#from either side to at least better explain

[turnbacktyne]

/ /tw emeto, Dream situation, anxiety, self harm in tags

.

I'm just so tired of fucking up

[caterpillarinacave]

So you choose not to step through the door, after all why mess with nonsense when you're already in nonsense? You check the items in your pockets, your phone you shut off to conserve power, the dog tag, key and top clink together but offer no help, and when you fiddle with the walkie-talkie you manage to get it to turn on, excitedly you call out to the void but only static responds, which is disappointing but predictable, so you put the items away and hunker down for the night, looking at the sky you can see that the stars seem strange, though you're no expert, and the moon seems to have a second smaller moon near it which looks pretty cool but is a stark reminder of how not on your own world your predicament has landed you.

In the morning you begin looking through the nearby bushes and plant life taking note of anything strange, you notice the berries you had been picking before you stepped through the door are also growing around here, they look and taste the same, and some other plants seem pretty similar to the forest from before as well, although the further away from the door you go the more unfamiliar plants you come across (of course that may just be your lack of familiarity with plants) and the few animals you have noticed are bizarre in a way that you can't explain, like the people from town, they seem almost perfectly familiar, just a little off and the noises they make have you thinking they wouldn't be able to communicate with their counterparts either, brushing aside another branch you come across a strange funnel made of metal which you pocket and what looks to be a regular whistle, you wipe it down and blow but hear nothing aside from the air going through, you consider it is either broken or maybe a dog whistle, as you go to put it away you hear something big running in your direction, before you can decide how to react a large creature storms out of the bushes and stops in the clearing before you, it's huge as a horse with paws and sharp teeth it licks as it looks around and spots you, it shakes its head again reminding you of a horse, then steps closer before turning and staring expectantly, you get the feeling it's waiting on you, impatiently, and you realize it seems to expect you to get on its back. Do you get on?

Yes.

[ro-is-struggling]

Self care || Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky always seemed interested in your skin care routine, so when one day he arrives tired and drained from a mission, you take the opportunity to show him the importance and benefits of self-care.

Warnings: established relationship, brief mention to Bucky’s past trauma, a fuck ton of fluff, my little knowledge of skin care lol

English is not my first language

Word count: 2200

Notes: this was inspired by a dream I had. I thought it was cute and I couldn't get it out of my head, so I wrote this little thing. If it doesn’t make sense, blame my dumb dreams lol

It was one of the first times you slept over at Bucky's place that you discovered he didn't have a skin care routine. He would look at you cleansing your face from the bathroom door, watching you apply creams and serums with a mixture of admiration and confusion in his expression. And every time you picked up a new product, he would ask you what it was and what did it do. 

It didn't really surprise you, most of the men you had dated tended to use a small number of personal hygiene products and usually the facial skin was only treated with soap and water. And if that was men your age, it was to be expected that Bucky and his over one hundred years of age were not aware of the benefits of skin care.You found his reactions kind of adorable. It wasn't every day that you caught Bucky acting with the naïve curiosity of a child, and you couldn't help but laugh as you answered his endless questions.

"Please tell me you at least wear sunscreen." You said and Bucky remained silent. "Oh my God, Bucky!" you complained, explaining to him how dangerous the sun was for his skin.

"After all I've been through, I don't think a little sun is going to kill me, doll." He laughed, coming up to you to hug you from behind. You wrapped your arms around his, smiling at him in the mirror as he rested his chin on your shoulder. 

The bastard knew how cute he was —looking at you through the mirror with blue eyes full of love—, and he was using it to his advantage to keep you from scolding him. He was probably right, the super soldier serum surely protected him from skin cancer in the same way it protected him from hits and falls that would be fatal to the rest of humanity. But still, it wouldn't hurt him to take care of himself a little every now and then.

"You smell nice." Bucky praised you, inhaling the subtle floral scent the creams had left on your skin. He gave you a kiss on the cheek, his stubble tickling your sensitive face. You laughed and he knew he had won.

"Don't think you're getting out of this so easily." you warned, tilting your head to the side so you could kiss him. "Flattery will get you nowhere!"

From that day on you decided that you would put together a skincare routine for Bucky. Super Soldier serum or not, everyone's skin needed a little help from time to time. And besides, you believed it was something that could benefit Bucky in more ways than just one. It would teach him to take better care of himself and to value the precious 'me time'. And god knew he needed that. So you made a mental note to buy a couple of products for him the next time you went to restock some of your kit and stopped thinking about it for a while.

That was until one day Bucky came home tired from a mission. You didn't quite know what he had to do and he didn't want to tell you much about it either when you asked him. Not knowing tore you apart, but you respected his wishes and didn't press the issue, deciding to help him in a way that wasn't invasive. You started with running him a bath, filling the tub with warm water and using some of your bath salts and lotions to create a more relaxing environment. You insisted on taking care of him, although Bucky didn't put up much resistance, surrendering to the soothing power of your caresses on his hair. Your fingers gently massaged his scalp, coating it with shampoo to remove all the dirt before rinsing it and repeating the process with conditioner.

He still found such intimacy a bit strange. Even though he enjoyed it, he still wasn't completely used to being cared for with the affection you showed him. It had been so long since anyone had treated him with such love and care that he could hardly remember it. But he felt safe in your hands, happy to have you in his life. A light of hope at the end of the dark tunnel of agony that had been his life. That was what you were to him. His second chance to live, to love. So he relaxed under your touch and let your gentle caresses take all the tiredness and worries out of his system.

But your pampering didn't end when Bucky got out of the tub. After he changed into his pajamas and laid down on his side of the bed, you emerged from the bathroom with a small white bag in your hands. You rested it on the nightstand and began pulling out various products he recognized from your skin care routine, arranging them in a nice neat line. 

"Doll... what are you doing?" Bucky asked, looking at the pink cat-ear headband you held in your hands. It was the one you always wore when you did your makeup or skin care routine, a tool you used to keep your hair out of your face while you worked. He always thought you looked adorable when you used it, but he didn't understand why you were directing it at him this time.

"Taking care of you." You replied as if it were obvious, "I want to show you the benefits of having a good skin care routine." Bucky hesitated for a moment, but eventually gave in to your soft smile and the sparkle of enthusiasm in your eyes. There was nothing he could say no to if you looked at him that way.

