either way, this mission doesn’t requires strenght. It requires charm. You up for it or should I send Hill?”

As Natasha gets to the picture of the target, she looks up.

“I’ll handle it”

—

As usual, you’re carrying more than you can possibly handle. Books, your laptop, a sandwich from the cafeteria, and correspondence from the main office.

By the time you manage to open the door to your office, half of the things in your arms are dangerously close to scattering across the hardwood floor.

“Oh, shit” you mutter when your keys drop.

“Need a hand?” a voice says and you jump back, the rest of your stuff flying across the room. 

“Uh… can I help you?” you say, because the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen is perched up on your desk, legs crossed and a playful smirk across her striking features.

“Are you Doctor Y/L/N?”

“Yes. How did you…? I’m pretty sure the door was locked” 

Is she a thief? You have absolutely nothing of value, at least not for a conventional burglar. You run every possibility in your mind and then you land on your second least favorite one.

Natasha notices the room getting warmer, probably because of how flustered you got. The file seems accurate regarding your power.

“AC broke down?” she asks innocently, undoing the top button of her shirt.

“Uh… I… I’ll open the window” you say, pushing it and leaning against the window pain. You consider jumping down to escape, but it’s a considerable height. You take a breath, deciding to face the matter head on. “So, which agency sent you?”

“Ever heard of S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

“Yes, that was my first guess” you admit with a sad smile. “What can I do for you, Agent…?”

“Call me Natasha” she says, hopping off the desk. “I’m afraid I am the bearer of bad news… and a generous offer”

“Mmm” you nod, fixing your glasses. 

“A tactical team was sent to stop the purchase of confidential information for 30 enhanced individuals. We were able to obtain it… and so did HYDRA”

“Listen” you raise your hand, taking off your glasses and pinching the bridge of your nose. “I get it. HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D. know about me. The thing is, my power isn’t something you can leverage in a fight. I doubt they’ll be very interested in me”

“I think you’re wrong. And it’s not just your ability. Your expertise in science and your genetic makeup can be used to experiment”

“So, is that what S.H.I.E.L.D. wants to do with me?” you sigh, looking out the window. You’re enjoying the view, vaguely aware that life as you know it is over.

“We want to offer you shelter at the Avengers Compound. 24 hour security, top facilities and technology. You can continue your research” Natasha says, trying to make it sound like a great deal.

It brings her back to that time Fury told her it was either work for the US government or end up in the Raft.

Your offer is slightly better, but a golden prison is still a prison.

“Are there any questions I can answer before you make a decision?” she offers with a kinder tone.

“Yeah. Do I even have a choice?”

—

Academic life is all you’ve ever known. Grants were the perfect way to do your research without having to look for a benefactor and expose yourself. You could learn things about your DNA, your abilities, while doing other stuff without anyone noticing.

Now, you wake up and there’s nothing that drives you. You live with people who have exceptional skills, physical prowess, and military training. Their world is avenging, your world is scientific papers and books.

Sure, their lab is nice, but most of the times you end up leaving early, completely unmotivated and feeling empty. 

Natasha watches from afar, and although this isn’t her doing, she feels responsible. She tries to include you in activities she understands, like training, but you’re very obviously not the athletic kind.

Banner is, as usual, isolating himself and Tony speaks nerd, but is barely around unless a mission requires his presence. 

It isn’t until one day that Peter shows up to the Compound that Natasha gets an idea.

“Hi, Miss Romanoff. Is Mister Stark around?” he asks in that shy tone he always uses when he’s around Natasha.

“Nope, not to my knowledge. Do you need anything?” 

“FRIDAY told me to meet him here. He must have forgotten. I guess I better get back to my Biochem project”

Wait a minute.

He’s a nerd.

“Stay” she says, looking him up and down. Peter reminds her of a puppy when he stops completely, as if he learned a new command. “Wait for Tony at the lab. I’ll try to find him”

“You’re sure? I’m not allowed inside by myself” he hesitates, following Natasha.

“Yeah, it’s fine” she types in the access code, and of course, there you are, spinning in your chair.

As soon as you hear the door opening, you stop your movements, almost falling off.

Natasha finds your blush adorable.

“Hey, Y/N. This is Peter. He’ll be around waiting for Tony”

“Oh, hey. Ok, I was just leaving. I’m kinda stuck either way”

“Ordinary Differential Equations?” Peter says as soon as he gets his eyes on your board.

“Yes. Very impressive” you nod. “This is focused on genetic network. I’m trying to determine inborn errors of metabolism”

“Oh, you know? There’s a brilliant Doctor who’s working on that, maybe her paper would be great for you. She’s Y/N Y/L/N”

“Yeah, that’s me” you say, tapping your chin and examining the board. “What is your ability? If you have any? Maybe I can use a different set of data”

“Yes! I would love to, what do you need from me?” Peter says, a little starstruck at finding out you’re one of the most prestigious researchers in the world. 

“For now, a blood sample” you wink at him, adjusting your glasses.

Natasha sits in the back of the lab as you and Peter work together, and you explain every concept to him. This is the first time since you arrived that you don’t look so miserable.

The Russian takes it as a small win when you join her in the common area for dinner.

--

Since Peter found out about your abilities and your permanent stay at the Compound, you’ve been advising him on his project and college applications. Which is a really nice distraction, but it also makes you miss your own college days.

So, even if you’re in a better mood, it’s still hard to socialize with the team.

One day, you enter the lab to find Rogers, Wilson and Barnes looking at a screen, while Natasha types.

“Whoever encrypted this is slightly smarter than me. Only slightly” 

They look away as you drag a chair to focus on your own stuff, a cup of coffee in your hand and a cookie in your mouth.

“Hi…” you wave at them, feeling intimidated as usual.

“Hey, weather girl” Sam winks at you. 

Natasha rolls her eyes and elbows him.

“Ignore him, Y/N”

You can tell she’s getting frustrated, so you inch closer, looking at the code over her shoulder. Placing your hand on her elbow, you silently ask for permission to take over.

The redhead eyes you curiously, but stops typing and moves the keyboard your way. It takes you twenty seconds to hack into the files.

“How…?”

“I used to hack into databases to make sure my name wasn’t on any watchlist” you explain casually. Natasha laughs at that. “Anyway, there you go”

“Thanks, Y/N. You’re my hero” Natasha says, smiling up at you. Her tone makes you blush and you nod, going back to your desk.

“Nice work. We could use your help if you’re free some other time” Steve says as they leave the lab.

“Of course, Capitan” 

��

An intruder changes your mind about training. The threat is handled swiftly and you don’t even have time to hide before F.R.I.D.A.Y. confirms the suspect has been taken into custody

But you don’t even know how to begin to defend yourself, so you come back to Natasha, asking if her offer still stands.

Needless to say, the spy is more than happy to train you. Not just because it means you’re comfortable asking for things, but because Natasha can teach you something that will help you protect yourself.

You start with two sessions per week, which later turns to four, until you’re comfortable with training almost daily.

The rest of the team joins from time to time, giving you advice and helping you when Natasha’s away on missions.

After a few weeks, Natasha notices how your resistance is better and you’re building some muscle.

Only as a professional observation. It’s not like she finds you attractive, with that nerdy charm and toned arms.

One day, as you’re leaving the gym, she checks her bag, cursing when she notices she forgot a change of clothes. 

“Wanna borrow one of my hoodies?” you offer, handing over your NYU sweatshirt.

“You sure?” Natasha hesitates.

“Yeah, I got tons of these. From all the places I’ve done work or research” 

“I’ll give it back” she promises, taking it.

That turns out to be a lie.

A few days later, when you’re folding your laundry, F.R.I.D.A.Y. requests that you join Tony and Banner in the lab. Leaving the basket in the living room, you think nothing of it, nor do you notice that a couple of your sweatshirts are gone.

It all comes to light a week later, when Natasha comes back from a grueling mission. The only thing that will make her feel better is staying in her room while wearing your UCLA hoodie.

She totally forgets about her attire when she answers the door.

“Huh, so that’s where it was” you tilt your head, smiling.

“I…”

“I’m watching a movie, care to join me? It’s one of your favorites” 

“Ok” she nods, surprised that you’re not mad about the stolen sweatshirt. 

Natasha enters your room, appreciating the combination of books, notes and the board with equations. After you apologize for the mess, you offer a place to sit in your bed.

“It looks good on you” you compliment the redhead. Natasha smiles, trying to be nonchalant about it.

“Thank you” 

It becomes a habit, to steal your hoodies.

“Objectively speaking, you don’t actually need them as you can regulate your temperature” Natasha comments one day, digging through your closet. To her shock, she finds a sweatshirt with a sorority logo on it.

“Not mine. A girl I hooked up with in college” you explain.

Natasha rolls her eyes, throwing the garment as far away as possible while pulling a face. You laugh at her reaction.

“Don’t be jealous, Natty. You’re my favorite” you promise, unaware of the effect your words had on her.

“And yet you never let me wear the Harvard one”

“That was my first” you shrug your shoulders.

“First college or first hook up?” Natasha taunts and you laugh.

“A nerd never kisses and tell. Actually, a nerd rarely kisses anyone to being with” you try to joke, pulling out the Harvard sweatshirt from your closet to put it on.

Natasha eyes it, and you catch her intentions a little too late. She inches forward and you stretch your arm back, trying to place the hoodie out of reach.

“Nu-uh” you shake your head, laughing as she keeps trying to steal it. “Natasha, there are like ten other hoodies you  could take!” 

“I want this one!” she insists, jumping. Her body crashes against yours, and you both stumble, falling in your bed. Limbs are tangled and her laugh tickles your ear as she struggles to lift herself up. After a moment, Natasha smiles, looking at your lips. “Gotcha”

You don’t even know what to say, her intense stare making you feel warm -both literally and figuratively - and your heart beats faster when it seems like she’ll lean forward and kiss you.

“Agent Romanoff, there’s an urgent call for you” FRIDAY interrupts the moment. 

Natasha sighs, standing up and looking at you. 

“Catch you later?”

“Yeah” you nod, trying to hide your disappointment.

—

Natasha was gone for a week, and returned with a very bad injury. You heard the news as Steve and Tony were arguing in the kitchen, blaming each other as usual.

“Where…? Is she ok…?” you try to interrupt them, but they’re in the middle of a screaming match.

“Come with me” Maria says, taking you to a whole different wing of the Compound. Since you’ve never been on missions, you didn’t know about the Medbay.

Natasha’s lying in a hospital bed, asleep.

“She’s ok. A guy threw a knife at her, but it was only a superficial stab wound. Doctor said she’ll be discharged tomorrow” Maria eases your nerves. 

Of course, for her it’s easy to say it’s no big deal. Agents are shot, blown up, killed in the field. A little scratch is nothing, especially for Natasha. But you take a deep breath, leaving the Medbay in a rush.

As you lock yourself in the Avenger’s Lab, you make F.R.I.D.A.Y. a simple request.

“Show me the mission’s footage”

—

Natasha’s had worst, truly. But still, her head is throbbing when she wakes up. The doctor discharges her with the instruction to rest for a week. No training either.

The Russian notices a bag with clothes on the chair next to her bed. She finds your Harvard sweatshirt, which puts a tiny smile on her face.

You are nowhere to be found in the Compound when she returns, so she goes to her room to take another nap, the painkillers making her sleepy.

By the time Natasha wakes up to get something to eat, F.R.I.D.A.Y. requests her presence in the lab.

“What is it?” she says, surprised to find you working on a tablet. It looks like you haven’t slept in the last 24 hours, five or six cups of coffee around the various tables in the lab.

“I created a new technology for your suit” you jump right to it. “It has motion sensors that are triggered by incoming threats. That way, if someone tries to sneak up on you, you can either get an alert or program a defense mechanism that can be shot from any part of the suit” 

Natasha takes the tablet, running the simulation. She’s impressed with the level of detail you’ve placed on this and on such short time. She’s about to thank you, but you’re already asleep in the couch of the lab, clearly exhausted from all the work you’ve done.

The sight of your sleeping form makes Natasha’s heart flutter.

—

Movie night is the one tradition you’ve always been on board with. Coincidentally, it’s Natasha’s least favorite. Depending on her mood, she’ll join everyone on the living room, or talk you into watching something else in your room or hers.

Tonight, she stops by once the movie has already started. As usual, you’re on the couch in the far back of the room, your glasses reflecting the screen as you eat some popcorn.

“Hey” Natasha leans over the back of the couch and whispers against your ear, making you jump. Your eyes follow her as she jumps over to plop down next to you.

“You’re not supposed to be doing that with a hole on your side, Natasha” you reprimand. 

“It’s fine” she lies, grabbing some popcorn.

As the movie keeps going, the woman inches closer to you. At first you think she’s settling in her seat, but then her hand spreads on the back of the couch, dangerously close to your neck.

It’s fine. You can handle it.

Nope, you absolutely can’t. Not when you feel Natasha’s nimble fingers playing with the hairs on the back of your neck, her digits alternating between caressing the skin and scratching your scalp.

“You’re hot” she whispers at some point and you turn to look at her, dazed.

“Huh?”

“You feel hot” she clarifies a second later, her eyes looking at your lips. “Is everything ok? Those powers of yours are acting up”

“I’m fine” you nod, looking back at the screen. Aware that you are in fact increasing the temperature in the room, you take a breath and close your eyes, before anyone else notices.

You’re almost back to normal when Natasha stretches and lies across your lap, her left hand squeezing your thigh as the other one begins to trace patterns in your skin.

All while she's wearing your Harvard sweatshirt.

Your only thought is to take it off, along with the rest of her clothes and kiss every inch of her body.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., is the thermostat broken…?” Tony finally snaps, annoyed at the sudden changes in temperature. “Never mind” 

Everyone follows his eyes as he looks to the back of the room, where Natasha is playing dumb while riling you up.

“Can you two find a room to turn into a sauna and spare the rest of us?” Tony says, which makes your eyes widen, and the room practically turns into a freezer. “Great, now we’re all turning into popsicles. Cap, you’re familiar with the feeling, right?”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Tony” Natasha finally stands up, showing you some mercy. “Come on, detka” 

“Uh, ok” you say, your voice barely a whisper as you allow the woman to drag you back to her room.

As soon as the door is shut, she pushes you against it.

“So, tell me” she says with a playful smile. “How hot do you think it will get here?”

You can only shake your head, speechless. Natasha smiles, kissing you softly. All thoughts leave your head, opening your mouth to give her access. You’ll do anything she asks, anything at all.

“I see” she smiles when the room gets hot. “Good thing we won’t have our clothes on” 

It’s the best sex of your life.

So much so, the fire alarm goes off in the entire Compound.

“Fucking worth it” you sigh as you’re both naked in bed, the water from the sprinklers evaporating from all the heat in the room.

[aerynwrites]

Cravings

John Price x Pregnant!Reader

A/N: Based on THIS idea that came to me. This is most likely going to be an on going little interconnected one shot series as I already have other ideas for John and his cute lil' pregnant neighbor. Hope you all enjoy this one! Word Count: 3k Warnings: mentions of pregnancy/being pregnant, fluff, soft john price. Next Part

The ceramic plate feels unusually heavy in your hands, but so does your fist as you bring it up to knock on the door in front of you before dropping it again, internally battling with yourself. 

What the fuck are you doing?

That’s the first thought that runs through your head as you stand stupidly in front of your neighbors door, the smell of…something so tantalizing wafting through from the other side making your mouth water. 

Ah, right - silly pregnancy brain basically forced you from your apartment with a plate in your hand because while you don’t know what your neighbor is cooking it smells so fucking good that you fear you might die if you don’t have some of it. 

It’s silly, you know it is, it’s outrageous really - what were you planning to do? Waltz up to this man's door, knock, and then hold out your plate - “alms for the poor pregnant lady please?”

You sigh, dropping the plate by your side as the thought runs through your mind. You almost turn to walk back to your apartment empty handed, but then a faint memory surfaces for just a moment. Your neighbor isn’t a stranger, and while he isn't quite a friend, either - he’s been kind enough. You actually hadn’t run into him all that often, your first interaction with him being a couple months into your pregnancy actually. 

You’d been grappling with a large box, trying and ultimately failing to get it up the stairs to your second floor apartment, stranding you on the landing between the stairs as you stared up at the last flight. You were leaning against the wall, hand on your slightly rounded belly when you heard John’s door open and close, him appearing around the corner shortly after, surprise coloring his features at the scene before him. 

