#but then I stare at the idea of backgrounds being needed in a piece…

[ndostairlyrium]

Ankh Lavellan / Cullen Rutherford | 1616 words | Comfort not hurt | CW: depressive episode, mental health discussion, child abandonment

In which Cullen doesn't feel like going out in the world out of guilt and not feeling enough, Lav goes all the way to comfort him

Non Oggi

Laid down, eyes fixated on a small flower pot, fluffy blanket covering his waist.

He could put on the second layer of under armor, before the ennuie hit him in the shoulders. Those relaxed, along with his muscles, but as anticipated, that wasn’t the good kind of relaxation.

It simply wasn’t a good day to be a human, and Cullen felt like dropping everything he was doing and returned to bed. To stare at the void. It just happened to be manifested by a minuscule sprout of basil, cradled by a terracotta vase.

There his brain just started spinning, making every system of his body malfunction until a complete shut down.

And so Lavellan had found him in such condition, after Ser Rylen - who was expecting a report – confessed that he was worried. No sarcasm needed, and that in return worried her.

The ladder wasn’t put down as always, ceiling hatch was sealed shut, so she just went outside and climbed the wall until reaching the hole in the upper ceiling. Descending for her was as easy as climbing, due to her background of perching in the worst places at the worst timing, even though the echo of Ser Rylen’s “Can you check on him?” had reached her feet, betraying her balance a couple of times.

When she landed, Cullen didn’t even flinch.

She took a couple of seconds to observe what looked like the very depiction of Emperor Drakon on his death bed, as pictured in the vestibule of the Winter Palace. Then, her eyes wandered and found his armor, his second skin, scattered on the bed. That painted a more realistic picture of what was going on.

“Can I help?” she asked. No answer. “Hungry?” Again, no answer.

She got closer, to see if the jug of water he kept close to bed was in need of a refill, then she started to collect all the armor pieces, to place them on the mannequin near the window covered in ivy. When the time of lucidity would come, Cullen would hate himself more if he saw them scattered around so carelessly.

That kindness grabbed his attention.

“That goes on the left,” he said, voice crackling like a walk on gravel.

Lavellan rolled her eyes, then moved the arm-guard to the right place. “I was testing if you were paying attention.” “I’m always paying attention.” “Because you’re a control freak.” “Says the pot to the kettle.”

Lavellan would have loved to face him, but she forced herself not to. Instead, she just kept tidying his space like he would, because she knew that the idea of her acknowledging his malfuncioning and giving him – even if by accident – the wrong stare would break him for good.

“I warned the girls to not expect us at Council,” she explained. “Cassandra is covering for us. It’s just trivial matters anyway.”

Cullen took a few moments to elaborate an answer. “You should go back.”

Lavellan turned in his direction, putting on the most neutral face she could wear. No eye contact, just yet. “Do you want me to go back?” she asked.

His weariness looked a lot like apathy. “You need to.”

The thought of holding her back overcame his needs. Lavellan was aware of that. And that’s why she laid down at his side with no hesitation.

She glanced at his back, then sighed. “I’d rather be with you,” she said.

Cullen would usually snap back, scold her, or give whatever retort he would think would work on her. In that case, he just accepted in silence what was happening, too tired to compute.

“You’re the most annoying person I know,” he murmured after a while.

Lavellan smirked. “Ah, you like it!”

He did. Just like he liked being held, which she was, gently.

His brain didn’t stop ruminating, though. A hug was too little to make his thoughts stop. But her arm resting on his hip and her face pressed between his shoulder blades did a good deal of helping.

Lavellan made it sure to avoid being too invasive. Her presence already broke the intimacy of his pain, something he had been guarding since before they’ve met. Trying to talk things out, or force any kind of contact, would do the exact opposite of supporting the man she loved.

Luckily, he didn’t push her away.

“I’m sorry you’re here,” he said, after a full hour of silence. Lavellan explored the back of his neck with her eyes. “I want to be here, vhenas.” “I’m wasting your time.” “How come?”

Cullen paused for a moment. “You should have a reliable colleague, a decent partner, a… different person to deal with,” he explained. His voice had a little hint of frustration in its overall monotony. “And I’m just here, in bed. Avoiding… avoiding.” “You can’t work on sheer will alone, vhenas. Sometimes laying in bed is enough.” “Not that kind of “enough” I’m expected to be.” “And who set that expectation?”

Cullen had a hard time replying, even though the answer was simple as breathing.

Lavellan helped him out instantly. “Look, you’ve been working harder than anyone here, to prove you’re enough. And trust me, nobody outside your head is thinking that you don’t deserve to be here, or that your work is meaningless.” “Ask any mage I’ve hurt, or any templar that thinks I’m a traitor.” “Do you feel like one?” “It’s more complex than that, you know it.” “Yes, I’m aware,” she paused. “Look, I know you feel like you need to show you’ve learnt from your past, but you’re just at the beginning of your path. Taking a break to just exist doesn’t mean you’re not putting an effort into it.” “I know I’m not or you wouldn’t be here, trying to comfort-” “Go fuck yourself, vhenas.” He sighed. “Thanks," he said. And he meant it. Lavellan placed a soft kiss on the nape of his neck. “I got you.”

They embraced silence again for a while, only thoughts buzzing in the atmosphere. “The work we’re doing here,” Cullen resumed “we’re making a difference and I want to believe that I am different.”

“Speaking from experience, vhenas, nobody changes. Context does, our priorities do. You’re still that person, looking at the world from a different perspective,” she said, her voice calm however firm. “But you’re not entirely there, and I get why it’s so frustrating, but… vhenas, you need to give yourself some grace, or this kind of second guessing will chain you to this bed forever.”

Cullen absorbed her words partially, as he was still drowning in grey matter. He just knew she was right, but pain has pride and his happened to be very inflated.

Lavellan didn’t say a word, elaborating would give him more guilt. She just existed at his side, until he was ready to speak again.

After hours of buzzing silence, he turned around to face her.

Wet cheeks, red eyes, not a single emotion on sight. “Can you stay a little longer?” he asked. At least, that’s what she thought he said, because his voice was so distorted she couldn’t make a distinction of his words.

“You know me, I’m persistent,” she replied, with the warmest smile. That was the exact moment to keep eye contact, and she never broke it.

“Annoying,” he corrected her. “Who’s the one brooding over self-inflicting martyrdom?” “Fuck you, Lav.”

She chuckled, he gave her the faintest smile in return.

“Weird to hearing from you that people don’t change.” “Oh, we do, but not in the way that you’d think. You, for example, will always make a terrible use of irony.” “Not helping.” “And you will always have the same passion you had at thirteen. That’s something you can’t change. It’s like your curls, they’re part of you, even when you straighten them.” “But a shrub can’t become a tree.” “A shrub can’t be as tall, but it can be larger.” “You know what I mean.” “As do you.”

He sighed. “I don’t want to stick with that guy.”

“Well, I don’t want to stick with the girl I was either,” she shrugged. “I’ve been making mistakes since I was born, I myself am a mistake by being born and the only thing I can do about it is to dye my hair, otherwise I would look like my father. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to accept these things, and sometimes it gets so overwhelming I feel like every person I know would be better if I wasn’t in their life.”

“That’s… absolutely not fair.”

“See? That’s the point. When thoughts like that hit, I can’t stop my brain from spiraling downwards. Eventually, it reaches some kind of climax, and everything resumes as normal.”

Cullen couldn’t hold back a giggle, that he tried to cover as best as he could. The results were horrible, of course. “So, your brain climaxes when you’re depressed. That explains a lot.”

Lavellan kicked his shins playfully. “Next time you have an existential crisis I’m throwing you a bucket of water!” “Sounds about fair.”

Cullen curled onto her, burying his face on her shoulder as he wrapped her in a hug. Something would come out of his mouth, but she wasn’t entirely sure of anything else but its practical meaning. Lavellan held him tight, as his body seemed undecided if accepting to be comforted or refusing such an undeserved favor. “Just let it spin. I’ll keep you from falling,” she said. He nodded, lightly. “I’m sor-” he paused. “Thanks for being here.”

Relieved, Lavellan let out a sigh. “Thanks for letting me in.” “You broke and entered.” “You know what I mean.” “As do you.”

She held him tighter.

[neztune]

“I am the reason for my own doom,” I remind myself as I start yet another HTTYD project

So, take the super rough draft of a dumb lil comic I want to make of a moment in a short deaged Hiccup idea I had :3 I didn’t want to forget this one

And in case anyone can’t read my writing, cause I know one of my brothers struggled for a bit….

Here it is-

Tuffnut: “He’s so tiny! Does he even know 2+2?”

Hiccup: “4!”

Astrid: “He’s right.”

Tuffnut: “I knew that!!”

Tuffnut: “Probably can’t even wipe his own nose anyway…”

Hiccup: sniiiff

[tokoyamisstuff]

omg I definetly need more about the Invincible variants if you may!!

Second Chance At Love Pt. 2

After -> this <- silly lil' adorable idea by @rainydaygotham (but I made Reader a civilian instead).

Variant! Invincible x gn! Reader

Warnings: stockholm-syndrome, mentions of death, angst, (fabricated) tragic backstory, canon divergence, not proofread

A/N: whew, I never imagined you people would enjoy it this much. thanks for all the feedback, it really means the world to me! 💌🐞

"Our satellites found the missing variant, Sir."

"And what?" Cecil unintentionally stared daggers towards Donald, probably due to the stress and the fact that both of them had given their everything those past 32 hours. "Spit it out, damn it!"

Even through the reflection of his glasses Donald's mannerism were an open book for the head of the GDA, and right now he acted like he always did when he was unsure how to deliver troublesome information to his boss.

But this time it wasn't particulary bad news that made him hesistant, but the sheer absurdity of the situation.

"He-he is...with an old friend of our Mark, and...currently not attacking anyone."

The elder man rubbed his temples, lack of sleep being a steady companion in this profession but damn his advancing age sure made it harder to function properly.

"I want him on screen immediately!" he commanded harshly, voice not even slightly hinting the extent of his exhaustion.

This one apparently is more clever than the original Mark if he was able to slip past their organization's surveilance, Cecil concluded as the spitting image of his involuntary ally popped up on the monitor.

The young Viltrumite perfectly blended in with the crowd, sitting in a tiny suburban cafè far away from all the chaos. On the opposite end of the coffee table were you - not an unknown face to the GDA solely because of your affiliation with the world's strongest hero.

Cecil worked his jaw in irritation at the unfitting piece to this mess of a puzzle he was expected to solve. No way one of them came here merely to catch up with an old acquaintace...

...and yet for now, there were more urgent matters that he was needed to tend to first.

"Keep an eye on them and report shall he do anything out of the ordinary." As if this right now wasn't enough. "As long as he's preoccupied we have one less monster to worry about...for now."

Meanwhile you were sitting in front of your still untouched drink, watching your reflection on the liquid surface.

There was a radio running in the background, almost constantly updating you about how the other variants were still wreaking havoc everywhere, laying waste to the world as you knew it while you were trapped here acting as if it's a normal fucking tuesday.

You really shouldnt't be playing all domestic with a man that's just as much of a villain as his alternate selves currently on the run, and yet you keep reminding yourself that the only reason you're still alive is the uncertain benevolence of that very same person.

Trying to convince him to see the error of his ways or maybe even switch sides was out of the question - this Mark, just as the other sociopaths you saw in the news, has totally lost it a long time ago. You should be glad that he currently entertains himself with this little obsession of his, but that's no guarantee he couldn't snap and reduce you to a bloodied pulp any time.

And still, even though you have no other choice, it felt so terribly wrong to have a date - that felt more like a hostage situation - during an international emergency of apocalyptic scale.

Starting to feel sick as reality of your predicament dawned on you once again, you shoved the cup to aside, bracing yourself to interact with your kidnapper that hasn't initiated anything by himself until now.

Invincible on the other hand had destroyed Levi's orb long before finding you, never having disclosed his true intentions of joining this war. Also, with all the damage he's done the other 19 versions of himself would be sufficient, surely their 'boss' wouldn't care if one went astray from the plan. Not that he ever trusted Angstrom to not stab him in the back at some point, so who cares.

Back in the day you always had some spare clothes for this world's Mark in your room, in case he needed them - which was frankly quite often as they tend to get either torn or bloody from spontaneous fights. Maybe it was the sentimental value that made you keep them long after your friendship had ended, but right now they came in handy.

The other Mark nervously picks and tugs on the fabric, not used to wear civilian clothing after what felt like an eternity. It made him feel incredibly vulnerable to present himself this way. For years his costume had served as a barrier between himself and humanity, a symbol that the person he once was had long since ceased to exist so his Viltrumite side could rise.

Still, those familiar clothes, especially since given to him by you of all people, offered a strange comfort all the same.

At least he looked remotely normal like this, but god this man can be awkward at times. Some things really never change, even across different dimensions. Right now he was a perfect picture of misery, looking at you expectantly like a lost puppy that had just been kicked. Almost adorable, if you shun out the circumstances.

An uninvolved stranger would never believe that this is the villain who reduced entire cities to ashes just a few hours ago.

"So" you finally dare speaking up, casually leaning back in your seat as you take a sip of your already ice cold drink."I take it you're not a Seance Dog fan anymore?"

Noticing the bright logo on his shirt, Invincible actually managed to crack a smile - that trademark lopsided smirk of his that seemed more like a snarl now that you saw it after all this time. "Oh, you'd be shocked: The author is actually one of the few people I deliberately kept alive."

He's right, you are shocked not only with the answer, but the delivery as well. Suddenly you regret having pried in the first place. "Just a joke" he adds as soon as he sees the slightest shift of your expression, clutching the edge of the tabletop in frustration until it left a dent of his handprint.

You don't want to laugh. This isn't even remotely funny, and his reaction was awfully concerning as well. And yet you force yourself to snort, nails digging into your palm in an attempt to keep up the facade. "Glad to know you're as much of a weirdo as the original one."

It amazed yourself how calm and collected you could act, despite being as terrified of him as in the very beginning. Maybe you got used to the feeling already, or you had discovered a hidden talent of working well under pressure. May apply for a job at the GDA if you're ever alive and free again.

For the remaining duration of this afternoon, the two of you exchanged trivial stories about the past with your respective counterparts, many of whom were shared experiences. And as much as you tried to deny it, deep down you were aware you enjoyed this conversation more than you should.

There were only mild differences between your two dimensions as it seemed - at least when it came to your friendship, that was.

Invincible was pretty secretive about anything else really, but judging from the bits he threw in between you deduced he got his abilities way earlier than your Mark, which caused his father to never lose track of his original goal.

Occasionally Mark would state contradictionary opinions and you were sure most of it was just him mindlessly repeating the indoctrination his father had hammered into his head through inhumane methods.

You can only imagine what it meant for a gentle, sensitive soul like Mark to be subjected to a Viltrumite upbringing.

The sun was already starting to set when you were scooped up once again, however this time around you weren't afraid of the height in the slightest. You felt his chin resting atop of your head as he carried you through the sky, holding you firmly but carefully like you were a precious porcellain doll - and compared to his strenght you might as well be.

Yet all you could think of was the beauty of the twilight sky, and how oddly content you felt at that very moment.

Your date had promised to bring you to a secret location with a breathtaking view, and he really did not disappoint. It was in the midst of nature, absent of any human intervention. Just the two of you, surrounded by the sounds of the earth and the sight of the most horrible day in history of mankind slowly coming to an end.

Invincible spread his jacket out for you to sit on, and you secretly appreciated the gesture. A murderer, but also a gentleman, you mentally noted. Ironic. He slumped down on the damp grass an appropriate distance away from you, subconsciously starting to rip out some leaves.

You lean your head against his shoulder and he freezes in his tracks at the unexpected display of affection - or at least he hopes it's the absence of fear. For a long while you remain like this, admiring the view and each other's closeness, until you disturb the comfortable silence.

"How did you..." You hesitated for a moment, but then you met his eyes, so completely and utterly filled with genuine affection that caused something to blossom beneath your ribcage which you didn't want to acknowledge.

Even though you were still wary of him, it was hard to stay objective in the proximity of a literal carbon copy of the love of your life in nearly every single way.

"...how did you become like this?"

There was a long pause between your question and his answer.

"I got my powers shortly before my 13th birthday..." In hindsight, after having met the other variants who got them even earlier, it could've been worse. At least he was granted a few good years. "...and from then on, everything suddenly changed. My mom had an 'accident', so my dad was left to raise me on his own. It was-"

Mark's voice cracked, eyes glossed with unshed tears he was long since taught to repress as they were a sign of weakness. "The only times I felt truly happy was when I sneaked out to see you...I think for a long time those visits were what kept me sane. But nothing went past him..."

He balled a fist in the fabric over his sternum, and there was so much agony in his tone that it made your own heart clench painfully. "Dad- no, he's not a father. Never was. Anyways, Nolan tolerated it for a while, thinking I'd outgrow this sentiment and understand humans are beneath us. But when I turned 18..."

A tidal wave of shame and guilt washed over him, making him unable to bear looking at you as he continued his story. "He made me watch...I should've done something, I should've defended you, but...I was so scared of him. I just stood there when he snapped your neck."

The disclosure of the other's fate ultimately caused the panic attack that was seething inside of you ever since your first encounter with this variant to finally unravel. You frantically tug on your collar as you began to hyperventillate, feeling as if it was actually your neck that was being assaulted.

"Don't worry, I took care of it..." Invincible still had his face buried in his hands, and there was an eerie coldness in the following statement. "It took me a while, but I got stronger just to avenge you...ripped his sorry excuse of a heart right out of his fucking chest."

That's hardly a solace for either of you, isn't it.

Mark looks down at his palms as vivid images of his past crimes creep up on his mind, accompanied by a neurotic laughter that could only be described as absolutely broken...

...until you cup his hands with yours, the gesture conveying emotions you would never be able to put into words.

"Everything felt so pointless after you were gone..." he snivels, not resisting as you couldn't help but tug his head towards your lap. "You have no idea what emptiness you left behind...at some point I started doing unspeakable things just in order to feel something, anything to distract myself from the grief..."

You hum in between choked sobs, weeping for this lost soul as you rake your fingers through his hair, listening to him repeat countless apologies. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry...I should've just flown into the sun...I should've been stronger, better...I didn't want to become cruel...I wanted to be good...for you..."

What were you even doing here? Have you lost your mind?! Snap out of it, this is insane!

"Shh...it's enough. Stop tormenting yourself." No. He deserves far worse. Victim of circumstance or not, this man is beyond saving.

"Accompany me to my homeworld. Let me indulge you the way you deserve. Never leave me again" was what he desperately wanted to say, but instead he gulped harshly around the lump forming in his throat before announcing "I'll take you back home soon...phase one of Angstrom's plan is over, the variants will leave and you're safe again."

"Huh? I thought-"

"Drop the performance" he ordered as he fought to regain his composure. "You can speak freely. I meant what I said, I won't hurt you. Even if you hate me, even if you hurl all kinds of insults and accusations at me...I can take it. I'm just grateful for today. I'll cherish this memory forever."

Yes. This was more than he could possibly ask for. He already destroyed the life of your counterpart in his world, it's not fair of him to do the same to someone so precious twice.

Mark doesn't care what happens to him from now on, because thanks to you he was able to make peace with what happened.

"Come." He jolts up as he wipes his tear-stained cheeks clean, not biding you another look as he fears that otherwise he won't be able to pull through with his good intentions. "It's getting cold, we should-"

"No!"

Out of a whim you tackle hug the Viltrumite, who is caught off guard enough to stagger and fall. You softly punch against his chest and he allows you to let it all out, though he has no idea what you're on about.

"You-you're not like those other variants of Mark...please..." Your bottom lip is trembling as you speak, voice wavering with an emotion you couldn't quite decipher yourself. "Don't leave. If you have nothing to live for in your timeline, then...just stay in this one."

"And then what? Go to the Pentagon and say 'hi, I'm one of the Invincibles that ruined simply everything, but now I'd like to stay here'? They'll never believe that I don't have an ulterior motive!"

"So what? It's not like they can contain or even scratch you. And even if they could, I-I'll make sure to visit you every day!" You giggle like an infatuated teenager as you add that last sentence, and even a maniac like him realizes you must've lost your mind.

God, this is all his fault...

"What are you even talking about?" he almost yells, now on top of you and softly grabbing your shoulders to shake you ever so slightly. "Why are you trying to convince me? That can't seriously be what you want!"

"I-I...don't know." You're staring straight at him now, a stubborn determination in your eyes that almost frightens this unstoppable man. Wrapping your arms around his neck to make your foreheads touch, you whisper "All I'm sure of is that you didn't deserve any of this, and maybe...shit, just give us some time to figure it out, would you?"

Mark's hands were hovering over your body, giving it his best to hold back yet it was a lost battle before it even started. He utters vile curses under his breath before finally crushing you flush against his body, lips brushing against yours as if to ask for permission. You're quick to take the initiative, tossing all reason overboard as you give in to this all-consuming madness some might call hope...

...but just when you were about to pull him in for a long overdue kiss, the man that was straddling your waist mere seconds ago had disappeared in the blink of an eye.

The soundwave reached your ears much later than the actual impact, and much to your shock, when you saw not one but two Invincibles - yours having been knocked into a nearby rock formation - you immediately understood what it meant.

"Mark, wait!" you screamed, but your plea went on deaf ears.

After everything your world's Invincible had to endure those past few days, he wasn't even slightly in an amenable constitution. The only thing he was able to feel at this moment was rage, and he needed to direct it to something or otherwise he'd burst.

Sadly the next best target of his fury was the variant right in front of him - a man who not only attacked his homeplanet, but tried to violate someone he once held dear.

Mark will make him pay for trying to harm you.

"C'mon, stand up. Right now all I want to do is hit something...as hard as I can."

[Next Part]

[kenyummy]

BEACH DAY ꒰⚘݄꒱ BLUE LOCK

SYNOPSIS: as a manager during the nel, a well-deserved rest was needed. what better way to rest than a fun day in the hot summer air, in a bikini, at the beach?

note: this was originally a special for 100k reads on my wattpad book found (which u should SO read btw #shamelesspromo) but to avoid confusion i edited out a lot of mentions of the manager characters who were included in this short! i really hope you all enjoy!

TODAY

is a completely regular day of fun outings. Shidou had (in)formally organised a beach trip, something you decided would be a good idea. The NEL has been stressful on all of you, whether it be you and the other managers, the players, or even coaches—taking a good day off seemed to be a good idea.

So, you were heading to the beach.

The place where women can wear skimpy bikinis without being called promiscuous names (it would happen anyway—but in a perfect world everybody would mind their own business) and the place where strange men (some of those men may happen to be named Otoya and Aiku) would check out the local fauna dressed in said skimpy bikinis.

It was a fun day of splashing around in the waves, ignoring all problems present in your life, and unwinding in the grainy sand. You miss it. That is why, even though you're sure this will happen to end up in disaster, you agreed. 

So, this is what got you in this predicament now—thirty minutes before you had to get there with a ten minute trip driving—that was all that was left for you to remember everything.

Swimming outfit. A change of clothes. Sandals that won't trap sand. What else...

You ponder as you stare down at your duffel bag, filled with everything you need. Money—food stalls at the beach were always ridiculously expensive for no apparent reason, Floaties—you never know when somebody might just need some abrupt saving. Towels—plenty of towels, A robe—you'll probably be a little chilly when you get out of the water.

Apart from the obvious essentials like hair ties, deodorant, sunscreen, keys and whatever other odd things you need whenever you go out—you think you're good to go. 

You take a good look at your swimsuit. You haven't worn it in a while. A simple black two-piece with each front piece of fabric being held together with two silver rings—it's a little smaller than you would've liked, but you don't own any other kind, so you decide to just go with it.

You roll up your towel nicely and tuck it into your bag, then zip it up. You stare down at the fat duffel bag that is practically bursting at the seams. You are ready to take on the final boss—the beach.

You stand in front of the mirror in the bathroom, pulling at the tight elastic band of your bikini. It digs into your skin slightly. Hissing through your teeth—you decide it's nothing, and quickly make your way outside.

With your bag under your arm, you walk out and look around. Two of the other manager girls said they'd saved a spot underneath a bright purple umbrella. It takes little effort to spot it in all its neon glory.

They both sit atop a beach towel, with odd things like sunscreen, keys, and waterproof mascara all scattered around them. You wave a little before you sit down on a part of the towel, taking in the sight of the beautiful beach.

Children running around, adults chasing after them—some guy was even getting told off in the middle of the waves for losing his swim trunks. All in all, the beach was positively bursting with rich energy.

You missed this. You haven't felt this calm in a good while. Dealing with all those rowdy boys vying for your attention—it took a toll on you.

Too bad this peace would not last for too long.

Your phone dings. You pick it up and press on the notification—it's a snap from Shidou. You hesitantly click on the picture and it's a closeup of his left eye—but in the background, you can see the side of the building you had just changed inside, and a shirtless Otoya is trying to kick at somebody.

You don't even have the chance to properly react when a loud yell interrupts your thoughts. You snap your head towards the sound so fast your neck aches—the source was Rin on the floor while, even though a second ago a phone should've been in his hand, Shidou is jumping him.

A smart, sassy quip and loud groans erupts from both you and the other manager girls—you slap your phone down and squeeze your face in your hands.

Perhaps this is the start of doomsday, you think as the overly massive group starts making their way towards you and your blaring purple target of a neon umbrella.

"[name]!!" Bachira crashes into you—with the way he knocks you both to the sandy ground, he should be playing rugby instead of soccer—and rubs his cheek against yours like a loving cat. "I'm so excited to see you again! You never come by our stratum!!"

He's flat on top of you and the stares you're receiving start to grow uncomfortable. You push back at his chest but he simply opts to sneak his arms around your shoulders, "Bachira...!! Let me... get up..."

It takes the brute force of Barou King Shoei to remove his figure from latching onto yours. With a twitching brow and eyes that could stab daggers into Bachira—a small laugh unintentionally escapes your lips when he talks, "You're all sandy, you disgusting bug. If you get all that sand on the towel, I'll seriously kill you."

Bachira is being held up by the scruff of his water suit like a cat. He dangles in the air and flings himself at Barou next—"Fight me, king!"

"YOU—!!!"

Ignoring the upcoming brawl on the ground, you step over the two and you find your way towards...

"Hello, Isagi." 

Your voice seems to make him jump—his eyes widen in surprise at the sight of your face and he looks far too nervous to be speaking to you. "O—Oh... Hello, [name]...! It's good to see you again..."

He's trembling and making such intense eye contact that you wonder if he's okay. His fists are clenched hard beside his body and you think he might just about have a heart attack. "Are you... okay?"

He answers a little too quickly, "Yes! I'm fine, haha, why would you worry about me? I'm totally good! Best I've ever been! Why would you ask? I look okay, right? Well, I gotta go now! I'll see you later, [name]!"

He runs off like he's a high school girl who's just had her first conversation with her senior crush. I can't tell if he's insecure about how he looks or worried about being disrespectful to me.

Maybe it's a mix of both. Isagi is on the slimmer side, compared to guys like Barou. Even though I know he's not, he looks like he's on steroids. 

