#but he continues and continues and continues trying

[rin-may-1103]

Aspiring Escape Artist (part two)

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"Why don't we all head inside, yes?" Mr. Wayne suggested, waving his arm in the doors general direction.

"Yes, that sounds great," Ms. Clance agreed, turning to Danny like she was debating whether or not she should drag him inside. Danny was very against that idea and glared at her. She huffed but turned and started making her way up the stairs.

The other, he can't really say kids because he's pretty sure half the people standing in front of him were over the age of eighteen, but they still lived with Mr. Wayne, apparently, so kids it was. The other kids continued to try to stealthily watch him as they made their way into the building. (He refused to call this place a house; it was bigger than Sam's manor for Ancients' sake.)

The gray-eyed girl waited for him, the not-so-happy but happy sparkle back as she watched him approach. Pausing for a moment, Danny turned and gently patted the bush closest to him, it had been practically begging for attention for the past ten minutes and Sam would have throttled him if he had just ignored it.

She treated them like demented puppies, and it's against every unspoken law (in danny's books, atleast) to ignore a puppy.

The gray-eyed girl (man, he was going to have to learn their names, Ancients, why were there so many people here?) tilted her head curiously, eyeing the plant he just patted.

"My friend has plant powers," Danny huffed, which was true. Sam still had lingering plant control and a connection to the green because of Undergrowth. Danny was just leaving out the fact that he also had plant powers. He wasn't sure why he always got new powers after beating new powerful ghosts, but it happens, and now he needs to pet the plants because they get sad if he doesn't.

(Jazz theorized once that the new powers were due to his half-a nature, but then they looked at Vlad and decided it was probably something else.) (Also, why in the world did he get ice powers and then almost immediately plant powers? like, seriously, why?)

"Close friend?" Gray asked, turning to follow Danny inside.

"One of my best friends," Danny agreed. Man, he missed them. He'd have to figure out how to get out of here soon; there was no way he was going to just not see his friends on Tucker's birthday. Which meant he had about a week to bust out of here and get back to Amity. Oh, and stay under the radar so Vlad doesn't find him.

Glancing around the entry hall, or was the term foyer? like, the place was fancier then most five star hotels he's seen (which he wants to make clear, was against his dying wishes. fuck vlad and his not hard earned money.) like, sure, it wasn't all white modern minimalist like the hotels, but he's pretty sure the vase just sitting a little too close to the edge of a table was worth more then a human heart on the black market.

"Welcome to Wayne Manor," Mr. Pennyworth started, closing the doors with a heavy thud. He didn't lock it, though, Danny noted. Probably because Ms. Clance still needed to leave.

"may I have your coats?" he asked, holding out his arm to Ms. Clance and looking over to Danny. Ms. Clance immediately started to shrug off her jacket and dropped it onto his arm without a second glance, trying to talk to Mr. Wayne about an office or something.

Danny shook his head, "No thanks. I prefer to keep my things with me." especially in a new place, who knows what they'd do to his stuff. last time he handed anything over it had been locked up and never returned. (or well, not returned until he stole it back right before leaving, but that's getting into semantics.)

"So, Daniel was it?" the older guy from the first three asked, smiling brightly and trying to act casual. He was failing.

"It's Danny," Danny huffed, glancing around to study the others.

Gray was nice, he had a feeling they'd get a long fine. she was like an open book, all her opinions and emotions right there for him to see. Though that just meant she was awear of them and could easily hide them.

The others not so much.

Eyebags looked tired but alert, watching Danny like he was a new puzzle. Which was fine, Danny could deal with that. He probably wasn't as bad as Jazz or his parents were when obsessed with new things, so he goes lower on the list but not off.

Mr. Casual over here was watching him AND the others, which meant he was probably the peacekeeper. That or he was the one who antagonized the others into acting without them noticing. Same as eyebags, then.

Blondie looked like she was planning how to prank him right then and there, but also like she was evaluating him for something. Like he thought earlier, she'll probably stick around until she gets bored. So, hmmm. Keep an eye on more than eyebags, but probably not a problem.

there was a kid maybe two-three years younger than him trying to hide on the stairs out of view, he looked pissed off and annoyed. Something was telling Danny he should stay away from him. So, definitely going to the top of his list right next to butler man.

And finally, Mr. Wayne. He was smiling and chatting with Ms. Clance like he didn't have a care in the world. And it would have been believable if it wasn't for the fact that the man was easily steering the conversation away from the stuff Ms. Clance wanted to talk about, without Danny around, before leaving. Which means Mr. Wayne wanted Danny to be part of the conversation, probably to get both sides of the story.

He was smart and knew how to manipulate situations without people catching on.

Also, top of the list, then.

"Only people who want to kill me call me Daniel," Danny added, watching as Ms. Clance tried to bring up his file and fell for another diversion.

"Really?" Eyebags asked, actually surprised for some reason.

Oh, wait, murder isn't normal. Ha, to live a normal life. It must be boring. Couldn't be him, even if he wanted it. There was nothing normal about growing up with mad scientists, and nothing normal about being half dead and a vigilante.

"Yeah, my friends and I made a chart and everything. Granted, we didn't have many people to add to the list to compare with, but it's checked out so far." Danny admitted, turning to face Eyebags.

Honestly, it was just Vlad, his parents, a few GIW agents, and those very few times his friends almost killed him. But come on, they all called him Daniel at some point. Therefore, it totally checks out.

"Huh," Mr. Casual blinked, glancing at his siblings before shaking his head. "Right, so uh, why do people want to kill you?"

"Because they're Fruit Loops," Danny grumbled, finally deciding to approach Ms. Clance. Might as well get this done and over with. The longer she stayed, the less time Danny would have to scout the place by himself later, after all the introductions.

Next (to be written)

[no-144444]

the fuck up- o.piastri

꩜summary: the silence has become loud in the mclaren garage now they're back from their week-long break. what's making oscar so miserable? lando wants to get to the bottom of it...

꩜pairing: oscar piastri x ex! single mom! fem! reader

The sun began its descent over the flat city of Miami as Oscar and Lando sat to eat. Oscar did not want to eat with Lando. Lando very much wanted to eat with Oscar. Both of them had their reasons. Lando’s were; Oscar had been miserable since they got back from their week off, and he was too nosy not to ask. Oscar’s were; he’d had been miserable since they got back from their week off, and Lando was too nosy not to ask.

“How’s Magui?” Oscar asked, trying to make it seem casual. He’d never once asked about Lando’s dating life, mostly because he didn’t care. Lando smirked at him like he knew what was going on, and Oscar continued drinking his wine with a blank look on his face. 

Lando giggled lightly and sighed. “Oh Oscar… Oscar, Oscar, Oscar… sweet, young, naive Oscar,” Lando took a breath as Oscar rolled his eyes, this was getting repetitive already. “This is about Y/n!” He pointed a finger in his face and all he got back was that same blank expression, but inside Oscar felt that sting in his heart. “You’re missing her!” 

Try as he might, he couldn’t deny that. But that wasn’t the main issue. You’d been great. Mia was great. Oscar was the outlier. Well, Beth was the outlier. 

He huffed. “I miss my daughter,” he corrected. “And no, that’s not a crime.” 

“You’ve known your daughter for two months,” Lando scoffed. “You were in love with Y/n for years.”

“And I broke up with her,” Oscar shot back. 

Lando grimaced. “Don’t remind me. You were almost bearable for a moment there.” 

Oscar scoffed and crossed his arms, levelling Lando with his eyes. “I just don’t understand why you care so much.” 

Lando mirrored his position and realised how close he was to the answer, the true answer. Whatever was bugging him so much. “Because I was there for Y/n?” 

“And I wasn’t,” Oscar nodded, a self-deprecating smile on his face. “And everyone keeps reminding me of that.” 

Lando shook his head. “It’s your own failing-”

“I know that!” Oscar’s hand hit the table so hard it attracted the eyes of a few other tables. He cleared his throat as Lando did the same, offering apologetic looks to the other tables, then turned his attention back to the man in front of him. “I know that,” he repeated, like he was trying to convince himself of it too. “But I didn’t know,” he added. “I couldn’t have known-”

“You would’ve if you didn’t put your racing career before yourself,” Lando shrugged and it knocked the wind out of Oscar’s lungs. No one had ever framed it like that. That he’d sacrifice himself for his career. The story always was that he’d sacrificed his relationships, his schooling, his regular life- which was all true, sure. But no one had ever reminded him of the fact that he gave up the most important thing to him, because he thought it would make him quicker. Even with no way to prove it, he knew losing you had never been good for him, or his career. You had been the one thing he had for himself. The one thing that nothing in the paddock could touch, he wouldn’t let it. His racing brain switched off around you, and he gave that up for being an Alpine reserve driver. “Simple as, mate,” he added. 

Oscar was quiet for a moment. “What do you want me to say to that?” 

“I want you to tell me what happened last week because Y/n won’t,” Lando leaned in, almost putting his chin on the table, batting his eyelashes and trying to make Oscar tell him. Oscar rolled his eyes. 

“It wasn’t a big deal,” he shrugged. 

“Beth showed up, didn’t she?” Lando mused, biting his bottom lip in suspense. Oscar sighed and Lando’s jaw dropped, though his hands raised in victory, and quickly dropped back down again. “Holy shit. What happened?”

The early morning sun of Monaco was truly breathtaking, and Mia seemed to love it too. It was your first time in Oscar’s old place, the apartment he was lending to a friend while he set up base in London with you and Mia. He had offered to bring you both to Monaco so Mia could ‘see where he’d been all these years’, and so that you could get a break. 

“It’s beautiful,” Mia whispered, her tired voice small as she curled up into your side in front of the floor-length windows. You chuckled as she cuddled into your lap, falling back to sleep as you people-watched. You spotted the cars going past, the people walking their dogs, the people going for runs, the people going to work. You adored the just… watch the world pass by. You were so engrossed in it, you didn’t see Oscar come up beside you. 

“What do you think?” he whispered. You startled, but kept still enough to keep Mia asleep. He chuckled, as did you. His eyes fell to Mia in your lap, though you knew he was listening. 

“Struggling to understand why you left this place for London,” you answered, and he laughed. This was so… normal, but strange. It was all so domestic, and you’d trained yourself to not think that. You wanted him gone, out of your life and mind. You thought back to all those mornings and nights you spent with Mia as she grew, imagining Oscar beside you. Imagining him feeding Mia a bottle as the sun rose, when she was just new. Imagining him playing with her in the park. Imagining her cuddling into his side while you watched movies at night. Imagining him taking some of the load off your shoulders. You’d always pushed it to the back of your mind, reminding yourself that he wanted nothing to do with you. 

And here he was. Wanting everything to do with you. 

“London has you two,” he shrugged. “Monaco doesn’t.” 

“But it has nice weather and a pretty killer view,” you teased. 

“You two are a pretty nice view,” he said before he knew what he was saying, and the air changed. You shifted your position. He cleared his throat and did that thing he always did when he was nervous or made a mistake, that ‘resting his chin on his hand’ thing. “And London’s not bad. Cheaper than here.” 

You chuckled. “You’re a millionaire,” you reminded him. 

He nodded and turned his attention back to the view. It was pretty stellar. “It’s nice, but I’d miss her too much.”

“Course,” you nodded, threading a hand through her hair. “I understand.” 

“Thought you would,” he chuckled. 

Knock knock. 

“Who’s here so early?” you questioned. “Are you expecting someone?” 

He shook his head as he stood. “Shouldn’t be,” he walked over to the door and (stupidly) opened the door without checking the peephole. Bad choice. 

Beth. 

“Where the fuck have you been?!” she demanded, loud enough to wake Mia in your lap, and you were genuinely too panicked to really know what to do. Who the fuck was this strange woman? Were you safe? How did she know Oscar? “I have been calling and texting you for weeks! Are you alright? Have you fallen off the face of the earth for some unknown reason?!” 

“Beth,” he said, his voice hushed. “Can we talk another time?” 

“Fuck no!” she scoffed, pushing past him at the exact moment you chose to jump up, trying to remove yourself from the room. Bad timing. She gasped louder than you’d ever heard. She was a woman who looked kind of like you… it was freaky. She stared at you for a moment, then turned her attention to… Mia. In your arms. The kid. The kid that looked like Oscar. 

Her gasp was even louder that time. “YOU HAVE A FAMILY?!”

“No! It’s not what it looks like-” you started, then cut yourself off. “Well.. yes, it is. But not like that. Oscar and I broke up years ago and I only realised I was pregnant afterward, we’d blocked each other on everything, and he only found out about this a few months ago. I don’t know who you are, and I’m just going to head-”

“Y/n-” Oscar’s voice called out, but the look you gave him made him shut up. You collected up your and Mia’s things and went for the door as Beth paced around the apartment. “Y/n, at least tell me where you’re going?”

“Lando’s, probably,” you answered before hastily leaving the apartment, and leaving him with the problem he’d been ignoring for weeks. 

“Her name’s Y/n,” she stated, her jaw open. “And you said it didn’t mean anything.” 

Oscar cringed. Ok, maybe he’d said your name once (or twice) during sex. Maybe he’d pretended it wasn’t a big deal, and that he was just naming famous people in his head to stop himself from cumming prematurely. Maybe he’d lied. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I know I’m an asshole-”

“Understatement of the century,” she interrupted. “Go on. Just break up with me now.” 