“Need some help with that?” He asked, a bemused smile on his lips. 

You huffed out a small laugh, giving him a smile of your own. “Only if you’re offering.”

“Well, I’m certainly not going to let you do it by yourself, not in your condition.”

You let out a soft ‘hmph’ at that - hating when people refer to your predicament as a condition. You’re pregnant, not bedridden. 

“Where is your better half anyways?” He’d asked, picking up the box with such little effort it made you jealous, “I outta teach him a thing or two about manners-”

You wave him off, the mention of your baby's father leaving a sour taste in your mouth. 

“Not in the picture,” you say simply, quickly putting an end to the line of questioning.

Your neighbor paused at that, but decided not to push it, staying silent until you reached your door. You unlocked it and told him he could leave the box at the door but he’d insisted on at least putting it inside the apartment. 

“Do you…” he paused for a moment, rubbing his beard chin in thought. “You need help getting it put together?” 

You glance down at the box, it’s just a crib, it’ can’t be that hard.

You give him a warm smile, shaking your head. “You’ve been plenty of help, I should be able to get it from here.”

He nods, turning back towards the door before stopping just past the threshold and holding his hand out towards you. “John Price. I’m over in 2C if you need anything. Don’t hesitate to ask.”

You shake his hand, and smile before he heads back down the stairs. 

John Price…

Your interactions past that had been spread thin - although you did end up asking for his help with the crib - it was in no way a one person job. But other than that…it was just friendly conversations or waves as you passed one another in the hallway or stairs. 

But as you stand here, the smell of food getting stronger and more inviting, his words replay again. 

“Don’t hesitate to ask…”

Fuck it. 

You reach up and knock on his door before you can stop yourself, clutching the plate against your chest as you hear a faint call from inside, and then the smell of whatever the hell he’s cooking is hitting you full force as the door swings open. 

Your name falls from his lips as he looks at you, that slight look of surprise on his face once again as he takes you in on his doorstep. You probably are a sight - leggings, oversized sweatshirt, only in your fuzzy socks and a plate in your hand. 

“Look, I know this is going to sound so stupid,” you begin, rushing to explain yourself. “But I was in my apartment and I started to smell whatever it is that you’re cooking and it just smells so good, and I tried to just make something else but it didn’t seem nearly as appetizing and I just-”

You let out a frustrated huff, holding out your plate in shameful defeat, “Can I just…Can I just have a little of whatever it is that you’re making? because now I’m craving it and I don’t think I will be able to stop thinking about it.”

The silence that follows your request makes you want to shrivel up in embarrassment, but it’s soon washed away as gentle laughter meets your ears. You watch as John has to almost physically support himself on the doorframe as he tries and fails to contain his laughter. Heat rushes to your cheeks, but before you can protest or bite back, he’s stepping back into his apartment, opening the door a bit wider. 

“Why don’t I do you one better and invite you in for dinner?” He says, eyes bright with amusement.

Pulling the plate back to your chest in a mock hug, suddenly unsure. “Are you sure?” You ask, voice small, “I don’t want to intrude.”

He shakes his head, reaching an arm out to guide you inside, “Nonsense, I made too much for one person anyways,” he says, closing the door behind you once you enter. 

“I hope you like Indian food,” he says, moving to slip past you towards the kitchen, “Does spicy food bother you?”

At the mention of Indian food, you can feel yourself practically drooling. You’ve had an affinity for spicy foods as of late, and curry has been your go to. 

“God no,” you practically groan, moving to follow him into the small apartment kitchen, “Spicy food is the one thing I can’t get enough of as of late.”

The kitchen in this apartment is identical to your own. It’s attached right to the living room, separated only by a half wall breakfast bar type set up, so you’re able to watch as John turns his back to you to tend to the food still on the stove. 

There’s a small empty space off to the side of the kitchen and living room - clearly meant to be a small dining area of sorts but John has turned it into a makeshift office. A small desk littered with papers and folders haphazardly stacked together and an open laptop, screensaver up on display. 

“Make yourself at home,” John calls over his shoulder, the soft clinking of dishes accompanying his words, “food’ll be done in a moment.”

Put slightly more at ease by his words, you finally set your plate down on the breakfast bar top, taking a moment to look around the space. 

The living room is sparsely decorated, clearly a man’s apartment - but it’s more than that. It’s utilitarian, almost…cold. You’ve started to notice that John is sometimes gone for long stints of time, maybe that’s why it’s so impersonal, he doesn’t spend much time here. Yet, despite the lack of decor or personal touches, you do notice small things that just scream John - at least from what you know of him. 

The fancy crystal ashtray on the coffee table, half smoked cigar sitting unlit in the well. The half empty glass of dark amber liquid sitting right next to it, condensation pooling on the coaster beneath it. There is a simple leather couch up against the back wall of the living room right across from an entertainment center and TV. Two small bookshelves bracket the entertainment center, and without thinking, your feet carry you over to them. 

They’re filled with books of all sorts - mostly nonfiction - but you catch some classics among the plethora of autobiographies and self-help books. Catcher in The Rye, The Nickel Boys, and Moby Dick, to name a few. But the one that draws your attention the most is one book sitting on the shelf closest to the door, lying face down as if he had been in the middle of reading when he was interrupted by something. 

The Hobbit. 

You smile, turning from the book as you turn to walk back towards his makeshift office space and thus, the kitchen. 

“Didn’t take you as a Tolkien fan, John.”

He turns to look at you as you come to the entrance to the kitchen, giving you a small smile, and a sheepish shrug before turning back to stir the pot.

“One of my coworkers recommended it to me,” he defends, before adding, “although I’ll admit it’s growing on me.”

As he was speaking you turned and took a few more steps into his office space, eyes drawn to the screensaver on the laptop. It’s four men in military gear, arms around each other’s shoulders, and it only takes you a moment to spot John among the bodies. He’s smiling wide in the photo, arm wrapping affectionately around the neck of a dark skinned man to his left, while his other arm is wrapped more casually around another man to his right. This man is also smiling wide, piercing blue eyes crinkled in delight as he seems to be laughing, the sides of his head are shaved and he has a short mohawk. Your eyes finally trail to the last member of the group, who’s one arm is around the man with the mohawk, while his other arm is rested casually atop the rifle hanging around him. But what stands out the most is the stark white skull mask on his face, hiding everything but his dark eyes. 

“You’re in the military?” You ask, moving to stand up straight once more, wincing at the slight twinge in your back as you do so. 

You hear John approach from behind you, footsteps muffled by the carpet as he comes to stand next to you. 

“That I am,” he says, and you don’t miss the way he tucks some papers beneath other folders. Not for your eyes apparently. 

You smile when you look at the picture, “You look happy here,” you say, pointing to the screen.

John nods beside you, smiling fondly again. “It was a good day,” he says simply, shrugging his shoulders, “mission went well for once.”

He reaches out and points to the man on his left, “That’s Gaz,” he moves to the one to his right, “Soap,” he finally moves to the man with the skull mask, “and that’s Ghost.”

You hum, slightly confused by the names, but recalling a faint knowledge of military personnel getting nicknames sometimes. You choose not to question it, instead giving in to your teasing nature as you point to John in the picture. 

“You skipped over the handsome one,” you say, voice teasing. 

You watch in silent triumph as John clears his throat, and if it weren't for his beard, you’re sure you’d see red adorning his cheeks. He waves his hand at you, shaking his head as he chuckles. 

“Oh, come off it,” he chastises lightly, “Dinner’s ready.”

You turn and move towards the kitchen where John already has two plates of butter chicken and rice plated up and ready for you both. You move to help him but he brushes you off with a small ‘tsk’ sound before sliding past you and leading you back into the living room. 

“I hope you’re alright eating at the coffee table,” he says sheepishly, setting the plates down, “Never got around to getting a proper dining room table.”

You smile at him, trying to be reassuring as you take a seat on the couch, “perfectly fine with me. It’s where I eat most of my meals too.”

He seems to relax at that before disappearing back into the kitchen and returning shortly with two glasses of water, setting one in front of you and then his own plate before taking a seat next to you. You wait, not all that patiently for him to get comfortable before you finally dig into the food that started this whole silly debacle, and the moment you do, you can’t stop the groan that slips past your closed lips as you chew. 

It’s fucking amazing.

Better than the Indian restaurant you frequent, and much better than anything you’ve ever tried to cook. The seasoning is perfect, the curry is the right consistency too and it’s just-

“Holy shit, John,” you manage after swallowing another bite of food, taking a sip of your water as he laughs around his own bite. 

“I take it you approve then?” He asks, blue shimmering with amusement. 

You hum happily, taking another bite before replying. “More than approve, this is phenomenal, better than any indian take away I’ve had.”

He smiles at that, “I’ll take the compliment then.”

You nod, now trying to force yourself to slow down and savor the dish in front of you. “As you should.”

It’s quiet for a moment before John reaches for the remote laying on the table. “Fancy anything in particular?”

You think for a moment before shaking your head, “whatever you usually watch is fine.”

He nods, turning the TV on and switching to a streaming service before flicking through the various ‘recently watched’ shows. You can’t stop the way your brow raises when you see The Great British Baking Show among the list. 

“You watch baking shows?” You ask, unable to keep the surprise from your voice. 

John chuckles, looking at you from the corner of his eye, “call it a guilty pleasure,” he jokes before clicking on the most recent episode. 

The rest of the meal passes in an air of comfort, the only sounds at first being the scrape of utensils against plates and the show playing on the TV. Neither of you really notice when you both finish eating and lean back into the couch, eyes glued to the screen and critiques falling from both your mouths. 

“She forgot the fucking eggs!” You cry at the TV, incredulous that one of the contestants forgot a key ingredient in their cake. 

John practically groans beside you, “it’s probably for the best,” he says, cringing slightly as it switches to another baker whose cake is crumbling apart as they try to decorate it. “She tried to pair pickles with a chocolate mousse last episode-”

“She what?” You look at him surprised for a moment before sinking back into the couch. “Wait…that actually might not be that bad-”

This gets another laugh out of the man beside you and you hear him mumble something about ‘weird pregnancy cravings’ before you both go back to watching the show. 

The evening passes much like this, both of you watching a few more episodes before your eyes fall to the clock on your phone, eyes widening at the time. 

“Oh my gosh it’s late,” you say, sitting up straighter, hand falling to your belly when the movement causes a twinge. 

You must make a face because, John is sitting up now too, eyes falling down to where your hand lays. “No need to rush,” he assures you, moving to stand and offer you his hand. “I’m not kicking you out.”

You smile up at him as you take his hand, fighting the heat that rushes to your cheeks, “Well you could have,” you say softly, “I definitely overstayed my welcome.”

The man before you just shakes his head, “none of that now,” he assures you, “If I’d wanted you gone, I would’ve said something. I..” He trails off, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck, “I liked having the company.”

Now you really blush, ducking your head as your hand rubs absentmindedly over your stomach. “I..I liked it too. Nice change of pace. Thank you for inviting me in,” you tug your lip between your teeth before continuing. “I know it was a weird request and you could have turned me away - should have probably but…Thank you.”

You look up then only to see John giving you that warm smile you’ve come to be familiar with, blue eyes crinkling at the corners. 

“Anytime,” he says softly, before he shifts, as if remembering something. “Almost forgot-”

He hurries back to the kitchen, pulling something from the fridge before returning to you. He holds out a Tupperware container, obviously filled with leftovers from dinner. 

“Saved some for you,” he says, urging the container into your hands when you don’t take it immediately.

“John I-” you shake your head, looking down at the container, “You already fed me, I don’t want to take your leftovers too-”

He waves his hand sharply, cutting you off. “I made plenty,” he promises, “I still have some. There was plenty left to give you.”

A small silence falls over you, gratitude and warmth filling your chest with a fuzziness you haven’t felt in a long time. Not since your last relationship, not since you got pregnant. It’s been too long since someone cared for you instead of the other way around, and the simple gesture makes your eyes burn with the threat of tears. 

Not now, pregnancy hormones!

You smile, clothing the container tightly to you before looking up at John again. He still has that soft look on his face, and before you can think better of it, you lean up on your tiptoes to plant a chaste kiss to his cheek. 

“Thank you, John.”

And then you turn and exit his apartment before either of you can find time to feel embarrassed about your actions. 

But, you left so quickly you missed the blush on John’s cheeks, and the way he brought one hand up to touch the spot you kissed. 

Fuck.

He’s a goner. 

[yuzujjn]

✶ CLOSE TO YOU : PARK SUNGHOON ( 日语)

𝖠𝖫𝖳𝖤𝖱𝖭𝖠𝖳𝖨𝖵𝖤𝖫𝖸 ⸝⸝ 𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗅𝖾𝗇 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗎𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌

𝓲 ⦂ 성훈 x f!reader ﹑ 5OOwc. && lots of kissing, petnames, skinship . . . fluff oneshot , slightly childhood friends 2 lovers ── ARCHiVE

DANiELLE : for my @tzyunaes only >//< since she wrote me a hee oneshot HAHA.. yes i'm double posting :0

SUNGHOON'S CHEST RISES AND FALLS IN A STEADY RHYTHM, his face turned toward you as he sleeps. the warm glow of the bedside lamp casts small shadows over his perfect features—long lashes brushing against his cheeks, lips slightly parted, and hair falling messily across his forehead.

you'd been sitting there for the past twenty minutes, just staring.you try to convince yourself to let it go, to not be weird about it. but your fingers are fidgeting with the hem of your hoodie, and your thoughts keep circling back to the same thing.

"just one kiss," you whisper under your breath, voice barely audible. it’s not like he’d know. he’s asleep, and he probably wouldn’t even wake up. besides, you’ve wanted to kiss him for ages, ever since you first met him 10 years ago.

you get up from your spot and inch closer. your knees feel weak when you stop right in front of him. finally, finally, you let your lips brush against his, a featherlight kiss that lasts less than a second.

you freeze, eyes darting to his face, but he doesn’t move. you glance at him, ready to exhale in relief—

but his eyes are open.

you freeze, wide-eyed, as he blinks at you. his voice is low and a little raspy, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “one more, please, pretty girl.”

“what—i thought you were asleep!” you finally manage to say.

“i was,” he murmurs, voice raspy but amused. “but someone decided to steal a kiss from me. didn’t think i’d notice?”

your face feels like it’s on fire. “i wasn't stealing-"

he cuts you off by leaning closer, his hand gently cupping your jaw. “then give me another one, and we’ll call it even.”

you freeze, completely helpless under his gaze, but he doesn’t wait for an answer. his lips meet yours again. his hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

you shove his chest lightly, face burning. “stop teasing me, hoon.”

“can’t help it,” he grins, pressing another quick kiss to the corner of your mouth. “you’re too cute when you’re flustered.”

before you can retaliate, he leans in again, capturing your lips in another soft kiss, his hands trailing to your waist. you lose track of how long you stay like that, kissing each other.

“was that so hard, pretty girl?” he whispers, his smile sleepy but utterly disarming.

you roll your eyes, trying to mask the way your heart is still racing. “you’re unbelievable.”

“says the girl who kissed me first,” he counters, his grin widening.

[tiredeg]

People everywhere sense imminent danger all around. They sense that whatever just happened is the beginning of the savagery, not the end. People abandon their vehicles and begin to flee on foot. They exit buildings, run down stairs and out doors. People in subway trains and on busses, in halted elevator cars, work to pry open emergency exits and doors. They crawl, walk, and run for their lives. The most basic human instinct is to survive.—Annie Jacobsen, Nuclear War: A Scenario

They’re going to die, probably.  

“It was stupid of us to take the elevator,” Oscar says. 

Carlos manages an eye roll back at him. Oscar’s surprised the motion of his eyeballs doesn’t unbalance him, perched as he is on the railing around the edge of the elevator car, calves straining, reaching his phone up towards the emergency lighting strips. As high as possible, as if he can will the texts out of his phone, force the words out of the frozen elevator, up the shaft and out into the sky, send them floating through the air towards the recipients, soaring past the bombs coming the opposite way. 

Oscar’s no expert but he knows enough Spanish to be able to decipher the glimpses he’s managed of the screen. I will be ok. I love you all. Incongruous against the previous message in the thread, a picture of a scrappy white dog asleep on a couch. Oscar had watched Carlos add a heart react to it not two hours ago when they got back to the hotel after FP2. 