And Isagi's always been worried about being disrespectful to you—worried about overstepping boundaries and making you uncomfortable—at least when he's in his usual, clear state of mind. There's no telling what he's thinking when he stares down at you late at night after a good game with that overconfident, egotistical smirk.

Anyways—he's rushed away by now, and you're just standing here looking all stupid. Oh well. At least you're not alone for too long, because your attention is quickly stolen away by a certain trio. 

Karasu, Otoya, and Yukimiya all come up to you—only one bothers to wave or even smile (there's no surprise he's a model—he's seriously gorgeous, you note when glancing down at his torso).

"Hey." The sneaky ninja is not so sneaky anymore, because he doesn't even try and disguise the way he's staring at your chest. He gives you a thumbs up, to which you scowl, "Lookin' good."

"Get your eyes off my chest."

"Sicko." Karasu shakes his head with a disappointed expression. You deadpan.

"You too, stupid crow."

"Did your mothers not teach you respect?" Yukimiya clicks his tongue—eyes fluttering closed as he shakes his head. He soon turns his head towards you and he actually does make eye contact with you—a step above his two friends. "It's nice to see you, [name]. You look very nice. Ignore these two."

You promptly ignore the offended looks shot at the model—you opt to just stare, perhaps a little too dreamily (but you couldn't care less, really), and smile back, "It's nice to see you too, Yukki. Thank you, you look handsome today, too. I was planning on ignoring those two, anyways."

"Woah, that is seriously hurtful." Karasu places a hand over his bare chest where his heart would be. "Too bad I don't care."

You roll your eyes. "Of course you don't, stupid crow."

"Would you stop calling me that?"

"Would you stop staring at my boobs?"

He pauses. "Point taken."

Having Nagi cling to you during your time at Blue Lock is pretty hard already. Believe it or not, he's 6'2, and believe it or not, having a grown 6'2 man hanging off your side makes it pretty hard to get around. 

Having a shirtless, messy-haired Nagi plant himself right on top of you and having his face smushed against the top of your chest is a little worse.

You can feel a burning stare at the back of your head. You're not sure if the stare Reo is giving you is directed at you or the snow-haired boy. (Perhaps it is both and he's just conflicted—you would understand).

"Nagi..." You push back at his head and slowly intertwine your fingers in the white locks. They're softer than you imagined, but the ends are unmistakably dead. You should cut it for him later. "Go swim or something."

You are disappointed (yet, not the slightest bit surprised) when he promptly shakes his head no and proceeds to dig his nose even deeper into your exposed skin. His voice is slightly muffled, but still plausibly understandable, "Nuh-uh. Dun' wanna."

Your eyes twitch. Perhaps you have been spoiling him a little too much—so much so he refuses to leave you be. 

"'Cause I didn't wanna go, but then mmmm... uh—Reo told me you were gonna come... and it wouldn't be too much of a hassle if you stayed with me. Hadn't seen you in so long. Missed you."

Right. You forgot he told you that before, too. Perhaps you had been a bit too doting on Nagi—he's clingy-er than you remember. Or perhaps it had been similar to that saying, distance makes the heart grow fonder.

A loud shriek (it sounds far too girly to have come out of Nagi's mouth, but go figure) alerts you and you see Nagi has been grabbed backwards into a headlock by Barou King Shoei. Perhaps he had turned away from the villainous side since your last meeting with him, because right now, he's saved you twice, like a hero.

Nagi doesn't even fight the King's death grip—he flops like a dead fish and it looks rather funny seeing it so closely. Nagi is taller, yet much lankier than Barou, who looks like a bodybuilder compared to the lazy snowhead.

"You're kicking sand all over the towel, Mr Hassleman." Barou snarls and jerks Nagi's head back. The boy doesn't react other than wearing his little :x face. "Go swim it off. Now."

Nagi does not make any visible effort to move. Barou still holds him like a ragdoll in his grip when he turns to look at you—you laugh a little and move your sunhat out of your eyes. "Hi, Barou. It's nice to see that you came. I didn't think you'd like the beach."

He looks a lot different with his hair down, you note. But in a good way. Fallen beneath his shoulders—you wonder why he does not wear it this way more often. He still holds his signature forever pissed-off expression, "What the hell is that supposed to mean? You think I'm incapable of having fun?"

You pause, with a small grin. "Yeah, kinda."

He gives you a deadpan expression. "You're the same as always, you shit manager."

"I thought our relationship had progressed to the point we'd gotten past these mean names." You place a hand over your chest, a cheeky smile on your lips with a faux-hurt expression. You didn't usually joke around like this—it wasn't really your thing—but he was just far too easy of a target to tease. "I'm hurt, King."

He cocks a brow—you see Nagi trying to wriggle around now, and it's good to know he didn't actually die—"Seriously? Didn't think you were the type of person to care."

"Doesn't matter now. You're gonna swim, right?" With a nod of his head, you break away from his sharp stare and give him a small wave with a closed-eye smile. "Well, I'll leave you to it. Oh yeah—by the way, you look good with your hair down. You should do it more often. Anyways, see you later."

You do not catch the half-hearted wave Nagi sends you—which was just him flopping his arm up in the air—nor do you catch the look Barou throws over his shoulder at you, "... Not too bad yourself."

He says, but you do not catch it.

Nagi stares up at the man with a blank expression, "Who knew you were all sweet on our manager, huh, King?"

The King in question growls like an animal and tosses Nagi into the ocean like a ragdoll, "Shut the fuck up!"

"Beach volleyball?" Chigiri stares with confusion in his bright pink eyes as Kurona sits on Gagamaru's shoulders—setting up the tall net. His hair is tied up in a high ponytail, and his bangs fall over his eyes. "Are you serious?"

His head turns to yours when you shrug, "Why not? Beach volleyball is super fun. It's not like you guys can play soccer on the sand."

Chigiri pauses to think your words over for a second. You give him the most empty stare you can muster before you speak, "You really can't play soccer on the sand, Chigiri."

"Well, still. Are you gonna play?"

You shake your head and spare him a small smile. "No, I think I'll pass on this one. I'd like to see you play, though. You seem like you'd be really good at volleyball."

He gives you a pretty smile and shakes his head. "Oh, I don't know. I wasn't really planning to play either. I was honestly just thinking of sitting down with you and just relaxing."

"Oh, but I really would like to see you play. I bet you'd be better than anybody else out there, Hyoma." Not to be brass or anything, but you like to think you know a good amount about Chigiri—including how to get him to do what you'd like: Fan his ego. Or to put it in better words, praise him. "I think you'd look pretty cool."

You give him the nicest smile you can muster, and you're sure that's what seals the deal. He turns his head away from yours—yet you can practically sense the smirk he now holds—"Well, if you really think so, why not?"

You laugh a little as he walks onto the court, and each side with six players—even if in official beach volleyball, there were only two on each side, this was the most unofficial game you've ever really witnessed.

Otoya and Karasu are jumping on each other's shoulders in an effort to block the spikes—it only ends in the one on top tumbling to the ground and Yukimiya shaking his head in an I'm not mad, just disappointed motion.

Bachira is using his feet to play, kicking the ball up even when his hands were a completely more viable option—you think this is illegal, but who are you to judge—and Shidou is doing the same thing, except he... is hogging the ball. You aren't even sure how you hog the ball in volleyball, but he's managing it.

Rin is the one who manages to get it away from him but it only ends up in another tussle—something you do not bother to stop because one of the manager are already running toward them with a can of hairspray (which, if you were not previously aware, has the same effect as pepper spray if directed into the eyes).

You loll your head back and let out a heavy sigh. This beach day was going better than you had expected—still, your group by far had gained the most traction from how loud you all ended up being. You've gotten countless stink-eyes from old people, especially when Shidou yells out profanities in the vicinity of little children. 

You wonder if the police may get called on you all. Maybe you should pretend you're not in their group as a last-ditch effort if it does end up happening.

You are broken out of your thoughts by a small, almost nervous greeting, "Um... hey, [name]." 

You look to where the source of the sound came from—you get an eyeful of Isagi's bare torso before you see his face. He's looking off to the side awkwardly as if the mere action of looking at you would be purgatory, and he looks like he doesn't know what to do with his hands so he grips the end of his swimming shorts awkwardly. It's cute.

"Hi, Isagi." You smile. You shuffle over to create a little more room on the towel you are sitting on. You pat the free spot beside you and nudge your head towards him, "Come sit."

Obediently—you didn't expect him to move so fast—he sits beside you. He still looks stiff and nervous, so you ask him what's up. He responds, quickly but much quieter than his usual calm tone, "I was... um... ah, this is so stupid..."

He sucks in a deep breath of air and turns his back towards you. It's a little more built than you imagined. "I was... just gonna ask if you could put sunscreen on my back... I can't reach, and I trust you more than the... others."

You can practically feel the way his face burns up from how his voice cracks and grows more hushed with every word. To save him from the embarrassment, you decide to spare him from teasing words. "Sure. I don't mind. I'm glad you trust me, Isagi."

The words come out a little more sultry than you intended as you test the waters and place your fingertips on his bare shoulders. He shivers. You can feel it.

You spread the sunscreen all over his back—he places his face in his hands as you work your hands a little lower. When your fingertips brush against the waistband of his shorts he has to bite back a small groan. This was utterly humiliating for him—seriously, this was sad.

You're not completely oblivious to this fact, so in a menial act of pity for the poor guy, you try and finish up as quickly as possible—if only to save him from the embarrassment. 

It feels far too intimate to be just a friendly gesture. He wonders if you feel that way too. You lightly rest your palms on his tense shoulders when you are done, sitting on your knees and leaning your face near his own, "Done."

He'd be lying if he said his heart didn't skip a beat. He swallows thickly, blunt nails digging into his palms as he shuffles around so he faces you. The words that come out of his mouth are a little shakier than he would've liked, "T... Thanks... [name]."

The smile you have plastered on your face is nothing short of pretty, he thinks. "No problem. You can come to me if you need anything, okay?"

Why do you have to say things like that, [name]?

Isagi gives you a small nod, and practically forces a wavy smile onto his lips. "Yeah... You're really helpful, you know that?"

You laugh. "I know."

The mood between you two is calm and the strange tension from before has dissipated. You're smiling from ear to ear, about to say something—when Isagi's demeanour changes completely. You're not too sure why, but he seems to spot something behind you and his eyes completely shift.

Gone is the meek and shy boy, and in his place is a coy, smiling man. He places a hand on your upper arm—it makes you jolt and look at him in surprise. A second ago, he couldn't even look you in the eye, and now, he was shuffling closer towards you like it was the most natural thing ever.

"Anything, right?" He finally speaks, and he moves his hand up, away from your arm and it lightly traces underneath your jaw. He looks deeply into your eyes, but still keeps glancing behind you. "Can I do this?"

You do not get a chance to ask what this happens to be—although, it does not take a genius to figure it out, and you are no genius—or even spare him an answer before he grabs your hardcover novel and holds it up in front of where the two of your lips meet—covering your kiss from the other players that surround you all.

He doesn't dare take this further than a small kiss—yet, it wouldn't be considered a simple peck either. His hand holds the underside of your jaw lightly and tilts your head up so he can easily feel you and the back of the hard-cover book feels cool against your cheek. 

You'd like to believe the reason your cheeks are on fire is from the blaring heat of the sun shining down on you—even though you are underneath the shade of that purple umbrella. His lips taste sweet, like a fruity drink. You think a stall nearby is serving something similar to that.

You can feel his smile against your lips, and he seems to be all too happy to have you like this. He tilts your face forward and your body has to follow—to the point you practically collapse into his lap. It feels much more intimate now that you can feel his bare skin against your own.

Isagi moves his hand down from your jaw down toward your waist, holding you taut against him and letting his fingertips rest in the dip of your back. 

You finally end up moving backwards, and your sunhat almost falls off your head—Isagi quickly readjusts it when he pulls away. He gives you a sweet smile—though, it grows more cocky when he glances behind you again—and says, "You really are helpful, [name]."

You blush a little but still retain that same smile when his hands trace down your spine gently, romantically. "I know."

Isagi joins in on the beach volleyball fun with Nagi after Rin and Shidou leave in favour of taking a dip in the sea (you think you hear Shidou saying something about skinny-dipping, and you pray to every god imaginable you heard wrong), so you are left to yourself once more.

You are perfectly content. Your sunhat lay on the towel beside you and your legs are peeked out in the sun—reading your book where you last left off.

Your life is perfectly calm until it is not.

Hands suddenly cover your vision and all you see is darkness. You jerk your head up and are about to say something when a heavily accented voice suddenly rings out throughout your ears, "Guess who?"

You could recognise that voice in your sleep from how often it haunts your dreams. You recognise that voice even before you hear it. You slump down where you sit, letting out a heavy, almost tired sigh. "Kaiser..."

"Ah! How did you guess it so easily, hübsches Mädchen?" He removes the hands blocking your vision and he suddenly plops himself down, right in front of you—of course, his little guard dog is right by his side, sporting his usual guileless expression. "Perhaps you think of me far too often, hm? Also, I told you to call me Michael. We are closer than that, no?"

You shake your head, eyes slightly squinted at him. "I don't know about that. Hello, Ness."

The puppy-dog boy waves his hand at you, clearly delighted. "Hello, [name]!"

Kaiser looks annoyed at this interaction. He scoffs, rolling his electric blue eyes and waving you off mindlessly, lashes fluttering closed, "Whatever. I cannot believe you're just reading at the beach."

You raise a brow. "What's wrong with that?"

He picks up the book by its spine and tosses it nonchalantly on the towel beside you, lips curled downwards into a sneer, "It's terribly dorky. You look like a huge dork."

"You sound like you care about that more than me."

"I don't want my love interest to look like a huge geek. Appearances matter a lot, you know." Yeah, you make that really clear. He abruptly stands up—Ness scrambles to get up as well—and looks down at you, finger curling upwards towards you like he's beckoning you to follow him. "Come on."

You blink with your nose scrunched up. "Excuse me?"

He coughs into a closed fist, looking up at the bright blue sky so he doesn't have to meet your gaze. He still holds a hand out to you, "Come on. Don't keep me waiting."

You're so shocked that you actually find yourself following after him—though, you do not take his outstretched hand and it is left hanging awkwardly. Ness would've taken it.

Your sandals flop on the sand as you walk down the beach, past families and couples and people simply wanting to tan—you follow behind Kaiser in silence while Ness walks beside you. You hope people don't think of you three as a throuple. That would absolutely not be good for your image whatsoever.

You pause as soon as you realise exactly where he is leading you. He's stepped halfway into the water when you halt your movements right before the splash of a wave hits your toes.

"Yeah, no thanks." You abruptly turn on your heel and proceed to try and make a getaway—you don't get too far until Ness grabs your wrist and tugs you backwards. You tumble into him—somehow, he doesn't fall over and only grabs your upper arms in his hands with a frantic expression.

"Please, [name]! Kaiser really wants to swim with you!"

Kaiser hisses through his teeth lowly and stares at Ness like he's just cursed out his mother, "What the hell, Ness?! I never said that!"

The small boy does not make it very subtle when he gasps in shock. Ness slaps his hands over his mouth and shakes his head—his voice is muffled when he speaks, but you can still understand slightly, "I—I never said that! Nobody said that!"

He's so embarrassed the poor boy rushes into the water and disappears beneath the waves. You wonder if he has become one with the sea. In the distance, you can see Kurona and Hiori chilling on a large unicorn floatie—with drinks and colourful straws—that should've only been able to fit one person.

You and Kaiser are now just staring at each other in very much awkward silence. You take a languid step back. "Well... If you don't want to swim..."

Once again, you do not get the chance to dash away because he's grabbed you and pulled you into his grasp before you could even react. You look at him with wide eyes—but you're practically putty in his hands when he bends down and clasps his arms over the back of your thighs, throwing you over his shoulder like a menial sack of potatoes.

Your sandals fall off your feet as soon as you find yourself tucked over him—you let out a very loud, very offended, very embarrassed gasp of shock, "What the hell... ?! Kaiser—put me down! Sick bastard!"

Your words have no visible effect on him. Your head slumps down when you feel him walking, and your hair hangs over your head. You get a good eyeful of his back. He's also more muscular than you imagined. Makes sense why he could even do this. That doesn't mean you're not pissed, though.

You can't see his face, but you can practically envision his signature cocky smirk and how it paints his stupidly handsome features, "I'm all fine, hübsches Mädchen. Are you ready?"

Huh? Ready for what—!!!

You feel so indiscriminately stupid for even asking this question—you should've already known the answer—because you suddenly find yourself collapsing into the water, salt filling each of your senses and the loud noises of children screaming around you fading to muffled nothingness. 

You jump up as fast as you can—you're just tall enough so you can stand with your chest above the waves. You start coughing to try and get the small amount of water you happened to swallow out of your system—your hair is now wet with the water and is suddenly heavier, and you're shivering cold.

Kaiser, the asshole he is, is laughing wildly at your expression. You push your hair away from your vision and you receive an earful of his—stupidly charming—laughter. His hands clamp over his mouth in a last-ditch effort to muffle himself, which only makes your face flush hotter with anger and your chest tightens.

You want to yell and scream into his face, but you choose the better way out. You puff your cheeks out and hold your breath as you dive back under, swimming behind him and slamming your foot into the back of his knees so that he tumbles forward, face-first into the water.

You've never felt prouder of yourself.

You bob your head back up and start to laugh wickedly now—it was his turn to look like a drowned rat. When his head comes above water, you can't help the tears of laughter that brim across your waterline when he gives you a deadpan, silently fuming glare.

His wet bangs cling to his face (somehow, it suited him—the mere thought made you feel a little angry, in the way that your stomach started to feel all weird and your heart skipped a beat or two) and his red eyeliner is smeared down his cheek. He pushes his blonde hair back, so that his damp bangs fall over his left eye and his hair is parted strangely to the side.

"Hmph." He looks away from your figure—you have to cling onto his shoulder to stop yourself from falling over, and your chest heaves up and down wildly to breathe. "I don't know what you find so funny."

You look up at him from your slumped position, eyes squinted upwards and you're practically sparkling with joy, "You... you look hilarious! Ahahaha—look at you! I can't—" Your words are cut off by your gasps for air.

Kaiser does not look the least bit impressed. He stares down at where your cheek is planted on the side of his neck, right where the blue rose lies. His hands stabilise you by falling into the small of your back—right where Isagi's fingertips once touched.

You finally regain your composure and move away from how you were practically pressed up against him—your cheeks are starting to hurt from how hard you were smiling, and you now sport a much calmer sort of grin when you stare up at him. "Ah... I'm sorry—don't look so mad—"

He rolls his eyes, which makes you chuckle, hands resting on his shoulders, "Oh come on... don't look at me like that... I'm sorry..." Your tone is far too playful to sound apologetic. He is slightly enjoying the attention you bestow upon him, but the thought makes his head hurt so he chooses not to reflect on it. "Michael..."

Fuck. His name sounds so nice coming out of your mouth.

He still keeps up the annoyed act, however, even when you grin up at him with that stupidly pretty, stupidly knowing look, "Don't be like that... I'm sorry, okay? What do you want me to do to make it up to you?"

The blonde pauses, blinking owlishly and looking down at you. You are still smiling, and he can feel your heart beating loudly in your chest. You almost look dazed, probably from your previous session of full-blown laughter.

His hands still rest lowly on your hips. He moves one and tilts your chin up with his thumb, "Hm." A smirk coils onto his lips and in an instant you can see the happiness that practically radiates off his being. "I think this will suffice, for now."

He leans forward, and suddenly, he is kissing you. Unlike Isagi—he wastes not a second to slip his tongue between your lips and kisses you as deeply and passionately as he can muster—it's so Kaiser, so him that it makes your stomach twist within itself.

His hands run down the side of your body—the places where his rough fingertips meet the skin that you usually cover with clothing make you jolt and goosebumps form on your wet skin.

His bangs tickle your cheek and despite how wet they are, they are soft. His left, tattooed hand finds itself on the side of your stomach and his blunt nails sink into the soft flesh—he grabs at whatever he can get his hands on. It's lowly and desperate and so unbefitting, so uncharacteristic of him—but in this moment, he can hardly find it within himself to care.

The hot sun beams down on you both and it causes your head to grow all hot and fuzzy—Kaiser's natural warm body heat is not helping either. You're feeling so much all at once that your hands unconsciously place themselves on his bare chest in a small attempt to create a sliver of distance between you two. 

It does not work. Your torso leaves no room or gap as you're sunken into his arms—it makes him groan into your mouth and god, you almost feel sick to your stomach when you realise your first thought after hearing it is that you really want him to do it again.

You're not underwater anymore, but you might as well be. Every sense is muffled—the children screaming, the cool, glittery water that surrounds your bodies, even the blackness that clouds your closed-lidded vision—all you can feel is him, his tongue in your mouth and his hands running all over the smoothness of your skin.

Suddenly, you feel your lungs aching, and you realise you need air. You try to pull away—but his face follows yours like he's a mindless dog, and you could've laughed at it if you had not been so stripped of oxygen. You need air and yet he's kissing you like you are his air—it's a fact that makes your cheeks flush red hot.

The only option you can think of is the next action you take—you squeeze your hand out of where he presses your chests impossibly close and entangle them within his damp, blonde locks—tugging backwards and forcing him to leave the slightest amount of space between your mouths, so you can gasp for air.

Your hand tugging at Kaiser's long hair, hard, and you hotly panting into his mouth—he'd rather be caught dead than admit this aloud, but it doesn't feel half bad.

Your eyes crack open slightly, and you have to choke down a laugh when staring at his expression. His face is flushed bright red—compared to his usual pale complexion—and his squinted cerulean eyes are clouded with unmistakable desirable passionate lust.

"Scheiße, hübsches Mädchen." He curses lowly, chest rising and falling erratically as he pulls you in even closer—if that were possible. You can feel every ridge and bump of his hard torso against you and the smirk that pulls across his lips makes your heart pound. "You make my heart race."

When your breathing starts to even, he closes the gap between you both once more, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth and biting down—you whine into him and he kisses you softly as some sort of minor apology—you'd never hear the word sorry come out of his lips, after all. His hand dips down to trace up and down your spine, while the other rests below your ass.

He slides his lips away from yours, down your neck and he rests his face in the crook between your neck and shoulders—pressing languid, open-mouthed kisses against the salty skin. His hair falls over his shoulder and trickles into the water like molten honey—it flutters around in the sea and he looks stupidly gorgeous like this.

Now that he's not blocking your vision nor taking over each of your senses, you can see now see the distant figures of your friends all playing together in the sea, including that of Isagi. He's talking together with the others and having fun while you're over here, making out with one of his most hated rivals.

Still, you can't find it within yourself to give it a second thought when his teeth sink into your neck, and his hands tighten around your upper thighs. He lifts his head after you whimper a little and push him back—he follows where your eyes lead and you're sure he also happens to see the head of your dear friend.

The smile that curls across his lips is nothing short of dangerous. "Oh, is that Yoichi? Are you worried about him seeing us?" You do not give him a verbal answer, but the way you look down and the way your lips tremble gives him everything he needs. "How cute. No worries."

He lifts his face and all you can see is him. His hair falls over his shoulder and his bangs tickle your cheek once more. His touch is undeniably soft despite the carnal look he sports in his sharp, angled eyes. "Why don't we give him a show, hübsches Mädchen?"

He whispers so delicately—you do not have the mind to shake your head no, nor do you protest when he slips his tongue between your obediently open lips once more, hands tucked around your hips.

Your heart will not stop pounding. Kaiser smiles at the fact that he is doing this to you. He smiles at the fact you are like mindless putty in his hands, and he smiles at the fact that he can feel bright blue eyes staring holes into him—there's nothing wrong with showing off, right?

© KENYUMMY 2024

[vantetaes]

BOOK WORM 🫧🥂

BOOK WORM! ARMIN X BLACK FEM READER

SUMMARY!! yn helps her friend relieve some stress.

WARNINGS!! 18+!! mentions of oral (f receiving), alcohol consumption, pet names, honestly just smut

the door creeps open slowly, revealing a figure illuminated by a laptop screen and a faulty led lamp. the faint clicking from the keyboard and sound of papers ruffling were the only sound that filled the room.

you peer around, the cluttered desk told you everything you needed to know: scattered papers, a coffee cup that looked like it hadn’t moved in hours, and a faint shadow under his eyes that screamed exhaustion.

“armin. what the hell?” walking over to the boy, gently placing your hand on his shoulder. the bag you came in being placed on the only clear spot of the desk. he leans into your touch a little, enjoying the warmth you never failed to bring, but snapping out of it quickly, rearing back up to continue typing.

“finals are in two weeks and if i don’t get my scores perfect i’ll have to hear about it for ages with my lawyer brother, attorney sister, my supreme court justice father, and my doctor mother.” he never once stopped typing. bending down to your knees, he gives you a small glance before reaching for a stack of crumbled pages, shuffling the sheets in confusion.

“i know it’s arou- ah! okay good.” he picks up a half ripped sheet, copying down the data from the sheet onto his laptop. lips in a tight line, you stand back up, digging through the tan tote bag. a small case of flavored beer and a couple of shooters make their way onto the desk. he looks over at the spread, immediately shaking his head.

“hell no, yn! are you crazy? i have class in the morning.” you throw you hands up in defeat.

“can we make a deal ‘minnie?” he ignores you, still typing. fed up, you finally unzip your jacket, tossing it on the extra chair. throwing one of your legs around the boy, he rears his hands up , scared to touch you. you’re straddling him, pushing the blonde locks out of his face, tucking a few of the longer pieces behind his ear. his ice blue eyes stare up at you in confusion.

“what are you doing, yn?”

“drink one beer with me. not! while doing homework. just enjoy a full beer and maybe a shooter and i’ll leave you alone afterwards! swear.” holding your pinky out to the male, he bites the insides of his cheek, thinking really hard about your opposition.

“just one?” waving your pink acrylic back and forth between your bodies, he finally latches on with his.

-

PARTYNEXTDOOR plays in the background, filling the void of quiet. the entire six pack was now just one. the one you and armin were currently sharing. he takes a swig from it, grabbing your chin with his thumb and index finger, he places the bottle to your lips. his blue eyes stare as you gulp down the last of the liquid catches you off guard, causing you to cough up a little, accidentally getting it on his white shirt.

“oh shit. im sorry.” you try to wipe it off with your sleeve. he just laughs, moving your arm a little.

“it’s okay. i’ll change.” he moves from his position on the bed, hand gripping the shirt from behind his head, pulling it over, stripping himself of the shirt. you couldn’t help but notice the way his back was sculpted.

since when does he work out? is that a tattoo?

“i didn’t know you had a tat, minnie.” slurring, he turns around to look at you sprawled out on his bed. your body waved hair sprawled out everywhere, sweater falling off your shoulders and shorts riding up your thighs.

he knows, you’re only his friend and he had no chance with you. hell, your ex is onyankopon. what could armin give up that he wasn’t? but shit, the way he thinks about you. the way his eyes can’t help but to feast on your appearance when you’re near him. he wanted to ruin you. to cherish you. to make you his.