Oscar’s breath caught in his throat. “Do I really need to say it…?”

“Wow. So we literally meant nothing at all?” she asked, and he could see how upset she was. He didn’t deserve her, and he definitely didn’t deserve you, but if this wasn’t the universe giving him a chance at everything he’d ever wanted, he’d be damned if he didn’t take it, and Beth just wasn’t part of that. “I won’t let the door hit me on my way out, fuck,” she sighed as she pushed past him. “Y/n deserves better, you prick!” 

He knew she was right. He knew he should’ve just… he didn’t even know what he should’ve done. He just couldn’t stay done with you. 

“That bad, huh?” Lando nodded. “You really are a heartbreaker, holy shit,” he chuckled. Dinner had come and gone, and they were on their last sips of their drinks. 

“I’m a prick,” he nodded. “And Y/n has been so dry texting me, so I don’t even know if her and Mia are coming this weekend, or next.”

“They are,” Lando assured him. “Y/n might just… be a bit off. Shits happening at work and obviously not the best intro to your ex’s girlfriend.” 

“I broke up with Beth,” he corrected. Lando frowned. 

“Yeah, I know that. Y/n doesn’t. She thinks she’s medeled in your relationship and fucked it up for you, duh,” Lando shrugged. “Are you sure you know Y/n?” 

Oscar faked a laugh and flipped him off. “You’re so funny,” he added, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I know that. I just need to talk to her. And Mia. I mean, I know I’m not winning parent of the year, but all I did was fucking stand there, Y/n got her out of there. I couldn’t even stop Beth from coming in-”

“I hate to break your self-hatred rant, but we are in fact exiting my field of expertise,” Lando interrupted. “And dinner’s done. Call her tonight, see if she’s in Miami yet. If she is, go over there and hang out with your daughter. If she’s not, offer to pick them up whenever they get here. You’ll get through this, don’t worry mate.” 

Oscar wasn’t so sure.

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[jobean12-blog]

Defenseless in Love

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word Count: 3.6K

Summary: You've been friends with Sam for a while and you've trained with him here and there but never really got to the point where you feel you could properly defend yourself and when you ask him to teach you self-defense his new job as Captain America makes him a little less available so he directs you to his friend Bucky.

Author's Note: I always loved the thought of Bucky teaching us to be badass and even though he's lethal he's gentle and patient and wonderful! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: lots of fluff and flirty things and tension and a minor (totally fine) injury, soft Bucky

 “Why me?”

“Why not you?” Sam raises a brow, setting his hands on his hips.

Bucky remains quiet with a shake of his head.

“She doesn’t want to take a class. Says it makes her uncomfortable and she would rather train one on one with someone she trusts.”

“Then you do it,” Bucky sighs.

“I can’t.”

Bucky pins Sam with an incredulous glare.

“I’m kinda busy at the moment,” Sam explains with a lopsided smirk. “You know…Captain America and all.”

Bucky’s jaw tightens and he mindlessly stirs the spoon in his coffee.

“How do you know I won’t make her uncomfortable?”

The words are quietly spoken, and Bucky’s eyes stay fixed on the dark liquid in front of him.

“Buck,” Sam says softly. “I told her I was going to ask you to do it and that I trust you completely.”

Bucky looks up to meet Sam’s eyes.

“She was fine with it. She said, ‘if you trust him then I do too.’”

He’s tall, with tousled dark hair and a strong jaw covered with dark stubble. He stands and waits, his arms crossed over his torso in a way that makes the muscles in his chest and forearms shift deliciously. And his eyes…his eyes are a shade of blue that rivals the ocean. They’re gorgeous-like the rest of him.

Taking a deep breath, you remove yourself from the hidden shadows just outside the gym door and grab the handle.

His head snaps in your direction, his gaze turning fully on you and making your heart skip a beat.

He says your name; his voice is low and gravelly, and it skates down your spine with a tingle. You nod and say hello.

“I was wondering how long you were going to stand out there.”

You suck in a breath and your lips remain parted.

“First lesson,” he continues, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly, “always be aware of your surroundings.”

“Right,” you manage to say as you step inside and let the door shut.

An hour later, after stretching and taking the time to talk through any jitters you’re standing in front of Bucky in your best defensive stance.

“That’s really the best you’ve got?” he says, his tone neither mocking or malicious.

“I’m more dangerous than you think,” you bluster.

The corners of his mouth rise into a challenging smirk.

You hate how beautiful he is. It’s a distraction and if you really want to learn you’re going to have to steel yourself against it.

He wiggles his fingers in your direction, and you pause.

“Shouldn’t you be attacking me first?” you ask. “Isn’t that why I need to learn to defend myself…you know self-defense.”

“I just want to see what I’m working with here,” he replies, keeping those perfect lips titled upward.

You let out a long exhale and rush toward him, barely able to register what happens before you’re wrapped in his arms, your back pressed tightly to his chest. You struggle in his grip, moving against him to try and loosen his hold.

He goes still and you swear he stops breathing for a heartbeat before he let’s you go.

You spin and face him again, breathing heavily and not from exertion. This time he moves toward you, and holy shit he’s fast. You try to swipe his feet out from under him in a move that he artfully dodges and captures your arm. The earth spins and you brace for the impact of your back smacking the mat but instead all you feel is the strength of his arms behind you as he holds you up and slowly lets you sink down. He leans down so his face is only inches from yours, “you’re strong,” he whispers, “but you’re gonna need more finesse.”

You huff in response, but he releases you and stands, offering you a hand. “We’re not done yet. We’ve barely gotten started.”

He tugs you to your feet, then twists your arm behind your back and yanks you against his hard chest, pinning your joined hands before you even catch your balance.

“Shit,” you snap, trying to steady your breathing.

He releases your hand and steps back and you whirl, going for a punch to his throat. He knocks your hand aside easily.

“Good,” he says with a smile, deflecting your next blow without even breaking a sweat. “Going for the throat is always a good option as long as it’s exposed.”

You kick out again, mostly from frustration, and he captures your leg, this time, holding it for a second before dropping it to the mat with a frown. “I expect you to learn from your mistakes.”

Your frustration turns to fury, and you glare at him, noting the way he stands there with loose arms, rocking back on his heels.

“You’re not even trying,” you grit out.

His lips curve into a smile and this time you don’t think, you just act, going low and kicking out the backs of his knees. He goes down hard, and you pounce, trying for a headlock. Doesn’t matter how big someone is- they still need to breathe.

Instead of going for your arms, he twists, grabbing a hold of the backs of your thighs so you lose your leverage and your bodies careen into a roll. Of course, he lands on top.

His forearm rests against your throat and his hips have you pinned; your legs useless on either side of his as he lies heavily between your thighs. Your body becomes so acutely aware of him that he’s all you can feel. Your breath catches and your body warms.

“Where did you learn that move?” he asks with an approving smile.

Your chin lifts. “Sam taught me a few things here and there.”

“If your opponent is bigger you need to stop going for moves that will expose you,” he explains, keeping you pressed to the mat with his weight. “A rib shot would work just fine.” He gently pulls your hand free and drags your fingertips down his side. Then he guides your hands around his back. “Kidneys are a good fit from this angle too.”

You swallow hard, refusing to let your mind wander to other things that are a good fit in this position.

He leads your hands to his waist and you’re sure you feel the muscles of his abdominals tense under your touch. “There’s weakness here too. Three easy places to strike.”

You stare at him, your fingers still pressed against his shirt and feeling the hardness beneath.

“You hear me doll?”

You nod.

“This looks promising,” Sam says with a mischievous tone.

You’re suddenly reminded of your surroundings and the realization of your current entanglement with Bucky makes your skin heat.

“Sam!” you say as you try and get out from under Bucky.

Bucky presses up from the mat a few inches and then slides your hand away from his side, slowly, inch by inch.

“That’s it?” you ask, surprised at the disappointment you feel.

“I hate to break it up, but I need Bucky,” Sam says.

Bucky pushes up all the way, removing his weight from your body and offering you another hand. You don’t take it this time and rise from the mat with ease. His approving smile makes you feel warm all the way down to your toes.

Sam’s smile is wide and knowing but you ignore it, focusing on Bucky.

“I’ll be right there Wilson,” Bucky says, the short dismissal enough to get Sam to give you two privacy.

“You did well,” Bucky says, filling the space in front of you.

Your head drops and you scoff, kicking at some invisible object on the mat. Warm, strong fingers press gently under your chin and raise your face until your eyes lock with ocean blue.

“You did,” he says again.

“Thanks,” you whisper, mourning the loss of his fingers when he drops his hand.

“I’ll be more organized next time…if you want to do this again.”

“I do,” you answer quickly. “I want to feel safe. And strong.”

Bucky nods. “You will doll.”

The next week you’re back at the gym, feeling more confident and even more comfortable. After your first session you and Bucky exchanged phone numbers, the text messages flowing easily between you the past few days. This time you open the door without hesitation and find Bucky leaning against the far wall, cutting the pieces off a plum with a knife. His eyes lift and lock with yours just as he opens his mouth to pop a bite in.

Your entire body tingles.

He didn’t lie when he said he’d be more prepared and organized for this session. He works you through some stretches and a warmup and then takes you through several take downs step by step, each one building on the next. You’re moving faster and even getting a few hits in here and there. The confidence fuels you and coupled with some adrenaline you really push yourself, pressing Bucky to work you harder.

He does but when you try something new, something he wasn’t anticipating, you end up ramming your ribs into his metal forearm. It’s completely by accident but knocks the wind out of you nonetheless and you fall to your knees to catch your breath.

“Shit doll,” Bucky says, falling down next to you and grabbing your shoulders. “I’m so sorry.”

You wheeze out an “I’m ok,” and when you look up to reassure him, the lines of worry etched into his features make it even harder to breathe.

“Let me see,” he says, the panic in his eyes softening your own before he looks down at your side.

“I’m fine,” you say.

His focus snaps back to your eyes. “Don’t lie to me.”

“It hurts,” you admit after a stuttered inhale.

“Let me see,” he says again.

“Is that a request or a demand?” you ask, trying to sound teasing.

“You pick as long as I can check to see how bad it is.”

You swallow, then nod, reaching for the hem of your shirt. He stops you with a soft hand and then with surprising gentleness his fingers skim your bare skin as he slowly lifts your shirt. You suppress a shiver, locking your muscles so you don’t melt against him.

“Sorry if my hands are cold,” he says, clearing his throat as more of your skin is exposed.

Your eyes meet and warmth flutters in your stomach. He drops his eyes and inspects your side, gentle fingers stroking your ribs before they prod carefully.

“You’re gonna have one hell of a bruise doll. I really am sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong and thanks for checking.”

He drags your shirt back down, letting his knuckles graze you skin in the process. He waits for you to stand, watching you closely and letting out a relieved exhale when he notices your breathing is more even.

Your eyes widen when he drops to his knees in front of you. “Your shoe is untied.”

“Oh.”

Your hands twitch at your sides, his long, soft strands of hair at the perfect level for you to run your fingers through.

“Thank you.”

He gives you a real smile, not a cocky smirk or a teasing tilt to his lips. A real, honest, heart-stopping smile that you’re anything but immune to.

“It’s the least I could do after…that.”

“Not your fault Bucky,” you assure him again. “It happened by complete accident.”

Bucky texts you at least forty-seven times over the next week, constantly checking in and asking about your ribs. But you’re still surprised when the day before you’re next session he calls, asking if you want to meet for breakfast beforehand.

“This place has the best coffee. And muffins. And scones,” he says as he holds the door open for you.

You laugh and walk through, instantly soothed by the smell of coffee beans and baked goods. “And you know this because you’ve tried them all of course.”

“Of course,” he says while rubbing his stomach.

Your eyes track the movement and you’re positive you can see ridges of muscles beneath his shirt. It takes all your concentration to tear your gaze away and focus on the menu. After ordering your drinks and two of everything baked you head for your seats.

You try it all and let Bucky eat the rest, marveling at how he packs it away and doesn’t even seem fazed.

“I wish I could eat like that and look like you.”

The comment comes out before you can stop it, and your eyes widen slightly when they meet his narrowed ones.

“You look perfect,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Eat whatever you want. You’re gonna need the energy today.”

He gives you one of his signature teasing smirks and you stand. “Bring it on Barnes!”

The walk to the gym is short but the weather is warm, and you can feel a light sheen of sweat coating the back of your neck. The hot coffee you’re drinking doesn’t help either but it’s too good to not finish.

He holds the door open for you and then walks in, sipping his coffee as he goes. You bend over to retrieve something from your bag, and he takes a misstep, his focus on your ass instead of where he’s going.

With a tumble forward his coffee follows suit, his momentum forcing the liquid out of the cup and onto his shirt. He catches himself before he looks like a complete fool, but the damage is done. His shirt is soaked through on the front with the last of his coffee.

“AH shit,” he sighs, pulling the wet material from his stomach.

“What happened?” you ask, your brows furrowed as you turn toward him. “Did you trip?”

“Um…yeah, something like that,” he says. “I have to change.”