God, two hours ago. One hour and fifty minutes before someone told them to check their phones, before the awful silence as they watched the video. A farmer somewhere in California had put it on Facebook, a mushroom cloud blooming over a power plant. It was shared everywhere, Oscar had watched it with Kim, hunched over Twitter, or X, or whatever. The farmer is probably dead now. Facebook certainly is, anyway.

The bomb hit hundreds of miles away from their hotels in Vegas. Not far enough.

Finally, Carlos hops down, collapsing beside Oscar on the floor of the cab. The wall opposite them is a mirror, floor to ceiling, so Oscar doesn’t have to turn his head. It’s easier this way. 

“I think they have gone through,” Carlos blurts out, like he’d wanted to keep quiet but the words forced their way up his throat. “It has the two grey ticks. I think that means it's gone from my phone but I will not get blue ticks without signal.” 

It takes Oscar a second to catch his drift. There’s no way the messages went through. The signal’s been gone for a few minutes, Oscar reckons, about the same time the elevator stopped. Carlos isn’t an idiot, he must know. Oscar knows. 

“I think that’s right,” Oscar says. “They’ll have signal in Spain still, so they’ll have got it.” 

He feels Carlos sag a little at his words. They’re touching from shoulder to knee, something they wouldn’t have risked this morning. Doesn’t matter now. Probably shouldn’t have mattered at the time. 

“How would you go, if you could choose?” Carlos asks.  

Oscar shrugs. “Dunno, never really thought about it.” 

“Don’t be boring, think about it now.” Carlos shoves into him, puts his body weight behind it, but Oscar’s expecting it, can see him decide in the mirror. He braces himself, doesn’t move. Now they’re tangled. Now he can think. 

“I guess I read this book in school. It was nuclear stuff but not bombs, just radiation, so it was really slow. This one girl took her boyfriend’s good car out for one last drive, then floored it off a cliff in the end. I think I’d like that.” 

Carlos doesn’t say anything, just leans his head onto Oscar’s shoulder proper. If they stay like this too long Oscar won’t be able to feel his arm. Maybe that’s how he’d like to go, let Carlos lean on him limb by limb until he can’t feel anything anymore.  

“He was with her? The boyfriend?” Carlos mumbles. 

“Huh?” 

“In the nice car. Was she with her boyfriend?” 

“Oh, well not exactly, he was in a submarine I think, I don’t remember it all. They might not have been boyfriend and girlfriend actually, or maybe they were, I don’t know. They definitely loved each other.” 

“Oh,” Carlos says, “that’s nice.” 

“Yeah. What about you, what way would you go?” 

Oscar watches in the mirror as Carlos looks up at him.  

“I had a different answer but I like yours better, I think.” 

“Copycat. I suppose you can come along.” Oscar shifts, rearranging Carlos’s arms around him. 

“Who would drive?” Carlos asks. 

Oscar wants to be the one who wants to drive. He could take that role, let Carlos hold on as their imaginary car gets closer to the point of no return, make the decision to keep the car pointing forward, his foot to the floor. He could take the wheel, if he had to. 

In the mirror he can see Carlos is still looking at him. He meets his own eyes in the reflection, then lets his head turn, lets himself look for real. 

“I don’t want to drive,” Oscar whispers.

“Okay,” Carlos shrugs, easy. “I’ll do it.” 

The emergency strips go dark. Oscar doesn’t know what that means, why they worked when the power went out or why they’ve stopped now. He’s annoyed at how he expects his eyes to adjust, blinking hard when they don’t as if he can force the nonexistent light into his pupils.  

He can still feel. He’s shaking, he thinks. Carlos’s arms tighten around him, unsteady too. Oscar revises his previous answer, overwhelmingly glad of the elevator; they can’t get lost in here, it’s too small. He doesn’t really know the timeline on these things, maybe it’ll take a day, maybe a few seconds. They’re here for now. 

[prettygirl-gabi]

Chapter 23: In Focus

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: none

Paring: Paige Bueckers x !photographer fem reader

Fandom: Women's basketball

Summary: more opportunities...

Welcome to the chapter 23 of Through The Lens. I hope you all enjoy and there is more to come...stay tuned my loveies!! 🏀💕📸

Reader’s POV

The past few days had been… intense, to say the least. But somehow, through all the tension and heavy conversations, Paige and I had found our way back to each other. Things still weren’t perfect—life rarely was—but for the first time in what felt like weeks, we weren’t dancing around unspoken feelings or fears.

We decided to go on a date that night, something simple and lowkey, just the two of us. No basketball, no cameras, no looming WNBA talk—just Paige and me.

When she picked me up from my apartment, she was wearing her favorite UConn hoodie, her hair pulled back into a loose bun. “You ready?” she asked, flashing me that smile that always made my heart skip.

“Yeah,” I said, grabbing my bag and locking the door behind me.

Paige had planned for us to grab food at a small diner just outside of town. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was perfect. We slid into a booth near the back, away from prying eyes, and ordered burgers and milkshakes.

As we ate, I noticed how relaxed Paige seemed. She laughed more, teased me about my poor attempt at organizing fries into “photo-worthy” stacks, and even let me take a candid picture of her with whipped cream on her nose.

“This is going on my wall,” I joked, showing her the photo.

“Oh, great. Just what I need—my worst moment immortalized forever,” she teased, but her grin told me she didn’t mind.

“Your worst moment? Paige, please. You’ve had far worse,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

“Name one,” she challenged, leaning back with her arms crossed.

“When you tripped during warm-ups last week and tried to play it off like it didn’t happen.”

Her mouth fell open. “You saw that?”

“Paige, everyone saw that.”

She groaned, covering her face with her hands, but she was laughing, and that made my chest feel warm.

The next morning, I woke up to an email from the athletics department of a rival school—Jade’s school. They were asking if I’d be interested in covering their game against Lsu.

I hesitated. On one hand, it was an amazing opportunity to expand my portfolio, but on the other… it felt a little weird. I texted Jade to ask her opinion.

Jade: Do it! I wanna see you at the game. Plus, get that bag.

Her encouragement gave me the final push I needed. I replied to the athletics department, agreeing to cover the game—under one condition.

I’ll cover the game if you’re willing to pay my rate.

To my surprise, they agreed.

By the time game day rolled around, I was running on adrenaline. I finished my classes early, packed my camera gear, and made my way to the airport to catch the UConn team before their flight to USC.

When I arrived, the team was already gathering in the terminal. I spotted a few of the girls chatting near the boarding gate, but it was Paige who saw me first. Her face lit up when our eyes met, and before I knew it, she was walking toward me, her bag slung over her shoulder.

“Hey,” she said softly, her voice warm and familiar.

“Hi,” I replied, feeling my heart race as she pulled me into a hug.

We lingered there for a moment longer than we probably should have. The team was right there, after all, and we weren’t exactly public yet. But in that moment, it was hard to care about anything else.

When we pulled back, our faces were inches apart. For a split second, it felt like the rest of the world faded away.

“Paige,” I whispered, glancing around nervously.

She sighed, stepping back reluctantly. “Right. Not public.”

I nodded, trying to ignore the way my stomach flipped at the thought of being caught.

“I’ll see you after the game, back home” she said, her voice low and teasing.

“Good luck,” I replied, watching as she turned to rejoin her teammates.

As the team started boarding, I pulled out my camera, snapping a few candid shots of the players as they walked onto the plane. Paige noticed, of course. She grinned and held her hood out to cover her face, her eyes peeking over the edge as if to tease me.

“Really?” I mouthed, lowering the camera.

She just shrugged, her smile never fading.

Later that night, as I reviewed the photos I’d taken, I couldn’t help but smile at the ones of Paige. She was beautiful, even in her goofiest moments, and I felt lucky to capture her in a way most people didn’t get to see.

When my phone buzzed with a text from her, I wasn’t surprised.

Paige: Did you get any good ones?

Me: Maybe.

Paige: Let me see.

Me: Only if you promise not to make fun of me.

Paige: No promises, ma.

I laughed, shaking my head. Despite everything we’d been through, we were still us—teasing, laughing, and figuring things out as we went. And for now, that was enough.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

       -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

Tag list: @sayurireidotcom , @astroeliza , @paxaz535 , @0phantom0 , @sevyscoven , @authentic-girl03 , @starlighttsv .... (more to be added)

[juniperskye]

Pornstar.

Based on the following ask: If you have listened to the song Pornstar by Nessa Barrett awesome if you haven’t please do because I want my ask to make sense. I want a Reader x Aaron Hotchner fic based on that songs specifically because it’s just spicy and smutty honestly. Even the song Do it for me by Rosenfeld works too. They are just good songs, and they are spicy and when I hear them all I see is Aaron Hotchner – Honeyyyy these songs were SPICY! So, I really liked the beat at the beginning of Pornstar – I ran with that, and this takes place at a club.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

SMUT

Word count: 1456

Not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, SMUT, Age gap (non-specified), one night stand, sex with a stranger, alcohol consumption, sex while intoxicated (not drunk), explicit language, no use of y/n, Fem reader, reader has no physical description other than female anatomy, use of pet names, fingering, semi-public sex, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t do this), choking, pure filth tbh…let me know if I missed any!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

He couldn’t believe he was here right now. The last time he was in a club…for something other than a case, was never. He had never been the clubbing type, but the BAU had been on back-to-back-to-back cases for the last six or so months, so the team decided it was time to let off some steam. With some mandatory days off, the team finally had the time. Thankfully they were all passed the point of judgement with one another, having spent as much time together as they all had over the years.

Tonight had started that way too. A silent agreement amongst everyone that no matter what happened, there’d be no judgement, and it wouldn’t be spoken of ever again.

That’s why he hadn’t hesitated to order a third whiskey and boldly sent a vodka soda to the woman across the club, sitting in a booth with her friends. When she glanced in his direction after the waitress had delivered the drink, she blushed and send him a smile.

He couldn’t exactly remember what happened next, because one moment you’d been sitting with your friends and the next, the two of you were making out in the back hallway.

--

You were nothing but a mess of tangled limbs and clashing mouths as the two of you kissed fervently in the hallway, hoping to move things to a more private space.

He had one hand gripping your hip while the other held your jaw in place as he allowed his tongue to explore your mouth. You’d tasted like the vodka he sent you along with something inherently sweeter, vanilla lip-gloss maybe?

He pulled back to look at you, your lips were kiss bitten and your skin was glowing as the lights in the club flashed red. The bass of the music had been so loud you could feel it in your chests. It just added to the rush you were currently feeling.

He grabbed your hand and dragged you to the bathroom, quickly locking the door behind you, before pressing himself against you. His hands encased your jaw, holding you in place and your back arched against the door. His lips pressed to your for a second before they trailed down, burning into the skin of your neck.

You let one of your hands pull at his hair while the other pressed against his strong back. You needed to feel him, and you felt like you couldn’t get him close enough. You were desperate at this point.

--

He tugged at the strap of your dress, pulling it down enough to reveal the tops of your breasts. He kissed, bit, and sucked at the skin there, easily eliciting whines from your mouth. You moved your hands to begin unbuttoning his shirt, allowing them to roam over his broad chest. His skin was warm, and he was this solid wall of muscle in front of you…you’d never felt luckier than in this moment. To have captured his attention was your greatest accomplishment.

You hadn’t noticed the shift in his hand placement until it had slipped your panties to the side and gently caressed your heat.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” He groaned.

All you could do was gasp. Your hips bucking forward to press further into his touch. He’d pulled your dress down more, revealing your breasts completely, swiftly attaching his lips to your hardened nipples, alternating from one to the other. He sucked harshly, sure to leave marks…not that you cared one bit.

“You’re so fucking sexy.” He growled in response to your moans.

You reached your hand down to rub at his prominent bulge, trying to signal that you were ready for more. He took the hint. Grabbing you by your hips and spinning you around, his movements were precise and fast…it was almost dizzying. He lifted you up, so you now rested at the edge of the counter, his finger slipping into your heat as he bit onto your collarbone.

Your head fell back in ecstasy. Your hands busy stroking him through his slacks and pulling at his now tousled hair.

“Oh my – Fuck it feels so good.” You cried.

Another finger slid into you as the heal of his palm pressed deliciously into your clit. Your body was moving of its own accord now, grinding into his palm desperate to find your release.

“That’s it baby, use my hand.” He demanded, thrusting his fingers with a newfound speed.

It only took another moment of this before you were screaming out, allowing your climax to take over you.

--

As you calmed your breathing, you pulled at his belt, needing nothing more that to have his cock splitting you open. With his belt undone, you tugged his slacks open and freed his throbbing member.

You couldn’t even be embarrassed at the fact that you were obviously gaping at his impressive size…the man that stood in front of you was gorgeous in every way.

“You’re beautiful.” You whined.

You could see a hint of a blush rush up his neck, but he didn’t let that overtake the dominance he’d been portraying.

“I want to ruin you.” He whispered, nipping at your earlobe.

“Then do it.” You gasped.

--

His cock slammed into you in one swift motion, taking your breath away. The scream that escaped you was animalistic. One that was reserved for pornstars…not everyday people.

Your hands gripped him tightly, nails dragging down his back, causing a hiss to escape him. His hips snapped into you with a ferocity you’d never experienced before. You were loving every fucking moment of it.

“S-so big. You’re so b-big.” You stuttered.

“You’re gripping me so t-tight. Fuck.” He exclaimed.

His hand slid up, fingers digging into the sides of your jaw as he forced your gaze to his own. You had to force your eyes to his…having a difficult time doing anything other than letting them roll to the back of your head.

You brought one hand up to his, shifting it down to your neck. Pairing it with a subtle nod permitting him to make his next move. He allowed his fingers to press ever so slightly into the side of your neck, restricting your airflow the slightest bit.

This new position had your upper back pressed back into the mirror, ass hugging the edge of the counter, while he stood in front of you pistoning his hips into yours over and over again, his hand still wrapped around your throat as the other was bruising your hip.

You were sputtering out gasps with every thrust that met your cervix. His movements refusing to let up. You were filling the bathroom with his grunts, your gasps and the sound of skin slapping skin. The whole experience was euphoric.

--

Things continued this way a bit longer before you felt that all too familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach. The coil tightening too much…just waiting to snap.

“Jesus, fuck. Are you gonna cum for me?” He huffed.

“Yes. God yes!” Your eyes finally rolling back.

Your orgasm came crashing over you with a strength you’d never experienced before. Your entire body was trembling against his. He let his hand slip from your throat, wrapping behind you and gripping onto your shoulder, chasing his high.

“That’s it. Fucking fill me up.” You whispered.

“Nghhhh Fuck.”

His hips began to stutter, slowing as he pumped his cum into you, filling you completely. He rested his head against your shoulder and allowed himself a moment to catch his breath.

--

After cleaning yourselves up, readjusting your clothes, and assisting one another to smooth out your hair, you made your way out of the bathroom. Not without noticing the glare you were getting from the blonde, who’d clearly been waiting.

“So, um-”

“Did you-”

“Sorry, you go ahead.” You offered.

“I was just going to ask if perhaps you’d like to continue this evening elsewhere.” He suggested.

“I’d love that.” You smiled. “Let me just go let my friends know I’m leaving.”

“Yeah, I should do the same. Meet back here in a few?”

“Okay!”

The both of you moved back toward your respective groups, your girlfriends cheering for you and giggling at all the marks currently littering your neck and chest. While his colleagues gave him knowing looks and smirks at his uncharacteristic behavior. You blew your friends a kiss while he waved his friends off. Coming face to face with you in the spot you’d just been.

“You ready to go?” He asked.

“Yes! But first…what’s your name?” You blushed.

“Oh shit, it’s Aaron.” He laughed sheepishly. “I guess we never really got around to introductions.”

“It okay!” You giggled. “Nice to meet you Aaron, I’m – ”

Tags: @seraphenaadria @bernelflo @pastelpinkflowerlife @just-moondust

[whatiswrongwithpeople]

I keep going over the world we knew (p.2)

a player 230/ Thanos/ Su-Bong x fem!reader fic

summary: “It had always been him and her against the world. But if you've been fighting against the world for years, how do you react when you suddenly realize that your best friend has become your world?”

warnings: none really except the usual Thanos/Squid Game stuff. Maybe slightly ooc Thanos? , Written in my notes app.

note: not gonna lie, I originally planned for this to only have 2 parts BUT I decided taking my time with it and all that gives it a nice pace.