“yeah it was an old friends idea. he passed not too long ago. still miss the kid.” he just hangs his head before going back to look for another shirt.

“come here.” you say assertively. armin turns around, the front looking just as good as his back.

he drunkenly waddles back to the bed, climbing back into his original spot. your finger traces over the abstract tattoo, inspecting it closely.

it was a sigilism tattoo that started below his ribs and extended up his left pec, to his bicep.

your other hand rested on his abdomen, laying up against the man.

“how long did it take?” you quiz.

“it was honestly two full sessions since im a pussy. so about five hours a session.” he laughs, face turning a little red.

“i think it’s so cool.” you say still studying the ink. look over at the man you see his eyes directly on you, then a quick glance down at your lips.

“i think you’re cool.” you say, feeling his body inch closer, gradually changing your position. his hands wrap around your waist, slowly shifting him under you. eyes never breaking contact.

“i think you’re-“ he leans down, eye to eye with you. his lips plant down firmly on yours. moving in sync, you could feel him relax into it, tongue occasionally swiping across your bottom lip. you’d never been this close to him. he smelled like coconut and dior cologne, hair dangling above your face.

“what about onyankopon?” pulling away from the heated kiss, he asks, worry filling his eyes.

“mm- what about him?”

“right. if you want me to stop, let me know pleas-“ throwing your arms around his neck, you pull him back down. his lips were so soft. his breath tasted like fresh peppermint, completely baffling you since you both just drank alcohol. he was intoxicating.

moving your lips in unison, there’s no rush, no urgency—just the gradual deepening of the kiss. the way his lips part slightly against yours, inviting more. his fingers slide gently along your jaw, tilting your face toward his, eager.

he forces himself to break away, whining at the loss. his lips move to your neck, hands wondering every inch of your body, trying to stimulate you every way he can. sucking and leaving marks all over your collarbone, he finds himself helping you remove your sweater. revealing a pink lace bralette.

“fuck, everything about you is so beautiful.” you whine, tugging at his sweatpants knot.

“well get there princess, lust let me make you feel good please. it’s the only thing i’ve wanted to do. let me eat you.” you could damn near see the fire that burned behind his eyes. his large hands slip under your bra, gently massaging them, using his index and thumb to roll your nipples in between. a gasp escapes your lips.

“armin- fuck.” he gets impatient, lifting your bra up to your chest, mouth immediately attaching to the swollen bud. your mouth forms a small ‘o’ shape, gripping at the man’s golden locs.

he leaves them both a few kisses before peppering your stomach with a few kisses.

staring down at the man, you see him kissing at the inside of your thighs, humming after every kiss. he finally gets impatient, gripping the shorts by the waistband, yanking them off your body. you giggle, being tugged a little.

wasting no time, he pins your legs back to the bed and starts eating you like he’s starving. his tongue dragging back and forth over your clit, saliva and spit mixing to create a glisten on the man’s face. his lips attach to your swollen clit, sucking soft while he reaches up to play with your matching swollen nipples, sliding his hands all over your exposed body.

“oh armin please!” you could feel him getting hungrier by the minute, his grip on your legs getting tighter as he rubs his tongue up and down your pussy. he stuffed two long thick fingers into your cunt scissoring them, ultimately touching your g-spot. you tried moving, your body tingling, but armin was so drunk from you, he couldn’t tell. his finger hooked into you, slowly stroking the spot, his tongue still abusing your nub. you were seeing stars at this point.

“fuck- minnie im gonna cum!” without fail, you released all over the man’s hand, fluid shooting out of your throbbing cunt, all over his face.

but he didn’t stop. his tongue continued its dance around on you.

“fuck me, i can’t take anymore, please armin.”

without saying anything, he pulls you closer by the waist. coming out of his sweatpants, his hand pumps a few times while he reaches in his side desk to grab a condom.

you also never knew how big he was. you stare at his length as he hovers over you, a little confused.

“where was that at?” you point, he laughs, pushing your legs apart again. looking down, a string of saliva falls right onto your slick, mixing in with the rest.

“was savin him for you, baby.” the tip slides in with ease, armins head throws back, already in love with the way you were sucking him in.

“give me all of it, please.” hips bucking up, trying to get the entire length into your throbbing core. his hands dig into your hips, pressing your down into the mattress, slowly sliding fully into you.

nails on his back, you let out the most nasty moan.

“shit, you feel so good squeezing around me.” pulling out, his body shakes a little, unable to control his whiny moans.

he keeps his strokes gentle and paced, still holding your body deep into the bed. hands pressed to the back of your thighs, he pushes down more, spreading yourself open to take more of him.

his throbbing cock continues slow and teasing, building a fire in the pit of your stomach. pulling your legs together, feet towards his face, his mouth kisses your pedicured toes.

the paces quickens, causing your body to forcefully move up and down. he snakes his arms around your legs, locking them in place with a bear hug, still pounding against you.

“armin! im cumming againn-” before you could catch yourself, you’re squirting all over his dick. he laughs at you, removing his arm, using one of his hands to play with your clit.

“ feel so fucking good. i don’t wanna stop fucking you. please, give me one more.”

he didn’t care that he hadn’t finished, all he wanted was you and all he could give you.

his pace slows down, the look on his face in pure bliss. your hands come up, caressing his face, tears brimming your eyes. the words wouldn’t even form.

“i want it baby, please cum with me.” your voice broken and low, his body lowers, connecting with yours and he slides his arms under your body, slowing down to a good pace. the unforgettable feeling of that tight coil in your stomach shows again as his cock digs at your spot relentlessly.

“im gonna cum, fuck-“

“me too, give it to me, ‘min!” your bodies clash against each others, sweat collecting on your chests, finally reaching the climax. his hips slow down, trying to catch his breath. pulling out, you both groan.

“i hope you know im not letting you fuck anybody else.” he saying rolling over, fixing your hair. your head falls over in direction.

“you too baby.”

with a few more laughs, he stands from the bed, trashing the condom before walking to you. his large arms scoop you up into a cradle.

“let’s get you in the shower.”

© vantetaes. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarize any of my works. ageless/blank blogs dni.

[lucky-bucky-boy]

Casual

Paring: Techbro!Peter x BestFriend!Reader

Word Count: 6564

Summary: What happens when you finally aren't with your shitty ex of two years?

moodboard here

Warnings: 18+, afab reader, limited use of Y/N, LOTS of pet names (pretty girl, baby, babe, good girl), praise kink, consent talk, oral f. receiving, techbro!(fuckboy)peter au, talk of drinking and joints

A/N: this ended up way longer than i expected. it's my first longer piece in a while, and definitely poorly proofread so sorry in advance.

I do not own these characters. Do NOT repost any of writings for any reason. Comments and reblogs are welcomed and highly appreciated!

Warm lights highlighted the cozy atmosphere of the bar, the chatter a pleasant background noise to fill any lull in the conversation - not that there was one. The once clean round table top was becoming slightly sticky, evidence of a good night in the form of mixed drinks and dripping beer mugs; broken soft pretzels, half-drank beers, and crumpled napkins nearly being forgotten as laughter filled the table in rumbling spurts. 

Gwen had orchestrated it all, making sure that schedules lined up to finally get everyone together. It was desperately needed. Not only had it been over a month since the metaphorical stars aligned, but it had been just over two weeks since Jake.

Jake, or “jake-ass” as MJ has recently dubbed him, and his absolute gull had the wonderful idea of breaking up with you during the week of midterms. Almost two years being washed down the drain, your hands trying to desperately cup the dissipating water and subsequently making you barely pass your midterms. Who knew opening your boyfriend's phone to take a silly picture during a study break would reveal his betrayal? Or that he would leave relieved while you sat in your bed heartbroken? 

But, who needs Jake-ass when there's vodka sodas and friends? Surely, not you.

“Come on,” Harry’s hand softly hit the table as Gwen continued recounting the next bullet on her list of everything that was wrong with Jake. The relationship was over, which meant a round of roasting the fateful ex with all cards being left on the table. His voice cut Gwen off, staring at you intently from his spot further in the booth. “Don’t tell me you’re still hung up on a man who- who,” his hands flailed some, his disbelief evident in the way his mouth was gaping.

“Who wouldn’t wash his hands after shitting? Didn’t believe in climate change? Had shit stains on his underwear?” MJ piped in from her spot in-between Harry and Peter. 

Peter’s shock resulted in a snort of a laugh that drew your attention to the man next to you, his hand coming to cover his face as he shook his head. 

“Or, that you spent over a thousand dollars in less than three months? Who’s family you didn’t meet even after two years of dating?” Gwen added, her tone a little more sharp as she reminded you of the more concerning things of the questionable relationship. 

“Who couldn’t make you cum?” MJ added one last note before the table erupted in laughter, your skin burning hot at the admission that didn’t even leave your own lips that night. 

The thought immediately had you grimacing the moment it conjured a hint of a memory. “I could strangle the both of you,” your words coming out as a mutter before bringing your straw to your lips and downing what was left of your drink. You had only planned to drink two vodka sodas before switching to water, but that was being thrown out the window as the heat of embarrassment still warmed your ears. 

Harry must’ve sensed your discomfort because he was sliding you the rest of his beer before waving down the waitress. In a blur of a few moments, the table was cleared and fresh drinks were being sat in front of you, feeling like an oasis in a desert of your messy mind.

Peter clicked his tongue, drawing all the attention to him. His hand held the top of his beer mug, his frosted tips from his previously bleached hair falling into his face as he shook his head in disbelief. “You three really know how to pick ‘em,” he sighed out, his hand flexing down around his mug as he brought it to his lips.

Your eyes caught a glimpse of the way the light bounced off his rings, an accessory he’s been wearing more since he started working at Oscorp full time last year. The observation was cut short as MJ’s disbelief cut through, “Might I remind you, that you and Gwen date-”

“In high school.” The two in question rang out in unison. 

“Besides, it would have never worked out long term.” Gwen finished, hand reaching out for her own drink. Despite the friend group being close, that subject was always a bit convoluted. There were days you wondered if what-if’s filled them, or if they were both satisfied with the friendship they had.

Peter let out an amused scoff, “We’d be so boring if it did.”

There was a moment of laughter, but the second it died down the aforementioned memory threatened to plague your thoughts, Harry’s question repeating itself in your mind. You looked over to him, taking a quick sip of your drink and relishing in the way it warmed you before speaking, “It’s not that I’m hung up on Jake. It’s just that-”

“You need to get laid.” MJ quickly quipped, “Girl, I am telling you once you get laid, you won’t even think about that prick.”

The scoff that left Gwen had you laughing, “No, she does not need to get laid,” she all but exclaimed, “She needs to process that loss of the relationship she wasted two years on.”

There was a burst of bickering between the two girls, going back and forth with their logic. Admittedly, they both had points, but they were points you weren’t currently interested in processing. The back and forth pulled the attention from you, and without much thought you found yourself opening up your phone gallery. 

However, the moment your fingertip lifted from the phone after pressing on a photo you definitely should have, a ringed hand reached out, slender fingers wrapping around your phone and swiping it away. “You’re not gonna be a party pooper when it’s our first time seeing you in weeks. You’ll get your phone back when we leave.” Peter said firmly, pulling your gaze to him.

You couldn’t stop the rolling of your eyes as you held your hand out to him, expecting him to immediately cave and give you your phone back. Instead, he doubled-down in his efforts, slipping the device into his pocket. You really should have known better. Peter was never one to bend, not easily at least. If anything, you’ve learned he was as stubborn as a mule and the biggest tease you’ve ever met. 

All he did was grab his mug and take a long swig, gaze holding yours over the rim as he did. For the first time in months, there was an echo of heat that ran through you, subtle enough that it definitely had to be from the vodka, right?

There was a sudden vibration, pulling your attention from Peter over to Gwen who let out a sigh before putting her phone away. Her demeanor shifted, slumping back against the booth seat. “This is the last round. I need to be in the office by 7 am tomorrow now.”

~

The door of the bar closed behind you, creating a barrier to the warmth inside as the wind of the city hit you. The evening had been nice, but the fully dark sky paved the way for the cooler temperatures. As much as you had been dreading coming out originally, it felt like your legs wanted to take you right back into the bar. 

The alcohol made it easier to feel normal. Weeks of constant limbo, constant questioning years of your life, constant critiquing every square inch of your appearance, put on pause. It was a relief, one that felt miles away with each step you were taking since leaving the table. There was an itch to tell them you were going to stay later, but you knew that wouldn’t fly. 

Gwen was always especially pressed about the rule that if you all went together, you left together. Over a decade of being Peter’s friend had made her even more gravely aware of what could happen, and even though her overbearing concern could be frustrating, all she wanted was for everyone to be safe. 

It wasn’t until Peter was invading your space, his lanky frame leaning closer as he threw an arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer to his side, that lopsided grin you had grown to know him for pulling at his lips had you realizing they had all been talking about something while you mind wandered. “You all know who I am,” the statement earned groans from the other girls, Harry snickering at them. There was a moment of confusion in you before he continued, “I’ll get Ms. Heartbreak home safely.”

The nickname immediately made your eyes roll, nudging his side just slightly and pulling a chuckle from him. Your eyes glancing back at Gwen and M.J. “I can get home fine,” You offered, smiling softly at them. Gwen’s concern was written on her face. “And I’ll text you when I do, assuming someone doesn’t kill me with his antics.” You narrowed your eyes up at Peter, his hands coming up in faux defence as he backed away.

The dramatics didn’t stop there as Peter moved his hand to his heart, falling against a lamppost and slowly collapsing to the ground, all while wearing a pained look on his face. “Oh, how you wound me, fair maiden.”

Harry snorted out a laugh, M.J. following suit with her own giggles, and Gwen sighing. This was how it always was with them, ever since you joined their unorthodox friend group a few years ago. ”Fine, fine! Text me when you get home, and MJ and I will see you Sunday for brunch.” Gwen conceded, a small smiling gracing her lips, “Keep her safe, Parker. Please.”

“I will, I will.” He jumped up from the ground, dusting himself off. “You say that every time.” He commented, “As if we don’t live in the same direction and I don’t walk her home every time we come to this bar.”

MJ nodded, her face contorting as she held back laughter at her friend’s annoyance, “He’s got a point, Gwen. Just like Harry always gives us a ride to our apartment.”

“Yeah, I would just feel better if (Y/N) would finally cave and get an apartment with us.” Gwen muttered, ensuing another round of lighthearted bickering between them.

There was a comment that quickly died on your tongue as Peter’s arm wrapped around your shoulders again, turning you around towards the direction of your apartment. “Alright, love you dorks, have a goodnight.” He called back as your steps fell into a comfortable stride and his arm fell from his place on you. 

The walk was comfortable, a quiet routine set into place after countless times of taking the same route home. Cars bustling by, muffled conversations, the occasional street cat and comically chasing a cat down an alleyway. A train or cab would definitely be quick this time of night, but there was something nice about walking off the alcohol and bar food that felt refreshing. 

Cool air prickled your skin, the cars throwing additional gusts of wind at you, only briefly blocked by Peter’s frame. It had been so warm and nice out, but the current temperature had you regretting your disregard for a jacket, missing the warmth of the bar from just 20 minutes ago. Another 10 minute walk, your apartment building finally coming into view a few blocks down as you two crossed the street and rounded a corner. 

Peter moved from your right side, falling a pace behind you before reappearing on his left. The sight of his bare arms in your peripheral making you do a double take before his was maneuvering his hoodie onto your shoulders. The suddenness had you pausing in your steps, the scent of his cinnamon and woodsy cologne enveloping your senses as he lips pulled, adam’s apple bobbing in amusement at your slightly bewilderment.

“Put the damn thing on properly,” he laughed out, “Don’t say you don’t need it. You’ve been rubbing your arms that past two blocks.”

Had you really been rubbing your arms that much? You slipped your arms into their designated space, adjusting the fabric some. The gray material fell against you, immediately enveloping you in warmth and sending a wave of heat that amplified the echo from earlier through you. 

Once he was seemingly satisfied with your obligingness, he turned to continue his stride, nodding for you to continue on with him. “So, what did John do to make you finally leave him?” Peter’s hummed out.

The sigh you left out was quickly met with a soft chuckle. He hadn’t arrived yet when you had been recounting to Harry the scene that played out, and by the time he did get there the conversation was already in full swing that the only explanation he was given was “They finally broke up.” 

“Jake cheated,” the shrug you gave did nothing to ease the anxiety that was swimming in your chest, filling your lungs with smoke and your throat with discomfort. “Found out while studying for my midterms. And, he left me, by the way.”

Peter tripped over your admission, glancing at you with furrowed brows before recovering, “So, let me get this straight, you found out but he left you?” The click of your tongue was enough of a confirmation for Peter to let out his own sigh, “Babe,” the pet name, albeit common in his vocabulary, sent a rush of heat through you, singeing the anxiety in is path to sitting lowly in you, “He was a grade a piece of shit. Couldn’t even be honest with what he wanted and you wanted to stay?”

“Coming from the resident fuck boy of the friend group?” The words came out more acrimoniously than you anticipated, but they did nothing to Peter but make him shrug and laugh. It was oddly comforting to see how much he’d grown, how words seemingly rolled off his back now when they used to all pierce him.

“At least the people I see know what I want. I don’t expect to have my cake and eat it too,” he offered, never faltering from it’s normal lackadaisical tone. It never came off as disinterest or indifferent with Peter, but in the way that you could tell he was confident with himself. Other people’s opinions didn’t matter.

“Is that how you did it?” Your question was seeming incomplete, but the indication was still there. It always was whenever someone brought up exes.

“Did what?” There was a dryness to his tone that was serving as a warning. Clarify, or turn away from the can of worms that everyone looked at but never opened.

But, if you had to spend the entire night recounting your past relationships, someone else should too. “Got over Gwen.” You clarified, hands tucking into the front pocket of the hoodie.

Peter came to a stop, turning to look at you fully. The streetlight hand overhead, bright and yellow, washing him in an angelic like brightness while the bulb on your doorstep flickered softly. “MJ is right. You need to get laid.”

The deflection was answer enough. Yes, and no, and no he wouldn’t be talking about it. His gaze never left yours, waiting and anticipating your next move.

His breath of relief wasn’t lost on you as you turned to your lobby door, pulling your keys out to let the two of you in. Gwen wouldn’t be satisfied unless Peter watched you go into your apartment, and Peter wouldn’t be satisfied until he heard the lock of your deadbolt.

The ascent up the stairs was quiet, the sense of something looming heavy on you. Peter’s steps were in line behind you as you climbed. First floor, second, then third, your apartment door coming into view as you reached the landing. The gimmicky Spiderman doormat he’d gifted during a white elephant exchange was like a beam against the dingy floor, the ‘go away’ sticker above your peephole making you smile softly with the relief of home being so close. 

Just as you unlocked your door and started turning the handle, Peter’s voice broke the silence, “Shit wait-” as you were turning to look at him, he pulled your phone out of his pocket and held it out to you. “Here.”

Something about the exchange cracked a piece of you. Your phone acting as a token to remembering the way he looked at you over his mug. Reaching out to grab it, your fingertips brushing along his and the coolness of his rings, inhibitions died. “You said I need to get laid, right?”

Your movements were quick, shoving your phone into your jean pocket and preparing to flee at the first sign of rejection, eyes looking anywhere but Peter’s face. The package in front of your neighbors door, Peter’s untied shoe, the suggestion of a bulge twitching underneath his zipper.

Was it desire or anxiety that was making your mouth water, skin warming with anticipation, breath short and halted as you waited for his response. “Look me in the eye and ask that again.” 

Peter’s tone was firm in a way you had never heard before. Commanding but warm and inviting, the type of tone to have your eyes shooting up to meet his to make sure you heard it correctly. He was otherwise emotionless, his own gaze studying you as if he was assessing the pros and cons of the situation being presented. “You said I need to get laid.”

He nodded curtly, foot bouncing incrementally. It was subtle, other than the sound of his jeans moving against the fabric of his shoe. “That, I did.”

“Do you want to do something about that?” You weren’t even sure your voice made it above a whisper, hands becoming clammy as they flexed at your sides.

“Do you want me to?” He countered. 

It felt like a chess match, each of you moving a pawn on the board as you figured out what was worth sacrificing. One of you should forfeit, call bluff and turn away, but neither of you made the indication that backing down was an option. 

“I asked you fir-” You were cut off by Peter lips, hands moving to cup your jaw as all space between you two disappeared. 

Feverish. That’s the only word that could come close to describing the way he was moving. Slightly chapped lips from the cold, the taste of rich beer and the minty gum he always chewed, one hand moving to hold the back of your neck to keep you against him while the other was reaching for the door handle. 

He moved you two inside like he’d done it a million times, or at least thought of it million times. Your back was pressed against the wall, his foot kicking your door closing and reaching for the deadbolt. His hand waved a few times before he pulled away with a displeased grunt, reaching over to lock the metal into place with it’s infamous screech. 

Peter looked back at you, mouth slightly parted and tongue swiping along his lip as if he was trying to taste your own against his still. “Tell me this is what you want.” His voice was breathless, quiet, but something lay beneath it. It was a type of yearning you hadn’t felt in months, maybe even years if you were being honest.

“Well, obviously.” You offered, baffled that he would even ask. 

As you reached up to grab at his shirt, he stopped you, his own hands holding your wrists in place between the two of you. “No. I need to hear you say it. Tell me this is what you want. Tell me you want me to fuck you or I’m leaving.”

It didn’t sound like a threat, but your heart still started beating like it was one. Your ears burned hot, feet becoming clammy and the mere thought that he could be trying to find a way out, that he actually wanted to leave. Eyes wide and lips puckered out in a pout, trying to process his words.

Your hesitation broke something in Peter, the look on his face softening as his grip let go of your hands. One hand cupped your chin, palm spreading wide and cold rings cooling your heated skin, the other wrapping around your waist as he pulled you from the wall and closed some of the space again. 

“I want to get on my knees while you lay on your bed, legs spread wide for me while I eat your pussy until you’ve cum on my tongue. Then, I want to fuck you nice and deep until your legs are shaking and you’ve cum again. Does that sound good to you, baby? Can I do that for you?” Peter's voice was raspy, scratching an itch you didn’t know you had.

Once you nodded, Peter smiled, placing the softest of kisses to your cheek, then your nose, then your other cheek, and finally your forehead. His breath came out fanning against your skin, eyes fluttering closed. “Then, you are going to look me in the eye and tell me you want this, that you want me. Yeah?”

With another soft nod from you, Peter pulled back, your eyes opened, voice feeling lost in your body as you breathed out, “I want you to fuck me, Peter. I want you,” he didn’t need to know for how long, you weren’t even sure for how long you’ve craved him. That was a conversation for later.

“Good fucking girl,” he purred out before pressing his lips to yours again. This time, with a soft fervor, more exploratory as his tongue slid between your lips, hands moving to your hips and his thumbs rubbing soft circles against your jeans. 

Everything about Peter, about this moment was dizzying. It was more dizzying than the vodka earlier, his touch lighting every inch of skin in his wake ablaze. Between his heady scent and the beer you could still taste on him, you questioned if you had ever actually been drunk, ever actually knew what intoxication felt like. The drinks you shared, joints you’ve passed back and forth, nothing could quite touch the way his kiss alone was making you feel.

Peter’s lips left yours, trailing along your jawline and down your neck, soft kisses becoming little nips as he began guiding you backwards throughout your apartment. It wasn’t hard to get to your room, the small space working in your favor for the first time since moving in. Somewhere along the way, he had toed off his shoes, his hands already deftly unbuttoning your jeans the moment the back of your legs his the edge of your bed.

He pulled back, much to your dismay, a small laugh leaving him as he felt you trying to chase after his lips once they left your skin. “So needy,” he hummed, a hand coming up to hold your chin, lidded eyes darting from your lips to your eyes, “Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

The question sent a wave of heat through you, almost reminiscent of embarrassment as your thighs clenched tightly, seeking any sort of friction. “Okay,” you breathed out, an unexpected whine leaving you at the sound of how breathy you were. 

The noise that left you had Peter’s jaw clenching, his lip pulling between his teeth for a moment while he gathered himself. “Lay down for me, pretty girl,” Peter commanded, eyes holding your gaze as he slowly knelt down in front of you. 

The image was worth committing to memory. Peter’s fluffy hair was slightly disheveled, lips glistening and kiss swollen, eyes lidded and dark with desire, sitting back on his calves with his hands clasped in his lap, waiting patiently. There was something so intimate in the way he was sitting before you, a subtle desperation with how his fingers were twitching to touch you again. 

You couldn’t look away from him if you tried, couldn’t bring yourself to deprive him even if you wanted to. “Do you wa-”

“Just lay down,” his resolve broke a little, hands reaching up to grip your thighs, massaging softly. “I’ll do the work this time, baby.”

This time. He said it like he was already planning on their being a next time, like he’d been waiting for this time.

Peter’s hands gripped a little tighter as you sat down on the edge of your bed, leaning back on your elbows to keep your gaze connected with his. It felt like a million years as his hands worked their way up your thighs, gripping the top of your jeans and pulling them down, leaving your panties in place as he helped you out of the restrictive material. 

“Fuck,” he let out a heavy breath as he settled himself better between your spread legs, “So wet and all I’ve done is kiss you.” His hands returned back to your thighs, squeezing at the fat of them softly and relishing in the way you squirmed. 

His hands reached for the band of your underwear, eyes taking in the way you looked in his hoodie with your underwear soaked through. The coolness of his rings was a stark contrast to the heat of your skin as his fingers hooked around the fabric. “Can I take these off?” He asked, eyes flicking back up to yours.

There was something about the way he was constantly checking in, the slight restraint in his movements as he made sure you were still wanting this. “Yes,” tilting your hips up some, Peter pulled them down, maneuvering your legs until your panties had been tossed somewhere and your thighs had been sat atop his shoulders.

That was the last big of resolve Peter had though, hands gripping your hips again and pulling you towards him. His hands wrapped underneath you, hands gripping at your ass as he held you up to his mouth, just slightly off the bed, and the perfect height for him to close the space between the two of you. He wasted no time, tongue swiping from your weeping core to your aching clit, a pleased noise vibrating against you as he messily licked up everything you were offering to him. 

From where you laid, Peter looked like he was experiencing heaven on Earth. His eyes had fluttered close, hand gripping you like if he loosened up even the slightest you’d squirm away. In his defense, it was damn near impossible to stay still, his contentment to be knelt between your thighs having your hips jutting in pure desire. 

“Peter,” his name tumbling out of your lips, had his eyes open, looking up at you just as his lips wrapped around your clit. The moan that left you sounding exaggerated even to your own ears and your hand reaching down to card through his hair. 

He hummed against you as your nails scratched his scalp softly, sending vibrations through you that somersaulted you closer to the edge. It was humiliating how quickly you felt that high coming, especially when you were admittedly doubting his ability to make you cum with his mouth. It had never happened before, but here Peter was feasting on you like you were his last meal, like a man who just walked days in the Sahara and you were his first drink. 

“Peter- I-” your words were lost between moans, the glance down to him revealing his intent gaze still locked on your face. Even with him still buried between your thighs, you could see the sheen of arousal coating his nose and cheeks that poked out from between your folds. 