He reaches behind his back and starts to lift his shirt, slowly revealing tanned skin that’s all sharp lines and barely restrained power. You’ve seen shirtless men before. Many times. But never Bucky Barnes. You’d start counting his ab muscles if the rest of him wasn’t just as good to look at. Your mouth waters when he turns around and you see the muscled expanse of his back. Even the gold and gray metal plates of his arm move beautifully as he searches for a new shirt.

“Sam usually keeps some stuff stashed in here,” Bucky says.

You think you heard what he said but you’re shamelessly wondering how his skin would feel under your fingertips, how your body would react to having every ounce of him on top of you, over you…in…”

The slam of the small storage door draws your attention downward, and you shake your head to snap out of it.

“Ready?” he asks, a new shirt securely in place.

You walk to the mat and wait.

“Are you sure you’re not still in any pain…?”

“Bucky,” you sigh. “I’m really ok. I have been for days. I appreciate your concern but I’m pretty sure I’m going to need to be able to work through pain sometimes. I don’t think anyone who attacks me will care if I’m injured…”

“You’re right,” he says, pride shining in his eyes. “Let’s go…but first…”

You watch with rapt admiration as he pulls several hidden knives free, his smile growing when he takes the last one out from his boot.

“I want you to learn how to use a weapon. You can carry it with you…just in case.”

He hands you the blade and you hold it in your open palm, noticing the weight of it and how the handle seems just right.

“Wow,” is all you can think to say.

“I had it made for you,” he explains. “Most blades are made for men…you know, big hands, long fingers.”

As if to drive his point home he splays his hand in front of you, showing off just how big and long they can be.

“Right,” you whisper. “I don’t know what to say…thank you Bucky.”

He smiles again. “Now let me teach you how to use it.”

Before you can prepare or react he has you on your back, his weight settled between your thighs. It takes all your willpower not to reach up and brush the stray lock of hair from his forehead.

“You didn’t even give me a heads up,” you whisper, leaning up slightly and letting your lips brush the shell of his ear.

He jerks up, and the heat in his gaze makes you all too aware of everywhere your bodies are touching.

“You know…” he says, his eyes glittering, “distraction is a great way to do some damage.”

His eyes drop to your mouth.

“Are you distracted?” you murmur.

Before he can answer you use a move he taught you and roll him on to his back.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you sing song.

His eyes meet yours under the fluorescent lights of the gym before dropping to your lips. His metal arm slides up your back, but not in a way to remove you, it’s slow and purposeful for a completely different reason. You can feel the warmth of his touch through your clothing, your skin unbearably hot.

When you shudder in his arms his smile is like a caress and his free hand moves to your cheek, brushing across your skin.

“You have incredibly soft skin,” he murmurs. “I’ve been aching to feel it again since I checked your ribs.”

The admission makes you suck in a breath, and he studies you with an intensity that makes you sway closer. His thumbs stroke along your cheekbones and his heated gaze moves to your mouth. Hands flexing, he draws you forward a few inches before he stops.

“I…” he starts, groaning when your tongue traces your lower lip.

“Bucky.” His name comes out like a whispered plea and it’s all he needs to close the distance. He was just out of reach and now his mouth is on yours, hot and insistent. He cradles the back of your head, trapping you against him as he lays on the mat and you feel every hard line of his body. You clutch the material of his shirt at his chest, parting your lips when he angles your head for a deeper kiss.

“Fuck baby,” he moans, and the sound makes you ravenous. Your hands lift to his hair and it’s just as soft as imagined, your nails scraping lightly over his scalp.

His hips tilt upward, and you gasp at the friction but it’s not enough and in a move that rivals all the others you’ve seen him do he flips you onto your back, the impact so soft you gasp into his mouth. You surrender completely, going pliant beneath him as he claims every line and curve of your mouth with a reckless edge that makes your body sing. He breaks the kiss, sliding his mouth across your jaw, your neck, whispering words of praise as he explores every inch of your skin his lips can find.

The sound of the gym door startles you enough to pull away, but your eyes never leave Bucky’s and when you hear Sam’s voice you let out a giggle.

“You look like you’re…defending yourself well,” Sam says from above you.

“Your timing sucks,” Bucky sighs. “And she could have totally handed me my ass right now if she wanted to.” He smiles down at you with a wink.

Sam pulls Bucky away once again but before he leaves he presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth then one to your lips, lingering until Sam starts shouting from the doorway. Later that night you get a text from Bucky-‘I can’t stop thinking about kissing you again.’

You read the words over and over again as your body continuously reminds you exactly what it feels like to have his mouth on yours. Your stomach flutters and you actually press a flattened palm against it, hoping to calm the eruption of butterflies.

After washing up and throwing on some pjs you’re just about to spend the rest of your night watching something streaming on Netflix when you hear a knock at your apartment door. You check the time. It’s late and you’re not expecting anyone…maybe it’s your neighbor?

Standing on your tippy toes you check the peep hole and barely stifle your gasp of surprise.

“I’m glad you checked to see who it was first,” Bucky says when you swing the door open. “That’s part of smart self-defense.”

You stare at his face, then the flowers in his hand, then back at his face.

“Is it too late? Were you asleep?”

His eyes fill with worry but before you let him fret too long you grab his free hand and drag him into your apartment, slamming the door shut and pushing him against it. Without a word you kiss him, softly at first, just a brush of your lips, but he instantly takes over, resting the flowers on the small table by the door and taking you in his arms, spinning you and caging you with your back to the door.

“You always get the upper hand,” you smile against his lips.

“Better get used to it,” he teases, resting his metal hand next to your head as he leans back in, letting his eyes do a warm sweep of your body from head to toe.

“You look magnificent,” he murmurs.

“I’m in my pajamas.” Your reply comes out breathless.

His fingers drops to your shoulder, tracing the soft curve before ghosting down your arm and sliding to where the hem of your tank sits just above your shorts.

“Magnificent,” he repeats, slipping one finger under the material to touch your skin. “And So. Fucking. Soft.”  

“Bucky,” you whisper.

“I know doll,” he says, “but I need to take my time…I want to get my hands and mouth on every inch of you.”

[ssahotchnerr]

My friend told me this story about her going golfing with her fiancé and she was like omg he is so attractive the whole time so i assume that what reader feels like all the time being with Aaron lol

a little off course

OMG i'm continuing with the golfing concept because YES cw; fem!reader, established relationship, playfulness and suggestive content <3

"Next time you go golfing with Dave," As Aaron was lounging on the couch, your arms had wrapped around him from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder. "Can I tag along? Please?"

A double take was necessary when you asked, the request far out of your character. You've never expressed interest in golf before, and he was exceedingly surprised. Maybe it was just another way for the two of you to spend time together. Maybe you thought it would be more exciting than it actually was. You were on some kind of agenda.

Regardless, the next free sunny Saturday, you were sat in the golf cart as he and Dave made their way through the course.

But, that's all you did. You had no clear intentions of playing; you plainly sat in observance, and Aaron felt your eyes following his every move. It was almost intimidating; he wanted to do well for you.

Little did he know that while he feared you were bored, you were thoroughly entertained; present for your own indulgences.

"Sweetheart." His eyes were squinting from the sun, Dave teeing off behind him. "Are you sure you want to be here?"

You offered him a smile, and he took a second to admire how cute you looked in your sun visor, casting a shadow across the bridge of your nose. "I'm absolutely sure."

"Since when are you into golf?"

"I'm very," You paused mid-sentence, watching him (or rather, his hands) as he fixed his glove, adjusting and retightening the hold it held. "Into golf."

Only, Aaron playing golf was what you were interested in.

He and Dave played a few weekends ago, and when Aaron returned home, you found yourself regretfully wishing you accompanied them. Just when you thought he couldn't possibly be more attractive; a new genre of Aaron was unlocked and never to be concealed again.

Crisp and clean in proper golf attire - fresh khakis, a polo shirt, a newly produced, light tan gracing his skin. And now being present, the way his broad back stretched and forearms flexed as he lined up for a shot, his chest heaving in a deep exhale after hitting. Could there be a better sight?

His eyebrows crinkled adorably. "But you're just staring at me?"

"Exactly."

"Oh, I see." Aaron's lips pulled into a combination of a smile and a smirk - he should've known. His hand was resting on the cart's overhead as he looked down at you. His voice remained low, to prevent Dave from overhearing. "You're just here to undress me with your eyes, aren't you?"

"Yes and no." You defended, failing miserably at keeping your caught smile at bay. "I'm here because I love you. The undressing is an added perk."

His furrowed brows relaxed in amusement. "Is it?"

"I'll jump at any opportunity to spend time with you. It's a beautiful day, you're within arm's reach." You reached out, giving his arm an affectionate squeeze. "And I get to swoon over you being sweaty and strong in the meantime. Besides, I'm also here to ward off any club members who think they may have a shot at you. You're on full display out here for anyone to see."

"Aren't you sweet." A breathless laugh escaped him - as if anyone had a chance when he had you. Aaron leaned down to kiss you gently, craning his neck slightly due to the obstruction of your hat. "Thank you, darling."

You grinned, crossing a leg over the other.

His stare hidden behind his sunglasses, Aaron's eyes involuntarily fell to your legs, seeing that your slightly-too-short skirt had slid up and exposed most of your thigh. Maybe you had a point.

"Do you want to give it a try?" He asked as Dave finished his shot, returning to the parked cart himself.

"Really?"

"Sure, I'll teach you." Aaron took your hand, helping you step off the golf cart before grabbing his driver from his bag.

He guided you to stand in front of him; his biceps were at your shoulders, his arms firmly around you and allowing little to no room for movement.

Caged in, you felt a flutter in more places than one, the weight of his chest against your back intimately familiar. Muscle memory.

A blush filled your cheeks. Not from the heat of the afternoon, but at the rate this innocent lesson (you were beginning to infer, this hadn't been innocent to begin with) had heightened. There was no way you'd successfully hit this ball now, even with Aaron's direction - being highly distracted.

"Hands here," he instructed with quiet command, moving your hands along the grip to the correct positioning. His lips were touching the shell of your ear. "Square your shoulders for me."

"Like this?" Only, you pushed your ass directly into his crotch. Aaron's hold on your wrists immediately tightened.

He barely managed a hum in confirmation, swallowing hard. "Just like that."

"Okay you two," Dave lectured from afar, a mix between amusement and slight disgust visible on his face. "Keep it PG on the green, please."

[beloveds-embrace]

(p3 fae poly 141 x cursed human reader) || Masterlist || cw: angst

When it came, it did so in layers; not all at once like fire razing down a forest, but like snowfall. Gentle and inevitable, each melting flake a small forgetting.

First, it was names.

You would look at Kyle, his familiar grin flashing like sunlight through trees, and call him by a title from a kingdom long swallowed by moss and time. You would laugh at his expression, uncertain why the sound tasted strange in your mouth, and the room would grow unbearably heavy, as if the walls themselves could sense the fracture forming inside you.

You’d ask Johnny to bring you tea, then wonder aloud- like a child startled awake- if you even liked tea anymore.

You stopped calling Simon by anything at all, not out of cruelty, but because your mind could no longer find the thread of him. As if the loom of your memories had begun unraveling, one golden thread at a time.

You even forgot Simon’s face one day.

He finds you curled in the hollow beside the singing well, where fae voices forever hummed through the mist. The stones were slick with memory, the air heavy with time and sorrow. You were wrapped around yourself, a trembling creature of light and loss.

“I didn’t know who you were.” You whispered when he sat down beside you.

He nodded, his eyes dark wells of unspoken grief. “That’s all right.”

“I thought you were going to take me.” You looked down at your trembling hands. “I thought… you were here to end it.”

“You’ve never been anything but safe with me.” He said. His voice was steady like old oaks, but he didn’t speak again for a long time, and neither did you.

The castle then watched it continue.

its stones bones shivered in mourning as it saw the way your footsteps faltered in the mornings now, how you stood at the edge of the corridor with your hand against the wall, trying to remember which direction leads to the garden and which leads to the throne room. It murmured gentle guidance beneath your feet, shifted the stones so you always turned the right way. But you still hesitates. Still frowned, still murmur apologies under your breath.

“Sorry, sorry… I knew this. I knew this.”

The will-o'-wisps that once flickered mischievous in the shadows now clustered around you like living stars, their tiny bodies pulsing gently as they guided you step by step, glowing a mournful silver instead of their usual playful blue.

You asked John one evening- while he read to you from a worn book in your shared chamber, his voice a steady beacon in your fogging world- if the stars had always looked like that. The question was so soft, so simple, and yet it cracked something in him, because you used to name the constellations like old friends.

You were afraid of shadows that weren’t there yesterday. Of reflections that looked a second too slow in catching up. Of voices you knew, but couldn’t name.

Next, it was time itself.

Not hours or days- years. You’d call for your parents in the twilight, confused and teary when they didn’t come, not remembering they’d passed so long ago not even the tree spirits remembered their faces. You'd clutch letters to your chest like they'd just arrived, unaware they'd been yellowing on your shelf for decades.

You’d forget your own mirror image.

You’d wake screaming from dreams you couldn’t describe. You’d shrink from your reflection, pressing trembling hands over your face and whispering, “That’s not me. That can’t be me. I was- I never- John, John? John, please-“

One night, you stood in the courtyard barefoot in the snow, robe fluttering like moonlight. You stared at the moon and asked no one in particular: “… Am I a prisoner here?”