He gave you a slight nod and you took that as a signal to continue. You climbed onto the bed, settling onto his lap with one leg on either side of him, so you could face him and work more comfortably. Bucky put his hands on your hips instinctively, the cold metal of his fingers giving you goose bumps at the unexpected touch. But you didn't move them, you liked his hands there.

"First we have to make sure your hair is out of the way." You announced as you placed the headband on his head, making sure no hair was out of place or near his face. You couldn't help but let out a giggle as you admired Bucky wearing the accessory. The pink, furry cat ears looked so out of place it was ridiculous. The clear feminine energy of the headband clashed against the distinctive masculine look on his expression in a fun and charming way. It made him look adorable if you were honest, especially when he smiled at you. He could definitely pull it off.

"How do I look?" Bucky asked, batting his eyelashes in an exaggerated fashion. 

"Adorable." You replied between giggles, before giving him a quick peck on the lips.

When you broke apart, you began your skin care routine, taking a piece of cotton and your favorite micellar water to cleanse Bucky's skin. He looked at you closely, taking advantage of the position you were in to admire your beauty up close while you concentrated on soaking the cotton ball in the liquid. You were the most beautiful woman in the world, he was sure, and not only that, you were kind and loving too. A wonderful person all around and he still didn't understand how he had managed to get you by his side, but he was happy about it.

"Why do you have to clean my face? I just showered." Bucky mumbled with his eyes closed, feeling your delicate fingers on his chin as you ran wet cotton across his face.

You let out a giggle. "Water is not enough! And regular soap is too harsh on the skin of our face, so you need to use a cleanser or cream that is meant for the face."

"I never heard about that." Bucky frowned, tilting his head slightly to the side in confusion.

"Because you're a guy and guys are used to using one product for everything hygiene related."

“That’s not true!” he tried to defend himself, although he didn't sound very convinced.

You decided to skip a few steps in the routine to keep things simple. The idea was not only to pamper Bucky and help him relax, but also show him that maintaining a skin care routine didn't have to be complicated and could bring him many benefits. So you went straight to the eye cream, taking some with your ring finger and carefully applying it to the bags under his eyes.

"Stay still! You're gonna make me poke your eye if you move like that!"

"It already feels like you're poking my eye!"

"Don't be so dramatic!" You laughed, men really were cry babies. "Just close your eyes and trust me." Bucky grumbled, pouting. You planted a quick kiss on his lips, and that seemed to please him because he kept his eyes closed and stopped moving. Carefully, you spread the eye cream over his dark circles, giving his skin time to absorb the product before proceeding with the last step.

"What is that?" Bucky asked you curiously as you reached for the last tub in the line of products. 

"It's a night cream. You're supposed to use it at night after you wash your face to keep your skin moisturized."

"Isn't that what the other cream did?"

"No, silly! That was just for your under eye area, this helps hydrate the rest of your face. We need to give back all the good things we got rid off when we cleaned your skin of all the dirt and oils clogging your pores."

Bucky made an annoyed face, muttering about how complicated it all sounded. But the truth was, he was enjoying the extra attention you were giving him. He had you all to himself, the warmth of your body enveloping him in a comforting embrace as your fingers gently massaged his face. He couldn't think of a better definition of paradise than that. Just the two of you sharing an intimate moment, far from the horrors of the outside world. He could commit to a skin care routine if it involved at least a third of the pampering you were giving him at that moment.

"You don't need to use much," you continued your explanation, dipping one of your fingertips into the cream before bringing it up to Bucky's face. "Just a little bit here, here, here... and here." You painted a couple of white dots on his cheeks, forehead and chin, kissing the tip of his nose before applying a bit of cream to the area. It was such a cute and intimate act he almost blushed.

The first thing Bucky noticed about the cream was the scent. It had a light rose fragrance that was familiar to him, comforting even. It traveled up his nostrils as you massaged the cream into his face, sparking a warm and fuzzy feeling inside him. It took him a few seconds to understand that it was because that was the same rose scent he recognized on your skin whenever he kissed you, that sweet floral scent he had learned to recognize as home. He finally knew he had your choice in moisturizer to thank for it. 

"You're using your cream on me?"

"Yes, it's the only one I had. The perfume doesn't last long, don't worry. I'll buy you an unscented one tomorrow."

"No, don't! I like this one, it smells like you... it's like having a little piece of you with me all the time."

You didn't expect him to say that, so you weren't prepared for the tingling warmth of love that coursed through your body. The idea that he wanted to keep you close at all times, that he recognized your scent and found comfort and safety in it, made your heart melt with love. Bucky was normally a man of few words, and tended to show his feelings with other things rather than words. Acts of service were his most common way of showing how much he loved you, although he also resorted to spending quality time together whenever you had free time. But every once in a while, he would manage to drop a sentence like that, which in concise words made it clear how much he loved you. Always taking you by surprise, he would drop them at the most casual moments, leaving you completely stupid for a few seconds as you processed his words and wondered what you had done to deserve having someone so wonderful in your life. 

Bucky gave you a shy smile, cheeks turning pink under your gaze, feeling exposed and vulnerable. He looked so adorable that you couldn't help but join your lips with his in a slow, loving kiss. He reciprocated immediately, one of his hands leaving your waist to cradle your cheek, pressing you tighter against him and deepening the kiss. 

"I love you," you muttered against his lips, pressing your forehead against his as you gazed into his deep blue eyes.

Bucky smiled, feeling the last bit of stress evaporate from his system thanks to you and your sweetness.  "I love you too."

[writella]

Thinking about Rick and slightly innocent, touch starved, virgin, fem!reader— ♡

Just smut this time, 18+, mdni, wc: 1.8k.

Read part two: here!

“I usually just touch myself at the top,” you explain, verbalizing your actions as you rub your clit with your middle finger, your pointer and ring brushing up against either side of your lips. You’re breathless, already panting. Doing this in front of him was too much. You just couldn’t believe this was happening, that he was here watching, enjoying. “Barely even put my fingers in- I get nervous- never feels good.”

“Never?” There’s a bit of surprise in Rick’s voice, but the grin he’s hiding loves every second of you showing him how much you need something- something bigger, something or someone like him and his fingers— his cock.