There was no other warning as pleasure ripped through you, washing over you like a tsunami as you reached your high. Peter didn’t let up, moans ripping from your in breathy pitches, broken with squeaks and almost giggles as his ministrations bordered on overstimulating you. It wasn’t until you were pulling his hair in an attempt to pull him away that he stopped. 

Peter pulled away, sucking in a deep breath that fanned across your soaked skin as he breathed out. The entire bottom half of his face was slick with your arousal, lips puffy from sucking and kissing at you. He gently sat you down, pressing light kisses to your thighs as he did. “You taste so fucking good,” he suddenly wrapped and suctioned his lips to the sensitive part of your inner thighs, sucking roughly and nibbling, instantly pulling a shocked gasp from his lips. 

The moment he felt you tug at his hair he stopped, his eyes glancing over the mark he left on your skin - faint now but sure to blossom into a bruise to remind you for days to come. “Couldn’t help myself,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to the spot before glancing up at you, “‘m sorry.”

It was obvious by his lidded gaze that he was, in fact, not sorry. Not that you could care at the moment. It was quick after that, Peter standing from his kneeling position as he discarded his shirt and jeans, his boxer briefs leaving little to the imagination as his dick struggled against the fabric, a darkened stain where precum leaked from him. He shuffled you back, helping you to take off his hoodie and your shirt, fingers making quick work of your break the second he could and tossing it along with the other forgotten clothing. 

“Look at you,” he hummed out as his hands started trailing along your sides, his body moving to hover over yours as he settled atop you on the bed. “Might actually need to thank Justin if I ever see that bastard again.” 

You weren’t going to correct Peter this time, you didn’t even want to be thinking about that asshole. Not when Peter was in your bed, and especially not when he just made you cum in a matter of minutes. Reaching up to card your fingers through hair and pulling him close to shut him up with a kiss.

Peter didn’t complain, lips and tongue kissing back with messy need. He tasted like you, cheeks sticky with the remnants of your release. One arm planted next to your head, his free hand roaming along your side. As he trailed it upward, his thumb bruised along your breast, tentative and experimental. His touch moved inward with each motion until he was brushing your nipple, flicking the hardened nub softly. 

The soft touch sent waves of pleasure, lighting a whole new level of desire in you. It was making you nearly insatiable, like every touch was making you spiral further from wanting and closer to needing him. It wasn’t until you were squirming and whimpering against his lips that he pulled back some, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Sound so pretty and I haven’t even fucked you yet,” the kiss he pressed to your nose was a drastic juxtaposition to the filthy words leaving his mouth, “You gonna let me, hm?” He asked, kissing your cheek and lips moving towards your ear, “Gonna let me stretch you out?”

Your nod was instant, eyes opening to stare at him as he pulled off of you. Your complaint died on your lips as he reached for his jeans, watching as he pulled out his wallet and the subsequent metallic wrapper of a condom. His eyes glanced at you, your chest heaving, thighs glistening with your own arousal, the image causing his cock to strain and twitch in the confines of his boxers. 

There was silence as he ripped open the condom, pulling down his boxers to finally reveal his cock. It was embarrassing the way your mouth watered at the sight. He was easily the longest you’ve had, a drastic difference to the last one, bright red and leaking pre-cum, a strong vein running along the underside, curved up just slightly. 

He was on you again before you could protest, wanting to admire him just a little longer. He was quick, hands gripping your hips and pulling you down to where he was kneeling, pulling the tiniest squeak from you. He watched as you trying to instinctively wrap your legs around him, but he stopped you, moving your legs until your calves rested against his shoulders, legs encasing his face like a picture frame. 

“Please,” you whined, squirming slightly as you felt his tip grazing your sopping folds.

“Such a quick learner, but you’re gonna have to be more specific than that.” His tone was dripping with tease, the slightest thrust of his hips forcing his tip to just barely nudge inside you.

“Please fuck me,” you whined, “Please , Peter, I-”

The moment you said his name he was thrusting inside of you with one push.Thick cock pushing inside, tight walls squeezing him, the lubricated condom and sheer wetness between your legs allowing him the ability to spear himself in. He didn’t wait, a loud groaning leaving him before he was pulling all the way out and pushing right back in.

His pace was brutal. Sharp thrusts causing his thighs to slam against yours with a slap, the loud, wet squelching noise every time he pulled out indication of just how much you fucking loved it. There was no denying it even if you wanted to, back arching each time he hit a spot you honestly didn’t believe existed, loud moans leaving your parted lips as you eyes threatened to leave his gaze and roll back into your skull.

Peter leaned forward some, the new angle allowing him to go even deeper as his thrusts were starting to turn into a deep grind. His hand moved one of your legs to wrap around his waist, leaning down even more until you could feel his weight being held up by partly your leg still against his chest.

“I can feel it,” his voice was more gravelly than you’ve ever heard it before, his palm sitting against your lower abdomen now and pushing, the pressure sending your mind whirling. “Can you, baby? Can you feel how deep I am?”

His words made a whine leave your lips but when you didn’t answer, he started pressing even harder, “Answer me, and I’ll rub your pretty little clit until you're cumming on me.”

The thought had a choked noise leaving you, desire like a hot iron rod piercing through you with his every move. You were so close, and his offer would be the thing to undoubtedly unravel you. “Y-yes- So deep, Pe-Peter. So fucking deep,” your hands reached under your thighs, desperate to touch any part of him, nails digging softly into his skin and trailing down towards his knees, leaving angry marks in their wake.

Peter groaned, his own eyes fluttering at the scratches and head tilting back some. The hand on you ventured lower, thumb parting between your folds and rubbing figure eights on the sensitive bundle. Four, maybe five goes before the breath was stuck in your lungs, body seizing up as pleasure wreaked havoc on every nerve in your body. 

His hips faltered at the way your walls were starting to grip him, sucking him in impossibly more. Moans were falling past your lips with stuttering breath, broken and loud. Your nails anchoring into his skin for something to hold onto once your hips begin rocking against his, riding out your own orgasm with the intensity of a storm. 

The scene alone with your mouth parted, a sheen of sweat on your skin, and watching you rock against him pushed Peter towards his own high. You could feel the way his cock pulsed inside the condom, a strangled whimper and moan leaving his own lips. 

With a shaky breath, he moved your other leg to wrap around his thigh, collapsing softly on top of you with his cock still buried deep. Immediately, a soft giggle left your lips, baffled and amused once reality finally hit. Your best friend just fucked you.

Peter glanced up at you, his eyebrows furrowing and lips twitching to fight his own laughter, “What’s so funny?”

“This,” you shrugged, suddenly feeling bashful despite what just transpired. “Never in a million years did I think this would happen.”

There was a ghost of concern on his face, one of his arms moving to hold himself up so he could get a better look at you. “Do you regret it?”

The softness of his words sent a pang of guilt through you. Do you regret it? Could you regret it? “No,” you answered softly, “Though I- I’m just- What do we do after this?”

Your answer seemed to relieve him, a breath leaving him  before he pressed a quick kiss to your nose and was moving again. Peter softly pulled himself out, standing and tying the condom up before tossing it in your trash bin by your desk. “Depends on what you want. We can never talk about it again, or keep it casual if you’re looking for something low risk,” he shrugged as he offered.

It wasn’t lost on you that he wasn’t looking at you as you spoke. “What does casual entail?” You found yourself asking a little too quickly. 

Peter looked at you for a moment before turning to leave the room, his sudden, and naked, departure confusing until he returned a minute later with a washcloth. He came back over to you, spreading your legs and moving you like some doll as he wiped you clean, not missing your thighs as he did before doing the same to himself. “Casual is exactly as it sounds. You’re one of my best friends, but we can fuck every now an then, whenever you need it or the mood strikes. Could be next week, could be months.”

You found yourself sitting up, throwing the blanket over yourself as you watched him start getting dressed. “And I’m assuming we tell no one?”

Peter chuckled softly, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks, “Not no one, necessarily, just not our friends, ya know? Don’t want it to make the friend group messy.” It made sense, and it would be nice to have someone competent to scratch the occasional itch without needing to put your safety or sanity at risk. Peter pulled his shirt on before looking back at you, “So, choice is yours, babe.”

You let out a shaky breath, pushing down the cloud of anxiety that was threatening to swirl a storm in you. “Casual it is then.”

Peter smiled, something closer to a smirk but softer, and like it was meant only for you. “Casual.” He nodded in agreement. He grabbed your pajamas that had been sitting on your desk from the previous night, tossing them to you. “Come let me out so you can lock the door,” he requested, heading out of your bedroom. From where you sat you could see him toeing his shoes back one.

Pulling your pajamas on, you followed behind him, offering him a hushed goodbye that he gave in turn with a kiss to your hairline before making his way out your door. Once he heard the noise of your deadbolt twisting into place he was gone, leaving you to wander back to your bed as you began processing what just happened.

It felt surreal, but the sight of his hoodie hanging off you bed was the confirmation you brain needed.

[agnireed]

THINGS UNSAID

summary 🏹 others notice what you and daryl feel for eachother but it takes longer for the connection to reach the two of you.

word count 🏹 4.8k

warnings 🏹 large age gap, side character POVs at the start, smut lol

thanks to @irisdixon1023 for the fun idea! hope i did it justice even if i changed somethings

There were plenty of events that you had found yourself in the background of throughout the apocalypse. 

You’d had to put things together at the drop of an eye because there were some questions you just didn’t ask. You didn’t need to be told the new man approaching camp was Carl’s father, evident enough by the way his mouth dropped open and Lori’s eyes flashed with hot fear and betrayal.

That unfolded in your mind exactly the same way as when you saw Shane come back from the woods with a busted nose and a manic look so intense it almost took your breath away, something cold and knowing settling in your gut but not quite strong enough for you to accuse him of planning anything. 

You never put much thought into how you might come across to somebody just observing new people you’ve met on the road that might be making their own judgements on you. The end of the world had brought one relief and that was from the constant thought about your own presentation and what a stranger might think of you. 

These already drawn conclusions were exactly the reason you were so confused with yourself for being so absorbed with why the red headed man kept glancing in your direction.

Truthly Abraham had never been somebody who bothered sugarcoating his words and pretending to be something he was not and that included being the type of person who was extremely curious about a certain dynamic he had seen unfolding in front of him.

He had only spent a few hours with you in the train car but he had managed to make a damn near solid case if he did say so himself and he was juggling with how much it was being challenged as soon as a few more bodies were thrown into the mix.

Both of you had looked worse for wear when his team found you alongside the gravely road, Glenn barely standing upright as they approached and then fully face planting the asphalt while you stared at him with a look that seemed to be a mixture of exhaustion and determination.

You kept your sentences short and sweet while Glenn was unconscious and you climbed into the back of the large truck but Abraham had a hard time being upset about your lack of manners considering you’d clearly been through hell's asshole before they had arrived. 

His plans continued to be derailed and you proved to be a serious pain in the behind but he had felt strongly enough about his people reading to assume that you were one of two things, either just a bit slow emotionally or completely in love with the man you were traveling with.

Of course he felt only a bit disgruntled when said man actually woke up and spoke only of a loving wife that he clearly would stop at nothing to find in a very large haystack but then that could explain the heartbroken look you wouldn’t stop carrying around.

It made full sense to him that you were in love with a taken man and so desperately that you were willing to risk your life to help him be happy with somebody else so he was now fully offended when he offered this idea to Glenn one night after you’d fallen asleep, just for him to laugh in his face.

Then you had been thrown into the traincar and you suddenly took on a heavy expression of grief, like you had only just now accepted you were not going to find whatever it was that you were looking for. He had figured beforehand that you had lost someone permanently but apparently you had a mission of your own. 

When the doors were opening again, this time he was happy to be an observer.

The two men entering the car looked equally as deadly as you had standing on that road side and ready to go to war for your friend's limp body and he almost pieced together they were a part of your larger group before any of you actually had turned to notice them.

Everybody tensed at the same time and then it felt like the air in the train car suddenly got much lighter. 

You’d barely looked at the bearded man that seemed to automatically capture everybody's attention first, almost like they were waiting for him to give them a command before they even processed he was standing in front of them again.

Your eyes were stuck on someone else entirely and he was happy to finally have some entertainment after being sat next to a mumbling Eugene for far too many hours. 

He didn’t need a lick of guessing to know what type of man the second was and he almost wanted to have his guard farther up if it wasn’t for the young boy beside him, peering around with big scared eyes. (Plus the fact he had come to respect you and the sight of you staring like the rugged man had hung the stars was good enough reason to relax).

The bearded man seemed to finally notice you standing there and he gave you an overwhelmingly fatherlike look, seeming like he wanted to pull you into a hug but deciding against it for reasons Abraham couldn’t quite figure out just yet.

His counterpart didn’t have the same problem and you let out a sob when he finally looked over to you, his entire tense frame melting like a little kid as he stumbled his way through the dark train car so he could fall against you.

You cradled his head like it was the single most important thing in the world and your friends around you seemed like they were suddenly walking on eggshells to avoid disturbing you and making you pull out of the emotional moment. 

First assumption was that you were related in some way but that quickly faded when he noticed the way the man had his hands low on your back, squeezing and pulling you closer and closer like he could feel you slipping through his fingers.

There was nothing overtly romantic about it and certainly not sexual, not with the way you sobbed harder seeing his bruised face and sullen expression, but it definitely was too close for comfort if you were father and daughter adjacent.

Second assumption was gone as fast as it came, absolutely not lovers judging by the way you were quick to stumble out of his grasp as soon as you noticed Maggie and Glenn watching curiously, his hands lingering but eventually having to fall back to his side once you were out of reaching distance.

You made haste to hug the young boy and distract yourself from the blatant showcase of something that most likely was a secret, both to each other and the others but possibly to yourselves.

The man didn’t take his eyes off of you the entire time you all sat there devising a plan and you sobbed like a woman scorned when they were throwing flash bangs inside the car before dragging him away, having to send a swift kick to your ribs to get you to let go of his arm.

Abraham observed a scary switch in you now that he was gone again and the small almost fragile girl from before was once again replaced with the silent and constantly armed one, all emotions stripped down to your bare bones until you were left with instinct alone. 

He kept watching your group during the days that followed the fall of Terminus, building up his strongly held opinions on each of them individually and then again in pairs and larger clumps. He couldn’t help the fact that you and Daryl struck his interest, boredom taking over for the most part although Rostia had told him he needed to get a better hobby.

It was impossible not to wonder now that he knew more about the two of you, although he’d yet to speak to your male counterpart. There was a large part of him that figured it wouldn’t end too pleasantly and he was halfway busy with sucking up to you all so you’d accompany him to the end of the line for Eugene and the cure.

So he didn’t pick a fight with the archer although he wasn’t sure you would have allowed it anyways.

You were small in size but he had managed to get a few glimpses of what you could do with rage and a blunt wooden stick alone back at Terminus so he wasn’t particularly interested in seeing how you fared with a knife

You were constantly next to Daryl and it was almost a foreign sight to see one of you without the other, a strange feeling settling over anyone whenever you’d wander in alone or the rare times he went hunting without you.

There was a glint in your eye whenever somebody talked to you, like you were ready to pounce on your own family members if you needed to just to keep the man next to you safe at all cost. He was halfway to asking Maggie if you had been like that before you were separated or if it was a new adjustment but he decided against it when he saw her fondly holding Rick’s baby.

He was finding it a bit ridiculous that there were so many moving parts in your poorly oiled machine yet it was running smoothly and, not only that, but you actually seemed to love and care about each other beyond means of survival.

Abraham decided it wasn’t any of his business anymore as soon as he ruled you and Daryl off the list of potential people who would come along on his mission, pushing you to the back of his mind to will off any distractions.

_____

Maggie had always known there was something lingering deep in you for the older man but she was quickly realizing she didn’t know the half of it apparently because the way you gripped onto him for dear life was extremely telling.

She was already surprised enough that you had practically leapt into his arms but what really struck her was how willing he was to fold over into you and meet your sobs with cries of his own.

She knew Daryl was more than what he looked like, more than what he even said most of the time but that still didn’t mean he was ever this open and vulnerable around any of them before. Even Rick sent her a thrown off look that she fought hard in the few seconds it lasted to try and understand.

Your mood had been sour for the time it took you all to find Terminus after reuniting her and Glenn but there were a thousand things she would’ve guessed as the cause of it before assuming you were mourning Daryl Dixon.

Maybe she had been blinded by her own worries and the blossoming of her love so she didn’t pay attention to the signs or maybe they were just new but they were impossible to ignore now although every one seemed to be trying their very best.

Did he always hand you your portion of food first, followed by sneaking bites of his own onto your plate when you both pretended you weren’t watching him do it?

Had it always been almost instinct that you would fall asleep next to each other, never touching but close enough to touch if you ever just reached out? She was thinking now that she wasn’t sure you slept the entire time you spent on the tracks, always awake on a watch shift when she drifted off and staring into the dying fire by the time she opened her eyes again.

Yet you seemed to have no problem drifting off with your head on Daryl’s shoulder.

When did Daryl stop flinching under your touch and since when were you so touchy anyways? Your hands were almost constantly rubbing up and down his arm or holding onto his wrist like you were stopping him from leaving except he didn’t seem to ever be going anywhere, not from you at least.

She wondered if you always looked so calm and gentle when peering up at him or if that was also a new development. She couldn’t read his gaze back down on you and she wasn’t really sure she wanted to, feeling guilty about her silent spying.

Glenn told her that it wasn’t a big deal and everybody people watched but he also denied seeing anything between the two of you so either he was lying to make her feel better or he simply wasn’t watching hard enough. 

There wasn’t anything wrong with the age difference in her mind but she still occasionally caught Rick sending the two of you glances and she almost hoped it was just his fatherly urge to protect you like he always had.

_____

You could tell something had changed between you and Daryl but you weren’t too focused on defining whatever it was. 

He had always been the number one person you paid attention to and you couldn’t stop thinking about him your entire stay at the prison but the pain of losing him and thinking it was for forever was clearly the push you needed to never let him forget this again, even though you hadn’t told him directly.

There was no way he didn’t know how you felt when you stared into his eyes and kept your hand on his chest, whispering lowly how happy you were for him to be back with you. He would have to truly be the dimmest person in the world to think your reaction to seeing him again was just a fluke or you not thinking straight. 

Daryl must be aware of how you feel because you don’t think he would risk treating you the way he did if he didn’t.

He was sweet to you and doted on you like you were already lovers and his favoritism was apparent to anybody who paid attention for more than a few minutes. He remained as gruff and abrasive as always but he let you brush the hair from his face and his tone sounded far sweeter aimed towards you.

You knew he had feelings for you and you also knew he wouldn’t let you in on that secret unless he suspected you felt similarly.

“Couldn’t even breathe.” You had found yourself outside the stuffy church together again, somewhere just off in the treeline and leaning against a thick tree stump.

His back was pressed into the bark but your own was against his chest, sat on the drying leaves between his spread legs and laying back on him, his hands resting skillfully next to your thighs so he wasn’t touching you too directly.

“Hm?” His hum was low and sweet and you noted that he sounded like he was drifting off to sleep, a light smile on your face at his abandoned defensive walls even though the topic of conversation was rather heavy.

“I pictured them all going one way or another but not you, never ever you.” You picked one of his hands off the ground so you could hold it in your own, resting in the air above your stomach as you smoothed over his rough calloused skin and traced shapes on his palm.

He said nothing when you sighed and relaxed your limbs again, this time with his hand landing on your stomach and being enclosed by yours so he couldn’t remove it so easily. You could feel his heartbeat pick up on your back and your mouth turned up with fondness. 

You didn’t need him to remind you for the hundredth time that he hadn’t gone anywhere and he was still right here with you but it was still nice to hear him grumble it in his low voice, almost a shy whisper that you had to preen to hear.

Daryl may have needed to actually feel the effect of your death before he started to slowly showcase his affectionate side but you thought it was well worth the wait, feeling beyond grateful that he hadn’t pulled away from your clinginess yet.

You figured it would just be a few days of needing him close to process that he wasn’t gone after first losing him in the smoke of the prison and then watching him get ripped away in a similar fog as soon as you had him back finally but days turned into weeks and you were still trying to find a way to silence the ache.

His heart was only picking up in speed when you were using your hand to move his slowly, so slow you could barely tell it was going anywhere at all. You pushed it until his pinky finger was under the button of your small jean shorts and you paused when you heard his breath stutter.

Part of you wanted to turn back and check his expression, make sure this was something that he wanted but you couldn’t gather the courage. Instead you sat there with your hands like that and you felt a jolt of electricity when he was moving his hand on his own.

You didn’t let it get far, barely brushing the hem of your underwear before you were swiftly sitting up in a way that clearly startled him.

He didn’t have long to overthink and wonder if he had misread the situation because now you were on your knees in between his spread legs, as close as you could get and swaying forward like you were going to lay on his chest again.

The reality was much different than he expected and lifetimes better, your lips slotting against his and automatically drawing a high pitched sound from you. There had been countless times Daryl wondered what you sounded like and the knowledge was seering itself into his brain now, longing to bring more out of you.

Your hands were on his face and you were scrambling forward so you could be sat in his lap, legs on either side of his waist as you desperately leaned into the kiss. He was easily matching your pace and you felt an overwhelming heat when you heard him groan into your mouth.

“Daryl.” The sound of his name in that tone was enough to make anybody insane and his hands on your body proved it, one hand on your lower back but the other directly touching those godforsaken jean shorts you wore.

They were poor excuses for fabric and there had been a dozen times when you'd bent over in front of him long enough for him to catch a glimpse of your panties underneath, long enough for him to run a hand over his face and disappear into the guard tower for a few hours.

Now there was no reason to pretend he wasn’t looking at you, wasn’t running his rough hands over your perfectly smooth and innocent body. That seemed to be the only innocent thing about you considering your hips were starting to rock in his lap, just slow enough to make his head spin dangerously.

His big hands were both cupping your ass now and helping you move against him, loving the way you could barely kiss him as you struggled to hold your whines in.

“Feels so good.” You sounded absolutely pathetic and wrecked and he knew right then and there that he was truly perverted, grunting into your open mouth and thrusting his hips up to make you really feel him against your sensitive core. One of your hands had been running through his hair and you tugged at the feeling, crying out in surprise. 

“Cmon sweetheart.” His voice was so low and raspy, vibrations going straight to your core and making you rock harder against him. 

Your lips were swollen and wet when you moved them from his mouth down to his jaw, sucking and biting the skin wherever you could and making sure he was grunting straight into your ear so you could commit the sounds to memory.

He barely flinched when you sat up to pull your tank top off, a bit too hasty considering it was getting stuck on your arms for a second and he had to help you, eyes hazy when your head finally emerged and he could really look at you.

You felt touched that he watched your eyes for a few heavy breaths before he even bothered to let his gaze move down to your bare chest, rising and falling with your nipples standing at attention off his stare alone. His hands weren't wasting any time before gently cupping your soft mounds and your mouth parted in another high whine at the feeling.

Hips moving slower but still just as addicting, you were letting him worship your tits and really take his time memorizing the way your body looked on top of his like this.

Daryl had pictured you in a hundred scenarios that brought shame to his core and sometimes the disgust was enough to bury it back down but more often than not, he couldn’t stop thinking about how much he wanted this no matter how wrong it may be.

“No idea how much I thought about these hands.” Your voice was the highest pitch he’d ever heard and you were softly stuttering through your words like you’d forgotten where to place them, hand back in his hair and trying to be sly with the way you were moving his head downwards. “This mouth.. f-fuck.”

He may not be the most experienced, certainly not with girls as young and pretty as you but Daryl wasn’t as idiot. It was almost second nature to wrap his mouth around your nipple once he understood that’s what you were silently asking for, his entire arm wrapping around your back to keep you locked in place.

His muscles flexed when you made an extra loud sound and you suddenly remembered just how strong he really was, capable of really doing some damage to you right now if he decided that’s what he wanted. The thought sent heat further through you and you gasped out his name in repeated cries.

You were fully humping against him now and trying to get as much pressure on your core as you could but he was firm in his hold on your middle, practically making out with your tits in a way that was so lewd and filthy you felt lightheaded.

“I need more.” You were desperate now and on the verge of a sob, yanking on his hair impatiently and immediately diving into a nasty kiss the second he lifted his head to glare at you. Your tongue was so deep in his mouth he was able to fully suck on it, low sounds leaving him constantly now. 

You hadn’t even realized you were falling until you hit the ground with his heavy frame falling over you, spreading your legs so he could slot himself between them easily.

“F-fuck you’re so hard.” You knew you sounded beyond fucked out already just from some dirty kissing but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed. Although you clearly didn’t need to considering you weren’t at all exaggerating and Daryl was fully hard and moving his core against yours like he couldn’t stop himself. 

“Pretty little thing.” His lack of vocalization didn’t bother you, not expecting it from him in the first place but you were almost grateful for his silence because it made every word he did say sound so much sweeter. 

Daryl had never complimented you so directly before and it sounded ridiculous to flush over him calling you pretty while you were laying in the leaves, bare chest out and his hard on rubbing against you but it still made your body warm in a much purer heat than the rest of your body.

He did everything in his life with an aged roughness you had realized a long time ago, hands weapons even when he didn’t mean for them to be and even when it ate him up inside afterwards so you felt particularly touched that he had a gentle grasp on your ribs and hip like he was terrified of hurting you. 

Although the thought of him hurting you did light something deep inside of you on fire but you decided to push that away and deal with it another time, slowing down your kisses once he started to fidget with the button and zipper on your shorts.

It was quick to go from dirty to romantic and you were grateful for the change even though you enjoyed the former just as much, the longing in your heart for a real sign that he felt similarly being slightly fulfilled when he was moving a hand to cup your cheek and really pay attention to the softer kiss.

 

You could tell he found amusement in his own patience bringing forth the opposite in you, a whiny annoyed noise leaving you as you started to tug at his belt impatiently and try to get him to resume what he was doing before you distracted him.

“Take it easy girl.” He was so close and the whispered words, light and affectionate enough that you almost forgot how lewd you were currently, made your eyes widened as you stared up at him hovering over you.

 

He made eye contact with you for only a brief second before he was looking away and you could see a heavy shyness in him that was directly opposite to the way he was pulling your shorts down your thighs and touching you before you’d even felt the wet air on your core.

Your breath caught in your throat and you wrapped your hands around his back, resting on his shoulder blades and you knew his vest would have the shape of your fingernails indented in the leather for a long time to come.

The low humming noise he was making against your neck seemed to be approval towards your neverending wetness and you were letting out a breathy laugh of pure hazy disbelief when you felt the head of his hard cock pressing against you. 

You could hear him softly shushing you in a soothing manner, trying to get you to relax enough that he could actually push inside without seriously hurting you. You wondered if he could tell you had never done this before, suddenly self conscious that your inexperience was radiating off of you.

Unknown to you, he was thinking the same thing about himself and hoping you couldn’t feel the way his entire body was tensing to stop from pushing in before you were ready out of pure desperation that only you could bring out of him. It was hard not to act like a horny teenager when you were panting like you were getting fucked hard just from him touching your tits.