Thrain was with you, as he always was. He nuzzled your shoulder in response, trying to soothe the fear rising within you. You gripped his fur and leaned against him like a child lost in a storm.

And gods, the way they ached.

Johnny laughed louder now, louder and wilder like the summer storms of the old world, trying to cover the shattering silence your confusion left behind. He called you "lass" in every sentence so you'd feel anchored to something. He walked a step behind you everywhere, pretending it wasn’t because he was worried you might forget where you were.

Ghost began carrying tokens- little things. Ribbons, dried flowers, silver buttons and tinkling bells. Each one had a story of you, and each time you forgot one, he’d hand it to you gently and say, “Yours, love. You gave it to me.” He’d say, like it was a cherished secret between the two of you.

Gaz took to humming your favorite tunes beneath his breath as he worked, even though you no longer sang with him. When you looked at him in confusion, he just smiled and said, “You always liked this one, remember?”

They stayed with you, every hour they could. But John- John suffered.

He sat with you for hours even when you didn’t speak- when words were too difficult and you forgot what clouds were called and what shapes they were. He kissed your hands when they trembled. When you woke in the night and begged to go home, not knowing what "home" meant anymore, he held you close and whispered: “You’re already there, darling. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

But, still you were slipping like mist through their fingers.

And the castle mourned with them. The walls dimmed, the corridors wept condensation like tears. Will-o-wisps flickered low and quiet, guiding you slowly even when you no longer asked. They stuck to your clothes and your palms, and did not have the heart to leave you alone.

And Thrain watched with the most solemn of gazes.

When you grew too afraid of your own chambers, he stood beneath your window all night. When you refused to eat because you thought the food was poisoned- memories of old war resurfacing from broken pathways- he let you feed him first, licking berries from your hand until you giggled faintly and took a bite yourself. He walked the castle grounds with you in silence, letting you lean against his massive shoulder when your steps faltered.

But none of it stopped the slow unraveling.

One morning, you looked into a mirror and didn’t recognize the face staring back. You reached out and touchd the glass, brows furrowed. “Who is she?”

Kyle was behind you, hands full of ribbons meant for your hair, and he hesitated. “That’s… you, love.”

You blinked, tilting your head. Slowly, a strange expression on your face, you pulled back. “She looks sad.”

He swallowed hard. “You’ve been hurting. But we’re going to fix it.”

“You promise?”

He knelt, took your hand, and kissed your knuckles. “All of us. Every damn one.”

Another day, you looked at John- his beard newly trimmed, his eyes soft and hopeful- and asked him quietly, your hands twisting the soft fabric of your dress. “Are you my husband?”

His face broke, the way cliffs crumble slowly into the sea.

You don’t remember the look he gave you. But you remember that night’s dream- a whisper of a man in a blue cloak with hands like warmth and a voice like thunder saying: “Yes, love. Always.”

And somewhere in your heart, you think you believed it. Even if you didn’t understand why, even if you didnt remember when.

“Will you still love me when I forget what love is?”

“Yes, love. Always.”

[yukioos]

hello! So far you have made really good post, and it made me think, what if you made one about bakugou x y/n, they JUST started making out and started this thing where after class and even the cafeteria hours they would go to the roof top and make out, and then come back to class and act like nothing ever happened. Also somtimes he would throw a paper and secretly desk her under the desk where they would meet up. 😍

when katsuki wants to make out during class

something soft hit your back, causing some giggles to be heard from around you. you raised your eyebrow, and when mister aizawa faced the chalkboard, you turned around to see nothing. a hand waved in front of your face, kaminari’s hand, to be exact, and his finger then pointed at the ground.

a crumpled-up ball of paper lay on the ground, so you bent over to grab it, opening the paper under your desk. maybe it had something in it. on on page, nothing was there, so you turned it to see the words ‘ask to fill up your water bottle’ with a little explosion drawing at the end, which is how you figured out it was katsuki who wrote the note.

you grinned and raised your hand, throwing the paper into your backpack.

mister aizawa finally turned back to you and asked, “yes?”

“can i please fill up my water bottle?” you held it up and shook it, and when no sloshing around was heard, he nodded.

you picked it up and walked outside the classroom, katsuki soon followed behind after he asked to go to the bathroom. he stomped after you, placing your water bottle next to the fountain before giving you a sly smile and gripping your hip. he shoved his lips onto yours and softly groaned, kissing you repeatedly, strings of saliva still connecting your lips after parting for a short period.

he lifted up your thigh, pressing it against his hip as he continued to kiss you. words haven’t even been spoken yet, but it was clear what the two of you needed.

even after that, he continued to ask you to leave during class or lunch to spend time with you. he didn’t just love you for your body, he didn’t just want pleasure, he wanted you as a person. katsuki knew he wasn’t good at expressing his emotions or love for people in a healthy way, but this was the only way he felt he could do it. it would always leave the two of you breathless, red, and even more in love.

to him, this was one of the most intimate acts someone could do, and he loved you with his whole soul. he never regretted skipping class to make out with you, besides when you heard a loud yell and chuckle from someone across the hall.

an annoyingly familiar voice rang in your ears, “hey, class 1-a! did you know two of your students, bakugo and l/n skip class just to make out in the halls?” monoma loudly chuckled, “class 1-b would never—“

he would always be smacked in the head by kendo, who would apologize and ‘leave the two of you be.’

that was one of the only times katsuki had felt embarrassed after making out with you.

hope you enjoyed this! i’m so happy you love my writing, your compliments mean the world to me. also, i gained around seven asks in one night so im trying to catch up, i apologize that i am not posting as often

[nightingale-prompts]

Mixed Signals AU part whatever

Danny: I can't tonight.

Tim: What do you mean you can't? I just got this vintage tool set to give you a lobotomy tonight.

Danny: I know, I know. I'd love to strapped down to a table while trying to bite your fingers off while you slam a nail into my eye socket but I have stuff to do in the morning. I tired too. You understand right?

Tim: No. But fine. I'll just shoot you in the forehead with a nail gun some other night.

-The next morning-

Danny: The synthetic blood has proven to to less drawbacks then tradtion transfusion. It's not shelf stable but it last slightly longer then in the fridge then blood packs. Uh...sir?

Tim:*nodding off* Uh..yes Mr.Fenton?

Danny: Are you alright you seem distracted.

Tim: I'm fine, just thinking about something. Please continue.

Danny: Right...

-Later-

Danny: My boss is so boring. And so dry. Can't believe I gave up a lobotomy to present him with this ground breaking research. He can't even pretend to be excited.

Tim: I wonder what Phantom is doing. What is so important that a freak like him would turn down getting his head split. God, these people are agitating. Can't wait to let off some steam tonight. Did I make sure to leave those tools in water to rust?

[thewritingfairy]

↪ 07.1 Duke and (Name)

 07. An explosion of emotions trigger warnings: mentions of past abuse, cursing, shouting, medical + emotional + physical neglect, mentions of wanting to die (name), mentions of anger, spoilers for chapter 7 of nobody's child. Main m.list         series m.list

Duke and you have a complex relationship. When it came to school you always made sure to use your last name, but somehow he still found out you’re technically a Wayne.

He promised to keep it a secret, as long as you would be his lab partner in chemistry, a subject he didn’t need help in. You never understood his reasoning. You never understood his actions, in fact you became confused the closer you two got. At first you thought it might be that he wants to get closer to your family, but then it seemed like he wanted to be your friend. He was interested in you, interested in who you truly are. So slowly you began to trust him, you began to share information you had yet to share with your family. You explained that you never felt like you, that everyone calls you them but that you have yet to tell your family. ‘Why?’ he had asked and your answer shook him to the core.

“I don’t trust them,” you said at first, a simply statement that holds no value but then you continued, “I was attacked in my own home, and Bruce refused to let me press charges because I had to understand the attackers circumstances.”

Duke remembers falling silent, shaking as tears fill your eyes. “When I woke up from that attack I learned that my family is to not be trusted. Not when it comes to safety and health, so who says I can trust them with anything else?” He remembers a chuckle leaving your mouth. He remembers how hollow it sounded. “It doesn’t matter I will get away soon enough.”

That day he learned the truth about the bat family, but the next day he finally learned your truth as well. You had been hunched over the teacher’s toilet as he walked by, the teacher trying to get you to calm down. You were puking your guts out, the teacher spotted him staring from the hallway. “You!” she had shouted. “You are friends with (name) right?” He had nodded without thinking. “Come hold their hair back as I get the nurse!”

He did just that, and that day he learned that you were chronically ill. “Don’t worry,” you had said. “I’m not dying, it’s quite usual for the folks in my family to get chronically ill.” when you said the words ‘my family’ he knew you were talking about your mother’s side. He also knew that you thought those words would comfort him, but they did not. It made him worry, especially with the fact that your father is Batman. Not like you knew, and that made him even more worried. How did the Batman not know that his child is ill?

“Does Mr. Wayne know?” he remembers asking.

“No,” you had said with a grin. “I’m medically emancipated, knowing how to forge a signature is quite handy.”

At the time he had wondered if you were joking, but the more time he had spend with your family without you ever being mentioned the more he realised that you had made the right choice. If he tried to ask about you, they would quickly change the subject. Telling him to not mention you, that you made it clear that you aren’t one of them. But truthfully, it was them that made you an outsider. It was visible to even him, an outsider, that the fault does not lie with you. It lies with them.

The longer he knew you the more he started to resent the Wayne family, with the days that your pain clouded your judgement and you begged for death his anger rose. But when he found that the Wayne family are the bats, he knew exactly what to do.

He would accept the invitation to be adopted by Bruce, to protect you, you might hate him at first. You might believe that he used you, but it will be something he must do. He had spoken to your other friends.

Friends you were arguably closer with, they admitted to him that you were fading away in your journey for freedom. That you need an ally in that cursed manor. And he will be that ally, sure it also means that he will be able to be a vigilante. Something he wants to do with all his heart, but at this point that was just an advantage that came with his need to help you.

You are a victim. A victim of a family that has become so tuned out to trauma inside their own family that they cannot recognise what they’ve done to you.

And when he walked through the manor doors, sure that you were at your work, just to be greeted by you screaming at Jason. It froze Duke death in his steps, but when Jason touched you, something snapped in him.

“Step away from them,” he had said, trying to control his tone, but when he took in the state you were in his control flew away. “before I knock your teeth out.”

Jason had stepped back. ‘Good he can listen,’ Duke had thought, tuning everything out as he turns his full attention to you. “(Name),” he had whispered, trying to place his hands gently on yours to stop your scratching. “I am here, it’s Duke, your lab partner, what can I do for you?” He had never seen you this distressed, he had never known that your pain could do this to you. If he did he would have stepped in sooner. He would have thought of a different plan, but he’s too far in to go back now.

“I need to die,” you had whispered, your eyes snapping to his as his heart broke at your words. “can you kill me?”

You were terrified of death, that’s why you are asking him. At least subconsciously you still knew you wanted to live. “You know I can’t,” he had said as he attempted to carefully brush your hair out of your face. You hate having your hair be touched in this state, but having your hair touched also brought you comfort. And at this point Duke would have done anything if it had meant calming you down. “But I can and I will listen.”

Those words always had a big impact on you, Maria had told him so. But in that moment those words meant everything to you. You were crying, but at least you had stopped scratching your skin off.

‘A win is a win,’ Duke had thought.

“You promise?” You had asked, your voice sounded so small and fragile. Your eyes were unfocused, and Duke feared that you could pass out any second.

“I promise.”

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[erwinsvow]

unintentionally falling asleep on jack abbot's arms GOD i need him so bad..

it would happen on one of those nights—a really long, never-ending night. since the moment you had stepped into the hospital, it had been back-to-back car accidents and gunshot victims. one of those nights where you can't seem to recall how many people you've helped save, because it seems like that number is lower than the ones you lost.

you usually have a routine during your night shifts. it's supposed to be less chaotic than the day, you're supposed to have time for your coffee at nine-thirty, your tea at one in the morning. it's nearing three, and you haven't had time to stop for either, just sips of water and half a can of an energy drink that you keep in the snack drawer that you share with dr. abbot, in case of emergencies.

and even the fact that you'd reached for it so early in the shift should have been a sign to you, that this was going to be one of those nights. but even as hard as it is, when you look up and meet reassuring hazel eyes, you know that you'll be okay. that you've done for your best for this patient, that you'll continue doing the most you can for all the rest that come into the trauma room tonight.

and around three-thirty, there's a lull. jack always says that five to seven is the hardest part of the shift, that the two hours at the end dictate how you go home feeling. those two hours are make or break, but right before them, that's when there's a lull. it's when the patients waiting for beds upstairs finally doze off. it's when the chairs are finally a little emptier. when notes are finished, when a fresh pot of coffee is made, when food is eaten.

four am might be your favorite hour in the emergency department. it's just quiet enough that you can hear jack's steady breathing from the computer next to you. he has to sign off on all of your notes—all the resident notes, all the nurses orders, and this is the best time to do it.

and it's hard, because he's really attuned to you. all you've been wanting to do recently is make jack feel the same way he makes you feel. heard, seen, recognized. you bring him a cup of coffee once it's been fifteen minutes without an incoming, your personal way of telling that you should have at least another ten without one. that's about how long it'll take him to finish the cup, so you bring it to him, in your yellow mug, and take a seat next to him.

you take one sip—but it's black, and you prefer yours with enough cream and sugar to make your teeth hurt. he laughs when you make a face, and then he takes the cup back into his hands, fingers brushing for a second. jack takes a big sip and sets it down, his hand lingering on the handle near where your hand is resting. he's reading notes and clicking a button on the keyboard.