Hope you enjoy!!!

🏷️: @l5byrinth , @wpdarlingpan , @lollipopsandstuff

Part 1 <3

The night after the second game was far too quiet for Thanos to ignore the gnawing feeling that had settled in his chest ever since coming back to the dorm. He had survived the games with a cold mix of calculated precision and blasting his brain to the moon with drugs. But neither the success , nor the growing amount of money in the ever present piggy bank was enough to drown out the nagging ache in his ribs when he thought of [Y/N].

His [Y/N].

The way she moved with a sense of confidence and purpose that was simply too authentic to be fake. The way she had shut him out so quickly, eyes never seeming to truly look at him. Gods did he long for that familiar gaze to land on him. To rediscover that warmth he had once found in it. By now it had been years since Thanos had last spoken to her—since he’d ruined everything. But the memories, the raw, untouched feelings, were still there. Unforgiven. Unwavering. Never truly gone.

And as much as he hated to admit it, he couldn’t keep pretending that this wasn’t affecting him. Not even with several of his colourful pills pumping through his system.

Thanos’ eyes drifted across the darkened room, only stopping when he had found [Y/N]’s form a few beds down from his. She was sitting there, still as stone, eyes staring straight ahead with that same unreadable expression she had been wearing ever since the first game. Not a single word had passed between them since their brief interaction during the last game. But ,despite how it might seem, Thanos wasn’t stupid. He could feel the tension in the air whenever their paths crossed.

He wasn’t used to feeling this way. Especially not when his survival instincts kicked in so loudly, demanding every ounce of his energy to focus on the prize. “Win the money , pay off your debt.” had become the silent mantra in his brain. But that was the thing with [Y/N], she had always been able to pull at the strings of something deep inside him, something far more complicated than any strategy or skill. Something deeply ,deeply personal.

“Hey do you think I could-“ Nam-Guy -or whatever his name was- popped into Thanos’ field of vision. With an annoyed sigh, the purple haired player stood up. “Not now.” He muttered, putting both of his hands on the boy’s shoulders, turning him to the bed next to his. “Talk to him instead.” Baffled Nam-Gyu looked over his shoulder, surprise in his voice as he exclaimed a “What-“. But Thanos was already halfway across the room, shoes making quiet thuds against the floor as he made his way over to [Y/N]’s cot.

“You know,” Thanos came to a halt on one of the lower steps that rested between the beds, resting his arms on [Y/N]’s mattress as he propped up his head. Thanos’ voice was calm. Almost too calm to [Y/N]’s ears, judging by the gravity of the situation they had found themselves in. “Staring at the wall isn't going to change anything."

Thanos leaned against the bed frame, his usual cocky smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he watched [Y/N]. She was sitting still as a stone with an expression colder than ice. Not once had she bothered to look at him since he had approached her bed, and that infuriated him.

“Are you really gonna sit there like you don’t know who I am?” he drawled, his voice dripping with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. “You know, I’m starting to feel like a ghost. And I’m not really the type to fade into the background, you know?”

[Y/N] fought the urge to roll her eyes, choosing to ignore the purple haired pain-in-the-ass who she had once called her best friend.

“Well, if it helps, I can try and get a little more dramatic,” Thanos said, pushing himself off the bedframe in order to lean in closer, reducing the distance between them. “Maybe I’ll do a little tap dance or something. You seem like you’d appreciate the effort.”

At that [Y/N] finally glanced at him, but only for a brief moment, before turning her gaze back to the wall. "You’re a real piece of work, Su-Bong," she muttered under her breath, but still loud enough for him to catch the venom in her words. He chuckled.

“Yeah, I know. I’m one of a kind.” His voice was playful, but there was an edge to it, a challenge in his tone. “And I’m starting to think you don’t even remember who I am anymore.” [Y/N] shot him a glance, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Oh, I remember exactly who you are, Su-Bong. And that's the problem."

The words hit him like a splash of cold water, but he refused to let it show. He leaned in closer, deliberately invading her space, his eyes gleaming with that familiar cockiness. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

She met his gaze with a fiery intensity. “It means that you left. You walked away, and I’m still here, cleaning up your mess. So yeah, I remember you. And I remember how it felt to have you pull away like I meant nothing.”

Thanos laughed, but it was dry, forced. “Jesus, you’ve got a way with words, don’t you? You know, I thought you’d be more fun to mess with, but I forgot how good you were at throwing guilt trips. Really good.”

“Guilt trips?” [Y/N] turned her body to face him fully now, her eyes flashing with a mix of fury and sheer hurt. “No, Su-Bong, this isn’t about guilt. It’s about the fact that you’re standing there, pretending like it’s all fine now, when you did leave. You disappeared, and now you expect everything to just magically go back to how it was? Is that it? You think I’ve been sitting here waiting for you to waltz back in with your pretty purple hair and expect me to just forgive you?”

Thanos smirked. “I don’t expect anything from you. But you might want to reconsider that little attitude of yours. It’s really not helping the situation.”

“You think I care about your situation?” she snapped, her voice louder. “You think I’ve been sitting here, all starry-eyed, just waiting for you to get your shit together? Newsflash: I’m done doing that. I’m done with you, Su-Bong.”

The weight of [Y/N]’s words hung heavy in the air, the tension between the estranged pair was palpable. Thanos was about to speak again, something sharp and cutting on the tip of his tongue, when the loudspeaker's monotone voice sliced through the silence, calling the players to line up for food.

Without as much as a glance, [Y/N] brushed past Thanos as though he were invisible, the force of her shoulder knocking him slightly off balance. Her gaze was firmly locked onto the middle of the room as she began walking toward the food line, every step measured, holding that unwavering confidence.

For a moment, Thanos stood there, frozen in place. The argument had been abruptly interrupted, but the sting of her words and her rejection lingered in the air like smoke. As the others began to shuffle toward the line, he realized there was nothing left to say—at least, not now. The silence between them was louder than any argument ever could be.

[creatively-cosmic]

more stuff for our cr retake looooore. something about cycles and reincarnations... supposedly.

[Lore under da cut . also blueberry milk is @viscarrion 's guy i just did concept art ^^]

disclaimer: this was copied straight from a ramble over discord i did while very tired so this is Not final and might sound like a message written at 6am on a hyperfixation high

the thought with the ancients story is . We're making it cyclical with it babyy. age old legacies passed down over ages of cookies made of the same recipes yet Tweaked, born again, over and over, changing and evolving, lights of virtue watching and Waiting for an incarnation worthy of being their avatars. the beasts were a catastrophe that could not repeated- no, the next wielders had to prove themselves.

early attempts resulted in disaster, cookies chasing purpose and power, yet falling into the same corruption as the Beasts and becoming mirror images of their madness. as time passed and recipes changed, eventually, one success would rise- proven by their good natures and a great act of leadership and power. (possibly by striking down another corrupted incarnation deemed the Leviathans- smth we're still workshopping, based offa thing mentioned in the pre-registration artbook)

the soul jams had changed by then, too- but these heroes were, all the same, worthy of them. a successful batch at long last.

for a while the world thrived under their rule- peace prevailed and kingdoms were born, built, and flourished.

yet good things never last.

white lily, on the night of witches, fell into the "ultimate dough" after discovering the true nature of the witches all cookies revered as Gods- how they saw them only as snacks, puny and fragile and delicious. as the woman drowned in dark magic, poisonous ingredients, and was burnt from every angle from a second baking, she emerged changed. angry. pained. hateful. and imbued with that great power, she found herself strong enough to make a stand against the witches.

one by one, they fell. and in pursuit of vengeance and the power to change everything, let's just say that she decided to turn the dynamic of Witch and Cookie on its head. with bloodied teeth and bones as trophies, the now Wilted Lily cookie, who would come to be known as the Dark Enchantress, set out to show the world what she'd discovered. and how she would change it.

of course, the Heroes wouldn't let this stand. the enchantress did not take pleasure in fighting her once-friends. did not revel in how she had become unrecognizable. white lily, however, had always chased goals that she believed was for the good of the world- this was no different, and no one would stand in her way. at any cost, she would prevail.

on a fateful night, the war between her and the Heroes came to a head. Two kings, two queens, and a sorceress entered that battlefield.

what came of it were five shattered soul jams, four orphaned kingdoms, and only one survivor; sealed away by forbidden magic in a final attempt by Pure Vanilla to save the world as he knew it, in his dying breath.

a few hundred years passed. the dust settled- the war, forgotten. but having lost their leaders so suddenly, so cruelly, and while they were so young, the kingdoms left behind were weak. cookies left, rulers took and left the throne far faster than anything reasonable. societies rose of their own merits, but the remnants of kingdoms clung dearly to what was left, their people spurred on by whispers of legends- of undying heroes, who would one day return and bring their small lands to power again.

when spurred by belief, anything you hold closely can be true in the eye of the beholder.

a cookie was baked with pure vanilla extract and decorated in the flowers of the vanilla plant it had been harvested from. a kindly and pacifist healer, a shepherd- the village under the sky kingdom's remains watched closely, and began muttering of his uncanny resemblance to the legend of the kingdom above.

sparks of hope would become a guiding firelight in the villages hearts- slowly, the name Vanilla Flower was drowned out by the prayers for the return at last of Pure Vanilla.

a young girl cookie, red and tart and bursting with life, wandered into the Hollyberry kingdom from Dragon's Valley. she boasted of victory over beasts great and small, bringing great supplies and hopes for prosperity to the beautiful little kingdom. her passion shone bright, her natural sense of leadership even moreso. the queen that their age-old songs would never forget must have returned!

again, the name of Red Holly was lost under the voices singing of the triumphant return of Hollyberry.

The Cacao kingdom stood strong- a council lead them steadily and held them well through the endless winters of their land. But as time passed and mindsets changed, the council would fracture- no single party trusted enough to watch and unify. Nobody, except... Him. A decision was made- it was time to take a kingdom-wide belief seriously. They watched, as each newly baked cookie would come through. Trying to discern if one could finally be the reincarnation of their king. Until finally, a boy of lonesome and bitter origins came to them, begging for a chance to fight for the good of the kingdom. They saw the look in his eyes, and knew he had come home.

Frigid Cacao, under the guide of the council, quietly let his name be lost under their uplifting words of how Dark Cacao had returned.

The golden cheese kingdom had long ago made a promise to their queen- in the event of her death, they were to prepare and ensure her reincarnation happened smoothly. They did not simply sit and wait. Over those hundreds of years, they carefully engineered each step of the recipe- carefully gathered every ingredient, carefully crafted her dough, and carefully, carefully, set her aside- shaped to perfect form- to incubate in her golden egg cradle, slow-baked by the warmth of safety and adoration. It took ages, but she emerged almost perfect. It had taken too long to care about the flaws- for now, this cookie was their queen.

Before Pyrite could even learn her name, she was taught the only one she'd ever be called by her people- Golden Cheese.

the next cycle began with these four, names and identities cast aside to fill the roles of monarchs and heroes the people of the land sought for. They made idols of men, and each kingdom raised them as such.

And even so, how could they doubt who they were when even the lights of virtue told them exactly the same...?

though the soul jams were still shattered, each of the four had been baked with a small piece within them- a piece that now connected them to the past life they once embodied. the lights whispered of destiny, of rebirth- showed them memories of lifetimes long since passed. the four upheld their virtues as best as they could. even as the weight went on to exhaust them, burdened by the responsibilities, legacy, and promises of a life they had no say in- of a person they never were.

... what of the fifth?

dark enchantress, though sealed, was not dead. her soul jam was still hers, right? and white lily had no kingdom, no subjects to morn her, or to wish for her return....

... mostly.

the kingdom of the faeries held her in dear regards. she'd been a friend and savior, bringing unfathomable power only outdone by their own monarch. They led her along on her quest for answers... and felt responsible for the following chaos.

dark enchantress... that was not the cookie they'd known. whatever happened, it was not white lily. Not to them. white lily was still out there, exhiled from herself. what she needed... was help!

so the faeries made a cookie. as best they could, they made White Lily cookie. she would be born anew as one of their own, her flowers not quite the same.. but still hers.

and carefully, they laid that husk where one day, her soul would find its way home again.

Valley Lily cookie did not awake until desperation grew high enough to force a lost soul into her body. And given life... she awoke. Confused, lost, and with no idea of who she was, where she was, and even what she was ... though far more dazed, Valley Lily was no different than the other young "reincarnations."

the only difference was now, that cycle of uncertainty was not at the hands of a kingdom. it was at the hands of cookies who had been forced to remember the lily of a different life. of cookies who looked at a lost stranger, and instead saw an old friend.

[tswwwit]

Here's a stupid meet-the-sibling thing from Portal AU!

Dipper checks his watch for the third time in two minutes, foot tapping nervously against the pavement. Mabel’s usually one to run late, but not this late. 

Twenty minutes have passed since they were supposed to meet up at this coffee shop, and between the fact that his twin’s always eager to see him, and the odd magical blips on his radar in the last hour, he’s starting to wonder if she’s gotten herself in trouble. Again. 

Driven by worry, he checks his phone again - the regular one. No texts, no missed calls. A second check shows nothing on his other phone either, which is arguably just as worrying but for different reasons.

Dipper slumps back in his seat, rubbing at his eyes. 

Great. Exactly what he needed. As if this whole conversation wasn’t going to be weird enough, now he’s got more to stress about. A sister in trouble, maybe, and a magical incident, probably. Not to mention who would obviously get involved with one of those, just to add the cherry on top of a messed up situation.

He’s just about decided to get up and start investigating when he hears the shout.

“Dipper!” 

Jerking up from his seat, Dipper turns towards his sister’s voice. 

Mabel runs down the sidewalk, arms raised and waving wildly, sending her bracelets banging against each other as her earrings bounce along with her steps. She doesn’t slow down as she approaches, instead throwing herself forward until Dipper has to catch her hug with an ‘oof’ of effort. 

He hugs her back in response and gets squeezed so hard it nearly takes the breath out of him, including a brief moment where he’s worried that her earrings will catch on his clothes. 

After a moment he pushes her back, smiling. How long has it been since he’s seen her in person? Four months? Five? From the occasional phone call he knew she was doing well, but it’s good to see her looking so happy in person.

“It’s good to see you.” He gives her a big pat on the back, and gets a ‘bwomp bwomp’ in return. 

“You too, bro-bro.” Mabel steps away, then blinks in surprise. “You look great! Is that a new look?” She gives him a once over, then beams, patting her cheeks. “Oh my gosh, that’s perfect timing!”

“Well, I-” Dipper plucks at his shirt - it’s not that different from his usual, just better fitted. 

So, he may or may not have gotten a lecture on fashion. A very long one. Followed by several insistent recommendations about his outfits, including having a literal pile of clothes dumped on him out of nowhere. He didn’t think it made that big a difference. But maybe it does?

“Okay, okay, I know you had something important you wanted to talk about, but listen.” Mabel rushes to speak, bubbling over with enthusiasm. Dipper lets her take his hands and clasp them tight as she bounces in place. “I just met. The hottest guy.”

“Ugh,” Dipper groans, shoulders slumping. Not another shitty crush. He thought she was over those by now. Still, if it puts his own thing off… “What kind of jerk is it this time?”

“Okay, one? Not a jerk! And two: He’s not for me, you dork!” 

“Wait, what?” Dipper holds her at arm’s length, staring. 

“So like I said,” Mabel continues, giving him a Look. “I met this guy, and we got to talking, and he’s, like, super fun - but clearly into dudes. So I sorta mentioned a certain brother, and guess what! He likes magic, and monsters, and he even says he has a thing for nerds!” She lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s perfect. You’ll love him.” 

With another groan, Dipper drags a palm down his face. 

Damn it. He knows that she worries about him finding someone since he’s always on the move. Between trying to keep up with the jobs, and tracking monsters, and everything else in his life, he rarely has time for a break. Mabel playing matchmaker isn’t new. Only her choice of candidate, which sounds strangely.. On point?

Hell, a while ago - less than two months, at that - he might have welcomed an intro to this guy, whoever it is. It wasn’t like he was meeting a lot of people himself. 

But oh god. The timing.

“Look, I’m glad you thought of me, but-” Dipper starts, holding up his hands in defense.