The combination was deadly and the sound he made when he started to actually fuck you was even worse, damn near ending your life then and there just to be immediately brought back when you felt the hot pain between your legs.

Now your pants were telling a different story and he did his best to slow down and let you get used to the sheer size of him stretching you out, not realizing the way your pupils were dilating and you were purposefully tightening your legs around his waist.

“M-more.” You were begging now as the pain started to go down and he gave you a look that told you he thought you were crazy, eyebrows furrowed as he started to shake his head in disagreement. “Please Daryl love it so much, hurts so good.”

That seemed to silence both the man above you and the entire forest, his body stiffening for a few seconds too long and your heart started to race with something not as nice as the flirty nervousness you normally felt around him.

You almost opened your mouth to apologize to him for making him uncomfortable, try to explain yourself and why you liked something like that without actually knowing the reason yourself. Instead your lips parted with another high whine when he started to move, clearly getting over whatever had made him pause and making it his personal mission to give you exactly what you wanted.

Daryl would never leave your sight again and you would stop at nothing to make sure of that so you had plenty of time for gentle, endless days to fill with romance and soft kisses that made your cheeks red. Today, however, was going to be reserved for something else entirely and you could’ve truly died happy there on the leaves with him on top of you. 

[wutheringcaterpillar]

What if Tommy is desperately (secretly) in love with his step sister, extremely protective, very sweet towards her, but always making sure she’s kept under his thumb just to keep others from taking her from him. Although nothing happened between them until she becomes betrothed to another, he snaps and ruins her so her betrothed wouldn’t want her which would make her stay under his thumb again.

Thank you for the request! Hope you enjoy!

Sorry it took so long to come out! ❤️

Warnings: stepcest, age gap implied, smut, p in v,

Tommy sat beside the window in the arm chair, cigarette in his hands as his eyes drifted from a contract he’d been working on, glancing outside watching the gloomy weather.

The grandfather clock ticked quietly in the background, your footsteps thumping around upstairs in your bedroom.

It seemed as though it was just yesterday Tommy was taking you to piano lessons and telling you endless stories before bed but those days seemed to have past.

You and Tommy always had a rather close relationship since his mum married his dad. After she passed and his dad disappeared he was always the protector who spoiled you rotten as a child and even still to this day as now a grown woman. His crystal eyes focused on the wilting flowers beside the window, thoughts rummaging through his mind as he reminisced the days of past.

“How do I look?” Your voice echoed through the quiet room, pulling Tommy out of his nostalgic thoughts, throwing on a light hearted smile when he looked your way, hiding the intruding thoughts surfacing in his mind.

There you were in a royal blue sparkling dress, makeup painting your face lightly. Not that you needed it, you were quite beautiful without it.

Tucking his hands in his pockets Tommy stood from his seat, diminishing the cigarette in the glass ashtray before walking toward you.

“You look breathtakingly beautiful, as always. Come here.” You blushed from his compliment, heart palpitating anxiously when you leaned into his touch. With growing up came hormones but the profound, illicit thoughts you had for your brother you often found yourself burying such inappropriate feelings, knowing that it wasn’t ideal.

“Be safe tonight eh? I might be running a bit late but I’ll be there. Don’t let any of those bloaks try to whisk you away from me or I may just have to put a bullet through their brain.” You giggled softly into his toned chest, hands roaming his upper back. 

“No one could ever replace you, not even if they tried at the speed of sound.” Tommy hummed in agreement, your words bringing a tremendous amount of reassurance that he’d never admit he needed. 

“Ms. Shelby the car’s here!” Francis called after you. Biting down on your bottom lip and smiling awkwardly you bid Tommy goodbye, kissing him on the cheek before running out the door toward your friends and hopping in the car giddily.

He couldn’t help but worry that you were drifting away, the feeling unsettling his stomach just picturing you with another man or no longer living in the same house as him.

Glancing down at his watch, he released an uneasy breath before picking up his briefcase and heading toward his meeting.

Tommy being a man of knowledge and suspicion found himself unable to focus on the baboon sitting across from him, only thinking about what you were doing and if you were safe.The idea of men staring at you, flirting, fucking trying to get in bed with you etched in his brain. 

This meeting was getting nowhere as it was, the man trying to change the settled agreement with no good reason. This was a deal he could live without.

Removing his glasses, he sighed bored from the man’s piss poor negotiating.

“Alright, this is going fucking nowhere.” Tommy stood up shredding the piece of paper before tossing it in the fireplace.

“You can see yourself out Johnathan eh? I have more important places to be.” The man waved his hands in irritation.

“It’s Bill!” Tommy waved him off before heading out to your party.

When he walked in the music was blaring, definitely underage drinking going on not that he cared as long as it wasn’t you.

He spotted Arthur at the bar, approaching him first only to get a glimpse of you in the corner of the room sat on a sofa with a boy, immediately seeing red.

“Who the fuck is with our sister?” Arthur turned around in curiosity, lips still attached to the bottle still chugging the rest of his drink.

Releasing a exhale of pleasure, he gestured toward the young lad with his arm wrapped around your hips.

“Don’t even get me started on that worthless bloke. He’s the youngest of the Charleston family, they’re new to Birmingham. Y/N’s been seein him for a few weeks. Thought we taught her to respect herself that went out the window didn’t it brother, hm?” Tommy clenched his jaw in annoyance, dead pan staring at the boy’s hands wrapped far too lowly down your waist. Why didn’t you tell him? It would be rude if he didn’t introduce himself.

“Hold me drink Arthur. I’ll be back in a moment.” When Tommy turned around, Arthur made sure he wasn’t looking before finishing off his brother’s drink, a little blonde gal catching his eye in the process, steering him away from whatever the hell Tommy had planned.

Upon approaching you both, he heard the sound of your infectious giggle, so innocent and pure. Blood pumped through his veins realizing that you were slipping away from him, you were growing up.

“Am I interrupting something?” Tommy was shocked to see a beer in your hand and multiple empty ones sat on the table beside you. You were his baby sister, you didn’t drink, you didn’t partake in adult activities. Yet you didn’t seem intoxicated, perhaps that was your first beer, his good girl, but wait what the hell was this and why the fuck did this guy have his hand on your lap, why was he just kissing on your fucking neck. More importantly why was there now a ring on your fucking finger?

He made an incredulous look of disapproval before his breath nearly being taken out of him, your chest falling onto his as your wrapped your arms tightly around Tommy.

“Oh! Tommy I missed you! I was just talking about you to Matthew, I was hoping to introduce you sooner rather than later.” What the fuck was that supposed to be mean? What happened to the conversation from earlier? Tommy grasped your hips, your cleavage rubbing against the fabric of his shirt.

Tommy noticed the boy making a partially disoriented gesture, a look of confusion from the blatant display of affection that some would consider to be unordinary. His eyes dilated, fixating on the boy, challenging him to say something. 

Unsurprisingly he merely took a step back, putting his hands up in surrender that he didn’t want to fight, exactly what Tommy thought.

“Come on, let’s get you some water, eh?” You nodded against his chest, hand sloping down his arm until it clutched his muscular grip.

Walking off with you hand in hand, he guided you up the stairs to a back secluded room, voice booming for the crowd of people to get out.

Sitting you down on the sofa gently, he could feel your eyes watching his every move as he pulled down a glass from the cabinet, filling it with water to help you sober up. 

“Drink this.” 

“Tommy I only had one beer.” He raised his eyebrows expectedly, motioning with his hand, insisting thar you drink it. For some reason your heart seemed to flutter with how willing he always to take care of you.

Downing the glass, you set it on the table before kicking your shoes off and reclining back against the arm rest, Tommy already feeling the tightening in his pants seeing the bare skin of your leg. 

Scoffing, he pushed your legs back down and grabbed the small of your wrist, pulling you closer. His breath was hot against your skin, lips just inches away from the lobe of your ear.

“He doesn’t deserve you love…” Your breath hitched in your throat when you felt his hand go below the fabric of your dress, inching upward toward the radiating heat in between your thighs. Your skin forming goosebumps from the not so innocent touch, the way he was caressing your bare skin swiftly, prompting your eyes to flutter shut, still trying to fight this immoral battle in your heart.

“What-um-what are you-“ His other hands brushed your chin, tilting your face to look at him before his lips landed on yours. The world seemed to stop for a moment, the feeling of your older brother’s lips on yours unexpectedly sensual, the anticipation for more causing your heart to beat rapidly.

You couldn’t resist from kissing him back, the mesmerizing sensation so wrong but so right. 

“I don’t want to see you with anyone else. That fucking low life and you fucking said yes?! You are finished with him, understand? We’ve always had something and you fucking know it.” You nodded against him nearly breathless, unable to form any thoughts other than what might be in his pants. 

Ripping your dress with his hands, you tugged at his suit, tossing the expensive fabric onto the floor when you fumbled with his belt.

The sound of music and people partying only heightening the desire for Tommy to take you right here right now.

In the midst of his tongue delving between your lips, he curled his hands with yours, fingers fumbling around until he found that god forsaken ring. Tugging off, he threw the shiny piece of jewelry on the floor, accessory rolling over to the corner of the room.

When his cock spring free, your eyes widened at the sight of his girthy length.

“Has he touched you here yet?” His skilled fingers carressed the slippery slope between your soaked folds, making you moan and whimper beneath him, shaking your head vigorously no. You dreamt of your brothers touch so long.

“I knew I raised you well my good girl.”

Tommy circled his thumb around your throbbing clit in slow circles, his index finger entering your right canal to ensure you weren’t lying.

“Tommy please!” 

He couldn’t find it in his heart to tell his baby sister no. No he’s waited much too long…

Aligning his cock, he readjusted himself so he was on his knees ready to drill into you and claim you as his own.

The head of his cock at your entrance only fueled your eager want to be taken.

Pushing the tip in, your winced below him from the slight uncomfortable feeling. He must have noticed when his hand glided down your thighs, caressing your hips with his calloused hand soothingly.

He couldn’t wait much longer to pick up speed with your warm cunt practically suffocating his cock.

The sight of you completely nude beneath him, legs spread on display while his cock was pushing inside you, he couldn’t hold himself back.

How could something so forbidden feel so right?

He snapped his hips forward, jolting your body upward not giving you anytime to adjust.

“Fuck! Tommy it feels so-“ He quieted your screams by covering you mouth raising his eyebrows expectantly.

“Language sweetheart, we have to be quiet unless you want him to see.” The idea of someone walking in on your brother fucking you sending chills down your spine, pussy squeezing tightly around his cock.

“If you keep doing that, I’m not going to last long. Up you go.” Without pulling out Tommy lifted you effortlessly from the sofa, pushing your back against the walls as his lips ravished your neck, pumping in and out of your dripping cunt.

“Oh fuck, faster, faster!” Your curls bounced gracefully on your shoulders, tits shaking in an up and down motion vigorously while one hand cusped his muscular shoulders other tangled his hair. 

You’d dreamt of this day for so long, you couldn’t help but glance down wanting to see your brother’s shaft completely buried inside you.

Did it hurt a bit? Yes, but the pleasure was so much more, little did you know Tommy knew how to pleasure a woman’s body so expertly.

You could feel your slick pouring out and swimming down his length, you were close so very close.

You craved his seed to paint your walls, for him to mark you as his own.

“Look at my girl, taking me cock so well..” Tommy smirked proudly in a fucked out gaze as beads of sweat formed on his chest.

“Gonna fill your tummy with my cum, make you walk out there with it dripping down your fucking legs for everyone to see.” You moaned sporadically, thighs twitching around his waist, toes curling as a euphoric orgasm claimed your body.

“Mm, Tommy, Tommy! Feels-fe-ohh…” You panted, holding onto him for dear life. If it weren’t for his hands gripping your ass cheeks below, you’d surely make your sweet descent to the hardwood floor.

Tommy’s blue charismatic eyes focused in on the fucked out expression, seeing your lips parted, face contorted into pure bliss. He couldn’t withhold any longer until he was pulsating inside of your cunt, painting the interior of your perfect pussy white with his seed.

“Y’know I’ve wanted you for so long, and now you’re fucking mine.” You nodded still too deliriously exhausted to form words. Pulling your chin to meet his sapphire eyes, he placed a powerful, dominating kiss to your plush lips before setting you down gently and settling you back down on the sofa while he gathered the clothes.

Looking at the dress, he deemed it still suitable as long as you hadn’t bent over it should still be wearable. 

“What about my underwear?” Tommy reached for his jacket after tightening his cufflinks.

“What do you need those for? C’mon love.” Your cheeks reddened, he wasn’t kidding about his cum dripping down your legs.

“Still look beautiful as ever. After you my love?” You glanced back at your brother before exiting the door, pressing your lips to his once more.

Tommy smiled softly, before nodding you off and realizing the ring was still on the floor.

Walking down the stairs with you, he encouraged you to go enjoy time with your friends, only to see Matthew in his way out ignoring Arthur practically fucking some inebriated girl against his brother.

Approaching the boy, you watched the scene unfold from afar, seeing what your dear brother would do.

“Eh!” He pulled the ring out of his pocket, clicking his tongue before shoving the object against the boy’s chest, merely towering over him.

“Here’s your fucking ring. Take it and get off my fucking property before I change my mind and kill your right here, right now.” Everyone in the room turned their eyes to the altercation, including Arthur. When the boy hadn’t moved, twiddling the ring in his grip still staring at Tommy with challenging eyes, calling a bluff, Arthur shoved the girl off of him ready to go to fucking war only for Tommy to hold him back with the wave of his hand.

“Look around kid. You have about five seconds to get out me fucking pub before I splatter your brains on this wall.” He still hadn’t moved, only tightening his fist.

“You think I won’t?” Tommy chuckled beneath his breath, a sadistic smile spreading across his lips before pulling out his gun, finger on the trigger pointing it directly at the middle of his forehead.

“5, 4, 3-“ The boy scattered out the door, satisfying Tommy that he’d never be back.

[monster-disaster]

[demon] Cillian

demon!Cillian x human!Reader Warnings: oral, not a full smut just a tease

Summary: Your pianist husband needs his muse.

A/N: It's a silly idea but I hope you will enjoy it!

The room is bathed in the amber light of the setting sun, casting long, warm streaks across the polished dark wood floor. Each ray glimmers through the floor-to-ceiling windows, sliding across the sleek, glossy surface of the piano's black lid. The grand instrument stands still against the view of Meriad in the background. Beyond the glass, the city stretches out with its towering buildings and the fiery hues of the evening light.

"What are you doing?" you ask when you finally break the stillness of the room. Your gaze is fixed on your husband standing a few steps away from the leather bench of the piano.

Cillian takes his time to respond, his focus lingering on the instrument for a heartbeat longer before his eyes flicker over to you. His arms remain crossed over his broad chest. The crisp white shirt he wears hangs loose at his neck, revealing a hint of his strawberry-red skin.

"Cancel the concert," he says at last, causing you to frown as his words sink in. His arms flex subtly under the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt. The motion draws your eyes for a fleeting moment as he adjusts his stance, turning slightly to face you more.

"I can't do that."

Well, you could, but there is no way you will when the concert is just a few days away.

"And why would I, anyway?"

Cillian holds your gaze. A flicker of something passes through his eyes but disappears before you can read it. "I'm not ready," he states. His words hang in the air while your mind races for an answer.

He shakes his head slowly, the movement making the tips of his screw horns catch the golden light streaming in through the windows behind him. "I need more time."

"You’ve had months," you remind him. Your voice is more harsh than you originally intended. "Just sit down and... play."

The demon’s frown deepens, his dark brows drawing together as if the suggestion itself is offensive. "It doesn’t work like that."

You wave at the piano, helpless. "Well, whatever your problem is, you have to get through it," you tell him. "I’m not canceling the concert, Cillian. It would ruin your career."

He exhales sharply. The sound is somewhere between a huff and a growl. He knows you are right. "I can’t."

Your heels click sharply on the hardwood floor as you close the space between you, pointing at the bench. "Sit."

The demon glares at you for a moment. His jaw is set so tightly that you can see the subtle shift of his features. The sharp lines of his cheekbones grow even more pronounced. His skin seems to stretch over the bone structure like a mask, and his eyes sink deeper into their sockets. The darkened hollows glint with something ancient and primal beneath his composed exterior. For just a second, you get a glimpse of his true face; the demon he is beneath the polished surface. Then, with another sharp exhale, he turns away from you as he lowers himself onto the leather bench, and when he looks at you, he is human again. Well, more human.

"Now, play," you say, resting your hand gently on the sleek surface of the piano. "Play something. Anything."

Cillian’s glare shifts from you to the instrument in front of him. His dark eyes run over the keys while his long, elegant fingers hover above them, twitching and fidgeting, but never quite making contact. There is a palpable tension in the air as he stares, lost in his own internal battle.

"Play one of my favorites," you tell him more softly now as you watch your love struggle.

You don’t need to elaborate further. Between being his wife and his manager, you’ve spent countless hours listening to him play, learning what pieces move you and resonate in you deeply.

For a long moment, he remains motionless as if weighing the request against his inner turmoil. Then, slowly, his fingers press against the keys, tentative at first as though testing the waters. The sound is soft and familiar, but as the rhythm begins to take shape and swell, a sharp, jarring tone slices through the melody, causing Cillian’s entire body to stiffen. A low curse escapes him, frustration radiating off him like heat, and with one fluid motion, he slams the keylid down. The sudden sound of wood against wood rings through the room.

He runs a hand through his dark hair, clearly irritable. "Damn it," he mutters under his breath. His eyes flare to that sharp, almost predatory intensity before fading into a simmering frustration.

"Let's try again tomorrow," you break the silence after a long, tense second. Your voice is soft and careful.

"It won't change anything," the demon replies. "Cancel the concert."

You sigh, your shoulders slumping slightly as the weight of his request presses down on you. "I can’t, Cillian," you tell him. "It would ruin everything you’ve built."

The silence stretches between you, thick and charged.

"You’ll figure it out," you say, reaching out to gently push his hair back from his eyes. "Come. Let’s have dinner and watch something stupid on the TV."

Your offer doesn't solve his problem, but it draws the smallest of smiles across his lips as his fingers link with yours, and without another world, he lets you lead him toward the kitchen.

_

"I have an idea." The soft, low murmur of your husband's voice cuts through the sleepy fog of your mind, delicate and distant. At first, it doesn’t even register. His fingers, light as feathers, trace along the line of your jaw, his thumb grazing gently over your lips. The warmth of his touch seeps through the haze of sleep, but your mind is slow to catch up.

"What?" you croak, squinting into the dark of the bedroom. His silhouette is little more than a shadow against the darkness.

"I have an idea," Cillian repeats. "But I need you for it."

You shift onto your back, the sheets rustling beneath you as you force your eyelids to stay open and yourself to stay awake. "You mean now?"

"Yeah," he says with a hint of eagerness threading through his simple answer.

Any other time, you would have grunted at him in annoyance and sunk back into the softness of your pillows, not ready to give up the warmth of sleep for anything, but you watched him struggle with his music for weeks, and you can’t bring yourself to dismiss the quiet hope in his words tonight.

"What’s your idea?"

You let him pull you from the bed without a word, your body still heavy with sleep. His fingers, warm and soft, guide you out to the living room. The grand piano stands still by the large window, its polished surface reflecting the faint light spilling in from the city beyond. Flashes of neon advertisements cast a colorful glow across the towering buildings and the streets below constantly in motion with the never-ending flow of traffic.

You stand there for a moment, the sound of your breathing mingling with the distant hum of the city while your husband leaves your sides only to close the lid of the piano before turning his attention back to you.

"Take off your clothes," he says, gaze drifting over the delicate fabric of your nightgown.

Your body reacts before your mind does; your skin tingles where his eyes linger. "What?" You can't help but let the word slip, caught off guard by his sudden request.

"I want you naked," he states as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

"Cillian," you murmur his name, suspicion threading through your tone, but there's no resisting the strange curiosity that blooms in your chest. "What's your plan?" But your fingers already move to the hem of your nightgown, tugging it off with a quick motion.

"We’ve been so caught up in my concert, in everything else, that we didn’t even have time for each other. Weeks without this…" He trails off, eyes never leaving your bare body. "I need my muse back." His eyes are darker now as he pats the sleek, black lid with a soft thud. "Come. Sit here."

A pulse of excitement tingles down your spine at his invitation and without a second thought, you step closer. "Are you sure about it?" you ask, casting a wary glance at the piano. You don't want to ruin it.

"Yep," he replies, popping the p between his lips while his hands find your hips, and before you can protest further, he hauls you effortlessly onto the instrument.

The sleek, lacquered surface presses against your skin, heightening your awareness of your exposed self.

"There," he murmurs, rich with approval as his hands linger on your thighs, steadying you. "Perfect."

The air around you feels thick and charged with an intoxicating heat that clings to your skin. The hard, unyielding surface of the piano isn’t exactly comfortable with your legs dangling awkwardly over the edge, brushing against the cool keys, but none of that matters; not the sharp corners digging into you or the faint creak of the instrument beneath your weight. Your mind is far too hazy with the thrill of this moment to care about anything else while you watch your husband lower himself onto the bench.

Seated there, he has a perfect view of the heat pooling between your thighs, laid bare for him and him alone. You can feel your cheeks flush under his scrutiny, but the vulnerability doesn’t make you shy away. Instead, it feeds the fire burning inside you, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

"Now," he hums softly under his breath. "Stay still, my love."

The first sound he coaxes from the piano is soft and delicate like a whisper meant only for you. It is slightly muffled, the closed lid and your body atop it tempering the instrument’s full voice, but the music loses none of its beauty. Each note wraps around you, seeping into your skin, and settling deep in your chest. Your husband plays with the same precision and passion that drew you to him in the first place, his hands gliding over the keys as if the piano is an extension of himself. For a long while, the world beyond the room ceases to exist, and even when only the final note lingers in the otherwise quiet air, you are still unable to remind yourself of your exposed, vulnerable position.

"You will be amazing," you murmur, breaking the silence after a long, long second. Your chest is full of wonder and pride as you watch his eyes lift from the keys to meet yours, locking onto you with an intensity that makes your breath hitch.

"And I'm not done yet, my wife." The grin that curls his lips is nothing short of wicked. It’s the kind of smile that warns of trouble and promises pleasure in equal measure.

You gulp, throat dry as his heated gaze pins you in place. "Should I get off?" you manage to whisper.

"No."

Before you can process his answer, he moves. The lid closes over the keys with a sharp click, and his long, skilled fingers find the plush softness of your thighs, squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch. A startled squeak escapes your lips as he pulls you forward, the motion causing the piano to emit a dull thud beneath your weight.

"Cillian!" you shriek, your heart racing. "What-?"

"Stay still, my love." His lips find your skin, brushing feather-light kisses over the sensitive flesh of your thighs. The heat of his breath fanning over your core makes you shiver.

Your head falls back with a throaty moan as his tongue eagerly swipes over your slit. The sharp jolt of pleasure shooting through your body makes your toes curl while Cillian's fingers dig into your soft flesh as he hauls you closer. The possessiveness and determination in his movement leave no room for escape, not that you'd dream of it.

"I’ve missed this," Cillian murmurs against your pussy. "My muse, my inspiration." His lips curl into a smile before his tongue delves between your folds again, exploring you with a hunger that steals your breath away. "How could I ever create without tasting you first?" His words are a mixture of devotion and wickedness, stoking the fire already burning inside you. His tongue glides through your wetness, collecting every drop with wet, obscene sounds that seem to echo in the quiet room. His mouth slurps and sucks on your arousal before his lips find your clit. The first flick of his tongue sends a shockwave through your body, and you arch into him instinctively, begging, demanding. He tongues you with maddening skill, alternating between gentle laps and intense suction that has your legs trembling.

"For weeks," he breathes against your sensitive flesh, pausing just long enough to tease you with his words, "I’ve been surrounded by noise; praises, and expectations, but none of it compares to this." His tongue traces circles over your clit, coaxing a sharp gasp from your lips. "You, my love, are the only symphony I need. My muse. My salvation." He feasts on you with an intensity that borders on worship. He plunges his tongue deeper, his pace relentless, as though determined to draw every ounce of pleasure from you.

His dark eyes flick up to meet yours, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe. There’s something primal in his gaze, a depth that seems to pull you under as if his very soul is reaching out to claim you. His eyes are sunken in their sockets, and you can see the simmering energy beneath his skin. His demon form presses at his human facade, begging to be unleashed.

His lips curl into a feral grin, sharp and wicked, as his tongue flicks over your clit again, drawing a gasp from your lips. "Breathe, my love," he teases. "I need you to last long enough to inspire me properly."

[buckybarnesisdaddy]

Meet Cute

Summary: You stumble upon a pottery TikTok account and the creator is super hot. When you win his contest for a custom piece, well sparks start to fly.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Warning: Sexual innuendos, Smut (Oral, PiV), talks of fighting as kids, talks of alcohol use and being drunk. No protection sex (but it’s okay, they talk about it.) Minors DNI

Idea came from this post

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Another Friday night with nothing better to do than sit on your phone scrolling Instagram while a forgotten movie plays in the background. You really should be writing, you have a deadline coming up soon but you just can’t bring yourself to write about romance and love. You can hear Natasha saying goodbye to her date on the doorstep, and she has been for the last 20 minutes. Finally Natasha comes stumbling in, face flushed and giggling away, which is odd because Natasha never giggles. “So I take it the date went well?” You ask from your perch on the couch, covered in blankets and a bowl of popcorn cooled on the seat next to you.

“If you must know, yes!!” She gushes and runs over to sit beside you. “He is so sweet and such a gentleman-”

“What he as doing to you out there didn’t sound too ‘gentleman like.’ In fact it sounds down right scandalous.” You tease and Natasha rolls her eyes and gives you a playful shove.

“He was an absolute gentleman,” she doubles down before she blushes and admits, “well that was till I said all the right words and had him ready to eat me alive.” Natasha laughs as you pretend to retch. “Oh hush! If you ever got off this couch you’d have a line of men waiting to take you out and begging for you to talk dirty to them.” Natasha winks, you can feel the heat rise in your cheeks and you sink further down into the couch.

“I have Bridgerton, and my own fictional men that I write, I don’t need a man.” You shoot back at her slightly insulting but meant in good fun jab at your non-existent dating life. “Anyway, where did you meet this guy again?” Natasha picks up a handful of popcorn before she realizes it’s cold. She wrinkles her nose but commits anyway to eating it.

“Tiktok!” Natasha answers over a mouthful. A loud laugh escapes for you and she gives you another play shove before taking the popcorn for herself. “We talked a lot online before we met up. He’s great, in fact i have made lots of friends from TikTok! You should give it a try!” Abruptly standing up and shaking your head, you walk to the kitchen to retrieve a drink.

“No way, I know myself and I’d end up sucked Down the rabbit hole and I’d never get anything done. And for the sake of my job, I can’t have that.” Natasha sighs a unmutes the tv.

“What a waste of a good ass and ‘I'll beg for it eyes’.” Natasha teases and you can’t help but laugh again as you enter the room with your water and a drink for Natasha.

“What kind of videos did you think A) I would be watching and B) potentially making?!” Sitting down next to her giving her a hard stare. Natasha stares straight ahead, purposely not meeting your gaze as she shrugs.