"do you want a cup, sweetheart?" he asks quietly, making sure no one can hear him.

he doesn't care, but he knows that you do. but when he turns to get an answer, your eyes are drooping. somewhere between the repetitive clicks of the keys and your boyfriend's steady breathing, you momentarily drifted off.

"sweetheart?" jack repeats, and you sit up a little straighter, jolting out of it at his voice.

"yeah?" you blink quickly, like that'll wake you up. "what is it? incoming?" you almost get up, but jack brings his warm hand to your knee. you sink back down into the chair.

"no. it's nothing." he wants to offer you a cup but if you drink it now, you won't go back to sleep. "go back to your notes."

wordlessly, you comply, staring back at the screen. back to your own personal sound machine—calm heart monitors in the distance, jack typing something. you try to focus on the screen but your attention goes to how the veins and muscles in his forearm move everytime he brings the cup to his mouth for a sip. that's enough to get your eyes to shut again.

his arm rests next to you yours. and without even trying to, you end up slouched over, head resting on his arm. even at home, you sleep like this sometimes. you think that jack's arm must hurt, but if it does, he's never complained or told you to stop.

it's good that you're sleeping while you can. it's one of those times his favoritism can actually make an appearance—there's not a single other resident that gets to fall asleep in front of their attending, much less on their attending. and you need it—he can tell. you're still adjusting to the demands of night shift and this has probably been one of the worst nights since you started.

it's the kind of shift that would usually end with him up on the roof, but surprisingly, while watching your shoulders rise and fall with each breath, he hasn't thought about the roof once tonight. instead he thinks about what he'll make for breakfast when he takes you home. he'll have you shower first if you two go to your apartment—it's too small, not comfortable enough for you both. but if it's his place, then together it is. maybe he'll wash your hair for you, or let you cry against his chest under hot water.

you bought this sleeping spray stuff when you started, but when you come over to sleep in his bed, you haven't needed it once. hopefully this little nap and the cup of coffee he'll make for you at five-thirty won't ruin your sleep schedule more than it already is. he's remembering something about a pilates class you were talking about and an episode of that trashy reality show you love so much when he hears it—the almost silent yet completely recognizable laugh of his other residents.

shen and ellis look at your sleeping form, and then move their gaze to him.

"not a word," he says quietly. he's lost use of one hand but it doesn't really seem to matter, not as long as you get to close your eyes for thirty minutes.

"just one question-"

"-yeah, when's my turn?"

[anantaru]

⚝ DAY 11 — BREEDING

kinktober 2024. — masterlist | ao3

— including. — blade, welt, anaxa, phainon

— warnings. — fem! reader, breeding kink, spit kink, cum eating, very messy, possessive boys, lovesick and pussydrunk giggles, oral (fem! receiving), hitting it raw

⚝ — BLADE

there's no lead in with your boyfriend, no warm up— not with blade, yeah? not with him, just your thighs lazily thrown over his shoulders and his mouth dragging down between them like he's searching for something that'll surely save his heart.

his tongue was brutal and mean attacking the little pearl through the protective hood of your clit, making you instantly flinch into him, whimpering from the pressure as he groans like it only made him harder the more he heard you voice yourself. by now, his face shimmered of spit and slick before he pulls back— just to let a thick globule of spit hit your messy cunt again, big and heavy and right on your entrance— blade groans out at the sheer sight, "you want to be used, don't you? made a mess of? filled so deep it leaks out of you for days."

"that's what you've said, haven't you?" he was awfully good at giving you what you've sought after and blade doesn't stop, not even when you're shaking, not even when your breath fractures into broken little sobs.

he only drives into you over and over, stuffing you so full it spills out around him and covers his girth and pelvis, a sight both so hot and humiliating it turned your thighs into jelly— not to mention when it's sticking to his skin or soaking into the ruined sheets below.

you feel it all— feel the mess you've made and the weight of it on both of your bodies, the slow, endless filling of his cum pumping into you until you felt like you couldn't possibly breathe anymore— yet he just kept going, naturally, like he's literally carving himself into you, like he's trying to brand his existence into the deepest, most secret parts of your body so he'd for once, love being alive.

he huffs out when you sob into his lips, a gravelly noise torn from the bottom of his chest as he continues grinding into you with a brutal force that left you gasping, half-sobbing against his strong chest, "i'll ruin every inch," and you can't tell if he's actually shaking from restraint or insane hunger for you.

every greedy shove of hips against your cunt carved a deeper wound inside you, raw, passionate and the friction unbearable, your thighs slick and weak from the hefty fullness he's forced upon your hole, your hands sliding uselessly against his arms— clinging one moment and slipping the next, your body too wrung out to do anything but take him.

slick and semen spill out around where he bullies himself deeper, a vulgar, sticky testament to how little control he has left— how little you have left, all you can do is tremble and arch into him, as well as clutch at him with your numb fingers grazing at his biceps while he groans into your throat like he'll die if he doesn't break you open a little more.

his hands were splayed at your hips like he's holding together something broken, but it's not you— it's him, something's fracturing, something sharp and cavernous and when blade finally presses in once more, pistoling his cock through everything you've given him, the filthy mixture of your arousal and his cum covering the insides of your thighs as blade groans— a raw, strangled thing that sounded like a force of life had crushed through him.

well, there you see it, he was showing it, already wanting to be ready for another round, correct?

because blade's not done, oh no don't be silly now— he'll never be done, his cock was already glazed in the evidence of your last few rounds and still he shoves it back in like he's punishing you for how wet and how soft and how tight you were for him.

"you'll keep squeezing me like that, i'll fill you again, i swear—" his voice catches, one uncoordinated thrust of through your hole and he moans, hips twitching with mild overstimulation, "fuck, i'll keep doing it until you can't walk" as the tremble in his hands betrayed how close he truly was, how the tight, wet clench of your walls sucking him in was unraveling him thread by desperate thread. 

⚝ — WELT

"this is all i was asking for," welt purrs at you, his voice resembling poisoned silk as he dragged two fingers through your soaked mess, his lips curled up in a smirk, "you're leaking already for me, how shameful."

the man doesn't hide how hard he got seeing the way your body reacted to his faint touches— how he readjusted his boxers when your slick gathered so easily on his fingers, the way it glistened when he held it to the light like a chemist examining his prized specimen.

welt tastes it instantly, although slow, his tongue curling around the evidence as he groans at your taste infiltrating his taste buds, "i'll fuck you until you cry for mercy and beg me not to stop, i want to see it all— your spit, your cum, me, dripping from every hole, every inch of you marked," there, listen close, welt was laughing again.

not mockery, but devotion— fanged and fevered, unwell and you're beneath him and he's already soaked you again, cock smacking against your folds with disgustingly wet slaps of slick and spit glazing your thighs as welt just hums like a man given purpose.

"you think i'm stopping?" he whispers against your temple, tongue dragging hot over the shell of your ear, "after I just made you cum on my cock like that?" as you're still twitching from the aftermath, overstimmed to the brim, your cunt a mess and full, fuck, and he just shifts back slightly to admire the sight, what a man gone mad.

welt couldn't stop looking at how your hole pulses and spasms like it's begging for more, reaching for him, greedy and flushed and leaking cum, "look at that, so empty, so needy," he smears his fingers through the mess he's left inside you, presses the slick digits to your lips, "taste that, that's mine," and when he fucks back in, he abruptly spits on your tongue.

"don't swallow it yet, let it stay there. let me see it— dripping down your chin like the perfect little thing you are."

⚝ — ANAXA

anaxa doesn't wait, in fact, ugh, come on now, lets remain honest here— did he ever strike you as somebody who'd kindly wait for you to settle onto the bed when you don't even need to blink before he's shoving you onto the bed like gravity has betrayed you all by himself?

like he owns the air in your lungs and intends to squeeze every last moan out with his hands, his hips, his cock.

"witness yourself," anaxa breathes out, a low, menacing murmur, gloved fingers prying you apart with slow, clinical cruelty, like he's cataloging something rare and precious in his mind, only to later defile it with his slender hands, "already soaked for me? already out of breath too? and i've barely even laid claim on you, ah, how do you expect to survive me, little one?"

he leans in to be face level with your glistening pussy, his breath fanning against your folds as he spits, repeatedly— once slow, twice again— right over your swollen folds. it trickles down in a glistening line and he watches with a hollow, consuming hunger, like a scholar before a ritual.

"even better now," his voice cuts low, scraping through the thick air as you whine out his name, your nipples hard and erected from how anaxa has been handling you, "so prettily aching for me, huh? you want to be ruined, don't you? stretched wide, stuffed full, yeah, so full it spills out of you, again and again and you'll still beg for more."

"I just know you will," as he pushes himself in with a groan, the large and shuddering stretch on your pussy stinging instantly before you felt a familiar heat greet your walls— the split alone folds you in half, has your toes curling and your nails scrambling for anything to hold onto as anaxa carefully pinned down your wrists, dragging your hands up above your head, beginning to fuck you.

"you're mine now," he breathes, lips brushing your ear, "every drop you spill— mine, every tear you cry from getting fucked so hard you forget your name— it belongs to me."

he thrusts harder, chasing the sound of your body squelching beneath him as you clench tight and cry out, making him lose his fucking mind. one hand leaves your wrists to force your jaw open, his spit falling directly onto your tongue before he leans in to kiss it deeper into your throat.

"i'll ruin you so many times, you won't know which mess came first, mine or yours," and when he does, inch by inch, a high pitched moan shatters over your cries as you wince out his name when his cock massaged over your walls repeatedly well, his skilled fingers rubbing your tits ever so tenderly.

if only he wasn't so damn messy— your thighs slick with everything he's spilled inside you, rubbing the head of his cock through the cum-slick mess between your legs just to spread it over yourself more, fuck, anaxa really cannot stop.

⚝ — PHAINON

an impassioned and heavy stillness seemed to press down the air on itself, and in that darkened room you've found yourself splayed out right underneath phainon's towering frame, trembling under the cool, hefty weight of him.

"sweetheart, you're clenching," he says, quite fascinated, as he pushes into you with a low, shaky moan, "gripping me so tight— do you want to milk every drop out of me?"

he's obsessed with it, the mess, the physical evidence of what you're doing to him as he leans down, biting your shoulder, thrusting deeper just to hear the wet, obscene squelches of his warm cum inside you, "again," he whispers, voice cracking, "i need to see more, more of it leaking out, down your thighs, on my cock, fuck, fuck, on your stomach too, fuck— i need to paint you with it."

you're both drenched, tangled in sweat and spit and endless release, his hands greedily spreading your folds to admire the way you glisten with all he's spilled inside you, "you'll remember me by the way you drip," he breathes, "every time you move, it'll remind you who ruined you."

phainon has already fucked you twice and still looks like he's starving.

his hair was stuck to his forehead as sweat dripped down his chest, yet his hands haven't stopped shaking since the moment you moaned out his name and pulled him in the first time.

you're dazed, truly, raw and full of warm cum and yet he's still staring between your legs like you're an unanswered prayer, "can't help it," he murmurs, almost apologetic— almost, "when i see it like that."

his voice trails off as he drags his fingers through your wrecked cunt with cum dripping out of you instantly, coating his fingers in strings that glisten under the low light, "fuck— fuck," phainon moans before immediately shoving his fingers into your mouth, "taste it, baby come on, tell me it's not perfect."

you filthily whimper around his fingers, suckling on them and rolling your tongue over his knuckles as his cock twitches, "no, no— don't close your legs now," as he pulls them open again, wider this time and groans at the sight of his cum leaking out in slow, wet rivulets, "keep them open, yeah? i want to see it, all of it, i need to see how many times i can fill you before your body can't hold it anymore."

phainon leans in, whispers hot against your throat as he presses his cum-stricken fingers against your tongue, "you'll let me try, won't you?"

©2025 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[luli-lads]

How they'd react to being flirted with while in a relationship with you:

(Requested)

Zayne: At first he doesn't realize they're flirting with him. Once he does, though, he politely but firmly stops all advances, saying he's not interested and has someone who he loves very much.

Xavier: He just teleports away. "Sorry, I have to go." No patience for this kinda stuff at all. Or a very direct, "I have to go talk to my partner."

Rafayel: Sassy look and scoff. Then he calls you over, "I'm being harassed, can you tell this person to leave!!" He'll be PDA-ing you lots after.

Sylus: Full ignore. He clocks it immediately (thanks to his Evol) and just walks past nonchalantly. If they continue trying to talk to him he'll use his ~intimidating aura~ to make them Regret™.

Caleb: He completely dismisses the flirting and acts sooo ignorant like, if they drop hints about a restaurant they want to go to for a date, he'll say it's great for couples because he went with you.