You pout with a hmph, “No,” you whine, your eyes trailing desperately. “They feel like nothing when I do it. And I don’t know how to make it feel good.”

Your actions, your words, it makes his tongue peek out of the side of his mouth. It’s only just a little, but a tiny bit drool is at the edge, almost rolling down and onto his chin. He licks it away before it falls.

His eyes are dark and lustful, dazed with the sight of you in only a shirt, underwear discarded, rubbing your puffy, wet pussy so fast right in front of him. He had been talking to Daryl outside the house, came up to get you for dinner at his, but then he caught you. He didn’t mean to, but the door was just a crack open: with one eye he could see your legs dangling off the bed, nose and eyes scrunched so tightly as your fingers played with yourself, whispering his name. That’s what set him off, the sweet little “Rick… Rick, Rick,” pants that came out of your mouth. That’s what made him come in without knocking. He told you not to stop.

And now, he stands right in front of your bed. Any closer and he’d be in between your legs. He can see you staring down every inch of him, eyes so wide, hopeful yet hopeless. You’re pathetically whimpering and whining at his own— those sparkly blue and wandering ones. He’s just as invested in the sight as you are.

You look at his pink parted lips and his tongue you want so badly in your mouth, and lower too, so much lower. You see his slick, curly hair, and that scruffy beard— you wouldn’t even care if it would make your sensitive lips burn down there. You want it. So bad. Your eyes go down further, seeing the way his hands are placed low at his hips, his groin jutted forward… Fuck. You need to see what’s underneath.

You rub your clit faster with two fingers now, biting on your bottom lip, looking at his fat bulge and wondering if he’s just getting hard or if it’s always looked big like that. It makes you feel like this one of your daydreams… you don’t know if your mind is enlarging it, but wow it looks good. You’d honestly sit on him right there, jeans and all with your bare pussy. Who cares if he’s been working all day, dealing with God knows what outside these walls. You’ll take anything. You bet even the littlest bit of something from him probably feels better than when you’re alone doing this anyway. You were tired of it, you wanted to be touched; you wanted to be fucked— fucked by Rick Grimes.

Rick finally sits on the bed. His face closer to you now as he asks, “You’ve ever made yourself cum, sweetheart?”

You're hesitant to answer but you shake your head, shy and slow. You feel embarrassed.

A chronic overthinker you were sometimes, you could never be in the moment and finally get yourself over the edge. Thinking about Rick always led to thinking about how you shouldn’t be doing it. He was the leader of your group, he had a daughter and a son, ones that you were far older than, but just enough to not possibly be their mother… at least not the eldest, anyway. This was wrong, but there he was: watching, staring, gazing. It only made you more and more wet, you almost couldn’t breathe.

“Poor baby,” Rick drawls and you whimper at the phrase.

He decides to relieve you, but only just a little bit by brushing his hand on your leg, stroking your thigh as he finally sits down next to you. It makes you gasp as you continue to pleasure yourself. Reaching lower to collect wetness to put over your clit. Your back arches at the feeling of him.

The sight makes him grin, laughing endearingly. Just that— just his hand, not even on your pussy and you’re already reeling.

“Such a pretty little thing, and no one’s ever made you feel good…? Can’t even do it to yourself either?” He tisks at the thought. “It’s a shame, honestly.”

All you do is whine. You want him to do it but you’re too scared to ask. You want him to want to do it, without asking, go all in and make you his. Why won’t he? It makes your moan, mix with a groan as you think about it.

You look up as his hand moves higher to your hip and his name comes out all desperate and needy as you plead, “Rick-”

“Yes?”

“Please.”

He ignores you. “Put a finger inside yourself. Let’s try again, okay? How about that?”

You whine his name again, but you still do as he says. Your hand trails lower, inserting your middle finger into your wet hole.

“Start pumping… and how ‘bout this time you try to curl your finger upward after you go in, hm?” You try, humming in response to his voice and his hand moving back to your leg, softly rubbing up and down your thigh as he watches you.

He notices your breath hitching. “Good girl,” he coos, “add another.”

You attempt to pump yourself faster now with the two fingers inside of you, looking up at him. Your pussy twitches and you jut upwards at the sight of him licking his lips. “Just pretend it’s me,” he tells you, “And don’t stop. I wouldn’t.”

His hand rests back on your hip, fingers daring to reach your mound as they slide slowly, but he’s hesitating. He wants you to do it all by yourself, but he sees your face, sees what just his voice and his watching does to you. You were always a good listener, a team player, never skipped on doing your part when he asked it of you, but this, this new power he had over you? It was something else. He can’t help but want to see what happens when he gives you just a little more.

His fingers now lightly ghost over your lips and your eyes implore. Your gasp is shaky. You’re almost holding your breath waiting for the full press but… he doesn’t do it yet.

He’s being a fucking tease.

The cockiness is evident in his voice when he asks, “Want me to?”

“Yes,” you moan, loud and instantly. It’s pitiful, you’re a mess and you want him so bad you couldn’t help it, but the beg worked. Right after, he starts rubbing harsh circles into your clit, making you vibrate.

“Oh- ohmygod, Rick.” You try to keep pumping yourself but it becomes hard. You’ve dreamed about his hands, right there on your most intimate parts, making you feel good and showing you how it’s supposed to really feel. And finally. He’s doing it. His rough fingertips felt like heaven.

Your own fingers stutter. His hand and yours are just too much for you, especially because of how deep and fast he’s rubbing against your skin and bone. “Rick, please,” you want him to go lower, take over, and he notices how your fingers slow.

“No,” he warns. “Keep goin’.” His voice is stern, stopping you before you do, he takes your hand and helps you pump your fingers into yourself before letting go. “You’re doing that yourself. Go faster.”

Your cheek falls to the opposite side of the bed, whimpering sadly at his words, but you continue.

“You got it,” he encourages. “Put another finger in.”

“Another?” Your voice incredulous as you ask.

“Gotta train yourself with your fingers before you get mine.” He pauses. “And before you can get up to my dick… How do you think it’s gonna fit if we don’t open you up?”

You let out a moan, it’s the kind that you had only heard on tv in the past. Just the sheer thought of him insinuating that soon he would put himself inside of you sends you spiraling. You add a third finger, it feels tight, but good, especially with him there.

“There you go,” he says, stretching out the syllables. He feels his jeans tighten further as he watches you.