“Oh no. Nope! No more of this ‘too busy’, or ‘probably not my type’ stuf. I vetted him Dipper,” Mabel insists, lower lip pouting out - oh god, the puppy eyes, he has to turn away -  “You’re on the road all the time and all alone all the time. So if you aren’t gonna try and meet someone, I gotta have your back.”

Dipper tilts his head back, shuts his eyes, and prays deep down for strength. 

He didn’t want to open with this information. It’s a pretty long story, one with a lot of twists and turns, even some bits that she’s going to feel very ‘I knew it!!’ about. But a little sisterly smugness is way, way better than getting dragged into a date with some guy. 

Even if Dipper turns it down first thing, it could end… Pretty badly. 

He opens his mouth to say so, and gets interrupted by hands clapping on his face, forcing him to meet her eyes.

“Oh my god, don’t look now.” She whispers, turning him back to look at her when his head instinctively swivels. “But he’s right here. I didn’t think he’d show up this soon!”

“Why shouldn’t I look at the guy you’re trying to hook me up with.” He says, flat. It comes out a bit garbled from the pressure on his cheeks.

“Because you’ll freak out thinking he’s out of your league! And he’s not!” Mabel insists, shaking him urgently. “Just be cool for once, okay?”

Dipper has never, ever been cool for a single instant in his life. He doesn’t know why his twin thinks he’s even capable of it. Add on the multiple reasons he can’t exactly flirt with some random dude that Mabel met on the street, and it’s a recipe for infinite awkwardness. 

Before he can explain why this is a bad idea, on so many levels, Mabel straightens up. 

“Hey, glad you made it” She beams at a point over Dipper’s shoulder. “Let me introduce you to-”

A cheerful laugh interrupts her, high and bright. It lingers longer than it should, seconds past the point where it’d be appropriate - then two firm hands clap onto Dipper’s shoulders, squeezing tight. 

“Well, well, well, well, well!” The voice behind him oozes smug pleasure. The grip on his shoulders tightens briefly, then slides down to his biceps in a slow, appreciative stroke. “So this is the famous Dipper Pines, huh?”

The voice, the touch. The smug, amused tone of someone pulling off an amazing joke that nobody’s caught onto yet-

Yeah, that all tracks. 

Dipper doesn’t resist when the man whips him around, frowning up into the beaming face of Bill goddamn Cipher. 

“Boy, you weren’t kidding! He is cute!” Bill exclaims, expression perfectly surprised and delighted. Like he’s never seen this face before in his life. He turns towards Mabel. “And you say this guy’s single?”

“Yep!” She gives a big double-thumbs up. Another person might mistake the way her eye’s moving as a twitch, but it’s just a million winks at Dipper, packed into too small a space. 

Bill lets out a low whistle. “Dang, that’s a shame.” The grins creeps up another fraction. “A smart guy woulda snagged him up the moment they saw him in person!”

Dipper lets out a strangled sound from his throat. Despite the… everything, his face feels hot, turning pink with embarrassment.

He glares at this smug, double-talking jackass. Bill beams back at him with unashamed delight.

From the side, Mabel hisses in annoyance at his reaction. She gestures towards Bill insistently, waving over his body, his arms. She points at his face twice, eyes wide like Dipper hasn’t seen it yet.

But there’s no point in her pointing. Dipper’s well acquainted with every part of his boyfriend. 

Including his tendency to not mention important facts.

So there’s the reason she was late. The reasons for the magic pulses - of course his stupid demon wouldn’t give him any heads up that he was already planetside. And the reason why the guy she met was oh-so-conveniently into nerds, especially ones related to Mabel friggin’ Pines. 

Why did Dipper think mentioning his family was a good idea? It’s only given Bill more chances for chaos. 

Or in this case, a really stupid prank.

“Now let’s see,” Bill says, more contemplative now. His eye roves over Dipper, head to toe. “What else you got going, kid?”

But. Okay, the attention’s nice. It’s never not been nice, even when it’s been creepy and strange and inhuman. 

Maybe playing along a little couldn’t hurt?

“I-” Dipper starts rubbing the back of his neck. If he looks his boyfriend in the eye while lying like a rug, he’ll never pull this off. “Well, I-”

“Oh! Like I said, he’s really into magic. Like you!” Mabel interrupts, bouncing in place. Her voice lowers, as if sharing a secret. “He does freelance work, y’know?”

“Is that so!” Bill’s mouth forms a perfect ‘o’ of surprise. Dipper half expects him to clap a hand to his cheek in astonishment. “Why, I never! A monster hunter? Right in front of me?”

“You betcha!” Proudly, Mabel sets fists on her hips. All too eager to hype man her brother before he’s said anything himself. “On the track of a dangerous criminal and everything!”

“Wow!” Bill, looking suitably impressed, somehow avoids having his pants set aflame from the sheer force of lying. “I bet he’s a nasty customer, too! A real devilish fellow!”

God, the puns hurt. Dipper can’t help but make a face, which gets another disappointed look from his sister, and a sinister gleam starts building up in Bill’s eye - 

Alright, that’s enough. 

Lying to Mabel would have been bad enough - but between their discussion and Dipper not getting a word in, Bill’s getting so full of himself that he might just explode. And that needs nipping in the bud, immediately.

Dipper shoves Bill back a pace, brushing off his shirt. He gives this asshole the full narrow-eyed glare and, ignoring the aghast look from his sister, flips his asshole boyfriend off. 

“Hey!” Affronted, Mabel takes a step in, taking his arm. “What the heck, Dipper?”

“Mabel, listen,” Dipper starts, only to get shushed by his sister and turned to face Bill by said asshole.

“And you’re feisty as well? Jackpot!” Bill beams, taking his head in his hands. “Now, let’s see about the rest of ya.”

Before Dipper can guess what that means  - or even ask - Bill tugs his shirt up. The only reason it doesn’t come completely off is because Dipper recognizes the motion and jerks his arms down in time. 

“Hey!” He struggles with Bill’s grip on his shirt, planting a palm on Bill’s face as he leans in for closer inspection. “What the hell, man?”

“Yep, that’s a fighter alright! Real nice view!” Bill says, after lingering too long ogling unwillingly exposed flesh. He lets the shirt drop - Dipper spends a second straightening it out - only to grab onto his butt next in a full-palm fondle. “Aha! Now that’s where it’s at!”

It’s so like Bill to start flinging compliments while completely breaking every polite convention known to man. He can never do anything straightforward. Possibly he’s allergic. With a swear, Dipper grapples with his jackass boyfriend again, trying to retain some semblance of dignity. 

Mabel stands off to the side, mouth agape. Silently staring between the two of them, too stunned to react. 

Clearly she wasn’t expecting this kind of crap. And honestly? Dipper can’t blame her. Bill’s pretty good at covering his asshole tendencies when he wants. 

Dipper can handle it, though. He’s already halfway pried the groping grasp off his butt when Bill’s other hand rotates to the front, taking hold with alarming swiftness. The high-pitched yelp he lets out is, thankfully, only from surprise.

“Hey!” And that gesture must have finally shaken Mabel from her shock, because now she looks offended. “Bill! What are you doing?”

“Cute, smart, decent body - he’s just like you said! The whole package!” Bill gives his handful a friendly jiggle, looking thrilled to have found a part to grab where he can’t get smacked away lest there be collateral damage. He turns towards Mabel with a grin. “How’s twenty bucks sound?”

The alarmed “What the hell!” from her comes out at the same time as Dipper’s offended, “Only twenty?”

“Oh, no no no,” Mabel waves her hands rapidly, the sleeves of her sweater nearly covering them in the rush.  “He’s not for sale, what the heck!”

“Oh, of course!” Bill releases Dipper’s crotch to smack himself dramatically on the forehead, shaking his head. “Because he’s his own person! With his own life decisions and everything!” His expression turns serious, nodding as if he actually cared about that fact. “No problem, Shooting Star! I’ll just kidnap him instead.”

A sudden swipe behind Dipper’s knees sends him into a swearing fall. One that’s quickly interrupted as he’s scooped up into Bill’s arms, startled and staring into an excited smile. 

Bill gives Mabel a perfunctory half-bow, bounces Dipper in his arms once - then starts sprinting down the street. 

To Mabel’s credit, there’s only a half-second pause before she follows.

“Help! Brother-napping in progress! Stop, you creep!” Mabel shouts, almost louder than Bill can manage. With some effort, Dipper peeks over his shoulder to see a flail of color trailing behind after them, one sweater-clad arm shaking in fury. “You better let him go, or you’ll regret this!”

Bill cackles louder, chest shaking - and one thing about being a demon is that he can really book it when he needs to. 

Dipper finds himself clinging to his ‘kidnapper’ tight, just to feel more comfortable about not being dropped. Not that he needs to worry about that. Even sprinting full-out and laughing, Bill’s not even breathing hard as he flees the wrath of righteousness. 

Dipper thunks his head against his awful, stupid boyfriend’s shoulder, and rolls his eyes. 

Welp. He’s not sure what else he expected. 

Bill’s always going to be Bill, after all. An evil, bored, antagonising force, bent on finding the funniest thing to do and jerking people around by it at every turn. And a vengeful, chaotic asshole. 

It’s hardly surprising that he and he took offense at someone arranging dates with his boyfriend. Whether or not Mabel knew their situation doesn’t matter in his view. It’s the principle of the thing - and, of course, a chance to be a total dick. 

But all things considered, it’s hardly the worst case scenario. 

Bill could have laid on the charm, gaslighting her into thinking he was a different kind of guy. Something that would make their introduction easier - and have her totally ignoring Dipper’s warnings about what kind of guy he is. 

But freaking her out was too funny, and that showed his true colors. And thank fuck for that. The last thing Dipper needs is another handsome guy charming her into a series of Bad Ideas.

As they round a street corner, Dipper uses the momentum to kick a leg free, planting heel against pavement. Bill slows as he tries to both stop him from falling and continue dragging him along. 

“Aw, c’mon,” Bill chides, making a valiant attempt to pick Dipper up again. “Let’s ditch the sibling and get moving! As far as she knows, I’m gonna do all kinds of dastardly things to ya. Terrible ones!” His eye glimmers, briefly unfocused - and Dipper takes the moment of distraction to get both feet on the ground. “Aww, hey!”

“Not a chance.” Dipper says, less annoyed than he’d like. He dodges another grab by stepping neatly to the side. “You’ve had your fun. Now at least try to behave for like, five seconds.”

One look at Bill’s face says that he’s not done with the fun, or at least thoroughly annoyed at its interruption - which means Dipper has to sweeten the pot. 

“I’m sure she’s panicking as we speak,” He adds, rolling his eyes at Bill’s look of pride. “And it was kinda funny. But at least try to good impression, jackass.” Resting a palm on Bill’s arm, he offers a shy smile. “Please?”

“Hmmm.” Bill hums thoughtfully. A second later, he shrugs. “Eh, sure! Probably wasn’t gonna get much mileage outta dragging it out anyway.”

Yep. Another win for Dipper Pines. He’s getting good at this demon-wrangling stuff. 

“Hey!” Mabel rounds the corner, steps clearly flagging. She leans against he building, then glares at Bill. “You can’t just-” 

Then she leans over, bracing herself on her knees as she tries to catch her breath. Dipper’s surprised she caught up this fast, but it wasn’t without effort - he thinks one of her bracelets is missing, and her hair is a mess. 

Dipper offers her a hand, but she waves it off. There’s a thoughtful sound behind him, then arms circle his waist and drag him back into Bill’s grasp. 

“So. I see you’ve met Bill.” Dipper says, finally. He glares a bit over his shoulder as Billtugs him closer to settle in, chin tucked on his shoulder. Probably wearing the very smuggest smile he owns.

“Dipper, I’m sorry,” Mabel blurts. She’s still catching her breath, face red as she flails her sleeves in inarticulate protest. “I didn’t know-”

“That he was an asshole? A jerk? A totally weird creep?” Dipper holds up his hands before she can apologize again. “No, it’s fine. I already knew that. He’s… actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”

She pauses, taking in their position. How Dipper’s not struggling, or swearing, or hexing the shit out of his ‘kidnapper’. The worried frown turns more… contemplative. The lightbulb flickers. 

Dipper takes a steadying breath. 

Here goes.

“Mabel, this is… Bill Cipher.” He gestures at Bill, then shoves his head away from his neck before he can leave a hickey. “He’s my boyfriend.”

Mabel boggles at him. There’s no other word for it. Eyes wide, mind clearly racing as she ties in what just happened with how Bill looks and what she thought everything was like just five minutes ago. 

She takes a second, before finally landing on, “What?”

Yeah, that’s a reasonable reaction. 

But if they got along earlier, they’ll… probably get along okay, right? Now that Bill’s got the initial bullshit out of his system, they might even have stuff in common. 

Thank hell for that. Romance is kind of her thing, of course she’s interested. Good thing too. Compared to the rest of his family, Mabel is easy mode. 

Only a second later she claps her hands to her cheeks, gasping hugely. Dipper can almost see the questions about to burst out.

“Let’s go back, get some coffee, and I’ll tell you everything.” Dipper smiles, but speaks before she can start interrogating them on the street. He shrugs Bill off, getting his hand seized in the process. He squeezes it back.  “Trust me, it’s a long story.”

[according2thelore]

s9e05: "dog dean afternoon"

there's a guy walking outside. dean knows there is. his shadow keeps falling across the windowpanes, behind their closed curtains, and his shoes squeak on the gravel noisily outside. crocs. or flip flops. something squeaky and annoying and falling apart at the seams.

but dean's being really, very cool about it.

sam doesn't have to worry. not only because dean has got a fucking bead on that guy like a hawk in case he decides to try something, but because dean is being cool about it.

he only looks up every few seconds, buried behind sam's computer on his bed. sam is sitting on top of the blankets on his own bed, scrolling through his phone. dean asked to use his laptop so he can try to find some leads, but it has only turned up one or two promising websites, and proved a useless distraction. the colonel is asleep in the corner, using the motel towels as a bed, so he's 0% help keeping an eye on this guy and 0% help commiserating.

"dude." sam snaps, and dean realizes that he's staring again, head perked up over the top of the laptop so he can follow the guy's shadow back and forth, back and forth.

dean tries to look innocent, but clearly it's not working, from sam's flat, annoyed expression.

"did you find anything?" sam asks, holding a hand out, and dean puts the laptop in his hand. he stands up, knees cracking, and flops back on sam's bed.

"just a few links to local taxidermist boards." dean mutters. "one guy seems pretty pissed at our victim."

he sits up. then flops back down. huh. for some reason, dean can barely hear the guy from over here. dean always takes the bed closest to the door, but clearly, there are advantages to being on the bed farthest away from the freak who decided to wear crocs in february. some combination of the colonel's snores or sam's quiet breaths have warded the bastard off. for now.

dean can feel himself drifting off, the lack of constant overstimulation a balm on his nerves. the sheets smell faintly of their shared body wash and sam's shampoo. it calms dean, sets something that had been abraded for hours at the constant cars on the road outside at ease.

sam's tapping away at the keyboard slows, and dean jerks at a sudden hand in his hair.

"you were worked up." sam mutters. dean tries to remain alert, but it's like sam has reached into his brain and turned the lights off. his mind spins lazily, unable to connect any dots now that sam's long, thick fingers are petting through his hair.

it tingles, kinda? but mostly it's warm, and it sends jolts of something straight to dean's fingers.

dean hums, knowing somewhere that this isn't something they usually do. sam shifts on the bed, and dean knows he's closer because he can smell him, sweat and fabric and dog hair from the colonel. dean's nose wrinkles. he doesn't know why he doesn't like that last one, but he doesn't.

"'mthing outthere." dean slurs, pressing his hand into sam's hand as it retreats for a second.

"was it a squirrel?" sam asks lowly, laughter in his voice--damn him.

dean twitches, and rolls onto his front, away from sam's hand. sam follows him, petting low against the back of dean's neck now, scratching gently at his hairline.

"some guy. pacing." dean grumbles, quietly. shame and humiliation make his ears burn. it builds in him--ashamed that he's so fucking pathetic that he'll just sit here and let sam laugh his ass off about this--so high that it outweighs the comfort of sam's hand and smell and voice.

dean sits up sharply, and his head spins. he's about to get the fuck out of here, punch that asshole and his squeaky ass shoes, and sleep in the impala. but there's a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from standing up.

"stay." sam says, and dean slaps his hand off, suddenly furious.