[trampleddoves]

hi! i liked your free use blurb and I was wondering if you'd do it in the reverse where the reader could use spence?

s. r. blurb 3

contents: fem!reader, free use Spencer, slight dom/sub dynamics, MDNI

Dating a nerd who all but worships the ground you walk on has certain perks.

There are the more obvious ones: he does your taxes for fun (and by hand, like the most lovable troglodyte), he takes you to lovely dates that are somehow both exciting and—if you’re being completely honest—ever so slightly boring, he is an absolute gentleman. The type who walks by the street, and would bend down to tie your laces for you. 

Lesser known perks are as follows: he can recite books for you from memory—which comes in handy when you need something soft and soothing to lull you to sleep, he indulges in your little hyperfixations, and, lastly, he’s so completely desperate for you. Enough that a simple brush of your hand on his thigh has him stuttering and turning pink, the slightest pressure on his crotch sends him reeling. Certain clothes are his enemy—you wear red and there’s a tent in his pants. 

It seems only fitting for you to claim his cock whenever you want. He gets hard so quickly, you might as well take advantage of it, right?

Right.

And of course, Spencer Reid—perfect, loving, incredibly intelligent—says yes to being your free use boyfriend. 

Another perk of dating a nerd?

He has nothing else going for him outside of work. Granted, the BAU takes him away from you more often than not, but you simply see that as another opportunity. Just means when he’s back, you’re bouncing on his cock at every opportunity you can.

This weekend is no different. He’s been gone for four days, barely calls—he’s always been so bad at that—but being apart only heightens your need for him. Absence sharpens love after all, or whatever it is Shakespeare said. You’re sure Spencer knows it by heart, something beautiful and poetic, not the clumsy version you can recall. 

So he’s home after four long days, trying to play chess, and you’re splayed on his lap, your back to his chest, grinding your hips in slow, circular motions to relish the feeling of his cock stretching you out and filling you up after being unsatisfied for the past few days. 

He’s moaning. Everytime he reaches over to move a piece, you bounce on his lap to distract him, giggling at the quiver in his fingers when you clench your walls tightly around his pulsing length. You follow his hands, long fingers wrapping around a knight and moving it to take an opponent’s bishop. You start bouncing faster. 

“God, honey,” he groans, accidentally knocking over a pawn in the process.

“Need your safe word?”

“No no, just—I missed you so much.” he whimpers, burying his face into your neck. He begins to buck his hips up, meeting your thrusts.

You pause immediately, hands resting on his thighs. Not that it doesn’t feel good—it does, but the whole point of this is that he continues his activities while you use him. “Did I give you permission to fuck me, Spence?”

“No,” he whines. You smile when he stops moving obediently, face lifting from your neck, “I’m sorry.” He resumes the chess game, moving a rook to take the offensive knight from before.

“Good boy.” you reward him by grinding again, more up and down this time. Leaning back into him, you drag your wet cunt all over his cock, squeezing as you do. Like a good boy, he simply continues his chess game, but you grin triumphantly as his hands tremor even more. With a hum, you bring your fingers to your clit, rubbing quick circles on the swollen nub. “White’s check in three.”

“No way.” he gasps as your pace grows rougher, riding him in quick strokes, “I could have sworn—ah!”

You come undone around him, walls tightening to a nearly painful degree. Soft, breathy gasps leave your lips as you ride him through your climax, going lax and soft in his arms. He sighs, staring dumbly at the chess board in front of him. Understandably needy, but he can’t do much about it right now, that’s not his role. Not unless you give him permission. 

“You’ve been so good, baby,” the words come out a sweet little sigh, full of affection. You crawl off his lap, grinning as he turns his head and follows you with a gaze so full of longing it’s almost pitiful. You hum, settling on the couch beside him. Legs spread, an invitation. “Come and fuck me now, Spence, you deserve it.”

The last, perhaps least known perk of dating a nerd?

They’re amazing at fucking. Or, at least, Spencer Reid is. 

[moonstruckme]

hi mae!!!! i was wondering if you could write any marauder x reader where it's the readers first time and during she begins to not enjoy it as its kinda painful for her and wants to stop, and the marauder of your choosing is just very lovely and reassuring about her not wanting to continue. i love all your writing!!! xoxo

Love you, thanks for requesting <3

cw: mature content mdni, afab reader, implied inexperienced/virgin reader

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 825 words

You keep James close. There’s safety in his embrace, in the gentle press of his lips against yours, and you crave that solace right now. You hold his face in your hands, making sure he doesn’t retreat far enough to see your face or to leave you here by yourself. 

You want a partner, not a witness. 

“You feel so good,” he says, voice dropped about two octaves since you got him out of his clothes in the dimming light of his bedroom. “So perfect, angel.” 

You keep your hips still and kiss up at him half desperately. 

James groans. “Oh, god. You’re so perfect. How’s that feel?” 

Your kisses turn breathier, your tight chest not taking in quite enough air. You let him cup your breast in a loving hand. 

“Angel? Talk to me, m’love.” 

You don’t feel confident you have the breath to speak. You don’t know why you can’t just do this.

The next exhale you send out pushes James away. 

“Stop,” you say, voice already breaking. 

To James’ credit, he follows your instructions immediately. “What? What’s wrong?” 

“I’m sorry, I want to stop.” 

“Okay. Okay, lovely.” You cover your face with your hands as James sits up. The slight movement of him inside you isn’t enough to hurt, but the feeling makes you tighten anxiously anyway. You hear him hiss. “I’m just going to pull out, alright?” 

It’s a funny sensation when he does, loneliness and relief both at once. You try not to make a sound as tears turn your skin slippery beneath your fingers. 

“What’s the matter?” James’ tone is gentle, devastated in a way you think he’s trying to hide but can’t. “Does it hurt?” 

“No,” you choke out. 

Impossibly, his voice quiets further. “Did it hurt?” 

A tiny sob jostles its way out of you. You nod without moving your hands. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” James sounds gutted. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

“I’m sorry,” you whimper. 

“What’re you sorry for? Hey, can I touch you? Is that alright? You can say no.” 

There was never any doubt in your mind that you could, but you wouldn’t want to. You nod again, and in an instant James’ warm hands are soothing up your sides. The loneliness dissipates. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do it,” you say, still unwilling to move your hands. “It didn’t hurt that badly, I just—I freaked out.” 

“Angel.” James sounds like he might be chiding you, if he could bring himself to do it. He takes your hands, and as it turns out, you’re perfectly willing to have them moved by him. His gentle touch has your face coming out of hiding, bearing witness to his crushed expression. 

“Please don’t apologize,” he begs. “I don’t want to hurt you at all. I definitely don’t want to scare you.” 

“I know that.” Your voice is frail. “It wasn’t your fault.” 

James’ brows hook. “I think I probably had some role,” he says, dropping a tender kiss to your cheek. “Does it still hurt?” 

“No.” 

“Would you tell me if it did? You won’t hurt my feelings.” 

He’s absolutely lying, but you’re telling the truth. “It doesn’t, James. It barely even hurt when it happened.” 

Your boyfriend makes a soft, sad sound. “Still.” He places a kiss next to your nose like he’s planning to soothe you inch by inch. “Do you think you might be bleeding?” You’re unsure. “Can I check?” 

You hum your consent, albeit somewhat nervously. James kisses you in thanks. He reaches a hand down between your legs, bringing it back up to find only the sort of wetness you both intended. He wipes it off on his own leg, kissing you again. Kissing, kissing, kissing. 

“We can try again,” you start to say. “Maybe not today, but—” 

He shushes you. “We don’t have to, lovely. I mean, if you want, of course we can give it another go, but don’t feel like you have to.” 

You feel a sort of shrinking in your chest. A quiet, vicious insecurity darkens your thoughts. “You don’t want to?” 

James’ eyebrows jump. “Do you?” 

“I…” 

“Sweetheart.” He rubs your hip, brown-eyed gaze soft. “You said you got freaked out, right? I mean, it’s understandable, I would have too, but when I have a bad experience with something I usually want a bit of a break before going at it again. Don’t you want a breather?” 

“Oh.” Your voice quiets. “I don’t…I’m not sure.” 

“That’s okay,” he says. “Take your time, lovely, I’ll be here. You just have to say the word, yeah?” 

Your reply is a low hum. You finally muster the courage to go to him. You sit up to put your arms around James’ shoulders, your warm chests pressing together. He envelops you without hesitation. 

“It wasn’t a completely bad experience,” you mumble into his skin. 

You can practically feel the bloom of his smile as he presses it into your forehead.

[ultraviolencer23]

nsfw 18+⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ minors dni!

pairing : older!joel x inexperienced!fem!reader

warnings : smut, established relationship, praise, use of pet names (darlin’, baby, good girl), inexperienced reader, fingering, unprotected p in v, jackson!joel, shy/nervous reader, fluffy, it’s implied that joel & reader are fairly new in jackson (having travelled together), joel has a filthy mouth and talks SO MUCH, appearance from tommy at the end, this is literally 3.7k words of pure pornography im sorry

summary : joel was your first. your relationship has blossomed since then but you’re still inexperienced and he is certain to let you experience everything when it comes to intimacy although you still may be nervous to try new things.

an : ik this account has been exclusively cod characters but i’ve wanted to write for joel for soo long. kinda wanna rebrand and start writing again!!!!

“c’mere,” he murmured, holding his arms out to you, effectively compelling you into his lap. you straddled his thighs and looked down at his lustful gaze, feeling your chest tighten at the sight.

he didn’t seem to care about the fight he’d just had with tommy; you hadn’t even remembered what it was about this time, but what you did remember was tommy storming out of his own house, calling joel a “fuckin’ asshole” and leaving you and him in tommy’s living room like this.

you lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder, and play with the hem of his t-shirt. you hear him sigh above you and lean back against the sofa, instinctively resting his hands on the small of your back as nosed at the side of your neck.

“you smell real good from that soap they let us use,” he murmured, his gruff voice in your ear.

you smile a little, “i do?”

“mmh,” he hummed, his hands reaching to fidget with the ends of your hair, “don’t know about you, darlin’, but i could get used to this life o’ luxury.” he leans down to press a kiss to the exposed skin of your neck, inhaling as he does.

the flesh on the back of your neck erupts in a shiver, feeling his breath fan over you as he exhales. you stay there, on his shoulder, wanting him to continue; he does. he paves a line of light kisses down to your shoulder as he pulls the neckline of your shirt to the side. a gentle hand runs under your shirt and over the skin of your back. he grins into your skin as he hears you exhale a sigh - a happy sigh - beside his ear.

joel shifts you in his lap, bringing you closer to where his hips bend and gently pulling you from the crook of his neck.

“joel..” you murmur shyly, to which he replies with the raise of his eyebrows in questioning. “you’re um… i can feel you..”

he gives a light chuckle in response and traces his fingertips over where your hair falls over your face, “that right darlin’? you feel what y’re doin’ to me?”

you give a shy nod, feeling your cheeks grow hot. he notices how you avoid looking at his face.

“don’t be goin’ all shy on me now, baby. ‘s alright to feel things.”

you nod again, glancing down to his lap where his jeans seemed much too tight and constricting. he notices but doesn’t say anything, his hands moving to your hips and gently up your sides beneath your shirt. they rise just beneath your breasts; he softly thumbs over your nipples, watching your face intensely for a response. you almost squirm at the delicate touch as you watch the shape of his hands moving beneath your shirt, and exhale a quiet sigh of his name.

“we haven’t done it like this before, have we?” he speaks softly, his hands moving back down to your hips as he sees your nipples are hardened under the soft fabric.

“what?”

“we’ve never fucked with you… on top o’ me,” he repeats. a thumb comes up to trace along your jawline and your eyes flicker back up to his face as you shake your head. he smiles when you look at him, “mmm… you wanna change that, baby?”

you nod.

his smile widens and his thumb on your jaw slides down your neck, to your shoulder, where he pushes your hair back. his other hand transgresses the waistband of your sleep shorts, watching your face as he does so. his hand nestles over your centre, the pads of his fingers tracing over you through your underwear, feeling the dampness. your eyes flutter but you watch intensely as he then delves beneath the thin fabric.

“let’s open you up a bit for me baby, huh?” he says, rubbing slow circles over your clit.

you nod eagerly, his words clouding your mind with arousal.

“there y’ go darlin’.. ‘s a good girl,” he praises as you whimper at his touch. he runs a calloused fingertip through the seam of your pussy, coating himself in your wetness.

using his other hand, he finds the hem of your shirt, and slides it up your waist, exposing your abdomen. “can i take this off?” he asks, glancing up at you.

“i…” you hesitate — what about tommy? if he comes back..? joel continues to swirl his fingers over your sensitive clit, making it near impossible to articulate thoughts. “i— don’t know.. what— what if tommy comes ba-ck?” you struggle between short pants and breaths.

he shakes his head and chuckles, “tommy ain’t comin’ back anytime soon darlin’. don’t you worry.”

“but… if he does? i don’t wanna.. take it off.”

his eyes soften; his fingers slow. “you’re worried about him seein’ you like this, hm?”

you nod.