And you only get wetter. The squelching sounds from below are nothing you’ve ever heard from yourself before. Your pussy shakes and sucks your fingers below with Rick rubbing and pinching your clit at the top. You speak between pants, moaning again, “Rick… Rick, its too much.” You’re trying to keep up your pace but you feel your energy withering again. You close your eyes.

“That means you’re making yourself cum soon. Keep going.”

“It hurts, I can’t do it!”

“You can do it,” he nods, “and if you don’t… I’ll just leave you here.”

A quick, “No!” and a string of “mmms” come out as you whine. You don’t want him to go, so you try, you keep up.

Rick lets go of your clit and it makes you gasp sadly at the loss, but he’s pushing up your shirt, exposing your breast. He takes one hand to rub your clit again and another to roll one of your nipples. “This is the only extra help you get,” he tells you. “Now are you going to cum for me?”

You nod, “Yes, yes,” you chant, “I can do it for you, Rick.”

“Show me.”

You continue to pump fast, curling your fingers as he suggested before. You find a spongy part that makes you feel extra tingling in your lower stomach and you keep trying to push up against it with each pump of your fingers. You decide to open your eyes again to watch Rick as his eyes trail between your breasts to below, you choose to focus the way your fingers look as they go in and out of you and how his hand rubs and shakes you at the top. Indescribable noises come out at the sight. “I’m losing it,” you tell him.

“Just keep goin’,” he tells you. “See it through.”

You start panting in between your stringy moans, it’s breathy and hurried and long. You force yourself to not stop. “I’m gonna cum, Rick. I’m gonna make myself cum!”

“I know, sweetheart. I know you can. Be a good girl for me, you got it.”

And then you do. The butterflies spring. You continue to pump as you ride your high and then it’s done. You came.

Rick smiles, licking his fingers filled with your wetness. He stands up, knees making their way between your own that lay on the bed as he starts undoing his belt. As he drops his pants and his boxers you see his cock spring up. It’s glossy at the tip and although you haven’t seen many, you’re completely sure it’s longer than most.

But it gets you scared. There’s worry in your eyes. Your lip quivers despite the drool that comes out on the side. How’s it gonna fit?

“You ready?” He asks.

“But I thought you said your fingers first.”

He kisses your lips, fingers caressing your cheek as he whispers, “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll go slow.”

Then he pushes himself in. Right to the hilt.

He didn’t go slow.

[lovegalor333]

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

love faces

summary: you break up with your shitty boyfriend and paige makes you feel better 🤭

content warnings: nsfw smut fingering thigh riding

inspired by love faces by trey songz and this edit right here 🙂‍↕️🧎‍♀️

“I’m so done with you, Noah. I can’t take this anymore.” You scoffed at your boyfriend as you grab the few belongings you had with you, stuffing your phone into your purse.

“Yeah, yeah I’ve heard that one before.” Your boyfriend mocked from his couch where he lounged back, eyes focused on the video game he was playing.

“No! I mean it this time. I’m done.” You insist before storming out of his apartment.

You had plans for a romantic dinner with Noah tonight, but of course he forgot so when you showed up to his place, dressed to the nines, excited for your evening and you were met with a peroxide blonde feeling up on him, you lost it. You’d turned one too many blind eyes to Noahs ways in the past because you thought loved him but you were over being treated like you didn’t exist.

“Hi Azzi, I’m sorry to do this but I need a ride. I think… I just broke up with Noah.” You explain to your best friend over the phone, hoping she’d be able to come and pick you up from the off campus apartment complex.

Azzi wasn’t home, she was out for dinner with her family that were in town but she told you to hang tight, she’d sort out your ride home.

As you wait on the side on the road, you contemplate going back to the apartment and just ignoring what you saw, like you had many times before. Noah was your first boyfriend, your first everything and you loved him, at least that’s what you thought but maybe it wasn’t him you loved, maybe it was just the thought of him. Either way, you never imagined you’d be the one to break up with him, he always said you’d never have the guts to leave him and maybe he was right.

You were about to swallow your pride and go back up the stairs when you saw a set of highlights heading your way. It was dark so you couldn’t make out the car until it was in front of you, it was Paige.

Paige was Azzis best friend, a different type of best friend than you. You’d known Azzi your whole life, practically grew up as sisters where as, she’d met Paige later on down the line at a basketball tournament. You’d met Paige yourself not long after that tournament and you’d grown to know her well so it wasn’t weird that she was the one to come and pick you up tonight.

Paige beeps the horn of her car a few times when you don’t move and you know now, it’s too late to go back. You and Noah were done.

“Hi, thanks for coming.” You say slipping into the passenger seat, your short dress that clung to your thighs riding up slightly.

“No problem ma, Azzi told me situation. Sorry to hear.” Paige sympathised, giving your exposed thigh a comforting rub.

“It’s all good. Was about time.” You say knowing exactly how your friends thought of Noah and the way he treated you.

“Well I didn’t want to say it, but good riddance.” She jokes and she begins to drive you home.

Paige invites you back to her and Azzis place, saying it’s best you’re not alone tonight and you agree, being with the two girls will stop you from calling Noah and going back on your word.

You and Paige sit side by side on the couch, Azzi still isn’t home and won’t be for a while and your mind strays back to the first time you met Paige and the way she enticed you. Her perfectly chiselled features that have only grown more perfect the older she got, her eyes like pools of water from the freshest part of the ocean that locked onto yours so easily and made you feel like you were the only person in the room when she spoke to you. You always thought her and Azzi would end up together but they’ve made it clear, on multiple occasions, their relationship is strictly platonic.

“You were too beautiful for a jerk like Noah anyway.” Paige pipes up, capturing your attention and you clear your throat, glad mind reading isn’t a thing because then Paige would know exactly what you were thinking about her and the way her body language made your heart palpate.

“Thank you, P.” You say and fight the urge to lean your body into hers despite how much you wanted to. You didn’t want Paige to feel like a rebound. Was she a rebound? Shit, even you didn’t know at this point. You had just broken up with your boyfriend, you thought you’d be crying your eyes out but you’re clenching your thighs at the thought of the girl next to you.

Paige fidgets beside you and you look at her, daring her to say something, anything to break the tension that was slowly building between you both.