"i'm not a goddamn--"

"bad choice of words. i didn't mean to say it like that." sam says, loudly, and when dean looks at him, his eyes are just wide enough, brows tilted together just enough that dean believes him. "i meant, 'you don't have to get up.'"

dean hmphs, watching sam for any sign that he actually did mean it like that. the tips of his ears are still warm in embarrassment. sam gestures back at the bed.

"you're not going to get any sleep over there. crash here until the guy goes back inside."

dean looks at his hand, then back up at sam, hyper-vigilant to any trace of deception or mockery in sam's expression. he finds none. he flops back down diagonally, so he's penned sam into the top right corner of the bed, then sits up and punches the mattress a few times until when he lays down again, it feels better. he rubs his face into the coverlet, unsatisfied with the way it doesn't smell enough like sam yet. something warm and heavy hits the bed next to him, and when dean opens an eye, it's a pillow.

"here." sam says, face already buried back in his laptop. it's the pillow he had been using to brace his back. dean can smell it from here. oh fuck. he snatches it quickly before sam can change his mind, and rolls over so he's facing away from him. he manipulates the pillow into an acceptable shape, and faceplants into it, nose tilted just enough so he can actually breathe.

he's asleep in thirty seconds flat, and therefore doesn't notice the way sam immediately lowers his laptop, and stares at his brother, smile so wide it looks uncomfortable. sam pets a hand--barely there touch--through dean's hair and dean lets out a low, long breath of satisfaction.

when they wake up the next morning, dean still in his jeans and nose buried in the nape of sam's neck and dick hard as a rock, they don't mention it.

happy wincest wednesday everybody! 🎉once again tumblr is rolling out the welcome mat for us 🥹 so nice to feel appreciated

this week, your quest is to click here and then reblog this post with your favourite wincest scene/line/moment from the random episode it gives you!!

bonus points if you get bloodlines or if you take your episode and make something from it, eg. a new post with screencaps or a quick ficlet (or a meme. i hand out bonus points like rice at a wedding.)

[gumims]

seats for two? | choso kamo x reader

for the @phantasmaebg event!!

wc: 641

you stood in the dimly lit lobby of the movie theater, scanning your ticket for the auditorium number. it was supposed to be a chill evening—just you, a bag of popcorn, and the action movie you’d been excited to watch for weeks.

but as you walked toward the entrance, you spotted a familiar figure leaning against the wall near the concession stand.

choso.

he hadn’t seen you yet, his attention focused on his phone. he looked the same as ever—calm, quiet, and a little intimidating with his sharp features and dark clothes. you’d never really interacted outside of a few casual conversations, but there was something about him that made your heart do a weird little flip every time you saw him.

you hesitated for a second, debating whether to just walk past. but before you could decide, he glanced up—and his eyes met yours.

“hey,” he said, his voice low but not unfriendly.

“oh, hey,” you replied, trying to sound casual. “what are you doing here?”

“watching a movie.” he held up his ticket, and you caught the title printed on it—the exact same movie you were about to see.

“no way,” you said, laughing lightly. “me too.”

his lips quirked into a small smile. “guess we have good taste.”

before the conversation could drift into awkward silence, he glanced at the theater entrance, then back at you. “you… wanna watch together?”

the question caught you off guard, but the way he asked—calm and straightforward, without any hesitation—made it hard to say no.

“yeah, sure,” you said, feeling a bit shy.

he nodded, gesturing for you to follow him into the theater. as the two of you found seats near the middle row, you couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious. this was supposed to be a solo night, but now you were sitting next to choso, sharing an armrest and awkwardly holding your bag of popcorn.

“you okay with sharing?” he asked, motioning to the popcorn.

“oh, yeah. go ahead.”

he took a handful, his movements unhurried. as the lights dimmed and the trailers started, you found yourself glancing at him every so often. he didn’t seem fazed by the situation at all, his focus entirely on the screen.

but as the movie went on, you started to relax. choso wasn’t much of a talker, but his presence was surprisingly comforting. a few times, you caught him smirking at a particularly funny line or leaning forward during the action scenes, completely engrossed.

at one point, your hands brushed as you both reached for the popcorn, and you froze.

“sorry,” you mumbled, pulling your hand back.

he shook his head, barely glancing at you. “don’t worry about it.”

by the time the credits rolled, you realized you’d had way more fun than you’d expected. as the two of you walked out of the theater together, the cold night air hitting your face, choso glanced at you.

“that was better than i thought it’d be,” he said.

“same,” you agreed. “thanks for… y’know, letting me crash your solo movie night.”

“i could say the same to you.” his lips twitched into another small smile. “maybe next time, we plan it.”

your heart skipped a beat at the suggestion, but you played it cool. “yeah, maybe.”

as he walked you to your car, you couldn’t help but feel like this wouldn’t be the last time you’d end up sharing popcorn with choso.

[insomniakisses]

G!p Caitlin taking you with her to a team dinner and some random dude starts flirting with you and you decide to make her jealous a little bit and she eventually gets fed up and leads you to the bathroom

Your Mine

A/N: Lowkey changed the request a bit, i just went with it haha. Not exactly the vibe I had hopped for my first WBB fic but.... Yeah. Maybe i could make a part 2 if yall are wanting it!

warnings/notes: I changed this to be alpha!cait hope thats okay, smut, semi public sex, possessive nature, omegaverse au, cait has a dick, afab reader, omega reader, alpha caitlin clark, daddy kink, CNC themes, Toxic!caitlin, cheater!caitlin, Blowjobs, porn with plot, Slightly angsty too, Slight Alpha!Kate x reader, omega space, talk of injuries, blood, possibly slight abusive themes, mentions of cum.

It was a common thing, Caitlin taking you out for meals. Whether it was with her team, the pair of you and Kate or just the two of you. She was just that kind of girlfriend, she liked spending time with you, doting on you and spoiling you beyond belief no matter how much you protest that it’s not necessary.

Today was different though, her attention was not on you at all. No, her attention was on her team and her team only. You put up with it at first, knowing to behave because Caitlin doesn’t like bratty girls. Bratty girls have to be punished. Not to mention the big win the team had just had, she deserved to celebrate and enjoy her night.

But when the second hour of her paying you no mind rolled around you began to get squirmy, you tried to be good you really did but you couldn’t help act up. Especially when your attempts to get her attention were brushed off.

Your first attempt was subtly, shuffling closer to her and looping your hand in her free one, content with the feeling of her skin against yours. That was until she shook your hand off a moment later moving her hand to rest on the table. You pouted then, feeling uneasy that she had brushed you off so easily. The second attempt was a little bolder, and you knew it might cross a line, but you didn’t care. Reaching over you squeezed her upper thigh, but she gave you nothing. Not even a lip twitch.

A soft whine escapes you, quiet enough that only she could hear but she doesn’t react. It makes you sad really, having so little of her attention when she’s usually so wrapped up in your presents that the world becomes white noise. Not tonight though, no, tonight she was focused on anything but you. Even the waitress’s chest and ass apparently judging from the way she bites her lip staring at her as she passes by.

That’s the last straw you think, its one thing for her to ignore you for her team after a win. That you could learn to live with, but to shamelessly check out another omega in front of you after ignoring you all night? Ouch.

You avert your eyes as soon as you see it, like looking any longer might burn you. Your eyes lock with Kate and she shoots you a sympathetic look, clearly more than aware of your feelings. Certainly, more so than your own girlfriend. If you could even call her that.

The two of you had never really used such labels, the girl claiming she didn’t need a label to prove she loved you and only you. And if she loved you and you knew that why did anyone need to know. You felt silly now, sitting there in her jersey her number delicately painted onto your cheek with such detail and care it was clear you had practiced making it look perfect.

Your cheeks flushed, embarrassment and humiliation flooding you. Stupid. You thought, negative thoughts swirling round in your head, beginning a spiral. You excused yourself not that anyone batted an eye as you made a beeline for the restrooms. You lean on the counter and shake your head trying to stop the thoughts that hit you.

She’s embarrassed of you.

She doesn’t even want you here.

She just wants you to leave her alone.

She wants the waitress, she’s prettier than you are.

You shake your head, willing the thoughts to go away. Caitlin hadn’t said any of that, you shouldn’t believe it. You sigh, taking a deep breath and splash your face with water. Taking a deep breath readying yourself to go back out there. Caitlin was your ride, so you were stuck there, forced to endure another 2 hours of humiliation. Sat next to Caitlin as she ignored you and eye fucked anything that walked past. You didn’t know what was worse the way she ignored you without a care, the way Kate was sat opposite all kind smiles and eyes full of pity or the way you knew at the end of the night you’d be faced with horny Caitlin’s honeyed words and empty promises. You’d fall for it of course, you always did. Laying there as she hovered above you, thrusting into you without a care, breath like a brewery.

--

Stepping out of the restrooms you didn’t notice Caitlin’s gaze on you, you were too busy apologising to the poor waiter you’d bumped into. Luckily, he hadn’t been carrying anything, but it didn’t diminish your efforts as you rambled on and on apologising to him.

He dismissed you though, a flirty smirk settling onto his face as he rubbed your waist. Complements and examples of how you could make it up to him escaping his lips over and over. Usually, you would push him off with a scoff and a comment about how sleazy it was, but not today. Today you needed the attention, and you didn’t care who it was from.

You didn’t know or care if Caitlin was looking, having ridded yourself of her jersey and washed her number off your face. She didn’t deserve you, not after her behaviour today. An opinion you would stan your ground on. At least for now.

For now, you were content laughing and encouraging the man in front of you. Though, a few minutes later his smirk dropped into a worried frown. You furrow your brows about to ask him what’s wrong when you hear it. A low deep growl from right behind you. Caitlin’s growl. You shudder at it, not liking the way her scent covers you. It feels wrong. Smothering even, in the way you can only smell her. Her anger is heavily evident in the scent, it sets you off, filling you with dread.

You don’t react, you don’t have time to before your being tugged away. Her grips hard around your wrist, it hurts, and you know it will bruise. She growls again, throwing you into the restroom and into the counter not batting an eye when you yelp out in pain.

Her eyes are narrowed on you, her jaw set. She’s beyond pissed, angrier than you’ve ever seen her. You don’t like it. Not the way she looks at you or the harshness of how she’s touching you. Its wrong. It doesn’t feel good, it makes you feel unimportant. Confirming your previous fears.

She’s quick with her movements reaching out and grabbing your jaw, hard. “What, the fuck was that?” She spits, eyes full of disgust. Her anger flaring when you don’t answer, “I asked you a question slut!” she growls unamused when you fail to answer again, your mouth just opening and closing as you stare up at her wide-eyed.

“Can’t work your mouth huh? You’re just a dumb fucking slut, aren’t you?” you don’t answer, she doesn’t let you. Shoving you down onto your knees with a grunt. “Your mouth’s only useful for one thing, isn’t it? Huh?” her voice is deep and raspy, her hands making quick work of freeing her cock.

“Cait-“ you begin to whine, but she talks over you.

 “Oh, just SHUT UP and fucking take it” she grunts grabbing the back of your head and slamming herself down your throat. Groaning in delight when you gag around her, your fists balled up and slapping against her thighs, drool dripping down your chin onto the floor.

“That’s it,” she gathers your hair in both her hands guiding your head along her as she starts a rough pace fucking into your throat. “That’s fucking it, all your good for warning my fucking cock like the cockslut you are.”

She keeps her rough pace as she abuses your throat, loving every gag you make trying to take her, you have no choice, but you just shut your eyes and take it.

“My slut aren’t you baby,” she taunts thrusting fast as she nears her orgasm, “just here for my use, my personal little cock sleeve, fuck!” She gasps pinning your head to her crotch holding you still as her cock twitches in your throat. Her cum painting it as she spurts into you, panting heavily as she does so.

You gasp for air when she finally releases you, coughing slightly after swallowing all her cum. She slaps her cock again your face smugly, wiping cum and drool across your cheek without a care.

“Are you ready to answer me now slut?” she asks, voice calm but sharp.

“Yes daddy, sorry daddy” you whimper shuffling closer to nuzzle into her thigh as she absent-mindedly strokes your hair. The little attention doing wonders to send you slipping into omega space.

She hums, giving your hair a tug as she repeats her earlier question. “So, what the fuck was that outside, hmm? Throwing yourself at that worthless alpha right in front of my face” she scoffs, staring down at you awaiting your answer which comes out mumbled against her thigh as frustrated, and embarrassed tears escape your eyes.

“M’sorry daddy, wanted your attention but you didn’t want me anymore…” you whimper more tears flowing down your blushed cheeks. “You wanted that waitress… not me.”

She sighs at that, hearing the confusion and heart break in your voice as you stare up at her with such sad eyes. Her hand comes down to caress your cheek and you mean into her touch letting her pull you up and into her arms, though you curl into yourself a little when met with her intense gaze.

“Look at me.” She commands guiding your head, so it’s tilted up at you. She waits till she has eye contact before she speaks again, “I want you, only you baby hmm” she coos as she wipes your tears and rests her forehead against yours.

“But I was bad…” you mumble, head getting fuzzy as your hit with a wave of her pheromones pushing you further into omega space weather you want it or not. Your pupils dilating as you let out a whine leaning into her fully eyes closing as she tugs your pants and underwear off, guiding you onto the counter and spreading you.

“That’s why I have to punish you...” you hear her say, missing the smirk on her face as you let your eyes close finding it hard to focus one anything right now, trusting your alpha to take care of you.

She lines herself up slamming in, neglecting wrapping up her dick because your so out of it you won’t stop her. Besides if your hers so what if she cums in you? That’s her right whether you like it or not.

The bathroom is filled with grunts and groans as she pounds into you, gripping your thighs hard enough to bruise and slamming into you so hard you’d find it painful in your right mind. There’s no kisses or gentle words, she just pumps out more pheromones keeping you in a state of constant compliance as she pounds away not batting an eye as you hit your head into the mirror ever time she thrusts. Or how you whine in pain from the tap digging into your side.

“That’s it, take it. Fucking take it.”

“All your good for”

“Mine to use whenever I want, however I fucking want.”

“That’s right I fucking own you.”

“Your mine”

She just repeats the same few things grunting against your neck as she bites and sucks at your neck not caring that she’s just mate marked you, and certainly not licking at it to stop the blood or sooth the wound. Instead, she just pounds and pounds into you not caring when people come in or out until she’s done with you. Pulling out with the false promise of coming back for you after she grabs her jacket, instead she leaves you there. Kate watching her leave with the waitress from earlier a little while later, wondering where you could possibly be or if you could see this happen. Scoffing “does she have no shame” she thinks to herself.

--

You’re in and out of consciousness, confused and in pain when Kate finds you. Having taken a trip to the restrooms to fix her hair before leaving. The first thing that hits her is your smell, she smells your in omega space and then her eyes land on you.

You’re still on the counter, slumped up by the mirror. Bruises and scratches litter your skin, blood crusting on your neck as the bite mark remains an open wound. Caitlin’s cum leaking from your pussy and it’s there she sees the hand shaped bruises across your legs and hips. She’s frozen in place, she knew Caitlin wasn’t always the best or most loyal to the omega’s she had but she would have never thought Caitlin could be so cruel especially not to someone so sweet and loving as you. She growls then, silently promising to protect you from now on. Even if she has to fight Caitlin to do it.

You’re shaking as she gets closer your eyes barely open, clearly not able to do anything not even speak. She’s unsure if the constant shaking is from coldness or that your body is in shock, honestly it could be both judging on your state. She’s so thankful that it was her that found you, who knows what another alpha might have done.

She slips off her jacket and helps you into it grabbing some paper towel and wetting it in the sink, gently cleaning at your sensitive pussy. She coos when you jolt and laces her free hand with yours, kissing your knuckles as she talks you through every single thing she does for you. Making sure she notifies you before she makes any kind of movement to touch you.

Once she’s cleaned you up and tended to your wound as best she can with what’s around her, she looks for your clothes placing them in a pile on the counter next to you. You can’t put them back on, there soaked in god knows what from the floor and half ripped from Caitlin’s lack of care.

“For fucks sake Caitlin! You asshole.” she mumbles under her breath. Shoving them into her bag to deal with later.

Slipping out of her sweats and helping you into them she can’t help chuckle at how long they are on you, rolling up the bottoms until they rest at your ankles. She takes her hoodie off then and ties it round her waist covering whatever her baggy t-shirt didn’t of her boxers. Once she’s satisfied, she won’t flash anyone she guides you into her arms.