“Anything you wanted, Bunny.” She looks over and winks, using the old nickname you got back in college after too many drinks and a spin on a pogo stick.

“Wow you must really be worried about my good ass and ‘beg for it’s eyes’ going to waste if you’re baiting me with that name!” You lean back and prop your feet up on the coffee table. Natasha leans her head over and eats it on yours.

“All I’m saying is the first step in dating is getting yourself out there. Why not start with a stupid video app? Connect with others from the safety of a screen, and see where it goes.” She smiles and gives your hand a squeeze before she yawns and stands again. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need a shower,” she blushes, “My man got me pretty worked up.” She winks and dashes off. You shake your head and just laugh as you turn back to your movie. That night you toss and turn, unable to sleep. You can’t stop thinking about what Natasha said. Maybe it would be fun, it’s not the pressure of a dating app and you can give out as much information as you are willing to. What could go wrong? Knowing Natasha is still awake as you quickly send her a text.

‘Fine… make me a page but keep it generic.’ About as soon as you put your phone down it dings. You pick it up to find multiple messages from Natasha. ‘Yay! I already did! Here is the login! Have fun!! 😉’

**********************************************

Bucky is setting up in his garage studio when he hears the bike rev outside and then turn off. Steve walks in and lays his helmet down on one of his work tables.

“So? How did the date go?” Bucky asks as he sets down a bucket of water next to his wheel and sets a sponge out next to the bucket. Steve leans against the table and grabs a chunk of modeling clay. He starts to knead it in his hands, treating it like a stress ball as he smiles.

“Honestly? Amazing! I mean, really Buck. She’s great!” Bucky laughs to himself and nods. “You know you’re never gonna find a women unless you actually get out there and try to date.” Steve teases and Bucky just throws a rag at him.

“Yeah yeah, hand me that clay and let me get paid, okay?!” Bucky jokes and Steve tosses him the clay. He slaps it down on the wheel and Steve laughs.

“See, that right there would have women lining up and down the street for you!” Steve turning Bucky’s harmless actions of slapping his clay into sexual jokes and Bucky returning the favor is something Bucky hopes they never outgrown.

“Yeah, and the boys would be lining up to have you handle their wood, we’d be making bank if we started charging.” Steve laughs and shoves Bucky.

“Woodworking is a noble hobby.” Steve rebuts.

“Noble and as old at time!” Bucky had the last say. “Now, shut up and press live for me.” Bucky smiles and Steve pretends to be annoyed as he does what was asked.

**********************************************

You want to be upset that she did it before you gave her permission, but you know she means well. Your last relationship did not end well and you haven’t dated since, honestly you’ve been sacred to. Natasha just wants to see you happy. You download the app and use the login information Natasha sent you. Apparently she’s been following people for you and set up the whole account. She was nice enough to not include a picture of you, instead she added the generic pictures everyone can choose from when they start a profile. She put that your name is ‘Bunny’, you she’s your head and just laugh, reminding yourself to change that later. You see you username ‘talkdirtytome’. “Oh Nat,” you groan. Becoming a master at TikTok in a matter of minutes you find where to change your username, but seeing as Natasha had changed it 5 times in less than 2 hours, your account is locked to more changes for at least a week. Thankful that the username you ended up with wasn’t so bad considering one of the last names was ‘fckbunny'. “Oh my god, Nat. You are so dead!” You take a deep breath and sit up against your headboard. You remind yourself it’s not the end of the world and it’s just the internet, it’s only forever. Ready to give it a rest for the night you lay your phone down when you get a notification.

*Buchananclaymates is going live*

“Who the hell is that and why does it sound like porn?” Even as you ask yourself that very important question your thumb has already clicked on the notification. You are taken to the live screen on TikTok. On your screen sits the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life. His blue eyes pop against the blue henley he is wearing and his hair is short. Theres a boyish charm to him even though he is clearly in his early late 20’s maybe even early 30’s. He is sitting in some kind of garage and on the shelf behind him sits a dozen or so pots, pitchers, mugs, plates, all of them handcrafted. What gets you the most is his little New York accent slipping through his words. Not too much but enough that you can pick out the Brooklyn in him. His voice is so smooth, you could fall asleep listening to him talk about pottery. And his laugh, it makes you smile and you want to hear it again, so light and free, beautiful. As the shock of how beautiful this man is finally resolves, he says something that makes your heart drop straight to your stomach.

**********************************************

Bucky is having fun as all his followers sign on and begin requesting stuff. He starts to work the clay and begins his steps on making a pitcher. He is taking a moment to read some of the chat when a new user pops up. He memorized all his regulars, and yes there is about 100-200 of them but he has a good memory, against all odds and every concussion he had as a child. But his is one he has never seen before. He cleans off his hands and moves the camera closer.

“Hey, I see some new people here tonight,” He gets a better look at the username and he can’t help but blush and laugh as he teases his new viewer. “User ‘talkdirtytome’ I feel like you might be on my wrong account.” He winks. “I’m just messing with you! I do have another account and it is a little more… well-“ **********************************************

A voice from somewhere behind the camera shouts, “thirst trappy!!” The man Blushes but also nods, “yeah, I guess Rogers is right. It’s full of pottery thirst traps. But nothing more than that. This is a pg-13 page so, ‘talkdirtytome’ save it for the DM’s” he winks and laughs again. You look at the comments pouring in as the live continues, some are asking about buying some of his work. Others are asking if he makes custom pieces. Other ask what’s his favorite type of clay to use, you didn’t know there were different types. But overwhelmingly the comments were asking ‘take your shirt off!’ The man didn’t seem bothered by the comments at all, in fact he ate it up. Flirting and teasing the viewers with movements that showed little sections of his stomach or leaning forward and letting his shirt dip enough to see down it. He truly is a showman because you are entranced and before you know it you’ve spent an hour on this live watching him talk about pottery, and getting to know a little about him. You find yourself wanting to know everything, he seems so sweet and his eyes are kind. You don’t even realize you’re drooling over him until he starts rapping up the live. You don’t even know his name and yet you’re sad when he finally says goodnight and cuts the live off.

**********************************************

Bucky is pleasantly surprised with how well this live went. He got 15 orders while on live and he got about 1000 new followers. He knew he was pulling out all the stops tonight and flirting hardcore. Making sure he didn’t wear an undershirt so when he raised his arms the comment section went wild with the tease. Putting his hair in a half up half down bun that he knows drives his followers crazy. He was playing for keeps and thankfully it paid off. Especially with his most interesting new viewer. Why this new user caught his eye he will never know, ‘talkdirtytome’ was probably some 59 year old bald guy who found Bucky hot… but he couldn’t help hoping that maybe the user was really some really beautiful women in her late 20’s… a guy can dream, right?

**********************************************

You quickly click to his profile and do a little stalking. You can’t find this other page he talked about, probably because it’s some onlyfans or something like a cam sight. He was probably keeping it PG so the TikTok police didn’t flag his video. You’ve only been on it for about 2 hours but you’ve heard all about people getting banned or blocked because their videos were “too mature.” You give his page a once over again you finally clock his name. “James, huh. How very.. normal.” You blush and quickly jump back to your page, feeling exhilarated you change the profile picture to one of you. It doesn’t really show much, in fact all it shows is your hair and a hidden side profile… but it’s a step. You then find James page again and quickly, before you can second guess yourself, you follow him and set up notifications. You don’t want to miss seeing this beautiful man. Maybe Natasha was right, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. You lay your phone down and drift off to sleep, happier than ever.

**********************************************

Right before Bucky is about to go to bed he sees a new notification,

*New Follower- Bunny*

“Who the fuck is Bunny??” Bucky asks out loud as he clicks on the profile. He sees the username at the top ‘talkdirtytome’, “Ahh so Baldies name is Bunny, great.” Bucky groans. But then he sees the profile picture. “I wait, that’s a women. Wait- that’s?! FUCK YES!” He about yells from the comfort of his room, and only bring his voice down because he remembers Steve is on the other side of the wall. He messages you and then Bucky goes to sleep one happy man.

**********************************************

The sun streams through your window and you wake up to the soft buzz of your phone. You stretch and start your morning routine before actually checking the said phone, because you know the time suck that will happen if you just sit and scroll instead of getting up and ready. A text from Natasha saying she’s meeting ‘her man’ and will bring you back a coffee. You start to set your phone down when you notice a little red bubble on the TikTok app. Curiosity gets the better of you and you find your way back to your bed before you open it. The butterflies that burst in your stomach and travel throughout your body leave you breathless when you see that you have 5 messages from ‘Buchananclaymates’ aka Bucky.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!!” You start screaming as you take deep breaths and try to calm down. “Okay, it’s okay. He’s just a dude. He’s hot! But he’s just a guy, just read the messages.” You click them open and one by one your face heats up more and those butterflies become stronger lower and lower in your body.

*Messages*

Hey!

I see I have a new follower 😉

Glad I didn’t scare you off with all that teasing.

Hope to see you around again!

Maybe even here, 😏 ‘claymatesbuck’

“Oh my god,” you groan at the innuendo of the second username. “So it’s definitely porn!” You exclaim, not sure how you feel about this. “Of course the guy I find attractive is the one with a porn page.” You groan. “You really know how to pick em!” You pout for a moment and then you realize that you’re home alone. Natasha is out and will be for awhile. Your curiosity pushes you to click on the username and you are taken to another tiktok page. Every thumbnail for each video is of Bucky shirtless and working with clay. “He wasn’t kidding about the thirst traps.” You blush as you click on one video. It start to play and there is a semi sexually suggestive song playing as Bucky works the clay in his hands. Molding it and shaping it just how he wants. His biceps are on display and his abs, he ends the video with a little wink and lip bite.

“Oh my god!!” It comes out as more of a moan than it did an actual exclamation. “Oh Natasha, what have you done?!” You groan as you lay on your bed, ready to spend the morning watching every video on his page.

Before long you end up pressing that follow button and closing the app before you can do anything else to embarrass yourself.

**********************************************

Bucky sees your follow on his other page and if he sits down and plans out the next few videos to be exceptionally dirty, well maybe there was a correlation. Or maybe not.

**********************************************

The next two weeks you find yourself watching James new videos he posts and viewing his lives whenever you have a chance. He really does work great with his hands and half the time you forget that he is shirtless until he’s winking at the camera or he’s flirty and teasing everyone saying ‘You guys need some water.’ You wish you had the courage to message him and get to know him a little more but your nerves get in the way each time before you can press send. James will send you flirty messages and you will like them but you can never bring yourself to respond. You interact just enough to let him know to keep doing it.

It’s Friday night again and you see he is going live, like always you join and just watch. “So I have recently reached almost 10,000 followers on here, which is a huge milestone and I wanted to celebrate it!” He sits closer to the phone screen and you get a better glimpse of his eyes. Even. Bluer than you originally thought. He has little creases by his eyes that crinkle when he smiles too big and his nose scrunches up. He’s perfect. “Anyone that wants to be added into the drawing leave a comment on my last video saying so. This drawing is for a custom pottery piece of your choice. So if you win I will make you whatever you ask for,” he smirks, apparently knowing some of his followers a little too well. “Well within reason. No ‘life art’ sculptures.” He winks and you feel the blush start to rise. Would someone really be that bold to request that of him? “Anyway, the drawing will happen tomorrow at noon! So go comment now for the chance to win.” He signs off with a little wave and wink. Without even thinking, because if you think about it you will back out, you comment and ask to be added in. Within minutes he has liked your comment and sent another message to you.

*message*

I was gonna add you in regardless. 😉

The heat is almost burning in your face, he doesn’t even know you. How could he be this good at getting a rise out of you?! Your brain won’t shut off that night, thinking and even dreaming about this man behind your phone screen. “Damn it!” You grumble and end up having to watch some old Disney movies just to keep your mind off the filthy things you wish James would do to you instead of the clay he usually is holding. You finally drift off to sleep to the sounds of Cinderella.

****************************************************

“Hey!” Natasha pulls you out of your thoughts as you look up from your morning coffee.

“Hey, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she looks you over. “Man you were really out of it. Didn’t even hear me invite you out.”

“Huh?” You hum in acknowledgment and Natasha rolls her eyes.

“I said I am going out later with my TikTok boyfriend and he has a friend that he can invite if you wanted to join.” She explains for the second time.

“Oh umm now? I-“ you try to think of an excuse, not wanting to miss the drawing on James page. “I actually have plans. With someone online.” Natasha shoots up straight and about squeals in excitement. “Okay okay, calm down.” You laugh. “It’s not a date but this guys been super flirty and I- I don’t know, maybe today I will finally make the move and message him back.” You shrug trying to play it off.

“Tell me everything, now!!” Natasha demands as she sips her coffee. “Don’t leave out a single detail.” You debate on lying, or just making it juicier than it is, but you decide against it.

“Okay, just don’t laugh.” You remind her before you tell her everything. She already has his page pulled up and is drooling over him too.

“He is hot!! Wow, and he said all those things to you?!” Meaning the messages he had sent.

“Yeah, so I don’t know. Maybe he’s trying to drum up business-” Natasha shakes her head.

“No, absolutely not. He is flirting hardcore.” She keeps looking through videos and one seems to catch her eye as her eyes widen and then a big smirk crosses her face before she exists out of the app and lays her phone down. Super quiet and worrying you even more than she does when shes asking you a million questions. “You said there is a drawing today?” You nod and you can see the wheels turning already. “At noon?” She asks and you nod again, she checks her watch and then opens her phone, obviously sending a message to someone.

“Natasha if you are messaging James, so help me-“ she cuts you off.

“And so what if I am?” She teases. “I’m just doing the hard work for you, the correct response is ‘thank you’.” She blows you a kiss as she leaves the room, leaving your stomach in knots and even more worried about this drawing.

**********************************************

Steve is in the garage with Bucky, getting ready for the drawing for his page and starting to film some more content for his own carpentry and woodworking page when he gets a text. He looks over at Bucky and then just laughs and quickly answers back.

“What’s so funny Punk?” Bucky asks and Steve smiles.

“Nothing, Jerk. You need help with the drawing? Where’s the bowl?” Steve asks as he slides his phone back in his pants. Bucky points to where he sat it and Steve grabs it to help.

**********************************************

“Okay everyone, it is noon and we are ready to get this show on the road!” James says happily. You refused to let Natasha sit and watch with you. She can watch on her own phone, but she won’t have a front row seat to your blushing or your disappointment when you inevitably lose. “I had over 500 of you enter, which is just incredible! Next time I should make each entry like $3 and send all the proceeds to wounded warriors.” You gently smile at the kind idea. It’s sweet, thinking of others instead of finding a way to make a bigger payday for himself. “Okay, let’s draw! The bowl, Rogers!” A hand comes into frame and the bowl is above James head. He lifts an arm up and reaches in pulling one slip of paper out. And as soon as the arm appeared it disappeared. James opens the paper and smiles before it turns to a laugh and then a smirk. “Well, user ‘talkdirtytome’, I am looking forward to making that custom piece for you.” You swear he stares right at you as he bites his lip and smiles again. “To everyone else, there will be more in the future! Oh and ‘talk dirty’?” You sit up and answer him like an idiot.

‘He can’t hear you, moron.’ You shake your head.

“I’ll be in touch. Bye everyone!” And the live ends. You lay your head down on your bed and just smile at the thought that James will be making a custom piece of pottery for you. When Natasha speaks she scares you half to death, not having heard her sneak in.

“WOW, you’ve got it bad!” She teases and you toss a pillow at her.

“Leave me alone!” You laugh and yell as you look down at the message that just came through.

**********************************************

When he read your username he had to remind himself that he can’t be partial, at least not on camera, but he couldn’t help the smile. He is gonna do this right and he refuses to mess it up, he’s got just the plan. He grabs his phone from his stand and quickly messages you.

**********************************************

*Message*

James- Idk how you feel about exchanging numbers, which I’d be fine with but I understand if you’re not. So zoom? Maybe later this afternoon?

You blush and quickly write back. Saying that you can’t wait and you will “see” him then. James likes your message and then sends a picture of binoculars. It’s so random and weird but you can’t help but laugh. Maybe Natasha’s right, you do have it bad.

You check your hair about 10 times, make sure your make up is okay, not too much but just enough to make it look like you’re not wearing any at all. Your sundress that you were already wearing perfectly accents your figure and makes your eyes pop. You check the lighting in your room and play with the blinds. With 10 minutes to spare before the arranged time for the zoom you sit down as your computer notifies you that you are in the “waiting room.” Whenever Jane slogs on the camera will turn on and that will be it. As you wait so many thoughts cross your mind. ‘He’s probably gonna be short and keep it super professional.’ ‘He may flirt for the camera but there’s no way he’d actually like me.’, ‘Calm down, he’s probably gonna be on and off as fast as he can.’ You start to doubt yourself and you suddenly feel self-conscious for looking nice. Right as you’re about to throw your hair up and grab a blanket to wrap around your shoulders, the screen goes black and then lights up, James is right in front of you. He doesn’t look right at you, still messing around with his notebook and taking a drink of water, obviously not realizing that you two are already connected. At first when he sees you his eyes just glance over. But then the realization hits and his eyes widen

**********************************************

“Wow,” Bucky is breathless. You’re not just beautiful, you’re stunning. He’s never been mesmerized by a single thing or person in his life, until this moment. “I- uh I’m-“ he lightly laughs as he smiles, he can’t stop smiling. “Hi I’m James,” he laughs and blushes as he hangs his head for a moment. “Um but people who have seen me stutter and stumble over my words, like an idiot, get to call me Bucky.” Your smile is contagious and your eyes sparkle brightly as Bucky talks more and more. Your laugh is sweet and music to his ears.

“Hi Bucky, I’m Elizabeth but people who can make me laugh this much can call me Lizzy or Bunny.” You lean forward a little and Bucky laughs.

“Bunny? There’s got to be a story behind that.” He presses lightly. You nod and hide your face for a moment as you blush and giggle.

“There is, but all I can say now is, it was college and I was very drunk, and someone dared me to use a pogo stick… and it turns out I was VERY good at it.” You laugh and Bucky is amazed as he laughs.

“Well so am I so maybe we will have to have a competition to see who is better.” He winks and you laugh.

“Tell me when and where! I’ll just need a few shots first then my balance will be perfect!” You lightly joke as you both laugh. It gets quiet for a minute and Bucky is just taking you in. “So,” Bucky’s eyes go wide as he remembers the whole reason for the zoom.

“Yes, right! Well how about we start by you telling me what you would like.” Bucky says as he grabs his notebook, looking down and starting to write, maybe if he focuses on writing he won’t embarrass himself even more. But then you start to speak and Bucky can’t help but look up and meet your gaze, your voice so sweet and soft. Your eyes kind and warm, ‘how could the username ‘talkdirtytome’ belong to the picture of purity and kindness.’ He smiles at the thought and tries his hardest to listen as you talk.

“I’m not picky at all, so maybe a vase?” You suggest. “Yeah, I’d like to have a gift that means something to me.” You finish explaining. Bucky just stares and then realizes you are done, he quickly looks down and starts to scribble some notes. He is so handsome, you think. The way his brow furrows as he’s concentrating and how the subtle but noticeable blush spreads across his cheeks. His shoulders are firm and you can tell he is solid. His voice, deep and warm, catches you off guard and you hope he didn’t catch you looking starry eyed at him.

“A Vase? That I can do!” Bucky says happily. He didn’t miss how your voice turned ever sweeter when you said ‘a gift that means something.’ He tells himself not to bet too excited. “Colors? Designs?” He wonders what all is hiding in your mind and if you will share it with him now for this vase. If he can get a picture of who you are.

“I love wildflowers, if I’m being honest. But not bright and bold. More subtle and muted. Almost watercolor like.” You laugh to yourself and you see Bucky’s eyes light up at the sound. “Sorry I know that probably sounds weird.”

She’s perfect, Bucky thinks. “Watercolored wild flowers? Yeah, I can make that happen.” He doesn’t want this to end but he has all he needs. How to make this go longer?! “So- I’m local to Brooklyn- and you by no means have to tell me where you’re from or anything- unless you want to!” He cringes at his awkwardness and your giggles let him know it’s alright.

“I am too, well close enough.” You explain. “So maybe we could meet up?” You see Bucky’s eyes light up and then you shoot yourself in the foot. “When it’s time for me to pick up the vase.” His eyes look a little sadder but his smile doesn’t fade.

“Yeah, I’ll send you a message on TikTok when it’s ready and we can find a place to meet.” Bucky says as he sits back in his chair. “I’m excited to get started on it, it looks like a fun one.” He continues as he looks down at his notes.

“I know it will be wonderful, all your work is.” You compliment, wanting to make up for your error that cause the light to dull in those incredible blue eyes. “I do have a question,” He leans forward again.

“Shoot.” Plan and simple.

“Well, what’s up with your two different accounts and the one username? Because at first I thought it was a porn page.” You explain, hopping to get a laugh. And you did. Bucky laughs, his hand over his pec and head thrown back with abandon.

“Oh no! Were you disappointed?” He teases and you laugh.

“Well maybe I was!” You tease back, not quite sure where the courage came from.

“Well as you know now, I go by Bucky. So I just used the ‘Clay mates’ and my name which does sound a lot like-“

“Yeah! So why?” You press again, smiling even bigger.

“It was a dare from a friend and it kinda stuck. I get tons of people asking so it also generates conversations around my business and what not. So it works! Is it crass? Kinda. Do I care? No.” He laughs again and messes with his hair a little. “So you know I make pottery but what do you do, Bunny?” He smirks and your face is aflame at the use of your nickname.

“I’m a writer, I write romance novels.” Suddenly feels quite bashful about your job. Bucky nods and rubs his chin as he watches you.

“So? Is this a meet cute worthy of one of your books?” Bucky asks. You look behind the computer at your wall where you storyboards are. A gentle smile washes over you as you look back at an expectant Bucky.

“Yeah, I’d say it is.” You admit. An alarm goes off on Bucky’s side of the screen and he curses under his breath.

“Sorry, Bunny. I’ve got to go. If I’m being honest I really wish I didn’t. I’d love to stay here all night getting to know you, I promised a friend I’d go out tonight and I never break a promise. So with that knowledge handed to you on a silver platter,” you laugh and he smiles brightly again. “I promise I will make you a gift that means something.” Your breath catches and you nod slightly.

“Thank you, Bucky.” You say before you both wave goodbye like dorks.

**********************************************

Your chance, gone. Like a lot of chances in your life. Watching them go by because you don’t have the courage to ask for what you want. Natasha walks into your room and pulls you up from the bed. “Come on, we are late.” You finally agreed to go out with just her when you started to come down from the high of getting to talk to Bucky. “I promise, you will have fun. In fact this will be the best night of your life.” She hugs you and leads you to the door. As it opens you come face to face with Natasha’s ‘tiktok boyfriend’

“Hiya Stevie,” Natasha coos as she leans in and gives him a sweet kiss. Steve meets your gaze when he pulls back and offers his hand.

“Hey! I’m Steve Rogers,” he motions beside him, urging someone to move in closer. “And this is my friend Bucky Barnes.” You meet those blue eyes and melt, Bucky’s painfully awkward smile turns genuine when he sees you. He almost shoves Steve out of the way to get closer to you.

“Oh my god- Bunny?!” Bucky exclaims. “So your friend who made your TikTok account is the same one my friend has been dating for the past two months,” he smiles and laughs. “What a small world! God, I’m glad to see you.” You blush at the nickname, Natasha bumping your arm and Steve giving you both a questioning look when he hears the name.

You are just as shocked as Bucky and honestly can’t find the words.

“I’m stunned,” you laugh and look at Natasha. “Did you know?!” You ask her and she smirks as she pulls Steve into her arms.

“I would know my man’s voice and hands anywhere, so when I saw and heard him on one of Bucky’s videos I quickly texted Stevie and we worked our magic.” She winks. “I mean out of 500 entries for the pottery and you won! How lucky was that.” She winks again and you gasp.

“Did you two rig the drawling?!?” You exclaim and Bucky shoots a glance to Steve who is blushing bright red.

“I may have added a few extra slips with your name.” He admits. Bucky turns and faces him as he crosses his arms.

“How many?” Bucky asks and Steve laughs and sheepishly admits,

“Like 200 extra slips. She had a very good chance at winning.” Steve looks at Natasha and then you and Bucky. You both laugh and Bucky turns back to you.

“Well I’m sure as hell not mad,” he reaches out for your hand. “Are you?” He questions and you shake your head no as you put your hand in his. “Good,” Bucky leans in closer and pulls you in, your lips almost brush when you hear your apartment door close and lock. Looking back you see that Natasha and Steve have slipped inside. “So I guess it’s just us tonight,” he laughs and you agree. “What would you like to do? Cause I have no idea what they had planned.” You think for a minute and then turn back to the door and knock. Bucky lets go of your hand and you quickly grab it back giving him a wink. A slightly irritated Natasha opens the door, lipstick gone and smeared all over Steve’s face.

“What?” She asks and you push past her headed to your room. Bucky stands in the hallway watching and praying you come back.

You emerge with your purse that’s pretty big and Natasha knows that’s your “just in case I spend the night.” Purse. You wave goodbye as you grab your keys and close the door behind you. Turning to Bucky and pulling him in, you kiss his cheek and wrap your arms around one of his.

“Where to?” You ask.

**********************************************

Steve drove them there so you offer to drive wherever.

“Would it be too forward to invite you back to my place? I’d really like to show you my studio.” He asks so sweetly, you can tell he is nervous. You tease him a little

“Is that your line for all the girl?” Bucky laughs and shakes his head.

“Nope, I never bring girls back to my studio. But if love to have you there.” The double meaning is not Lost on you or Bucky. The blush giving you away, Bucky laughs and pulls you closer before kissing your forehead and taking your keys. “You okay if I drive us?”

“Sure, just promise not to murder me.” You joke as you climb in your car. Bucky sits and gets it started before he looks at you and shrugs.

“No promises, my art has been described as deadly good.” He winks and you laugh at his horrible joke. Soon you are pulling up to a little house with a detached garage.

“You know, it really does look like you’re about to kill me.” You tease but also look around and check the area.

“I know, it’s not the best house but it works and it’s clean. A good neighborhood and lots of space so Steve and I really try hard for our personalities to outshine the murder aesthetic our house gives off.” He takes your hand and walks you to the garage as you laugh. The garage lights up and on every wall is a shelf full of pottery projects. Some half done, some completely done.

“Wow! Bucky, these are amazing!” You exclaim as you look at the intricate detail on each piece. You turn to meet his gaze and he is leaning against his work table just watching you. Moving through the room with Grace and admiring his work, it’s really doing something to him. He hopes you feel the same way.

“So? How did you get into pottery?” You ask as you run your finger along one of the freshly finished pieces.

“I was in the army, when I got out I needed a hobby that I could turn my mind off and just work. Pottery gave me a place for that and it also gave me a place to rediscover my creativity.” Bucky explains. You turn and look at him, gentle as in your eyes.

“That’s why you said that comment about wounded warriors. You wanna support your fellow vets.” You hope your assumption is correct. Bucky nods and smiles, staying firmly where he is.