“I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, Y/N. But when I said you were beautiful, I really meant it. I’ve thought it since I first met you.” She admits looking at you with that God forsaken eye contact that makes your stomach flip.

“Really?” You ask but you believe her, you can see it in the way she’s looking at you.

“Really.” She says, her fingers coming to your thigh to softly draw shapes on your skin.

“Come closer.” She rasps almost asking for your permission and you comply, scooting your body along the couch so you’re as close to Paige as you can get.

Her hand travels further up your thigh leaving goosebumps along your skin in its wake, she reaches your waist and you gasp at the feeling, “Tell me if you want me to stop.” She say seriously but you shake your head, “Don’t stop.” So she leans her face into yours, your foreheads touching first before her lips press to yours.

You both pull away at first and just look at each other, both asking the other is this what we want without actually saying it but the way your lips find each others again, in a hungry, needy kiss, gives you your answer.

It doesn’t take long for you to be on your back, Paige on top of you, hands exploring every part of your body, fingers digging to your hips as her tongue danced in your mouth.

“Not here.” She says breathlessly, breaking the kiss and standing up.

Paige takes your hand and leads you down the hall to her bedroom and once the door is closed behind you, there’s no stopping your frantic movements, ripping each others clothes off, kissing inbetween the shedding of each layer. Your head is fuzzy at the thought of what’s about to happen and you feel drunk off the adrenaline of feeling Paiges bare skin against yours, her toned stomach under your finger tips, her lips on you neck.

You’re layed on your back, legs spread as Paige in kneeled in between them, you feel exposed in a way you’ve never been before but your body is begging to be touched. Paige trails her fingers along the inside of your thighs, teasing as they get closer and closer to your already soaked folds.

“So fucking pretty ma.” She breathes out and you squirm at her light touch, you want it deeper, firmer, you need it.

“Paige, please.” You moan bucking your hips up towards what you so desperately want.

“I want to take my time with you, be gentle.”

“You can be gentle,” You say, this is your first time with a woman and Paige knows that, “but fuck taking your time. I need you, now.” You whimper which quickly turns into a moan as Paige slips a finger inside you.

“Shit.” She pumps in and out of you before slipping a second finger in and then a third and you try to close your thighs at the feeling of her slender digits stretching you out but she holds your legs open with the hand that isn’t curling up inside of you, hitting your g-spot.

“Holy fuck, P.” You gasp, eyes rolling back in your head.

“Does it feel good baby? Tell me how it feels when I touch you.” Paige cooed from in between your legs and hearing the word baby come out of her mouth so low and breathy made your head spin.

“So-ugh good. Oh my-fuck!” You let out a loud groan as her thumb presses down on your clit, rubbing tight circles over the already sensitive spot, you were about to cum, you could tell by the way your walls contracted around Paiges fingers, plunged deep inside you.

“Gonna cum- shit Paige, I’m gonna-“ You slap your hand over your mouth to muffle the cries you were about the let out.

“Nuh uh, I wanna hear you ma, don’t be shy.” Paige tells you applying more pressure to your clit, pushing you to the very edge.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Right there, P. Shit.”

Your legs are twitching and spasming and everything cuts to white noise for a split second as you come to your climax, releasing all over Paiges fingers, your juices seeping out onto the mattress below.

“Look at you.” Paige breathes out lifting her hand to show you her soaked fingers and you lift yourself up, slightly light headed, your once perfectly curled hair, stuck to sweat droplets on your forehead and you open your mouth for Paige to stuff in her fingers into.

You run your tongue along her fingers then slip it through the middle of them, tasting yourself and moaning at the flavour. Paige pulls her fingers out of your mouth, replacing them with her tongue taking in whatever was left over in your mouth.

You’re both knelt on her bed, face to face, you finally coming down from your high and you dip your head peppering kisses along her neck and chest, your tongue peeking out to flick at her perky nipples, she moans as you take it in your mouth, sucking gently.

You manoeuvre your knee inbetween her thighs, pressing teasingly at her pussy and the sharp intake of breath tells you she likes it. She begins to grind on your knee, her hands falling to your shoulders for support as you continue tracing your tongue over her tits.

You press your knee further into her, feeling her slick leak out onto you and you glance up from her chest to see Paige already looking down at you latched onto her nipple, her bottom lip clenched in her teeth as she rocks her hips on your knee.

“I wanna ride your thigh ma. Can I ride your thigh?” Paige practically begs and you nod helping her position herself over your thigh, her wet pussy warm against your bare skin.

Her hands find your shoulders again and your grip onto her hips as she gets back into the rhythmic thrusting and her knee naturally finds itself nestled between your legs and with her bouncing on your thigh, your clit is being teased once again so you lean into her and match her pace and speed, both of you grinding and rubbing against each other.

You watch Paige intensely as her eyes flutter shut and her head tips back a low groan escaping her mouth, “Fuck, you feel so good under me.” She mummbles. You loved the way Paige looked, getting off on your thigh, eyes screwed shut in pleasure caused by your body. Her hands moving from your shoulders, into your hair tugging at the roots. The sharp feeling only turned you on more and you wanted Paige to feel the same way so you dipped one of your hands down to her clit and moved your fingers in the perfect pattern, her grip tightening on your hair as you did.

“Shit ma, you’re gonna make me cum. Ugh fuck- keep doing that.” She moaned, pressing herself further onto your fingers.

“I want you to cum on me P.” You purred digging your fingers into her hips forcing her to move faster.

“Shit baby, cum again with me.” She says, her eyes flicking down to where you were working yourself on her knee.

“T-touch me.” You plead, head falling to her shoulder and she wastes no time matching your actions, dropping her hand down to tease your throbbing clit.

You work in sync bringing each other to splintering climaxes at the same time, shockwaves ripple through you both and Paige throws her head back, mouth open as she moans out your name. Your head is still rested on her shoulder as you cum for the second time that night, legs shaking and gasping for breath.

You dissolve into a pool of pleasure, entangled with Paige, skin clammy and cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. Paiges hair that was slicked back at the beginning of the night had loosened and stray strands framed her face. You looked different compared to the beginning of the night too, your lipstick was smudged and mascara had run but none of that mattered after what you just experienced.

Your chest still heaved as you laid together, Paige absentmindedly trailing her fingers down your bare back and you couldn’t help but wonder what this meant for you both.