“th’s okay, baby. you don’t gotta. ‘s okay,” he reassures gently.

you nod again.

he takes his hand from your centre and moves both to your waist, pulling your shirt back down. he places soft, wet kisses along your neck again, speaking softly as he does, “‘s no worries.. we’ll just take it slow. lemme take care o’ you.”

his hand finds its way to your hair, tucking it behind your ear. he pulls away from your neck as he feels you fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt, and glances up at you expectantly.

“are you.. gonna take yours off?” you murmur, afraid he’d say no and accuse you of hypocrisy.

he raises an eyebrow and smiles, amused that you’re asking. “you feelin’ shy again darlin’? y’ want me to take it off?”

you nod cautiously.

smiling wider, he laughs lightly, “all right, darlin’.” he takes the hem of his t-shirt from your fingers and lifts it over his head, exposing his abdomen and chest, and his hands find your hips again. your eyes rake over his skin, speckled with greying hairs over his chest and a trail of them that let down to his jeans. he watches you watch with a grin wide on his lips, almost with pride.

he gently runs a hand up your thigh; his touch reminds you that he is not in fact just an object that you get to stare at. you glance back up to his face, almost guiltily for the way your hungry eyes take him in.

“don’t feel bad for lookin’, darlin. y’ know i don’t mind.”

he feels you start to get restless in his lap, growing needier with each passing second. his hand slips back beneath your shorts, eliciting an almost frustrated whine from your throat, needing some real alleviation.

“shhh.. ‘s okay baby. ‘m gonna give you what you need in a bit.” his fingers softly graze your centre, wanting to see how much more he could rile you up.

you grind down into his fingers, the whisper of contact simply not enough. he pushes back against you in response.

“you need it real bad, huh?”

you nod, eyes staring to well with tears of need and frustration.

“ohh, i know darlin’, i know,“ he whispers, fingers still circling over your swollen bundle of nerves, as he glances up to you in awe. “you still wanna try bein’ on top?”

you nod.

“good girl.. tha’s my girl…. just need’a get y’ opened up a bit for me, ain’t that right?”

a whimper escapes your throat, feeling your core pulse at his words.

“oh, baby,” he muses pitifully, “…now, ‘m just gonna start with one finger, ‘kay? work up to maybe 3. that all right?”

your mouth falls agape as he pushes one digit into you, up to the knuckle and he curls it towards himself. “not 3, joel.. i don’t want—“

“shhh.. ‘s alright baby. i’ll do whatever you want, ‘kay?” he reassures as he repeatedly pumps his finger inside of you, soothing over that sweet little spot that made your head roll back. your hands move to his biceps, squeezing onto them tightly; he smiles widely as you do.

“there ‘y go.. ‘s a good girl.. lemme hear you baby,” he murmurs, adding a second finger.

you whine softly as he pushes that little bit further inside, and your pussy involuntary squeezes around him, almost keeping his fingers in place.

“j—joel..” you whimper, feeling how the bicep that is pumping his fingers inside of you strains and flexes beneath your grasp with each movement.

“c’mon baby, y’ gotta relax f’ me.. squeezin’ me so god damn tight.. ‘s like y’r try’na break my fingers or somethin’,” he chuckles, gently soothing his free hand down your side.

“sorry,” you whimper, slightly embarrassed although you know he doesn’t mind.

“‘s alright darlin’.. there y’ go, ‘s alright,” he mutters, feeling you open up as warm waves of pleasure wash from your abdomen and over your body.

“such pretty sounds y’r makin’ baby,” he compliments as you whine, mewl and babble his name, obscene wet sounds making your mind go fuzzy, “you think you’re opened up enough f’ me yet darlin’? y’ ready for me?”

he slows his fingers as you nod; with one last deep push into your aching spot, he removes them from you.

you whimper at the emptiness, shifting upon his lap and eyes darting around his face pleadingly.

“i know, i know darlin,.. y’ wantin’ more ain’t ya?”

you nod shamelessly.

“well now baby.. i need you to be patient for me then.. don’t want you hurtin’ yourself because you were impatient, now, do we?”

you shake your head, becoming aware of your neediness.

“hmmm.. didn’t think so,” he muses as he leans back into the sofa, “now.. you wanna unbuckle me or do you want me to do it?”

his fingers splay over his belt; you look between his hands and his face, afraid of disappointing him.

“um… you can do it,” you mumble

“tha’s all right. ‘s no problem darlin’,” he smiles at your bashfulness as his fingers begin to make work of his belt. he doesn’t wait to pull the soft leather from his jeans; he just unbuttons and unzips them, his self control running low.

he sees your curious gaze glancing down to his hands, eyeing his arousal through the thin fabric of his underwear. “you got me so fuckin’ hard baby,” he chuckles, palming himself through his boxers with a soft grunt.

you blush in response, unable to hide the proud smile that spreads over your lips. he grins, and his thumb moves to your lower lip, gently brushing over the delicate skin. “sweet girl,” he muses, “y’ still alright with bein’ on top?”

you nod in response, excitement building and tightening your chest.

“all right then darlin’. y’ just need’a relax for me, okay? we’ goin’ real slow, just like we’ve been doin’ so far, right?”

you nod; he holds your gaze for a little while, his fingertips moving to the hem of your shorts where he traces along their underside, “can i take these off darlin’?”

you nod eagerly - maybe too eagerly. smiling, he hooks his fingers into their waistband and tugs them down your thighs. you lift a leg out of them to help, leaving them dangling from your other. his thumbs rub over the front of your underwear, “‘m just gonna pull these to the side, that all right baby?”

you nod again, and he squeezes your thighs, shifting you closer, musing a quiet “c’mere” as you settle further into his lap, the most intimate part of you flush against his still clothed hardness. “there you go darlin’.. you ready to give it a go?”

“mhm,” you almost whimper, lifting yourself slightly as he palms himself again, before he pulls himself out - achingly hard and leaking at the tip. he strokes his hand over himself once, a small groan leaving his lips. his freehand settles at your hip, guiding you to hover over him, as you steady yourself on his shoulders and look between your two bodies.

“just do whatever feels natural, baby.. whatever feels right, okay? you ain’t gonna hurt me and i ain’t gonna judge you,” he reassures, as if he can feel your racing mind.

you nod and you let yourself fall a little closer to him, whimpering when you make contact. his tip notches at your weeping entrance; he slides the head of his cock through your slick, eliciting a small whine from deep in your throat.

“easy baby.. now, y’re nice ‘n’ wet, so it shouldn’t hurt, okay? ‘s just gonna feel real full,” he mutters with an adoring glint behind his eyes as he takes the image of you in: eyes fluttering closed, hair slipping over your shoulder, mouth agape and falling apart on his lap.

you lower yourself down a little more, his tip pushing into you and your pussy swallowing him wholly. you earn a grunt from joel; he moves both his hands to your waist, gently guiding you over him, selfishly unable to hold himself back.

“just like that baby.. yeah, feels real good.. there y’ go,” he mumbles breathlessly, feeling you lower further. you instinctively squeeze around him at the praise, your abdomen fluttering and erupting in spasms of warmth, sinking yourself down until you’ve taken him to the hilt.

he releases a guttural groan at the warmth of you clenching around his cock. on the brink of losing himself already, he tightens his grip on your hips and stills you, a series of grunts and breaths stringing from his throat. “christ, baby.. y’ gonna have to wait just a minute.. just a sec.. y’ got me seein’ fuckin’ stars sweet girl,” he speaks, his eyebrows pinched together and eyes tightly closed.

you moan out at the feeling of fullness, your head falling to rest in the crook of his neck as his dick presses into a delicious spot deep inside of you. he regains composure after a little while and begins to lift your hips slightly before pulling you back down. soft mewls and whines fill his ear, the pretty sounds travelling straight to his cock.

“mm.. there y’ go baby girl.. y’ feel that? feels nice ‘n’ full, huh?”

you nod weakly, feeling tears begin to well in your eyes at the sensation of being so full. lifting you with both hands, he slides one up your side beneath your shirt; you help him by steadying your legs around his thighs and raising yourself up, before he pulls you back down, earning a loud whine as a tear spills down your face.

he moans, head leaning back and reeling in the way you’re wrapped around him so tightly. noticing the small stream down your face, he speaks breathlessly, “you okay darlin’? you ain’t hurting on me, now, baby, are ya?”

you shake your head, barely able to concentrate on his words, “‘m fine.. just feels— good.”

his thumb wipes over your warm cheek as he grins, “mm.. well.. you’re doing so good f’ me baby.”

as you squeeze around him again, he grunts loudly, his hold on you tightening and an almost pained expression coming over his face. “i swear to christ, y’re doin’ that on purpose,” he strains.

“sorry,” you mumble, trying to relax.

he smiles and shakes his head, “don’t apologise baby.. felt real good. y’r pussy’s just so goddamn tight.”

you start to move on your own, your forearms resting on his shoulders for leverage as you push yourself up and then back down, building a painstakingly slow rhythm. your faces just mere inches apart, he grabs onto your chin and pulls you to his mouth, your lips pressing together hungrily. he swallows your whines and moans with his tongue pushing into your mouth and his lips enveloping yours as you keep up your slow pace, up and down over his cock. he kisses the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, leaving wet marks along your neck that have you whimpering his name.

“tha’s a good girl baby,” he murmurs into your skin, “just make y’self feel good.. take y’r time… that’s it, take it nice ‘n’ slow darlin’.”

you take him slow and deep, undoubtedly unable to increase your pace, but he’s patient enough to let you take him however you want to. his cock notches against that sensitive spot inside of you that only joel knows, dragging along your walls with every rut against him. you look down and watch as you take him, filled to the brim every few seconds, your clit pressed against his greying hair. his chest gleams with droplets of sweat and his abdomen rises and falls with his short breaths. your mouth stays agape and you bury your head into his neck, moaning into the skin there each time you feel him deeply.

“ohh.. ‘s that feel good sweet girl?” he asks as he looks down to you pressed against his shoulders.

“uh-huh,” you mewl, barely able to form coherent words.

“tha’s good.. doin’ so fuckin’ good f’ me baby.”

its not long before your thighs begin to ache. you slow down even further, your legs burning with fatigue. being on top isn’t as easy as it seems; you grasp onto joel with the last ounce of energy you have left.

he feels your thighs tremble and your pace begin to slow more. “you doin’ okay there darlin’?” he drawls, guiding your head out from his neck.

“i— i can’t joel,” you almost whine as you stop, his cock still hard inside of you.

“‘s okay baby. you tired y’self out, huh?” he murmurs empathetically, giving a light kiss to your cheek, “you wanna get on your back?”

you hesitate for a moment, wondering if he’s secretly disappointed, but nevertheless, you nod. “c’mon,” he muses, lifting you onto your back, his dick still inside of you. as he lays you down onto the couch, he gently soothes kisses over your neck and your legs wrap instinctively around his waist. you shuffle yourself downwards slightly, getting comfortable and you exhale a needy sigh, moving your arms to enclose over his back as he holds himself above you.

“‘s that better baby?”

you nod and give him a smile, to which he returns with a grin and a tender kiss to your lips before he pulls back his hips and pushes them back into you. he starts to set a slow pace with long, gentle strokes, grunting with each movement, feeling you tighten around him as the speed of his hips gradually increases. a particularly deep thrust had your back arching with a sharp moan and your nails press down into his back. his head drops at the feeling, a series of loud groans leaving his mouth, as he caught a glimpse of your lower abdomen rising slightly with each thrust of his hips. his groans turn into a soft laugh as he continues to rut into you.

“oh.. sweet jesus baby..” he says, glancing up to your face, “gimme y’r hand.”

you take a hand from his back and hold it to him. his own hand encloses over the top of yours and he moves it between your two bodies, placing it over your abdomen as his hips move against you. you whimper at the feeling of his cock pushing against your walls from the outside, the flesh of your stomach pushing against the palm of your hand as his thrusts quicken in their pace.

“y’ feel me right here, hm? y’ feel that baby?” he almost taunts, pressing your hand down a little harder. the extra pressure has your eyes rolling closed; you tighten around him subconsciously.

“ohhh.. she likes that, huh?” he chuckles, removing his hand from yours and picking up his pace, determined to drive you closer to the brink of your high. his thrusts grow more erratic as he nears the edge himself, haphazardly pushing in and out of you as he begins to lose focus. he feels you swallowing his cock tighter with each movement of his hips.

“you gettin’ close f’ me baby girl?”

you nod, the pleasure building at your abdomen overwhelming all of your senses.

“c’mon then baby. let go f’ me darlin’. lemme feel ya.”

his ruts grow deliberately deeper and faster; he grunts grow louder and strained behind his teeth. you mewl into his ear, your back arching your abdomen into his and the heels of your feet digging into his lower back.

“joel— i’m..”

“tha’s it baby. don’t fight it.. let it happen.. good fuckin’ girl.”

his praise pushes you over the edge, the coil inside of you pulling taut and your core spasming with waves of heat, carnal pleasure shooting all the way to the tips of your fingers. your clit pulses as he continues to sloppily move inside of you, teetering on the edge of his own orgasm, until he feels he’s about to collapse over the brink with one last thrust. he pulls himself out and strokes his wet cock a few more times before he bunches up your shirt and spills himself over your stomach with a guttural groan, his hips jerking with each rope of come that paints your abdomen.

he collapses atop of your spent body with one final grunt as his head falls to rest on your shoulder. your body still trembles with the aftershocks of your high whilst you both try to catch your breath.