“Yeah, I nearly lost my arm before I got out. Others aren’t so lucky. So any way I can give back, I try to.” He picks up a piece of clay and start to mold it while talking, mindless work that helps settle his nerves and al the feelings he is having about you.

“That’s amazing.” You say simply, not wanting to push more.

“How did you get into Romance writing?” Bucky asks, a teasing smile across his face. You laugh and continue to walk around the room, looking at the pieces.

“Well, I’m a hopeless romantic,” you look up and meet his gaze. “So I guess I just write about the things I hope would happen to me.” You shrug, your explanation seems simple enough. Bucky is mesmerized by you, how such a beautiful and sweet woman would be single blows his mind. And so sincere too, none of that fake humility he sees in the women he meets who are as beautiful as you, with you, it’s all real and sweet. It’s refreshing.

“How long have you and Steve Been friends?” You ask, wanting to change the topic from yourself.

“Since childhood, he was always getting his ass beat behind the school and I was always there to step in and finish the fight he started.” You laugh and so does Bucky.

“So Steve was a bully?” You ask.

“No!” Bucky laughs. “Just a little punk who wanted to ‘stick up for the little guy’ but he was the little guy, so.” Bucky lightly laughs and you nod. “How about you and Natasha?”

“Since high school. Her family moved here and she was all ‘cool and steely’ that none of the other kids wanted to talk to her,” you laugh at the thought. “I made it my mission to become friends with her. By senior year we were going to go to the same college and we’re going to room together.”

“She seems like a pretty great friend.” Bucky comments, “And Steve adores her but I’m sure she already knows that cause Steve wears his heart on his sleeve.” Bucky teases and you laugh. For a moment it’s quiet, Bucky just watches you and you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach and a heat settle even lower. This man is so sweet and kind, not to mention incredibly hot. He is absolutely making you regret not wearing your sexy underwear tonight. You see some clay and the wheel sitting in the middle of the floor. You walk over and run a finger over the clay. Looking up and see Bucky’s eyes raking over your body, you feel invigorated. As sexily as you can, you sit on the stool and toss a look over at him.

“Teach me, please?” You demand and then ask. You see the moment Bucky melts and is all in. He smirks and walks over, pulling up a chair behind you and straddling your body. He places his hands on your and shows you where to plant your feet. He leans forward and whispers against your ear.

“This is a little too ‘Ghost’ for me.” He teases and you giggle as you turn and look at him. His eyes drop to your lips and then back to your eyes. Clay forgotten, you spin in his arms and crash your lips to his. His hands roam over your back, pulling you closer. You moan against his lips, desperate for more, but he pulls away. Breathless and blushing he asks. “I hope this isn’t too forward, would you like to stay the night?” You smirk and move back, away from his arms to grab your bag. Reaching your hand out for him to take again.

“Lead the way.” You coo. Bucky has you in his arms and pressed against his chest so quickly. His lips capture yours again and you giggle against them. Bucky lifts you into his arms and expertly makes his way into the house, never leaving your lips longer than a Quick Look at the doors to make sure they are locked.

Stumbling down the hallway, backs pressed against the walls as you both fight for dominance. Giggles and moans filling the air as you grope each others bodies, seeking flesh rather than clothing. When your back finally presses against Bucky’s door, he pulls back and takes your face in his hands. “This isn’t too fast, is it? You feel this too, right? This connection- this pull.” You bite your lip and nod as you place your hands firmly against his chest, the muscles beneath your fingers, firm and hard, drool worthy.

“Yeah, I feel it too.” You admit before kissing him again and moaning against his mouth. Bucky opens the door and kicks it closed with his boot. He walks you backwards to the bed and in utter abandon you allow yourself to fall, fall back, fall in, fall deep. Pulling back slightly, Bucky caresses your cheek and meets your gaze, your heartbeat quickens as he gently smiles and an exciting peace washes over you. You’ve never felt this safe, this fast. Slowing the pace, Bucky takes his time with you. Kissing down your neck and nipping lightly at your collarbone before his fingers dance at the hem of your shirt. Your hands slips under his shirt and your fingers draw line over his back as he moves above you. First to go his his shirt, tossed behind him and across the room. He sees your eyes trailing down his body and he gives you a moment to take it in. His chest is sculpted yet still soft under your touch, the tasteful amount of chest hair along his pec and sternum tickle your fingers as you memorize his body with your finger tips, and the trail of dark brown hair leading down from his bellybutton and disappearing below his waistband sends your mind into over drive. You lean up and kiss along his chest as he moans at the feeling of your tongue grazing along his nipples. He grabs the hem of your shirt and lifts it up and over your head, tossing it with his. Leaning down and kissing the tops of your breast, he is in heaven. The straps slip down and before you know it you are uncoupling the back and tossing it off, needing as little clothing between the two of you as possible. Bucky reaches for his pants and has them shoved down and off as you remove yours. Standing above you in only black boxer briefs you see the outline of his cock, hard and aching against his boxers. Your mouth waters and yet you are slightly afraid because you can tell he is big. Bigger than any man you’ve been with. Bucky settles on the bed between your legs and slips his hands in the waistband of your panties, waiting for permission, you nod and he has them down you leg and scattered with the rest of the clothes. You sit up and kneel in front of where he kneels on the bed, pulling you closer by the small of your back, Bucky kisses you. You wrap your hands around his waist and slip one hand down his boxers, squeezing his ass before waiting for permission to pull them down. He nods, not wanting to release your lips. When nothing is left between your bodies you lay back in Bucky’s arms and he settles between your legs. Rolling his hips against yours and giving you both friction where you desperately need it. Your moan echos off the walls and he smiles, knowing he is the cause. Bucky kisses down your body and ends up laying between you legs as he licks and sucks on your clit, gently teasing your pussy with a fingertip before pushing all the way in and devoting himself to making you cum on his face. You hands play with his hair as his other hand palms your breast. It’s so fast and so good, you can’t help but moan his name as you cum, squirting on his tongue. “Bucky!! Oh-fffffuuuuc- yes!!” He smirks up at you which makes you cum again. He moans and hums against you as he brings you down. He kisses up your body and settles between you legs.

“I can grab a condom if you want.” Bucky says as he is already reaching into his bedside table to grab one.

“I’m on the pill and I’m clean, I haven’t been with anyone in about a year.” You explain. Bucky nods and takes a shuddering breath before he kisses you again.

“I’m clean too, and it’s been even longer for me.” He gives a weak little smile and you caress the side of his face before you gently kiss his lips.

“Never would have guessed with what that mouth just did to me.” You tease, trying to lighten the mood while letting him know he’s still got it. Bucky laughs and kisses you again as he lines himself up with you. Slowly pushing in and watching your face for pain as he bottoms out. “Mmhm ffffuc- yyyeeesss!” you moan at the stretch. Bucky kisses you again and slowly starts to move his hips, in and out, making sure to hit that spot inside of you over and over again. At first he is laying on top of you, your bodies moving together and against each other, it was sweet and sensual. Then Bucky sits up a little and you take that moment to flip him over, pinning him to the bed with a giant smile on his face. You ride him as you brace your hands against his pecs. His moans growing louder and louder as you get him close to the edge. You sit up and play with your breast and you snap your hips back and forth, ready to bring him over. But apparently that wasn’t what he wanted, because suddenly you are on your back and your legs are over his shoulders as he drills into you while one hand plays with your clit. You gasp and moan as you writhe beneath him. “Oh! BUCKY?!?! Yesyesyes!!!”

“That’s it, Bunny. Come on, I’m not cumming till you have cum on my cock. Come on, baby girl.” That did it, his dirty talk and care. You melted beneath him as you cum, squirting again and feeling better than you’ve felt tin years. “That’s it Good girl,” Bucky coos as he chases his high. Pleasure washes over his face as he buries himself inside you, cumming hard and deep. “Mmhmm squeezing my cock so well,” he is in utter bliss and he lets your legs go and just lays down next to you, his softening cock still inside. He kisses your forehead and hums. “Good girl.” You beam up at him, the praise doing something new to you that it’s never done before. He kisses you before he pulls the covers up and over you body, still entangled and coming down from heaven.

“Mmhmm that was definitely the makings of a meet cute.” You admit and Bucky laughs as he kisses you again.

“Come on, let’s go ‘meet cute’ in the shower, huh?!” He pulls you up and into his arms you nod and he carry’s you away.

**********************************************

You stand at the door to you car, the sun rising beautifully and creating a glow around you two. “I wish you could stay longer but I understand why you have to go.” Bucky says as he kisses you again.

“My book won’t write itself and if I stay here I will end up participating in smut and not writing it, which is the chapter I am currently working on so.” You explain as Bucky lightly laughs before he smirks and kisses you.

“Well, feel free to use last night in bed as inspiration. Or the shower last night, or the midnight hand play we had, or ever the slow morning sex we just finished.” He beams as he retells the all the adventures you got up to last night. You blush and burry your head in his chest as he hugs you and laughs.

“I will call you tonight and see about dinner, okay?” He nods and you kiss him again. As you are about to get in your car, Steve’s car pulls in. He honks loudly and gets out cheering and clapping. Completely embarrassing Bucky and you, but you know it’s in good fun.

“Were you two safe?” He asks, adding more fuel to the embarrassment fire.

“Nope, not at all!” Bucky shoots back and you decide to tease too.

“Yeah, totally pregnant over here. It worked that fast! Get ready to move into the garage, Stevie, the baby is gonna need your room.” Bucky laughs and pulls you closer. He kisses you again and then sends you on your way. Bucky turns to Steve and you see them “fighting” as you drive away.

**********************************************

When you get home Natasha is dead to the world and you decide to leave her that way. You see a notification on your phone, it’s Bucky’s TikTok. Opening the app to see a new video.

“Hey guys! Sorry about no live last night.” He blushes, “I uh I met a really amazing Women and my night ended up going a little too well. And it may continue that way, so there may be a change in the live schedule as well as the posting schedule. She’s a writer and our ‘meet cute’ inspired quite a lot in her and I need to be available for any further inspiration.” He winks and then laughs. “But seriously, I’m still around, just maybe not every night anymore. Love you all!” And with that the video ends. You smirk and quickly send Bucky a text.

Message

Hey James, your new Women friend needs some inspiration 😏😉

Within seconds your phone is ringing, as you answer his voice is soothing and so low it’s almost like a purr. “Well, what did you have in mind, Bunny?”

Taglist: @georgiapeach30513 @theinheriteddutchess @rainydayandmondays @cadencejames87 @hisredheadedgoddess28 @jessieasher1616 @janineb86 @cjand10 @welp-heregoessomething

[rhys-writes-some-shit]

"Sing to Me?"

Alastor x Reader (QP)

Yawning, you trudged out of the bathroom, drying your hair loosely with a towel. You were warm from your shower and the filling meal you'd had a little while earlier. Alastor was probably the best chef you knew, a fact you were extremely proud of. Even if your preferred form of protein was banned from the hotel premises, Alastor was always able to make do with what he had.

Despite it being late at night, you grabbed your laptop (a very rare, not VoxTech one) to work on some paperwork. You'd promised your boss to get these spreadsheets done, and you weren't one to shirk on your promises. Yawning again, you tuned your old-fashioned radio before settling down with your laptop. The radio had been a gift from Alastor. Many late nights had been spent listening to his broadcasts. They'd always been a comfort, even before you'd signed a contract with him.

Some light jazz filtered through the static, one of your favorite songs. Alastor knew you were listening. Smiling lightly, you started typing away.

The music was occasionally interrupted by a bloodcurdling scream or a sharp whimper. Your smile never left, humming along while Alastor had his fun. Part of you was vaguely aware that the radio show was now being broadcast all throughout Hell, that you didn't even need the radio, but you liked it, so it stayed on.

The spreadsheets were simple enough. With the radio in the background, you were able to focus just enough that the job came naturally. In the back of your mind, you started going over the next day’s schedule.

You'd ended up zoning out while you typed, not even noticing how the radio switched to static and then turned off by itself.

A single knock preceded Alastor's entrance, enough to break you from your thoughts. You were quick to notice the faint blood splatter on the sole of Alastor’s shoes, the only evidence of his previous activities.

“My dear, you know how I abhor those vile machines,” Alastor reprimanded, walking and starting to subconsciously organize your room. A chair was pushed in, a painting adjusted so it was even, the bottom drawer of your dresser lightly closed.

“Yeah, yeah.” You grinned to yourself. “I need it to do my job, Al. Besides, do you have any idea how hard it is to find a piece of electronic equipment that's not created by VoxTech?”

“All the more reason to get rid of it.” Alastor walked over to the window and stared out at it. He was a little lost in thought himself, it would seem.

Typing a line, you said, “I liked your broadcast.”

“I'm glad.”

He was quiet. Something was wrong. Your grin died down, pushing your laptop to the side. Alastor’s smile was still there, but dimmer. Sadder.

“Al? You okay?”

“Nothing to concern yourself with, dearest,” Alastor replied, a slight edge in his voice.

You wanted to push. To get him to talk to you. But you knew it wouldn't be worth it. If anything, he'd just get upset or shut down more.

“You know, sometimes I wonder what would've happened if we'd met while we were alive,” You said nonchalantly. “I mean, obviously that would've been impossible in the first place, considering I wasn't even born when you died, but I just wonder about it.”

“What a ridiculous thing to wonder about!” Alastor laughed a little. “As you said, it would have been impossible. And why think about being alive when we have all of death to enjoy?” His tone lightened a bit. “There is so much entertainment to be had! Life was quite dull, comparably.”

You wondered for a moment, trying to figure out where to lead the conversation. “Where did you live, when you were alive? You already know where I lived when I was alive, it's only fair I know where you lived.”

Alastor’s grin softened a bit, still sad, but with a hint of happiness in there. Nostalgia, if you had to guess. “New Orleans, Louisiana. I lived there with my mother. I had a delightful job as a radio host.”

“You're still a radio host,” you teased playfully. “What was it like, back then?”

“Ah, it was… entertaining.” He didn't say anything more, lost in thought as he leaned on his cane. You were vaguely aware that you were the only person who ever saw him like this. Alastor wore his smile like armor, guarding himself with a nonchalant facade, but very rarely, behind closed doors, the guard would fall, just for a little while.

Just as you were about to open your mouth to ask another question, Alastor spoke, “You seem quite tired, my dear. Maybe it is time we part ways for the evening.”

Pressing your lips together, you knew he was right. You really should be getting to bed, but you were worried about Alastor. You hadn't seen him like this before, so it was impossible to guess what he'd do once he was alone.

“You really should learn to hide your emotions better.” Alastor turned suddenly, chucking to himself. “There is nothing to worry about, darling. I am perfectly fine.”

“Yeah, you say that, but for some reason I don't believe you.” Stifling a yawn, you gave Alastor a look.

“Now, now, don't be like that.” Alastor came and sat on the edge of the bed, using his magic to set the laptop on top of the dresser. “What can I do to convince you to sleep?”

Leaning back, you thought for a moment. When the idea hit you, your face flushed with embarrassment for a moment, but you swallowed the anxiety. He did ask, after all.

“Sing to me?”

Alastor laughed, causing you to glare. “Again with the ridiculous ideas!” When your face fell subconsciously, Alastor hesitated.

When he didn't say anything, you accepted the fact that it was a ridiculous request. Assuming he'd leave the room on his own accord, you used your magic to turn out the lights as you slid under the covers of your bed. You never did get all those spreadsheets done like you'd wanted.

“Parlez-moi d’amour.”

Alastor’s slightly-static-filled voice was quiet. His eyes faintly glowed in the dark and you watched him with wide eyes.

“Redites-moi des choses tendres.”

Smiling softly, you sank into the bed, closing your eyes and allowing Alastor’s comforting voice to wash over you.

“Votre beau discours /

“Mon cœur n'est pas las de l'entendre /

“Pourvu que toujours /

“Vous répétiez ces mots suprêmes /

“Je vous aime.”

((The song))

[star-girl69]

Because Of You

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader

—-

synopsis: years after your rite of passage, the boy who’s heart you broke just won’t leave you alone. clarisse, your girlfriend, quickly decides she’s not a fan.

a/n: should i stop procrastinating and then forcing myself to write shitty fics quickly? probably. but not today!! this is kinda just like an au of dont delete the kisses but… you guessed it… IDC!!!!!!!! from this ask

thank you all so much for patiently waiting i love y’all soooooo muuccchhhhhh 🫶🫶💋 as i mentioned on my acc i have the next week off from school, pls expect more content then!!

Because Of You - Lana Del Rey (Unreleased)

warnings: NOT PROOFREAD, this sucks so bad y’all sorry lolllll, y/n is a year round camper!, starts out very background heavy but i really don’t care 😭, creepy men UGH, ugly bitches not being able to let shit go, im gonna say sexual harassment just incase, swearing, usual demigod stuff y’all know what you’re getting into, jealous!clarisse YESSS, possessive!clarisse ik i screamed!!, protective!clarisse too, slightly graphic makeout scene, i think that’s all, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

When you were young, you were thrilled by the thought of love.

The idea of belonging not only with someone- bodies fitting together like puzzles pieces- but belonging to someone- wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

Later, your half-siblings would describe mostly similar experiences to yours- an overwhelming desire to be loved, wanted, needed. Ever since you ran into camp with a monster hot on your heels and satyr shouting encouragement next to you- everyone’s stared at you. They poke and prod, they act like they’ve never seen a daughter of Aphrodite before.

It’s annoying, but it makes you feel good- but not quite.

Until Alek came along.

You were both 13, you still believed in soulmates, and you wanted nothing more than to be with each other for the rest of your lives.

You were 13, and he felt like the only one for you.

And when you had to break up with him to fulfill your rite of passage- it felt like the world was ending. You cried for days and begged your sister Phoebe to say it wasn’t a true, it was just a mean, mean prank.

But she couldn’t tell you that, and there were more types of love that romantic.

While you longed to hold someone, to be held- you also craved your mother’s approval like you were starving. You wanted her love, you wanted her to visit you in your dreams, you wanted gifts from her, you wanted everything and anything she could give you.

So, it hurt like you had never known hurt before, but you did it. Alek seemed entirely indifferent to it, almost ignoring you and pretending you hadn’t said it- but you felt a warmness around you, a dove flew between trees, you knew your mother was there and she approved.

Breaking up with Alek felt like the sun had exploded on top of you.

Being with Clarisse felt like the sun was wrapped around you.

—-

After Alek’s initial denial, he went through all the other stages of grief, mourned your relationship like you did, and you came out on the other side with a one-sided agreement to forget it ever happened.

Alek got stuck. Or went back. He started to believe that you were still meant to be, that much you could tell.

Until that day at the training fields when your hand slipped at archery and you almost shot Clarisse in the head- and she had glared at you so harshly while you ran over and examined her head, gushing out apologies and fretting over her.

She pushed you away, hand lingering for a second, eyes softening before she quickly looked away.

“Just… be more careful,” she had said, almost like a question, like she wasn’t sure the words were coming out of her mouth.

And, Gods, were you terrified it was all some secret plan. Make you think it was alright only to corner you in the woods and probably kill you, or something.

And when she asked the next day to teach you how to shoot a bow, you agreed with tears in your eyes, knowing of her reputation, and it took a lot of trust and a lot of swapped secrets for her to prove to you it wasn’t all some elaborate plan.

But even if her plan was to kill you the entire time, you fell in love over her fixing your stance, hands brushing as you accidentally grabbed the same arrow, stolen looks across the pavilion.

It wasn’t until a random kid bumped into you, making you fall and twist your ankle. Clarisse had this look in her eyes that was so genuine, so full of love and care for you, softly caressing your leg after she had punched the other kid in the face.

And you realize as she said you were doing great, limping while she helped you to the infirmary, that this was something.

And as much as you hated the violence being committed over you, it was the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, and the warmth in your chest was all you had ever wanted. This was what it was like to belong with someone, to someone, with her, to her.

This was what it was like to be admired. Loved. Wanted. Needed.

And when she softly told you goodbye, you had kissed the corner of her lips and thanked her- turning to walk into your cabin, ankle already feeling better thanks to the ambrosia.

She grabbed you by the wrist and turned you around, pulling you against her tightly and kissing you so harshly like she had just found the secret to the world in her lips on yours, her hands on your hips.

And when she finally pulled away, embarrassing strings of spit connecting your lips, she said she was sorry. Probably the first time she had ever said that to someone, and you smiled.

“Sorry. It’s just… once your lips were on mine, I don’t think I can ever stop. I don’t wanna stop.”

And she kissed you again and it was all you ever wanted out of this life- to love and be loved, to hold and to be held, and it was all because of her.

—-

The welcome back campfire is your favorite time of year.

It’s when the camp comes alive, when the Gods themselves seem to return to this place- even Mr. D is a bit more lively with all the pure infectious energy running through the first few days of camp. Everyone’s getting settled, classes haven’t started quite yet, and the year round campers get a much needed break.

As much as you and Clarisse wanted to keep things private, when she punches someone in the middle of the pavilion for accidentally bumping into you, it’s not hard to figure out Clarisse cares for you more than she does anyone else.

And after one of your younger siblings, Cara, a 12-year-old notorious for staying up late, saw you and Clarisse kissing that first night- it spread like wildfire.

But it was the winter, so it still felt secret, until summer rolled around and Clarisse kept getting more and more annoyed by every camper who entered the gates. She would grab at you in the middle of meals, drag you into her bed, even kiss you in public- do all these things that seemed so out of character for her, but she was a different person when she was with you.

Everyone had been looking at you oddly all night, shocked, confused, even Clarisse has cracked a genuine smile at someone who dropped their drink- squeezing your hand.

Maybe they had all heard the rumors. Maybe they didn’t believe them.

But it’s all cleared up when Clarisse leads you to the best seat, the log not too far from the fire but not too close, wrapping her arms around you and kissing your temple.

Your cheeks heat up, only because Clarisse is never this touchy in public, and never around this many people before.

All of the eyes on you feel weird- they feel so judging.

And you’re not used to that, however vain it may be.

“Everyone’s staring at us,” you mumble, shuffling closer to Clarisse so your legs are pressed together.

She leans her head against your shoulder. “‘S okay. Don’t worry about ‘em, baby.”

You huff. “Did no one ever teach them it’s rude to stare, though? Like… c’mon.”

She sighs dramatically, lifting her head from your shoulder.

“Stop fuckin’ staring,” she says. Not quiet shouting, but her voice is loud and forceful. Her voice carries weight.

And eventually, at the risk of Clarisse’s wrath, all the wandering eyes stop.

A few of Clarisse’s siblings laugh from around you, commenting that the stares were getting a bit ridiculous, everyone just grateful that you all might get a little reprieve from the overwhelming stares and whispers.

But, you still feel uneasy. Clarisse kisses your shoulder.

And while you look around at the faces very pointedly not staring at you, there’s one person who still is. You roll your eyes, open your mouth to comment on it- but your mouth quickly snaps close at the sight of Alek.

—-

You don’t mention it to Clarisse. Maybe because breaking his heart haunts you, maybe what could have been haunts you.

You try not to think of Alek or that night, you try not to think of the entire age of 13. You always knew that Alek never quite let you go. He still sort of believed that the two of you would come back together- subscribing to some abstract belief soulmates.

You don’t think about Alek. Everything you do is because of her, because of Clarisse.

Sometimes, knowing you have secret admirers makes you feel all happy, but now that Clarisse sneaks you into her cabin every night- it makes you feel weird. You really don’t want anyone except for Clarisse, the idea of even being near someone else kinda disgusts you.

But, you choose to believe that maybe he was just shocked, and he’ll get over it in a few days.

You spend your days in the summer sun with Clarisse, holding her hand on walks through the strawberry fields, still using your archery lessons to spend time together, staring at each other from across the pavilion at meals, dreaming about a future together when it gets dark and you’re forced to whisper softly.

Alek is just always lurking. Is it coincidence? Is he stalking you? Every time you’re with Clarisse, trying to enjoy a nice date, he’s there- staring at you like a lovesick puppy.

And if it wasn’t because of her, you would probably be flattered. But you have Clarisse, you’ve moved on, you’re in love and happy.

It’s the late afternoon, you’re trying to enjoy a long moment with her, breathe in the sweet smell and just feel how happy you are, know it’s because of her.

The fields are still crowded with kids who pushed off their chores until the end of the day, so you and Clarisse stay on the outskirts. Not too far into the woods that’s filled with satyrs and nymphs who have grown very hostile towards any two campers who make their way into the woods. But not too close.

You don’t even register that other people are there. You’re going on about your annoying half-brother, she’s pretending to listen intently- but it’s just enough to be here with her, and at least she’s listening to the sound of your voice. At least that brings her some comfort, and that makes you feel good.

“And then, he said-” you trail off, feeling like something’s crawling all over you, practically being able to feel the anger in the air.

“Hm, what?” Clarisse asks, snapping out of her reverie at your silence.

Alek is glaring at you, of course. It just feels so juvenile. You had received letters from him for years- ones that he didn’t sign- but you knew. He said that the two of you had so much more to give together, that a second chance was all he needed to make you forget about the rite of passage, about pleasing your mother.

Clarisse squeezes your hand, leaning closer to you.

You used to like the feeling of getting those letters, of knowing you were loved and wanted. But now, with Clarisse, because of her- it feels wrong.

She follows your eye line and Alek quickly looks away, back down at the strawberries he’s supposed to be picking.

Clarisse’s hand tightens around yours.

“Who the hell is that?” she huffs.

You suck in a breath. “Alek.”

“Al-huh?”

You smile, despite how uneasy you feel.

“Alek, Clarisse. From my rite of passage?”

“Oh,” she nods, nose scrunching ever so slightly. “The one who left you those creepy letters? Has he left anymore?”

“No, no,” you say, risking one more glance at his back- just to assure yourself. Maybe you’re just making it all up. “Not since last summer. I mean, he was staring at us the night of the bonfire too, he’s always around on all our dates- it’s just creepy, at this point.”

“Sounds like the fucker has a death wish,” she drawls. “I’d be happy to help him with it.”

You bump her shoulder with yours. “Yeah, yeah Miss Violence.”

She smiles back, but she searches her eyes and you can tell she doesn’t like what she sees.

“Hey, c’mon. I’ll kill him if he pulls some shit again.”

“Clarisse.”

“Beat him up?”

“Clarisse.”

“Physically threaten him?”

“Clar-”

She smacks her hand over your mouth. “Shhh,” she smiles. “Don’t stress. I’ll take care of it.”

“Clarisse!” you shout, laughing, but her hand is still pressed tight over your moth.

“Oh, sorry, baby, I can’t hear you!”

“Bitch,” you hiss, and she frowns.

“Mean.”

—-

Clarisse, unfortunately, is true to her word.

Alek finally leaves you a note. It’s simple, unsigned, but obviously him. You recognize his chicken scratch scrawl.

All it says is:

I miss you, we could be something

She writes him a note back, a long one- first talking about all of her accomplishments as a daughter of Ares, then detailing all the ways she’ll make him regret thinking about you.

She tells you now, whispers in her bed, she laughs and your mouth hangs open.

“Clarisse!” you gasp, scolding her with a soft hit to her shoulder.