“Paige…” You tried to broach the subject but she cut you off, “Let’s talk about this tomorrow. Azzi will be back soon and we better make ourselves look presentable before that.”

“I just want to you to know, this wasn’t rebound sex. I wouldn’t do that to you.” You say fiddling with the chain around her neck.

“Good, because I’d really like to do that again.” She replies taking your hand in hers and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

You clean yourselves up and change Paiges messy sheets just before Azzi walks in the door.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” Azzi says pulling you into a tight hug, “I hope Paige looked after you.” And you can’t help but smirk into your best friends shoulder, “Oh, she did.”

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

a/n: happy (freaky) friday 😚

[clockwayswrites]

Uncle John Part 2

masterpost

Even though Bruce knew what he was opening the door to, it was still almost startling to see John Constantine shielding two teenagers on the other side. The oldest was a redhead, though Bruce could only tell that from the fierce eyebrows. The hair of both teens had been shaved so close to the scalp that it was basically nonexistent. From what little Bruce could see of the second, behind the protective forms of John and the red head, the second teen’s head was also bandaged from what little Bruce could see under the hood of the thick sweater.

Whatever they had been through was clearly no small matter.

“Who’s all here?” John asked as he entered, looking around the foyer as he slunk into the room.

The kids stayed close to his back.

“Just Alfred and Tim. Alfred is in the kitchen and Tim is up in his room, though he was excited to know that there would be other teens visiting,” Bruce said, keeping his personage open and calm.

Excited was at least an honest enough word for Tim’s curiosity that Bruce had tone his bet to tamper. It didn’t seem the time to pry and Bruce was sure to learn far more as he set up the new identities.

John’s frown said he knew exactly what excited meant for Tim.

“He can help us instead if you’d rather,” Bruce offered to keep the peace, “but I thought that the kids might enough just playing some video games and enjoying Alfred’s snacks while we worked.”

“Stop that,” John said.

“Stop what?” Bruce said, blinking guilelessly.”

“Making fuck’n sense.”

The kid in the hood muffled a laugh into the thick fabric. The sound made Bruce smile. It wasn’t so very bad if they could still laugh. It meant that there was still hope.

“Tim is my current foster,” Bruce said, as that was the easiest way to explain things. “I would guess he’s around your ages. And I’m Bruce, a friend of John’s.”

John snorted. “He comes off as a rich playboy, but he’s one of the good ones, if you’ll believe that.”

“Thanks for that rousing endorsement,” Bruce said dryly.

John just grinned back, his smile a little more teeth than normal.

“I’m Danny,” the one in the hood said, still mostly hidden behind the redhead. The voice was scratchy, like it have been overused recently. The fingers that clung to the too large flannel shirt the redhead wore were covered in bandages. “This is my sister Jazz.”

Jazz regarded him with frozen blue eyes. “If you do anything to hurt him, I will find some way to hurt you worse.”

“That’s fair,” Bruce said calmly. “All I want to do is what John asked me to: which is to make you new identities so that you will be safe. Well, I would also hope that you both could relax some and enjoy some of Alfred’s cooking. His cookies especially are something amazing.”

Jazz searched his gaze for a moment longer before almost reluctantly nodding.

“Would you be alright with Tim joining you two?” Bruce asked.

Jazz glanced back at Danny before nodding again.

“Let me show you to the media room then,” Bruce said and started leading the group that way. He kept up idle chatter about some of the games he knew that Tim had been playing just to fill the silence and make everything seem less threatening.

It was still hard to speak of Tim like a son, but easier than it had been when Bruce had been the very broken and irrational man Tim had first come to. If Gotham’s spirit hadn’t thrown a fit, if Constantine hadn’t gotten involved… Bruce hated to think how things might have continued. Bruce hated to think what sort of mentor and guardian he might have been to the boy.

It was hard, but it was better like this.

Bruce opened the door to the media room with a smile. “Make yourself a home. I’ll send Tim down and either he’ll bring snacks with him or Alfred, a demure British man who isn’t a serous as he seems, will bring them in.”

“Right, thanks,” Jazz said and pulled her brother inside with her. She closed the door on them.

Bruce looked at Constantine who rubbed calloused hands over his face.

“Yeah, mate, it’s… it’s rough.”

Bruce reached out and clasped his shoulder in commiseration.

---

AN: This was still stuck in my head so have some more! I'm thinking end game Danny/Jason, because it's me, and Jazz/Steph because Steph deserves to be a disaster bi with her own fierce, magic user redhead.

Obvious canon divergence due to the added ghostliness.

[catscidr]

// how genshin men would kabedon you //

i. note — im stuck in bed because of cramps help me i wanted to be productive today but i can't Write Good…… so i wrote something self indulgent silly to get my mind off of the pain instead _(´ཀ`」 ∠) _ ueue ii. cw — fluff/crack, gn!reader, suggestive if you squint rly hard, you're shorter than them in the third part for convenience's sake, not rly proofread im melting

standard kabedon with one arm ↳ alhaitham, diluc, zhongli ˎˊ˗

immediately understood what you meant when you asked if he could “kabedon” you. he either he read about it somewhere or it’s just something he picked up from overhearing others talk about it in passing— you’d tease him for being “nosy” if you weren’t so flustered at the sight of him looking down at you with such a straight face.

your gaze travels down from his face, to his neck, to his bicep… close to you… and his forearm… that’s even closer to you… you’re so focused on his strong masculine arm that you don’t catch the slight blush tinting his cheeks.

whew. is it just you or is it getting hot in here?

standard kabedon but with both arms ↳ albedo, xiao, lyney ˎˊ˗

he either knew what a kabedon was already or you had to explain it to him and he… misunderstood a little bit.

or maybe he didn’t. maybe it was on purpose. maybe caging you in with both of his arms was what he was planning all along while you sheepishly explained what a kabedon entailed…!

or maybe he doesn’t want to admit that he zoned out while you were talking because all he thought about was how cute you looked, all flushed and embarrassed. yeah. that’s definitely not what happened. of course not

invades your personal space and backs you up into the wall without even using his arms ↳ pantalone, ayato, dottore ˎˊ˗

he pretended not to know what a was kabedon because’s he’s mean. while you tried to explain what it entailed (while sweating nervously from how hard he was staring at you), he slowly closed the distance between the two of you before you realized just how close he was.