“C’mon then babygirl, let’s get you somewhere safe, okay?” She doesn’t really expect an answer back, not in this state anyway, but she asks regardless. A small smile tugging at her lips when you manage a slight nod as she carries you out to her car, setting you gently into the seat and buckling you up. With one gentle kiss to your head, she closes the door and gets in the driver’s side, making her way back to her apartment. She’d never been so glad she moved out into her own place. Her only focus being making sure you’re okay

[mysterymachine9]

Dean Winchester x Gn!reader

Summary: He’s pent up and needs one thing. You.

NSFW. Minors DNI.

I am in need of ideas and/or requests! Please send some 😭 Anyway, have a lovely day/night!

Dean Winchester did not beg. Not to anyone. Not for anyone. Well…at least not during sex. But with the way you were teasing him, whispering words of praise and not giving him what he wants. He might have to.

“God, please.” Dean pleaded. Finally getting to a point where he couldn’t take it anymore. He needed you.

His hands roamed your body. Just the feel of your skin beneath his hands made him want to worship you. His lips ghosted over your jawline all the way to your neck. Slowly kissing everywhere he could. Even sucking a few hickeys.

Poor guy was pent up. In need of some sort of relief and you decided to help. “What do you need, baby?” You whispered, knowing damn well what he needed. You just wanted to be an ass and tease him—hear him voice his needs. “You. Need you so bad,” God he sounded pathetic. Yes, you got an answer. But you weren’t satisfied. “Be specific, Dean.” You say, a little more sharp than the last time. One of your hands snaked up his back and to his hair. Grabbing it and gently pulling. Hearing a small groan from the man.

He bucked his hips into you; getting the right amount of pressure on his cock. Another moan getting delivered to your ears. He was stalling. You knew it, but decided to let it slide only for a few seconds. You leaned it to whisper into his ear. “Either you tell me what you want, or I’m going to leave you like this.” And all you got what a whine in response.

“Want to-“ He cut himself off with a gasp when he rolled his hips again. With another slightly gentle pull of his hair, he got to talking again. “Want to fuck you, please. Need to feel you ‘round me,” Dean spoke, finally. His words nearly slurred due to the way he was at the moment. You hummed, moving to kiss him. It was slow and passionate. You started to move the hand that was in his hair to run your fingers through.

And so, once you broke the kiss you started to move. Pulling off of him to grab the things you needed at the moment. While you moved, you could hear Dean groan at the loss.

✮

His hands held onto your hips like his life depends on it. With the way you moved up and down on his cock, moans flowed from his mouth. He even moved his hips up a few times. Seeking more.

Your lips parted, a moan falling from your lips. His cock hit your sweet spot perfectly. Even though it felt so, so good, an idea popped in your mind. You stopped your movements, slowly sinking down on his cock once again. Taking him to the hilt. Your hand went up on his chest all the way to his neck. You watched as he leaned his head pack against the pillow and shut his eyes. Swallowing beneath your hand. You didn’t squeeze or apply any kinds of pressure. You just kept your hand there till you started moving your body again.

Dean’s mind wandered. The way you sounded and looked on his cock, and the way you took him so perfectly. His orgasm coming in closer than it normally would. You could tell by the way he quickly furrowed his eyebrows and how sounds flowed from his mouth more quickly. He tried to warn you but it got lost in a grunt.

His hips stuttered when you kept moving. Even though the feeling of overwhelming pleasure coursed through his body, he let you keep going till you came. The both of your moans filling the room.

You laid next to each other for a few minutes. Before one of you decided to get up and start cleaning.

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

MY MASTERPIECE

drew starkey x plus sized!fem!reader

(mood board does NOT depict readers’ appearance !!)

SUMMARY: after drew catches his girlfriend crying about the hate she’s receiving, he decides to show her exactly how much he loves her.

based on this ask !! i really hope you like it anon, and i had such a lovely time writing this :’) i just KNOW drew would worship a plus!sized baddie, so imo this is canon🤫

WARNINGS: slight angst to fluff then to smut (18+ mdni pls!!), body worshipping, oral (fem rec), fingering, orgasm denial, blasphemy (“oh god”), insecurities, social media hate, crying, cursing, fat-shaming (fuck you if you do this, and you’re not welcome on my page !!) i think this is all? (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 2.4k

THIRD PERSON +

The dim light of the bedside lamp bathed the room in a soft glow. Y/N sat cross-legged on the bed, her laptop resting in front of her, illuminating her face in harsh contrast. Her throat felt tight as her eyes scanned the comments section on yet another gossip website.

"Why is he with her?"

"She's way out of his league."

"Drew could do so much better. She's not even that pretty."

"She doesn’t look right next to Drew AT ALL."

The words blurred as tears pooled in her eyes, one spilling over and sliding down her cheek. She sniffled, trying to hold it together, but it was a losing battle. Her hands trembled as she closed the laptop and set it aside, curling up into herself. The voices in her head, fueled by the hateful comments, were deafening.

She knew Drew loved her. He told her all the time, in the little ways and the big ones. But sometimes, the weight of the world's opinions was too much to bear. Tonight was one of those nights.

She was so caught up in her spiraling thoughts that she didn't hear the front door open or the sound of Drew's voice calling out.

"Babe? I'm home!" he said, his voice warm and familiar as it carried through the apartment.

Her stomach dropped. She quickly wiped at her cheeks, trying to compose herself. The last thing she wanted was for him to see her like this.

Drew stepped into the bedroom, his tall frame filling the doorway. He smiled softly, holding up a bag. "I brought takeout from your favorite place. I figured—" He stopped mid-sentence when he noticed her blotchy, tear-stained face and glossy eyes. His brow furrowed with concern as he dropped the bag on the dresser and closed the distance between them in two long strides.

"Angel, what's wrong?" he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed and cupping her face in his hands. His thumbs gently wiped away the tears that continued to fall despite her efforts to stop them. "Talk to me, baby."

She shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's nothing, Drew. I'm fine."

He frowned, not buying it for a second. "That's not nothing. Come on, tell me what's going on."

Her chest tightened as she met his worried gaze. She debated brushing it off, but the dam broke, and the words tumbled out before she could stop them. "It's just... all the comments, Drew. All the things people say about me. About us. They hate me because I'm not what they think you deserve."

Drew's eyes softened, and he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. She buried her face in his chest, her tears soaking into his shirt.

"They're so cruel," she continued, her voice muffled against him. "And the worst part is... I start to believe them. Maybe they're right. Maybe I'm not good enough for you."

Drew pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt her chin up so she was looking at him. His cobalt eyes were intense, his expression a mix of heartbreak and determination.

"Stop," he said firmly, his voice low and steady. "Don't you dare let those people make you feel like you're not good enough. They don't know you. They don't know us."

She shook her head, the tears still falling. "But Drew, look at me. I'm not some slim, perfect model. I don't fit the image of the kind of woman people expect you to be with."

Drew let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair before turning back to her. "Y/N, do you know what I see when I look at you?"

She stayed silent, unsure how to respond.

"I see the woman who makes me laugh harder than anyone else ever has," he said, his voice soft but unwavering. "I see the woman who listens to me when I'm struggling, who supports me no matter what. I see the woman whose smile lights up my entire day."

His hands moved to her shoulders, his thumbs brushing against her skin in soothing circles. "I don't care what anyone else thinks. I love you for you. For your kindness, your intelligence, your strength. For the way you hum when you're cooking, even though you always say you can't sing. For the way you light up when you talk about the things you're passionate about. You're the most beautiful person I've ever known, inside and out."

Her breath hitched as she listened to his words, the sincerity in his voice breaking through the walls she'd built around herself.

"You're more than enough for me, Y/N," Drew continued, his voice thick with emotion. "You're everything I've ever wanted. And if people can't see that, then screw them. They don't matter."

She let out a shaky laugh, her tears finally starting to slow. "You really mean that?"

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "With all my heart."

She looked up at him, her own heart swelling with love and gratitude. "I don't deserve you, you know that?"

He smirked, his hands sliding down to her waist. "I think it's the other way around."

The tension in the room shifted as his fingers traced slow, deliberate patterns on her sides. His gaze darkened slightly, a spark of something more than affection flickering in his eyes.

"I need you to understand how much you mean to me," he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, husky tone. "Let me show you."

Her breath caught as he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a tender, lingering kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of love and devotion, of promises made and kept.

He deepened the kiss, his hands moving to cradle her face as if she were the most precious thing in the world. She melted into him, her own hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her palms.

When they finally pulled apart, both slightly breathless, Drew rested his forehead against hers.

"Do you believe me now?" he asked, a small smile playing on his lips. "Or maybe I really need to show you."

Drew's hand lingered on Y/N's cheek, his thumb gently brushing away the last of her tears. His eyes never left hers—dark, intense, full of something unspoken but heavy, like the weight of a confession he couldn't hold back any longer.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he murmured, his voice low and rough, the kind of tone that made her stomach tighten and her breath hitch. She blinked up at him, her lips parting slightly as if to argue, but he didn't let her. Instead, he leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers, his breath warm against her skin. "Don't say it. Don't say you don't see it. I'll show you."

His fingers trailed down her neck, feather-light, sending shivers rippling through her body. He shifted closer, his other hand finding her waist, pulling her into him until there was no space left between them. Her heart pounded as his gaze dropped to her lips, then lower, tracing the curve of her jaw, the dip of her collarbone, the swell of her chest. Everywhere he looked, she felt it—like fire licking at her skin.

"Drew..." Her voice trembled, barely above a whisper, but he silenced her with a kiss. Soft at first, almost questioning, as if he was giving her the chance to pull away. But when she didn't, when she kissed him back, something in him snapped. His hands moved with purpose, one cupping the back of her neck while the other slid down to grip her hip, holding her firmly against him.

He deepened the kiss, slow and deliberate, his tongue sliding against hers in a way that made her knees weak. She could feel the heat building between them, the way his body pressed into hers, hard and impatient. When he finally pulled away, she was breathless, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to steady herself.

But Drew wasn't done.

His lips found her jaw next, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the sensitive column of her throat. She tilted her head back instinctively, giving him more access, a soft moan escaping her when his teeth grazed her skin.

"You taste so good," he groaned against her neck, his voice thick with desire. His hands moved to the hem of her shirt, fingers curling underneath the fabric as he paused, looking up at her with those piercing eyes. "Can I? Let me see you, baby. All of you."

She nodded, her cheeks heated up but her eyes locked on his, unwavering. In one swift motion, he tugged her shirt over her head, tossing it aside before his hands came to rest on her hips again. His gaze raked over her exposed skin, taking in every curve, every inch of her with a reverence that made her feel like she was something sacred.

"Fuck," he breathed, his voice trembling. "Look at you... You're perfect." His hands slid up her sides, his touch firm yet gentle, like he was memorising her. "Every part of you... I want to worship it."

Her breath caught as he sank to his knees in front of her, his hands gripping her thighs as he pressed a kiss to her stomach. It was tender, almost reverent, but the look he gave her when he glanced up was anything but innocent. Heat burned in his eyes, dark and hungry, and it sent a thrill shooting through her.

"Drew..." His name fell from her lips like a prayer, her hands clawing at the sides of his face for anything to grip onto as he began to trail kisses lower, his lips brushing against the band of her pants. He hooked his fingers in the waistband, tugging them down slowly, his lips following the path they took until she was standing there in nothing but her bra and underwear.

His hands slid around to her ass, squeezing gently as he nuzzled against her stomach, pressing another kiss there. "So fucking gorgeous," he muttered, his breath hot against her skin. "I don't know how anyone could ever talk shit about you. You're a goddamn masterpiece."

She whimpered, her chest tightening as he continued his descent, kissing and nipping at her thighs, her hips, anywhere he could reach. His hands slid up her legs, pushing them apart as he settled between them, his face level with the apex of her thighs.

"Drew, please..." Her voice broke, her body trembling with anticipation as he looked up at her, his eyes locking onto hers. There was something raw and primal in his expression, something that made her stomach flip and her core ache with need.

"Tell me what you want," he said, his voice rough, husky, sending a jolt of electricity through her. "I'll give you anything. Everything."

She swallowed hard, her chest heaving as she struggled to form words. "I... I want you. All of you."

A slow smirk spread across his face, wicked and knowing, as he leaned in, pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh. "Then you've got me."

His mouth found her center, hot and insistent, and her knees nearly buckled as a loud moan tore from her throat. His tongue dragged along her slit, teasing, tasting, before delving deeper, burying itself in her folds with a groan that vibrated against her sensitive flesh.

"Oh my god..." Her head tipped back, her nails scraping against his scalp as he worked her over, his tongue flicking and circling her clit with expert precision. He alternated between long, languid strokes and quick, erratic flicks, driving her closer and closer to the edge with every movement.

"Drew, I—fuck, I'm—" Her words dissolved into incoherent gasps and whimpers as the pressure built, her hips rocking against his face as he devoured her. His hands gripped her thighs, keeping her steady as his tongue worked her relentlessly, each lick and suck bringing her closer to oblivion.

And then, just as she was about to tip over, he pulled away, leaving her teetering on the edge, desperate and aching. She cried out in frustration, her hands clutching at him as he stood, towering over her with a predatory grin.

"Not yet, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with arousal. He reached behind her, unhooking her bra and letting it fall to the floor. His hands immediately cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, eliciting a sharp gasp from her. "I'm not done worshiping you."

He bent his head, capturing one nipple in his mouth, sucking and biting gently as his free hand drifted lower, slipping beneath the waistband of her underwear. She moaned loudly, her hips jerking forward as his fingers teased her entrance, circling but not quite entering.

"Drew, please..." Her voice was pleading, broken, her body writhing under his touch. He chuckled darkly, releasing her breast to kiss her deeply, his tongue plunging into her mouth as his fingers finally pushed inside her, stretching her deliciously.

"You're so wet for me," he growled against her lips, his fingers pumping in and out of her at a torturously slow pace. "Is this what you want? Hmm?" He added a third finger, curling them just right, and her entire body went taut, a strangled cry escaping her.

"Yes! Oh god, yes..." Her hands clawed at his shoulders, her hips rolling against his hand as he fucked her with his fingers, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through her. His thumb found her clit, rubbing tight circles that had her vision blurring, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.

"Come for me, baby," he commanded, his voice deep and gravelly, sending a shiver down her spine. "Let me feel you."

And just like that, she shattered, her orgasm crashing over her in waves so intense she thought she might drown. Her cries echoed through the room as he held her through it, his fingers continuing to move inside her, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until she was boneless, trembling in his arms.

When he finally pulled his fingers free, she sagged against him, her legs barely able to support her weight. He caught her easily, his strong arms wrapping around her as he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.

"See?" he murmured, his voice soft now, filled with affection. "Perfect."

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was such a sweet request, and i really hope it was exactly what you wanted anon !! i’m so sorry this is so late, but i’m trying to work through all my requests and i’m almost half way there :)

as a curvy gal myself, this was just so cathartic to write and i really hope others feel the same when reading this !! you’re all so so so gorgeous in your own ways and ily all sm <333

[urlocalmultigroupfan]

double take (alternate version pt.1)

pairing: stranger!jisung (??) x fem!reader

summary: based off of double take by dhruv <3

tags/warnings: reader is lwk kind of obsessed, mentions of food i think? not really proofread 😍

a/n: so i decided to kind of rewrite double take.....this is from the reader's perspective <3 hope yall like it <3

double take (original)

masterlist...

"boy, you got me hooked onto something, who could say that they saw us coming? tell me, do you feel the love?…."

The first time you saw Han Jisung, you almost tripped over your own feet. He wasn’t doing anything extraordinary—just standing in line at the coffee shop, scrolling through his phone. But there was something about him that made you look twice. Maybe it was the soft way his hair fell over his forehead, or the faint curve of a smile tugging at his lips as he read something on the screen.

You quickly ducked your head, hoping he hadn’t noticed you staring. But the image of him lingered in your mind long after you’d left the shop, your usual order clutched in your hands.

The second time you saw him, it was in the park. You were sitting under the shade of a tree, sketching in your notebook, when you heard a burst of laughter. Looking up, you spotted him with a group of friends, his smile brighter than the sun filtering through the leaves.

For a moment, you forgot about your drawing. You’d never seen someone so… alive. His laugh was infectious, and you found yourself smiling too, even though you didn’t know what had made him laugh.