She rolls her eyes and moves closer to you.

“What else was I supposed to do? Ignore it? You don’t know me if you think I could just ignore some random dude flirting with my girlfriend. He’s a fuckin’ weirdo, and hopefully that note will teach him somethin’.”

“I mean. I doubt it will,” you mumble after a moment.

She smiles, your heart squeezes- because her smile is so beautiful- and because Clarisse never smiles like this. It’s bloodthirsty. It’s almost inhuman. It’s Godly.

“Then I’ll have to teach him in… other terms.”

—-

Dinner this evening is slow and relaxed. It’s Friday, so you’ve all made it to the end of the first official week of camp. Chiron let’s the rules fade away tonight, cabin tables have been abandoned and everyone sits where they want.

A few Hermes kids volunteered to start a fire, Mr D is busy trying to get the new kids to sneak him some alcohol- but he’s hard pressed to find ones who haven’t already been warned not to.

The energy in the air is infectious. The promise of a late wake up tomorrow, a fun night, the feeling of the moon and the fire, warmth on your skin- it’s a recipe for lowered inhibitions, for everything to come a little easier.

Clarisse sits next to you a table in the pavilion. You’re surrounded by Silena and Beckendorf, a few Hermes kids, a few Ares kids- a big mosh of random campers squeezed together at this one table- but it works, for whatever reason.

There’s nothing like laughing at someone’s shitty joke and feeling Clarisse laugh with you, pressed close to her so you can feel her chest rumble, feel her arm squeeze around you.

“He did what?!” Silena screeches, looking at you with wide eyes.

You laugh at her shock, at the audacity of Alek.

She sneaks a quick glance at Clarisse, who seems entirely engrossed in her siblings’ arm wresting tournament at the next table over.

“Yeah,” you sigh, feeling sort of complacent with it now. It’s not like anything will change. You’re here because of her, because of Clarisse. Everything you do is because of her.

Breathing, eating, sleeping. Basic human functions and the need to survive has only strengthened with the motivation of staying alive for her.

“Anyways,” you smile. “Clarisse left him back this big, long note. All about how she’s the strongest girl at camp,” you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling too big to be anything but joking. Besides, everyone knows she’s probably right. “And then threatened him a whole bunch. So, hopefully, he’ll just get his head out of his ass and then everything will be good again.”

You breathe out at the end of your small rant, and Silena smiles sympathetically.

“Hopefully,” she echoes.

But, because of Clarisse, because of her arms around you, you don’t feel anything but peace.

—-

Of course, life is not straightforward for demigods.

At the end of the day, you’re doomed to fall in your parents footsteps- except there is no immortality for you to fall back on. You’re vain and you’re proud, just like your parents, and you step too far, jump too high, and you’re as left dust on the floor.

Even though the same path had been left out for you to repeat, doomed footsteps to follow in, you step where they stepped and expect a different end.

The night is pitch black, besides for the brilliant stars and the bright, bright moon. It makes everything feel so private and secret. It makes Clarisse relax, makes her hold you closer but looser.

It feels good to feel her arm loose around you. She’s not afraid of you disappearing, because she knows of someone dragged you away you would rise up from the waves and straight back into her, into her arms.

The Apollo kids are playing music, voices hum along, the night is on fire with the crackles and the rising smoke, on fire with the peace, the content.

It feels like nothing can hurt you here.

But you’re a demigod, and life is not that easy.

The seat next to you is abandoned, and you barely even take notice as it’s quickly filled again- but you take notice of the eyes on you, of the body leaning forward to speak softly to you.

The fact that he’s here, the fact that he blatantly didn’t listen- you suppose you could have felt some sympathy for before, craving a life that wasn’t his anymore. Living off of memories made him too hungry.

Your mouth presses into a thin line as you recognize the voice in your ear.

“Y/N, I jus’ wanna talk.”

The rest of the table has fallen silent, and you realize everyone had almost immediately taken notice of his entrance- and you could tell by the way Clarisse’s body was tense against yours- he would regret ever coming over here.

“Clarisse,” you mumble, shifting closer to her.

She hooks her head over her shoulder, shifting completely so she’s straddling the bench, pressed up against your back.

Her tone is genuinely confused.

“Are you, like, okay in the head?”

The table, previously silent with fear, now bubbles with forced laughter.

“It’s not of your business,” Alek says, staring directly into your eyes. You feel like a deer caught in headlights, just completely shocked, too scared to move like it will all become real.

Clarisse puts her hand on your forehead and floats it down across your face, and your eyes voluntarily flutter shut.

“You’re not even worthy of being looked at by her,” and you can hear the smile on her voice. She confidence seeping from her pores- you can feel it all with the way she’s protectively wrapped around you.

“Y/N,” he says again, ignoring her through gritted teeth. “I just want to talk.”

“If you say one more fuckin’ word to my girlfriend I’m gonna kill you.”

There’s no smile on her voice, no edge of a joke. Not even angry. She’s deathly calm. She’s focused, like a 20 pound weight sinking to the bottom of the sea. She cuts through whatever she has to and everything else knows to avoid her.

You don’t know why the hell Alek just can’t let the 13 year old version of you go, why he’s looking something where there’s nothing, and you’re just so done with all of this.

You open your eyes, sitting up, letting Clarisse’s arms fall around you in confusion.

“Alek,” you start, softly. “We dated for a month when we were 13. That’s all it was, that’s all it’s ever gonna be. It’s over, okay?”

“Exactly,” he breathes. “A month when we were 13- and we were that good together? We could do so much more now, I wanna show you.”

“Okay, I’m done,” you mumble, standing up.

And without you in between, Alek finally gets a good look at the daughter of war. She’s pure, streamlined muscle. Every inch of her body has been meticulously trained to kill monsters- Alek knows that killing him would be easy.

Clarisse cracks her knuckles and you almost laugh at how cinematic it is.

—-

You hum as you run the alcohol pad over her split knuckles. Clarisse likes to leave the scars like this, the small ones, let them heal on her own. Even though she winces at the feeling, you know she’ll be walking around, proudly showing off her scabs until they finally fade away. She’ll cross her fingers and hope they scar, probably.

Clarisse watches you with admiration, admiring your movements, your voice, even though you’re really not doing anything special. But, to her, everything you do is special.

“Did you see how bad his face was?” she asks, trying to remain calm, but eagerness slips into her voice.

“I did,” you laugh. “It was real bad, baby. Good job.”

She huffs, as if it’s common knowledge.

“I always do a good job, just matters what level of good I’m on. I think this was one of my best works though, huh?”

She admires her split knuckles and you roll your eyes, finally starting to put some bandaids on the clean wounds.

“You’re crazy,” you mutter.

She shrugs. “You’re the one who let me. You’re the one who loves me.”

“Yeah,” you mumble after a moment, not really wanting to lie to her, tease her right now. She smiles soft and sweet, placing her fingertips against your jawline and leaning forward.

“Did you like watching me?” she breathes, her low voice hitting you right in the stomach, breath against your lips.

You circle her biceps with your hands and run them up and down the tense muscle.

“You know I did.”

“Three months no dessert,” she smiles.

“Three months of sharing with you,” you laugh. She smiles wider before finally, mercifully, putting her lips on yours.

Everything you do is because of Clarisse. It feels so good to be close to her like this- practically in her lap- fo feel how strong she is, to know what she did for you today.

It feels so good to know she loves you.

When you pull away, trying to chase her, she dodges you and kisses your jawline, your neck, and you throw your head back and release the most unladylike sounds as she leaves hickies on your neck, seemingly determined to make them as dark as possible, as easy to see. And a lot of them.

“Jealous?” you say, biting your lip to keep in a moan.

“Just want everyone to know you’re my girl. Want everyone to know who makes you feel good, feel loved, huh?”

You stomach twists and your mind goes blank.

“Huh?” she repeats, sticking her face in your neck to breathe in and out, catching her breath. “Why you feelin’ like this, baby?”

“Because of you,” you breathe. “Because of you, Clarisse.”

—-

y/n walking around the next day looking like she got attacked by a vampire

silena trying to be happy for y’all but also concerned for your health

clarisse just being proud as hell

—-

this was small so idk if y’all picked it up but clarisse was jealous before alek even came along- jealous that there were more campers coming! like? she just doesn’t like unworthy losers looking at her girl 🙄

—-

possessive!clarisse i love you so much baby

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish @rebecca37 @saltair-and-palemoonlight @ace-spades-1

[microwavesaferat]

What videogames the Batfam play, I will take absolutely zero criticism.

Bruce

- Mortal Combat

- Explicitly the old arcade cabinet version.

- He sometimes copies moves from the games.

- Claims it's good for improving instincts.

Dick

- Tony Hawk's Pro Skater

- Played all of the Pro Skater games as they came out.

- The sort of person to try and launch themselves halfway across the map.

- Tried to get Tim to show him how to skate, didn't go well (he broke his nose trying to do a trick).

- Despite being an accomplished acrobat, it hasn't transferred well to doing skateboard tricks.

Jason

- The sort of guy to play Doom Eternal and Animal Crossing religiously.

- He will be sitting on the sofa, with unbridled rage on his face while he stares at a switch. Everyone thinks he's struggling with a stage in Doom (it was Animal Crossing, Tom Nook can go fuck himself).

- Has dipped from patrol before cause he realises it was a Sunday and had to sell his turnips before midnight (he will not change the time, that's cheating).

Tim

- Portal 1 and 2

- The puzzles aren't exactly difficult for him, especially after he's completed the game so many times, so now he speedruns the game, seeing what he can exploit.

- Constantly switching between no. 1 and 2 on the leaderboards (the other person he's switching with is actually the Riddler, he was allowed 1 video game in Arkham).

- Managed to rig up controls so he can play multiplayer by himself.

Damian

- Has no such time for childish wastes of time!

- How dare you assume he would sully his mind with such trivial acts!

- I mean really, he spends his time pursuing actually meaningful stimulation such as reading or research.

- It's Pokémon.

- He wanted to play Doom after seeing Jason play it, but he's like 12.

- He has played every single Pokémon game and knows all the meta.

- He has qualms with the idea of animal fighting, but Dick told him that Pokémon like to fight, like how dogs and cats will play fight.

Barbara

- Any of those CCTV horror games.

- Since her work as Oracle, these games are a piece of cake, so she plays them while doing other stuff, just in the background.

- She has completed Fnaf UCN 50/20 mode multiple times now, sometimes while monitoring the Bats in patrol.

Stephanie

- Sims

- She has made all the family and the rogues in the Sims.

- She has made Bruce and Clark 'woohoo' multiple times.

- When someone pisses her off, she will torture them in the Sims and send footage to the group chat.

- Tim has been locked in a 1x1 room for 3 weeks now (he still doesn't know what he did) (he didn't bring her anything from Batburger when he went).

Cassandra

- Story-based games like What Remains of Edith Finch and Life is Strange.

- Any competitive game is out of the questions as it's too easy to read her component. She has beaten Bruce at MK soooo many times.

- Like these games cause she finds it half way between reading a book and watching a soap-opera at times.

- Doesn't need to "be the best" as there isn't a goal, so she can just relax and enjoy herself.

- Also likes playing DDR with Duke.

Duke

- Beatsaber

- In training for We Are Robin, he used several rhythm games to improve his reaction time as it's a good way to practice without actually getting into danger.

- Absolutely dominates at DDR with the Batfam, like him and Cass will be at an arcade and it'll be like one of those scenes from a movie where they switch sides, do tricks, and are so in sync, it's insane.

- Beatsaber is fun cause he will project it in front of him as well to physically hit the blocks. He needs VR when he can just make it exist.

- The others swear he uses his powers to cheat at it cause he's so much better than the rest of them (he does on occasion when one of them annoys him).

Alfred

- Master Bruce, I do not have time to play video games and have no such interest. These things are for the younger generation anyway.

- Bloodborne.

[ambiguous-avery]

Untamed Soul

Dean Winchester x fem!Reader/You x Sam Winchester | WC: 1270

Summary: You’re down bad for two guys who aren’t even yours. Then again... they’re not technically not yours either...

Tags/Warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI, female masturbation, no wincest, no use of Y/N, pining, PWP (Plot? What plot?), unsatisfying ending, no beta we die like men

A/N: Third piece to complete the trifecta. But clearly I can’t just leave it here. Sorry not sorry, but my brain has decided that there has to be more. Just know that I am a little gremlin behind the screen, rubbing my grubby little hands together because I'm excited about this. Read about Dean’s Sly Grins and Sam’s Careful Stares

Three Hearts, One Flame Masterlist

The job hadn’t taken nearly as long as you had expected, and for once, the only injury between the three of you was your chipped nail from the damn shovel you had passed Dean so they could dig up the grave. If the case had wrapped up any earlier, then you might’ve thought that you could’ve been enjoying your shower back at the bunker rather than the motel room with the discolored walls. But beggars couldn’t be choosers. And while you weren’t particularly covered in grime, a shower was probably going to be the closest thing you could get to having some time alone.

The problem with having the Winchester brothers as hunting partners was privacy. Specifically the distinct lack of it. 

So when the most recent hunt had wrapped up and the three of you weren’t beat up, bloodied, and skulking back to the motel room to lick your wounds, you had happily leapt at the idea of some much-needed ‘you’ time while the boys went out to the bar.

You sighed contentedly, tipping your head back into the spray and reveling in the warmth. The rhythmic sound of the water hitting the tiled floor was a steady background noise as the tension melted away from you. It was a rare luxury to have a moment of peace. A moment to indulge in your thoughts.

The other problem with having the Winchester brothers as hunting partners was your attraction. To both of them.

And being in such close quarters with them for prolonged periods of time was bound to have done some irreparable damage to the way you looked at any other guy ever in your lifetime. Not that you wanted to look at anyone else.

You had two handsome-as-hell men who were each willing to lay down their lives for you. And you’d do the same for either of them. That sort of commitment was hard to find anymore. Well... maybe that level of commitment was a bit too much. But the point still stood.

But they weren’t yours. Never had been. Maybe could be?

It didn’t help that you had a good idea of what they thought of you. The funny thing about boys was that they always thought they were so subtle. But you were a hunter. A damn good one, at that. And very little escaped your keen eye. You could see it in the sly grins Dean would flash you. In the way you’d catch Sam’s careful stares out of the corner of your eye when he thought you weren’t looking. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you were a little surprised that neither of them had made a move. 

Dean and you flirted plenty, made numerous allusions to actually hooking up but never gone through with it. And the kind of chemistry you shared with Sam was the kind that Hallmark movies could only hope to capture on screen. Really, any way you cut it, the three of you were a symphony, and any sort of change might throw off the harmony you had somehow managed to achieve. Things were better off staying how they were.

But no matter how many times you tried to push those thoughts aside, they always snuck back in, especially in the quiet hours.

You slid your hand down your stomach, fingers tentatively slipping between your legs and imagining that it was a hand far larger than your own. Rough and calloused. With fingers longer than yours. The air in the shower was warm, steam rising from the water turned as hot as you could get it. You could imagine an unsteady breath near your ear.

Imaginary lips pressed against the side of your neck, and your lips parted as you dragged your fingers over your center. It should’ve been alarming how easily thoughts of your hunting partners could consume you. But here in the privacy of the bathroom, it was all too easy to lose yourself in the fantasy. You let out a shaky breath as your fingers danced over your skin, each touch more electrifying than the last.

In your mind, Dean’s strong hands roamed over your body while Sam’s soft voice whispered sweet promises in your ear. Your back arched slightly and you bit your lip, a soft moan escaping you as your fingers ghosted over your clit. You leaned back against the shower wall and propped one leg up on the edge of the tub, heart rate quickening. You could almost feel Dean’s rough stubble against your skin as he kissed you, tasting of whiskey and leather. You imagined Sam’s lips trailing tender kisses down your neck before finding your breast and teasing your nipple between his teeth.

Through the haze of desire, you could hear Dean’s voice, deep and gravelly.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ve got you.” It was a promise. A promise you knew you could believe.

“That’s our girl. You can let go for us,” Sam’s voice wrapped you in a sense of safety and security.

You knew without a shadow of a doubt: you belonged with them.

You belonged with Dean, with his rough exterior and kind heart. You belonged with Sam, with his soft words and gentle touch. To Dean and Sam. Would you be too greedy to ask them to share? The universe would truly be cruel if it made you pick just one. 

You pressed two fingers into yourself. They were a poor substitute for what you really wanted, but they would have to suffice. Your breath hitched as you pressed them against that soft spot, eyes fluttering shut as you imagined two sets of eyes on you. Hazel and green. Their hands. Their mouths. Their cocks.

Holy shit.

You hadn’t even begun to imagine the way they’d feel inside you. The way they’d move in tandem. Never leaving you fully empty. The thought of them filling you completely. The thrill of it all made your head spin, and those thoughts wound the coil in you tighter and tighter. You could imagine their hands grasping your hips. Your thighs. Wherever they could find purchase to pull you closer. Their mouths devouring you as they took what they wanted from you.

So close... 

Sam’s large hands splaying across your back as he presses you down. His blunted nails scraping across your skin as he presses deeper and deeper with each slow thrust. 

“God, you’re so fucking pretty like this.”

Right there... 

Dean’s green eyes, bright and in awe as he sinks into you in one fluid motion. His lips on you, tasting your skin while you come apart in his hands, around his cock.

“Look at you. Taking us so well, sweetheart.”

Closer–

A heavy knock on the door jolted you from your thoughts, and you nearly slipped as hastily pulled your hand away, startled back into reality. The abruptness of the sound echoed in the small room, shattering the illusion you had weaved in the steam.

“Got a six pack with our names on it, sweetheart!” Dean’s voice rang through the door.

“Fuck!" Your heart pounded in your chest, breaths still heavy, eyes wide from shock. "Give a girl a heart attack, why don’t you?”

“Could give you more than that,” he responded with a mischievous chuckle, and you could clearly visualize the shit-eating grin he wore, even without seeing his face.

“I’ll give you a black eye,” you muttered under your breath, the words tinged with irritation as you dipped back under the water for a quick rinse. The cascade of water washed away the remnants of your interrupted tranquility. 

So much for your privacy.

---

Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!

Dean taglist: @aylacavebear @globetrotter28 @bettystonewell @supernotnatural2005 @maddie0101

Both: @jollyhunter @sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth @voodoochildthings @sir-thisisadndserver

Drop a comment, ask away, or add yourself to my taglist!

[azzo0]

Pickpocket

Summary: You often pickpocket people in hopes of finding a silver or two. You land a jackpot, but the person you've recently pickpocketed from happens to be Prince Bakugo.

Pairing: Bakugo x f!reader

Part 2; Part 3

Every now and then, Prince Bakugo liked going undercover in a cloak and a piece of cloth covering the lower half of his face. He enjoyed going to the marketplace without people cheering, bowing, scurrying away and staring at him. He felt more free this way.

He took his time passing by the stalls, Kirishima following not far behind to make sure the prince was safe. Although Bakugo preferred to spend his time in peace and quiet, sometimes he liked the chaos of the weekend market. Vendors shouting slogans of drop in prices, confectioners shoving sweets into his hands in hopes he'd buy some, old ladies fighting each other over who picked up the pumpkin first, kids running around and crashing into his legs. Bakugo loved watching it all unravel from the background instead of being the centre of attention. 

His favourite stall was the one selling artefacts and used items. If it was his lucky day, Bakugo would be able to buy a rare stone or an ancient dagger. Once he even found a dragon tooth from that stall. He stood by the stall, eyes skimming through the items the old man had available. Seemed like he didn't have anything eye-catching today. 

He was about to step away to leave when someone bumped into his chest. He looked down to see you tear your face away from his chest and step away to glare daggers at him. Bakugo took a moment to let your features in, his eyes darting up and down your figure once. He could tell you weren't exactly from the richest part of the city with your tunic that was losing its colour. It must've been a navy blue colour when it was brand new. He noticed the assortment of knives sitting on your waist. Maybe you were a hunter's daughter?

"Watch where you're going, you old man!" You hissed at him. Bakugo was taken aback. You were the one that bumped into him, and now you were telling him to watch where he was going and had the nerve to call him an old man? Hillarious.

"I ain't the one that bumped into you," he scoffed. "And we're the same age, sweetheart." 

"Well, too bad you look like a creepy old man covered up like that." You snorted. Bakugo's eyes lingered on your face, amused. Were you snarky like that all the time? Did you have any idea that you were talking to the prince? 

"You don't know who yer talkin' to, brat." Bakugo leaned by the stall, a devilish smile under his mask as he watched you roll your eyes skywards. 

"Oh, yeah? Don't go around pretending like you're some prince." You sneered. Bakugo couldn't help but snicker. If only you knew. He let you purposely bump into his shoulder as you walked past him, his head turning in your direction. Now, he was going to make sure to come here again next weekend so he could catch a glimpse of your bratty face.

"Ready to leave?" Kirishima asked, now standing beside him. 

"Yeah." 

On their way back to the castle, Bakugo found a boy sitting on the dirty roadside with a cup in front of him. Despite how fast the country was recovering from war, there were still people suffering from its aftermath. His hand reached into his pocket, searching for his coin bag. He frowned when he didn't feel it in either of his pockets. 

"What's wrong?" Kirishima asked.

"Lost my coin bag," Bakugo tried recalling where he might have lost it. He didn't make any purchases at the market, so he didn't take it out. There weren't any holes in his pockets either. Then he smirked, remembering you bumping into him. It was odd how he standing by the stall, and you still bumped into his chest. 

"That damn brat." He didn't need to visit the weekend market again because he'd be seeing you at the castle very soon when his guards brought you to him.

[sweetlyvibe]

REQUEST : Can I request Obito x PossesiveGirl? Someone that has literal heart eyes at him and lovergirl but is easily jealous and obsessive..Like it doesnt matter if you write it like headcanons or like a short drabble, whichever you like. — anonymous

There’s a fire in your chest every time you look at him.

Not the kind that burns out. Not the kind that flickers quietly in the background. It’s a wildfire—consuming everything in its path, especially the pieces of you that used to be rational. You used to think you were calm, maybe even chill. But then you met him. And suddenly the idea of someone else even looking at Obito felt like being set on fire from the inside.

And still… you smile. You smile so prettily whenever he talks, nodding like you’re the sweetest girl in the room. Heart eyes, literal. Glittering. The others say you look enchanted—like you’re permanently caught in some lovesick daydream. And they’re not wrong. You are.

He could cough and you’d gasp like he just confessed his undying love. He could brush past you and you’d hold your breath for ten minutes, trying to memorize the feeling of his sleeve against your arm. You are so in love with him, it’s ridiculous. Gross, even. And completely, hopelessly obvious.

But Obito doesn’t seem to mind.

In fact… he likes it.

The first time he noticed, he blinked at you with that confused, squinty frown like is she okay? But then your hand brushed his, and you practically melted, staring at him like he’d just performed a miracle. That’s when something in him shifted. Maybe it was the part of him that never got enough love. Maybe it was the part of him that still craved something unshakable—something obsessive. Whatever it was, he started leaning into it. He started teasing you.

“You’re looking at me again,” he’d mutter without looking up.

You wouldn’t even try to deny it. “You’re the only thing worth looking at.”

His ears would flush pink. His mouth would twitch. And you’d smile like the sun was trapped inside your chest.

But it’s not all sweet sighs and heart eyes.

Because you don’t share. Not even a little.

So when you see some other kunoichi giggling around him, laughing too loud, leaning too close—your heart doesn’t flutter. It clenches. Tight. Sharp. Ugly. You stare her down like you’re planning a murder in your head. You don’t say anything—yet. But Obito feels it. Feels your energy shift like a storm rolling in behind him.

He excuses himself mid-conversation, makes his way to you, and gives you that look. The one that says you’re doing it again.

“Jealous?” he asks, voice low, smug.

“I don’t get jealous,” you lie, head tilted sweetly. “I get territorial.”

His smirk grows a little crooked. “You’re insane.”

“You love it.”

He doesn’t deny it. Because truth be told, he does.

You’re not like anyone else. You don’t play it cool. You don’t pretend you don’t care. You make it very clear that he’s yours. That he belongs to you. And somehow, to a man like Obito—someone who’s lost everything and has always been overlooked—being wanted like this? It’s addictive.

He doesn’t need to guess how you feel. He doesn’t have to fight for your attention or read between the lines. You worship him. You stare at him like he’s the last man in the universe. Like if anyone touched him the wrong way, you’d rip them apart without blinking.

And the best part?

He believes you would.

So sometimes, just to see it, just to feel that crazy love swell in your chest, he lets someone get a little too close. Lets someone touch his arm or laugh too long at his joke. He always keeps you in his peripheral. Watches the shift in your expression. Watches how your body stills, how your fingers twitch like they’re reaching for a kunai.

“Relax,” he’ll murmur, grabbing your wrist and lacing your fingers together, like that’s enough to anchor you. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand. “Because I’d never let you.”

And he knows you’re not bluffing.

You’d kill for him. You’d die for him. But most of all…

You’d never let anyone love him the way you do.

Because no one could.

No one dares to love Obito Uchiha like you do.

And if they try?

They don’t last long.

BONUS HEADCANONS :

You don’t just love him. You study him. You know his favorite tea, the way he likes his eggs, which shoulder he favors when he’s injured, and the exact pace of his breathing when he’s lying. You notice when his hair is slightly flatter than usual (he forgot to towel it dry). You notice when he sighs too heavily (he’s overthinking again). Obito finds it eerie at first. Then comforting. Then… hot.

You don’t always confront other girls directly. Sometimes you just exist. You stand close to him with your fingers loosely curled around his sleeve. You look at the girl like you already know her secrets and you’re bored. She gets nervous. Obito sees it every time. He doesn’t say anything, but when your hand brushes his, he subtly links your pinky with his. Silent victory

You never go too far in public—but you definitely leave little marks. A scratch behind his ear. Lip gloss smudged just slightly on his jaw. His shirt smells like your perfume. The other shinobi know. And Obito lets them know it’s on purpose. He never hides it. If anything, he lowkey shows it off.

You leave him notes—cute, sweet, unhinged notes. Things like:

• “I hope your mission goes well. I’ll be dreaming of your hands around my waist. Come home soon or I might lose my mind.”

• “If anyone touches you, I’ll break their fingers. With love, of course.”

He keeps them folded in his coat like they’re lucky charms.

Alone, you’re attached. Wrapped around him like a vine, arms locked around his waist, head buried in his chest. If he tries to move, you make this tiny, sleepy whine that stops him dead in his tracks. “Stay.” Just one word, and he’s staying. Always.

Obito never thought he’d be into possessiveness—but your brand of it? Oh, he’s obsessed right back. The way your eyes darken when someone compliments him. The way your voice dips into something dangerous when someone gets too close. He eats it up. Sometimes he even teases you just to trigger it.

When you’re in your feelings, you drop wild truths out of nowhere:

“I could live without food but not without you.”

Obito stares at you like you’re insane. Then kisses your forehead.

At first, you’re the one always clinging, always watching. But after a while, Obito catches himself doing it too. Holding your hand tighter. Pulling you closer. Shooting glares at random guys who look at you too long. You infected him with it—and he doesn’t want the cure.