he was taller than you, so he had to bend down at the waist to be at eye-level with you… and the action didn’t help your poor little heart. you could smell his cologne and gods did you feel your knees go weak.

but on the bright side, if your legs give out he’ll be close enough to catch you before you bust your head open! such a gentleman

forget using arms, he’ll use his leg to pin you to the wall instead ↳ itto, cyno, childe ˎˊ˗

why be like everyone else when he can show off instead? you think he might have been a bird in another life because this isn’t a kabedon, it has to be some sort of courting ritual or… something.

at least it’s working, though. your face is flushed, you’re holding back a smile and your heart is racing against your ribcage.

the only downside if that your face is buried in your hands; if it wasn’t, you’re sure your curiosity would get the better of you and you’d end up looking. don’t ask where, you know what i mean

….you kabedon him. ↳ wanderer, baizhu, neuvillette, webttore ˎˊ˗

he either straight up refused to do it or was so utterly puzzled by what on earth a “kabedon” even was that you had to show him.

cue a strained gasp, his brows either raised to the heavens or furrowed so hard he would immediately get wrinkles, and a blush that you would never let yourself forget. maybe you should do this more often.

but be careful, he might turn the tables and catch you off guard to kabedon you someday as payback. oh no! terrible, i know

[bbyhellfire]

eddie loses his hair tie at the most inconvenient moment (18+ only)

fem!reader, oral (r receiving), clumsy eddie, inspired by a twt p vid

It doesn’t take much to get you and Eddie going. 

Roaming eyes, gentle touches that last longer than necessary, a flirty joke. They all do the trick to get you tangling your limbs together, hungry mouths moving as if you're in some Hallmark movie. It isn’t long until one of you is pushed back onto Eddie’s messy bed. Sometimes it’s him, but today it’s you.

Listen.

Eddie's had a long day. His van is leaking coolant again, and Bev is threatening to give Corroded Coffin's Tuesday night to a Beatles cover band. Eddie is going through It, okay? He needs to be between your legs, needs his face buried in your pussy. It's what has him pulling you to the edge of his bed, pawing at your thighs to reveal your wet cunt to his thirsty gaze.

He must look ridiculous, like some Looney Tunes character, and he doesn't give a single shit. He leans forward, leaving a hasty trail of kisses from the inside of your knees up your thigh. Fuck, he can already smell you. He's already panting and he hasn't even done anything.

And then, a squeak.

Huh?

Not exactly the reaction Eddie is expecting. Pausing, he glances up to see your lips pressed together to stifle a giggle.

“Sorry, it's your hair. Tickles.” You explain, moving forward to rake your fingers through his curls.

“Hold on, I have a hair ti–,” He stops, looking down at his empty wrist.

Correction: he had a hair tie. Just this morning. Where did it go? That’s the third one he’s lost this week. How the hell do they just disappear?

He's about to stand to search his room before you tug on his hair for him to pause.

“Don’t worry about it,” Your voice is airy, giggly from his ticklish locks and the building pleasure in your core. You smile, taking your nails over his scalp before saying, "Just keep going."

You don’t need to tell him twice. 

He leans forward again, mouth open and tongue peeking out, ready for the first swipe against your cunt. And apparently, so is his hair. As he's tilting his head down to meet your pussy, his messy curls fall forward directly in front of his open mouth.

Eddie doesn't notice until he inhales an accidental mouthful of hair. The taste of smoke and V05 shampoo is startling, making him cough and gag, as he instinctively pulls away from you. It’s only when he's pulling at the strands stuck in his mouth does he remember that his boxers and jeans are still wrapped around his ankles.

He manages a quick “Oh shit,” before falling back, unable to catch himself because he’s still pulling his fucking hair from his mouth. With his throat stinging from the inhaled hair, he falls back on his bare ass, hard cock bouncing against his stomach.

Above him, you sit up with a gasp, your hand covering your mouth as you both stare at each other, wide-eyed with surprise. You don’t move, and neither does he, opting to stay still, trying to figure out what to do next. This isn’t his finest moment, but it’s not his worst either. At least he isn't choking on his hair anymore.

You snort. Your body shakes as you try to hold in your laughter, but it’s damn near impossible. “I’m sorry, babe."

He can't help but crack a smile. He adores your laugh, even if it’s at his expense. It is pretty funny, even if his cheeks are burning red. He sits up, placing a hand over your knee as you both laugh.

“Maybe I should get that hair tie."

“It’s okay,” You interrupt, taking his hand on your knee into your own. Intertwining your fingers, you pull him toward you. “C’mere, I'll help.”

He follows willingly, letting you tug him back to sit between your legs. Your hands travel over the sides of his head to collect his hair into a makeshift ponytail.

"Better?"

He answers your question by leaving a sticky stripe of his spit and your slick along your pussy. All the way from your dripping hole to your clit, he collects the tangy taste of you on his tongue before moving back up to your sensitive bud.

"Fuck, fuck, Eddie!" You gasp, hand tightening into a fist as he presses the tip of his tongue against your clit. Slurping and licking, he focuses on your clit as you push your hips up against his face. "More, please. I'm so close."

Groaning with his lips still wrapped around your clit, the vibrations making your legs shake as you come. And not once do you let go of his hair, holding the curly hair into a tight fist as Eddie licks you through your orgasm.

[yanderenightmare]

TW: nsfw, noncon, poverty & debt, gun violence, organized crime, death threats, arranged marriage

fem reader

Thinking about owing the mob…

Not you specifically, but your family – debt you weren’t aware of before you’re being cashed in to settle it.

You imagined several terrible things before the arrangement was explained to you. 

One of the sons needs a wife with a clean reputation. 

It’s a simple equation. You’re eligible, and he isn’t picky.

And though it leaves you in mourning for a life yet lived, it still comes with a sense of relief. It’s one of the better deals you could’ve gotten. At least you wouldn’t need to witness or partake in any crimes, nor act as a scapegoat for the likes either.

Besides… though you’ve yet to meet your fiancé, you’ve been explained that he only plans on treating you like a wife on and for the camera – that his tastes otherwise lie in the gentlemen’s lounge. 

All you ever have to do is smile. He isn’t interested in anything else.