You tried to focus on your sketch again, but your hand faltered, drawing lines that didn’t belong. Frustrated, you closed the notebook and decided to head home. As you walked past him, you felt his gaze flicker to you for the briefest of moments. Your heart skipped a beat, but you kept walking, pretending not to notice.

The third time was an accident—or maybe fate, you weren’t sure. It had started raining unexpectedly, and you’d forgotten your umbrella. As you hurried toward the nearest shelter, you nearly collided with someone. Looking up, you found yourself face-to-face with him.

“Oh, sorry!” you blurted, stepping back.

“No, it’s okay,” he said, his voice warm and slightly breathless. He looked at you, really looked at you, and you felt your cheeks heat under his gaze.

Before you could think of something to say, he held out his umbrella. “Here. Take this.”

You blinked, surprised. “What about you?”

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “I’ll be fine. You look like you need it more.”

For a second, you hesitated. Then you took the umbrella, your fingers brushing against his. “Thank you,” you said softly.

“Anytime,” he replied, giving you one last glance before walking away, rain soaking his hoodie. You stood there for a moment, clutching the umbrella, your heart racing.

After that, it felt like you couldn’t stop running into him. At the grocery store, at the library, even on the subway. Each encounter was brief but left you replaying it over and over in your mind. You started to wonder if he noticed you too, or if you were just another stranger in his day.

One afternoon, as you sat at the coffee shop by the window, sketching absentmindedly, you caught sight of him walking in. Your heart jumped as he ordered his drink, completely unaware of you. You forced yourself to look down at your notebook, but when he turned to leave, your eyes met for the briefest of moments.

He hesitated, as if he recognized you, and you felt a rush of something you couldn’t quite name. But before you could say anything, he smiled faintly and walked out the door.

It was weeks later when you saw him again, this time at a small record shop. You were flipping through vinyls when his voice broke through the quiet hum of the store.

“You’re the one from the park, right?”

You turned, your breath catching. He was standing a few feet away, a sheepish grin on his face.

“And the coffee shop,” you added, surprising yourself.

He laughed, the sound sending a warm flutter through your chest. “Guess we keep running into each other.”

“Maybe it’s fate,” you said, half-joking.

His eyes softened, and for a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you. “Maybe it is,” he said quietly.

From that day on, your lives began to intertwine. Coffee runs turned into long conversations, walks in the park became shared silences where words weren’t needed. You learned about his music, his dreams, his fears. And he learned about your art, the way you saw the world through lines and colors.

One evening, as the two of you sat on a hill overlooking the city, he turned to you, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “Can I ask you something?”

You nodded, your heart pounding.

“Do you believe in connections? Like, meeting someone and feeling like they’re meant to be in your life?”

You smiled, the answer already on your lips. “I do. Because that’s how I feel about you.”

Relief and joy lit up his face, and he reached for your hand, his fingers lacing with yours. As the city lights twinkled below, you leaned your head on his shoulder, feeling like you’d found something you hadn’t even known you were looking for.

And in that moment, everything felt right.

lwk kind of rushed 😰 either way hope yall enjoyed <3

today's writing playlist....

double take by dhruv, what it is (solo version) by doechii, flamin hot lemon by jaehyun, smoke by jaehyun, dandelion by jaehyun

*bold is explicit*

my playlist

taglist is open! please comment if you would like to be added <3

[merbear25]

Since u didn’t include Love and Mashiro in the last Vizards post came we get how they would react to a fem s/o wearing a really short skirt?

NSFW pls my vizard thirst is too real

I decided to add Shinji and Rose to this because I had ideas for them 💀 Hope you like it! 💜💜

You knew exactly what you were doing when you bought it. A skirt that was a glorified set of underwear was bound to turn their heads. When you were alluring all on your own, how could it not? You were just wrapping their favorite treat in a tempting package.

CW: NSFW, MDNI, fem!reader, established relationship, perversion, groping, cumshot, teasing, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal fingering, vaginal penetration, creampie

Wearing a revealing skirt around them (Love, Mashiro, Shinji, Rose)

Love: Re reading the manga he borrowed from Lisa, he kept a certain page open for a little too long. He stared at the panty shot drawn on the pages. The outfit the girl was wearing was something no typical business woman would be caught dead in, but the fantasy of seeing a stern, seemingly cold-hearted woman get flustered and blush a deep red was more appealing than it ought to have been. 

The more he studied this woman’s curves, the more he saw a resemblance between her figure and yours. That outfit would look better on you was a thought on rerun up until you came up to him. He glanced up at you for a moment before going back to his manga. Only a second had passed before his head snapped back up. There you were in all of your beauty wearing an outfit very similar to what he was just fantasizing you in.

He choked a little on his words, so you helped him out. “I saw you were spending a lot of time staring at that drawing, so I went out and bought something similar.” You perked up and showed it off for him. “What do you think? Do you like it?”

The eager nod and soft “yeah” made you giggle. He was so cute when he got flustered, and your playfulness was only making it more difficult for him.

“Why don’t you take a break from looking at that drawing.” You carefully took the manga from him and put it on the side of the couch. You motioned to sit on his lap, but he stopped you.

“Wait, I just want to touch you right now.” His hands found their way to your waist first, wanting to be spoiled with the choice of wandering up to your chest or your hips. He kneaded at the softest parts of your body, adoring the way you felt and needing to make you feel like the most desired woman on the planet.

When he pulled you closer, he kissed your chest and gripped your ass with an increasing lust. Running his fingers under your panty line, he wasted no time in feeling everything you were keeping hidden. With his fingers sinking into your wettening cunt, you moaned sweetly. Gripping his shoulders, you panted softly as he pumped them into you.

Suddenly, he pulled away. Sitting further back on the couch, he angled his head on top of the headrest. Gently ushering you over, you couldn’t stop the thrill budding inside you.

“Sit on my face.” His breathless request wasn’t something you were going to deny him of.

You rested one of your knees next to his head and eased yourself down. As he breathed in the scent of your arousal, he groaned as his tongue tasted it through the fabric. His hands kept caressing your hips, wandering to your thighs and chest but finding their way back to your backside without fail. 

He tugged at your cotton thong to wedge the soaked cloth between your now swollen pussy lips. Lathering your needy center with his hot tongue and tugging on the strained fabric was leaving you a whimpering mess. The combined friction of the thong and his nose were leaving you restless. Feeling you squirming on his face was becoming too much to bear, but he was desperate to drink up every last drop of bliss you were giving him.

As you rocked back and forth in search of release, he freed himself from his jeans. His moans vibrated against your sensitive skin, while he began fulfilling his own sexual needs. The fast motions of him stroking himself were making the bit of fat on your hips shake slightly. Your silent plea for him to make you cum gave him every reason to give you everything he had. 

Hearing you cry out for him sent him tumbling over the edge after you, leaving hot streams of cum all over himself. His muffled gasps and moans of ecstasy made you rut more roughly against his face to chase the high. 

Easing yourself off of him, the state of both of you sparked even more outfits inspired by his manga.

Mashiro: You waltzed past her without so much as a second thought regarding your attire, so you caught her attention effortlessly. You didn’t need to look back to know she was leaning over to get a better view.

The sway of your hips was done intentionally in hopes of drawing out more of a reaction. However, her eyes were too fixated on your scantily covered bottom to give you what you were specifically after.

“That’s a nice skirt!” Her voice was chipper as usual. “Is it new?” 

You nodded and showed it off a little more for her, doing a seductive twirl that made the fabric fly up even more. The sight of your lacy panties made her lean over so far that she nearly fell out of her chair.

Looking at you all wide-eyed with intense interest to explore, the desire stirring within her came out in an otherwise curious way. Lifting your skirt, she gave herself permission to satisfy her urges. “These are very pretty too.” She hummed as her fingers trailed up and down the wet patch forming between your thighs. “Hmmm…”

“What’s the matter?” The question shook with your uneven breaths.

“They’re in the way though…” Her statement trailed off as she took the liberty of sliding them down your hips. Tossing them to the side, she tugged you gently forward so that you were positioned right above her.

Her tongue darted out against your clit, sending a wave of euphoria over you. The slender fingers you so often imagined in place of your own on lonely nights slid up your hips and squeezed firmly. They held you in place, while the lapping of her tongue left your legs weak. Soft cheerful hums of satisfaction and blissful enjoyment vibrated gently against your sensitive skin. Every moan passing those soft lips of yours were eagerly pushed further, when her tongue trailed along the other, more delicate, pair.

The trembling and panting you were so eagerly giving her had her smiling throughout your orgasm. Her big brown eyes batted up at you with an unmatched adoration. After letting you ride her face through your climax, she gently sucked at your overstimulated clit before pulling away. A thin string of your arousal tethered you to her before she wiped it off with her finger and ran her tongue over it.

“You should wear skirts like this more often.” Her tone was far too pure given what she’d just been doing.

You nodded before dropping to your knees. Your tongues tangled, allowing you to taste your tangy sweet cum still glistening on her pretty face. Her hands clung and clawed at your hips as yours kneaded her chest. Plucking her nipples got her moaning softly against your lips. The heat on your cheeks matched the one between your legs, begging you to go further. 

Listening to your body's desperate pleas for satisfaction, you slipped your hand under her pants to find her own arousal pooling in them. You couldn’t break the lip lock even if you wanted to; each moan and praise she gave you was swallowed greedily as you plunged your fingers into her needy cunt. 

Her trembling hand found its way back between your thighs, feverishly playing with your clit again to lure out more of your sweet sobs. Your shared pants and moans of passion were reaching a fever pitch. As you rutted against each other’s hands, neither one of you stopped until the other was left completely and utterly satisfied.

“L-like I said,” she gasped. “You should wear this more often.” 

You chuckled before planting another more tender kiss on her reddened mouth.

Shinji: A long work day had yet to end, keeping the both of you separated for longer than he would’ve liked. Rubbing his eyes from exhaustion, the familiar sound of your footsteps traveled up the corridor. Cocking an eyebrow at the sight of you, a huff of amusement and a sly smite quickly followed suit. 

What a little tease you were flaunting your body right in front of him, while he was trying to be a diligent and honest captain. 

“Couldn't keep yer’self away I see.” The wink that chased after you could be felt even with your back turned.

“I thought I'd be able to work better with company is all.”

A chuckle came from him. “‘nd what kind a work were ya planning to do wearing somethin’ like that?” He flicked his pen at your attire.

You shrugged, playing coy. “What? This is new and I felt like wearing it.”

He knew you'd never cross his path in something that suggestive without some ulterior motive, but he'd let you have your little moment. He'd be having you begging for him no matter who started this game.

A sigh of relief escaped him as he leaned back in his chair. “That's good to hear. I'm up to my ears in paperwork.”

You could beat him at his own game. Of course, you could! However, as time seemed to drag on that itch you needed to be scratched was getting more unbearable. Lightly biting on the end of your pen wasn’t getting his attention, not even when swirling your tongue around it earned you glance.

“Shinji!” You groaned. “You aren’t even the slightest bit interested?” 

Smiling to himself, he threw you a bone. “Oh, ‘re ya caving already?”

You sat up straight, your flustered expression not even attempting to hide. “I-I’m not caving! I just… I just—” You slumped over the desk in a huff, feeling so sexually frustrated.

He leaned forward with immense self-satisfaction at how easily you got wound up for him. “Ya know all ya have to do is ask.” When you looked at him, that cocky smile you both loathed and adored was beaming back at you.

Grumbling quietly, you swallowed your pride. “Please, captain…” Your eyes hung low from feigned embarrassment, playing the role he wanted you to so damn well. “It’s been too long.” You gripped your already skimpy skirt to flash the wet spot pooling in your panties.

It had been a while since you two were able to be intimate the way you craved, making his usual control slip through his fingers that much faster. When he leaned back in his chair, you took that as an invitation. Sitting in front of him on the desk, you spread your legs at his nod to proceed. The sigh of his own pent-up lust left him without any control of his own.

Seeing you spread for him in that sad excuse for a skirt and your wet patch spreading more over your pussy lips were wearing him down. He nearly allowed himself to give in right there and then, but the look on your face was too darling not to indulge himself.

His fingers caressed you through the soaked cloth, earning himself those heavenly moans he missed so much. You clawed at the desk as his fingertips swirled around that sensitive bundle of nerves. Holding back your moans was in vain because of how much you needed this, needed him. The faint sound of wet fabric squelching was too good for him not to react to. His moans were soft and urged him to find friction for his own release.

Pushing the fabric to the side, he pumped his slender fingers in as he nipped at your inner thigh. The whimpers and begs coming out of you were just what he needed. Planting his face where you needed him most, his tongue worked to make up for lost time together. His other hand gripped his cock and stroked it in rhythm with your hip movements. He moaned into you as you searched for more of him, his hips acting on their own as he craved that sweet release he’d been deprived of.

His tongue piercing hit your clit at the peak of euphoria, causing you to throw yourself back on the wooden desk. He dragged his tongue over you, savoring the lingering jolts of pleasure shaking your body.

“Hope ya don’t think I’m done.” You were already splayed out so perfectly for him, he couldn’t resist taking you like that. He pushed into you without so much as a warning, causing you to yelp. His soft hushes soothed you as his pace started out slow and steady.

It’d been so long since he had you like this, you’d gotten so tight he didn’t know how much longer he could last. Those darling sounds coming from you and the way you looked under him weren’t helping either. He tightly gripped your waist as he pounded into you erratically, his breaths coming out in short gasps.

“Fuck!’ He grunted loudly, while he filled your sweet center to the brim with white hot cream. Coming down from your shared high, he lazily played with your skirt. “Yer gonna have to wear this more often, ya know that right?”

Rose: Fine tuning your favorite instrument with him in the room shouldn’t have been that much of a distraction, but when your soft thighs were on show, there was no hope focusing on anything other than you.

He absentmindedly strummed his guitar, letting the melody climb into a romantic ballad the longer he gazed upon you. Your delicate fingers paying extra care to your second voice with each tuning had him wondering if you knew how beautiful you truly were.

“That’s a lovely song. What inspired it?” Your voice complimented the key perfectly.

“Who else other than my other half?” His eyes fluttered to your concentrated expression. The flattered smile peeking through was all the incentive he needed to continue. “And what was the vision behind your little outfit today?”

“Who other than you?” You smirked at him, crossing your legs so the skirt rode up further. The seam of maroon silk peeked out from underneath. He couldn’t help but feel like a starving man with a piece of the most mouth-watering meat dangling in front of him, just out of reach.

Placing his guitar down, he went over to you. “I think you’ve tuned it enough for today.” Before you could protest against him taking your instrument away, he planted a firm kiss with enough fervor to take your breath away.

His hands slid under your skirt and roughly grabbed your ass. As your lip lock deepened, his fingers played at the sides of those devilishly tempting panties. Gripping them tightly, the force squeezed against your already slick lips. The soft whimper coming from you as a result was like music to his ears, a song that he yearned to further orchestrate.

Slowly, he shimmied them off of you, savoring the way they hugged against your curves. You looked heavenly like this: hot and bothered, ready for him to make you sing your siren’s song. Clenching your lingerie in his fist, he spread your thighs so that the short fabric of your skirt barely covered your soft skin. Your ass hanging out, your pussy dripping with need, your pants growing desperate: a delectable sight that he felt lucky to bear witness to.

Dipping into you, he hung onto each gasp and moan you were willing to give him. Your walls clenched around him from the blissful sensations coursing through your molten core. A shaky, satisfied smile peered down at you, while you gave him a taste of the symphony he’d been thinking about all morning. As he began thrusting, your moans grew louder and needier, fueling his darkening lust for you.

Your damp panties were being squeezed between his hand and the back of your thigh. The sweetened musk mixing with the slight sweat building between you two was clouding his thoughts even more with you and you alone. You were an image worthy of the status of goddess, meant to be worshiped like the gift you were and he was going to do just that.

His movements pushed deeper but kept a steady pace to hit that sweet spot just right. The way you practically sang for him had his head spinning. As your body trembled in signal of your approaching climax, he acted on impulse—bringing your panties to his face to fully engulf himself in every part of you. The lewd sight of him huffing your dirty underwear helped push you over that sought after edge. The sheer intensity of your body cumming along with your sweet scent flooding his senses lured out his own release. 

Such depravity that wasn’t above either of your standards, the mingling scent of sex made you want to pick up more skirts in this one’s likeness.