“fuckin’ hell,” he chuckles breathlessly, glancing up to see a lazy smile spread across your face, “you doin’ alright there baby?”

“mhm,” you hum, too tired to talk as your eyes flutter closed.

“good.. you did real good darlin’… y’ know.. i was—“

the sound of the front door opening. joel’s head drops to your shoulder again, muttering a quiet “shit”. your body is hidden beneath him; tommy must’ve been able to see joel’s back from behind the sofa. you hear what could only be tommy’s laugh.

“don’t tell me you two have just fucked on my couch.”

“uhhh..”

an : haven’t posted in likee 10 months oopsies

dividers by uzmacchiato

[rainydayathogwarts]

It's a date - harry potter

concussions and interruptions au summary: when harry and his parents see you in diagon alley, they are surprised to see the sudden change in behaviour you have at your parents' presence. but that won't stop harry from getting his kiss. wc: 1.4k+

Harry leaned his head on his hand, laughing softly as his mother told him a story, much to his father’s embarrassment. “She’s getting it completely wrong!” Argued James as Harry lifted up his butterbeer to his lips, eyes trailing to the side to watch people walk up and down the square, the wide streets of Diagon Alley giving him opportunity to people watch.

He was sat with his parents on a table on the side of the road, enjoying a drink from their favourite café, the summer sun shining down brightly on them. Harry closed his eyes softly as the rays of sun targeted him, and James immediate took the hat off his head to offer it to his son. Harry shook his head, thanking his father and urging Lily to continue her story.

But he suddenly wasn’t able to focus, because walking out of Ceridwen’s Cauldrons was the love of his life. Harry straightened up, a wide grin forming on his face as he saw you, but before he could call out your name, a tall woman walked out of the shop behind you, a stern look on her face as she walked side by side with you.

Harry slumped back, holding his tongue. The woman was unmistakably your mother. What you were wearing made sense now. Like every pureblood woman, you looked oddly comfortable in your elegant black dress that stopped below your knee and heels that were undeniably a challenge to walk in on the uneven stone. Lily and James followed their son’s eye line, frowning at the neutral look on your face; emotionless, matching that of just about every single pureblood.

They suddenly remembered when they’d stopped by the hospital wing after Harry had gotten himself injured in another quidditch game. You had a fond smile on your face, looking at the boy with mesmerised eyes, the love on your features indisputable. The girlfriend they were seeing now was not the same one they’d met at hogwarts, who stuttered when seeing them, a look of embarrassment on your face when your boyfriend had pulled you into a kiss in front of his parents.

Now, with a stoic expression on your face, you were unrecognisable. Your eyes flitted upwards at the feeling that you were being watched. You almost smiled when you saw Harry, feeling the corners of your lips tug upwards, but in practiced habit, you trained your lips to stay still. Neither Harry or his parents missed the way your eyes lit up with youthful excitement, but your head quickly snapped to the side to look at your mother who had been expecting a response from you.

Nodding, you watched as she took a left into the nearest shop, and instead of following her instructions to ‘wait here’, you hurried your steps down the lane, letting a beautiful smile blossom on your face.

Control yourself, you repeated in your mind, coming to a halt in front of the table. “Hi.” You spoke softly, greeting your boyfriend and his parents. “Am I allowed to give you a hug, or..?” You smiled apologetically at your boy, shaking your head slowly. “I’m sorry Harry, my family is everywhere.” Harry nodded, trying to suppress the sadness from appearing on his face, but you still saw the way it fleeted across his eyes.

“Mr. and Mrs. Potter.” You greeted, bowing your head down to them. James grinned at you, chuckling softly as he said hello. He was thrilled to find out you weren’t still humiliated from the kiss Harry had placed upon your lips in front of them. After all, it had been several months since they had met you for the first time.

You did an apprehensive look around, ensuring none of your family was around. Alas, a strong had was placed on your shoulder and you gasped, straightening your back impossibly further than it already was. “Why are you standing around in the middle of the street?” You father questioned with a strict, judgemental tone.

Lily frowned as the smile immediately dropped from your face, replaced by a look of fear. “I, um, I’m waiting for mother.” Your father scanned the area nearby, tilting his head in question when he didn’t spot his wife. “She’s in Shyverwretch's Venoms and Poisons.” You explained.

Your father hummed at your response, and you realised his gaze was occupied. You turned around, following his line of sight. He was staring directly at James Potter. “Potter.” Your father spat, receiving a scowl from your boyfriend’s father.

He yanked you away from the table and you stumbled towards him. Though he lowered his volume, Harry still heard him say “I have business in Knockturn Alley. Meet me with your mother by Esmerelda’s Bakery.”

You nodded obediently at your father, and he added “Don’t forget to tell her. I don’t need you making silly mistakes again.”

“Yes, father. I apologise for my mistakes.”

“Have you gone to your mother’s designer to discuss a dress for the Parkinsons’ ball?” You shook your head wordlessly. “I expect you to be done when I return.”

“How long-” But your father was already spinning on the balls of his feet and disappearing into the alleyway.

You cleared your throat, beginning to walk away when you felt a tug on your hand. You pulled your hand away from Harry’s hold, looking around to make sure no one had seen the small movement. “It’s fine.” You mumbled, giving him a small smile. “It was nice to see you.” You directed those words to Harry’s parents before you were on your way to find your mother again. Lily Potter tightened her grip around her husband's arm, a frown forming on her face. She glanced at Harry, reaching out to place a hand over one of his, his gaze stuck on where you disappeared into the shop.

Your mother was still busy in the shop, discussing something in a hushed tone with the worker. “Mother, should I go to the tailor? Get my measurements before she discusses the designs with us?” She dismissed you with a “Yes, go along dear.” And you were immediately rushing out of the shop, trying to shake off the embarrassment of Harry and his parents witnessing the exchange with your father.

You made a sharp turn into an empty alleyway, only stopping at the sharp call of your name. Harry was running towards you, panting softly. You took the opportunity to scan his outfit — something you hadn't had time for before. A light-washed pair of jeans and a plain green t-shirt. Smiling at him softly, you said in an ‘I told you so’ voice “I told you green suits you better.” “Yeah, that’s why mum got me this shirt. Said who do you want to impress other than your girlfriend.”

You chuckled lifting your hands up to Harry’s chest. He pushed you back against the wall of the alley and you gasped as he pressed his lips to yours, his nose nudging the side of yours. “I just really wanted to get that hug.” Harry explained, his arms snaking around your waist. You wrapped your arms over his shoulders, pulling him closer to you.

Pecking Harry’s lips softly, you mumbled “I’m sorry you had to see that with my father.” Harry’s hand came up to hold the side of your face. “No, I’m sorry sweetheart. That you have to deal with jerks like him.”

“Yeah, me too.” You glanced up at Harry, feeling yourself shrink under his watchful gaze. “Uh, can I get a last kiss before we let go?” Harry laughed as he leaned in, kissing you passionately for a few seconds before parting from you completely, arms falling to his sides. You sighed as he took a couple of steps back.

“So the Parkinsons’ ball. Do you have a date?” Questioned Harry, trying not to sound jealous. “Yeah,” You started, and Harry’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He had been joking. “I mean, Daphne asked me but so did Astoria.” Harry laughed whole-heartedly, putting a hand on his chest in relief. “It makes it kind of awkward too since they’re sisters. I don’t like playing people like that.”

You glanced down at your feet, twiddling with your fingers. “Um, how about the night of the ball, I ask my parents if I can sleep over at Daphne’s, but instead I come find you somewhere?”

“They’ll cover for you?”

You nodded at his question, shifting your weight from one leg to the other.

“In that case, come over. You can change into something more comfortable at mine, and mum and dad would love to have you.”

“It’ll be late though.”

“It’s fine, they’ll probably be up with my uncles anyway.”

You nodded, a smile blossoming on your face. Your heart began racing at the rebellious plan.

“It’s a date then.”

taglist: @ravisinghs-wife, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @treefairy-28, @superlegend216, @kitkatkl, @juliet-017, @boromoony, @fl0weryannie, @tiaajosephin, @hisparentsgallerryy, @liviessun, @rory-cakes, @heebiemcjeebies, @fl0weryannie, @muffinemmaa, @anne061989, @regsg18, @graciereads, @adharaoaklyn

[chrrific]

FEEL THE RU$H ✷ 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁

𝗔𝗟𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗡𝗔𝗧𝒊𝗩𝗔 𓈒 your boyfriend flustering you.

❪ 𝖬𝑖𝖠 𝖢𝖠𝖱𝖠 ❫ bf ! enhypen x f ! r O958 headcannon fluff ╱ 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑜 kissing skinship teasing

미키 ✉️ i don’t like this too much, but i’m posting it because it’s ready and i want to clear my drafts TT might have gone a bit overboard with jake’s but oh well .. enjoy reading ><

reblogs get ⸝⸝ you kisses

HEESEUNG

the buzz of the refrigerator and hum of the ceiling fan are the only sounds filling the living room, save for heeseung’s quiet breaths. his arm is draped over your waist as he observes you for a moment, a lazy grin taking over his godsend features.

confused, you make an attempt to turn to him, but he cuts you off rudely when he leans in to press a lingering kiss to the crook of your neck, the press of his lips just enough to make your stomach churn, a surprised gasp leaving your lips at his actions. smirking, he pulls back a hint, his voice a teasing lilt coated in mock innocence. “you like that, don’t you?” 

JONGSEONG

the overwhelming scent of spices and salt wafted through the air, leading you out of bed and into the kitchen, only for you to reveal jay, sleeves rolled up to reveal a hint of his toned forearms, hair falling over his eyes and tanned skin as he leans over the stovetop. his eyes light up when he spots you, and his arms instinctively wrap around your waist to close the space keeping his body away from yours.

your side hits his with a soft thud, and that’s when you notice how his fingers trace small circles into the left of your waist, and just how close he is. just enough for the scent of his cologne to infiltrate your senses much more than the spice does, and you could swear your heart stutters in your chest as he pulls you closer while continually stirring whatever was in the pot. 

JAEYUN

something about seeing your flushed face sends a rush of adrenaline through jake’s blood every time he kissed you. and here he is now, seeking for the thrill of it once again. his lips teasingly brush against your own, his fingers silently interlocking with yours as he holds them pinned up securely above your head. he smirked when you gasped as your back hit the wall less than a few moments ago, and it hasn’t even made an attempt to fade since.

you try leaning forward to slot your mouth with his: he ends up doing it for you. when you both finally pull away, lips swollen, he hums against yours, murmuring softly as the smirk comes back. “i love seeing you like this, all flustered. it makes you even prettier than you are—that’s a record, by the way.”

it is definitely an indisputable truth that jake sim is a certified flirt. 

SUNGHOON

your fingers desperately tried to wrap around the peanut butter jar on the shelf, but your efforts all went in vain as the jar just pushed itself back further into the cupboard. you’re legitimately on the very tips of your toes, so much that you could almost consider it as pointe, craning your neck upwards to catch a glimpse of the elusive peanut butter.

just as you were about to begin another attempt in reaching it, you felt the warmth of a presence behind you, the heat just barely brushing your back. you weren’t even able to react at the suddenness of his appearance as sunghoon hands you the jar, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, “next time, all you have to do is ask and i’ll get it for you, doll.” 

SUNOO

the world stills whenever sunoo touches you—the way his fingers cradle your cheek, as if you’re a precious jewel, how he runs this hands through your hair and whispers your name in a way so reverent it should be reserved for religion. his arms are currently wrapped around your waist, holding you against his body heat in the silence of the night.

you felt his eyes linger on your form, and you turned around to look at him. he just smiles at you, his right dimple showing as he runs his fingers gently over the skin of your arm, causing goosebumps to erupt on it. your breath hitches and ears turn pink, and it doesn’t go unnoticed; he doesn’t say anything about it, though, because he’s too focused on the way you feel in his arms. 

JUNGWON

the weight of jungwon’s stare is too much—too heavy, too strong, way too flustering. you can feel your cheeks burning like fire under it, and you know that he can tell. “flustered, hm?” his words have your heart beating even faster, face flushing more at the sight of his signature grin stretching over his visage. “i like it when you’re all nervous. lets me know how much i really affect you.”

huffing, you turn away, determined to not let him see how much power he really does hold over you. then, fingers grasp your chin and jaw, slowly guiding your eyes back to his cat-like ones, and you’re absolutely sure he can hear just how loud he can made your heart beat.

RIKI

it started innocent enough, with niki chasing you around your apartment for creeping up on him when you got back home. but somehow, as the play-fight continued, you ended up with your back pressed on your bed, with him hovering on top of you, face—lips, too—inches from yours.

you were breathless from the running, and yet, his presence knocked the oxygen out of your lungs yet again, making your heart race faster, if that was even possible with the way it was knocking painfully against your rib cage.

the way his hair was messy, lips parted as he raked his gaze over your face, it made your words catch in your throat. “you’re blushing, baby.” he drawls, running his fingers up and down your side a little bit too casually. you avert your gaze, knowing very well that he knows what he does to you ..

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