That’s what you were told, and yet…

“It’s funny.” Your husband says after the wedding ceremony. 

You’re back at the mansion you’re meant to call home. The grounds are about twice the size of the block you come from. Marble, gold, and diamonds – it’s so outrageously excessive it’s shameless. 

“I was told your brothers run routes for us to make ends meet.” He continues, looking at you and the expression on your face as you stare up at the chandelier – it’s clear you’ve never seen anything like it. “Fuck, I mean, I can’t imagine risking my life and still end up needing to pick between food or rent at the end of the day.”

Your gaze falls down to him at that. 

Clad in lush wedding expense – white gown and silver tiara – you still stick out like a sore thumb. Something in the way it wears you and not the other way around. It’s obvious you’re uncomfortable with it all. It’s probably worth more than your family's ever owned.

He steps closer with a chuckle.

“Then, the poor suckers go and fuck up so bad they end up needing to sell their own sister.”

He spots your fists ball at your sides. But you keep your cool. Only a slight grimace curling your lips along a tiny furrow between your brows. It all smoothens into something else when he reaches out to grab your chin.

“What’s even more funny…” He tilts your face in his hand – jaded eyes assessing you like he’s found a coin on the ground. “You don’t look like street trash like I expected.”

Your frown returns, and you try pulling back – but he grabs your arm before you can.

Tsking, “Ah-ah – Remember,” His smile sharpens. “You’re property now. When I touch you, you let it happen.”

You weren’t that easily convinced. He bet you’ve had to fight off a lot of unwanted attention back where you come from. But he isn’t some back-alley thug. When he wants something, he expects it not only to be served on a silver platter but to be hand-fed to him with a silver spoon.

He pulls the gun out from behind him. Slotted in the band of his dress trousers, it had stayed hidden beneath the coverage of his suit jacket during the ceremony.

Your throat dries up, and any protests you had died of thirst along with it – eyes wide as you stare at the piece.

You can’t believe he’d carry that thing into a church with vows upon his lips – now pointing it at the very same wife he’d made those vows to. 

“Make me spend a single bullet, and your family will share the rest.” He taps the barrel’s mouth against the quiver of your lips. “I’d rather not it come to that. It’ll ruin the carpet…”  

You quiver, feeling weak with a shudder – your eyes slip closed with a shivering tear.

“Not to mention this…” He strokes the pitiful droplet off your cheek with the weapon while eyeing the way you quake with grinning eyes. “Pretty little body I’ve only just acquired.” 

BNHA – Dabi

JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Naoya, Toji

BLLK – Reo

HxH – Illumi

[pomefioredove]

If you're still taking requests, I think something funny would be Idia w a reader/yuu that, in the middle of listening to him ramble (with lovey dovey eyes bc they like listening to him <3) just says. Would. Or like I want you. Like they didn't notice they were saying that out loud and now Idia and them are both dying but Ortho is just like OMG ITS HAPPENING FINALLY EXITING STAGE LEFT! hahdhahshsh I hope you get what I'm saying, completely fine if not!

I got u anon

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ slip of the tongue

type of post: fic characters: idia additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu author's note: I know very little about video games so I stole a lot of idia's dialogue from my boyfriend. if he sees this. um. hi baby

"The designs are pretty good. I mean, they fit the same three molds, but they're unique, you know?"

Idia shows you his screen again, rolling his gaming chair to the side so you can get a better look at the game he's been explaining to you for half an hour.

"The fighting is kinda button-mashy, but the graphics are cool enough, so I don't really care,"

You haven't gotten so much as a word in for almost ten minutes now, but that doesn't bother you. You like listening to him talk.

He goes back to the game menu to show you the special features, and then to the menu again. His long, nimble fingers dance across his keyboard, as if he were made for this, and he pulls up another screen with a lot of numbers in colored text.

"The game is free, but it's got an insane file size for it. 180gb. Nothing should be that big,"

Your thoughts become a little louder as you zone out, letting his words, heavy with tech jargon and fast with excitement, become music. You can't always keep up with Idia when he starts going on tangents like this. Usually you have questions, but now, you can't think of any. You're looking more at him than the screen. He's being distractingly cute today.

You sigh, letting your thoughts rest on the tip of your tongue, and without meaning to:

"Would,"

Idia's hands jump off the keyboard, and he goes still. Oh. Shit.

He wasn't supposed to hear that.

He slowly turns to look at you, his eyes widened, his face beet-red. In your defense, you really thought he wasn't listening.

You don't say anything. Either of you. You wait. He waits. His computer eventually powers down, making the room a little darker. Finally, Idia looks away.

"...I forgot what I was saying," he mumbles.

Weird. Okay, he's just going to ignore that? Is that good or bad?

You look away, too. "Something about the file size. I think you were-"

"Did you mean that," he asks, but it's not exactly a question. More like a demand for an answer.

"Um..." you say, looking at the floor. "...Yeah, I did."

Idia narrows his eyes at you. He's quiet, studying you, your expression, your body language. For what, you don't know. Maybe he thinks you're lying. Whatever it is, though, he doesn't say.

"...Okay," he finally says, turning back to his monitor. "Well... um... at least give me some warning next time, or something. I would've dressed nicer."

You blink. Next time. "...Yeah. Okay. Next time, then,"

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

✨Pretty Boy✨

OOOOOHHHH BUDDY I'm excited to post this story! I'm not gonna ramble for this one, so please enjoy the ride 😉

(I'm a teeny bit late on posting this but better late than never!)

Summary: You find something peculiar in the walk-in closet...

Lucifer x f!sinner reader

Warnings: smut, 18+, lingerie, mention of toys, oral (f receiving), collars, pegging

"Damn it! Where the hell is it?," you shouted in frustration. You should have looked for that dress before you hopped in the shower, things would have been way smoother. Now you stood in your walk-in closet with damp hair and adorning nothing but a towel that was wrapped tightly around your chest. You could have sworn you saw that purple sequence dress hanging in here last night! Where could it have gone? You rummaged around your closet for 10 minutes now, but you still came up empty handed! You stomped over to the last rack of hanging clothes closest to the back wall, scanning every article of clothing.

While pushing each dress from left to right that wasn't the one you were hoping to find, something had caught your eye. A small golden handle on the left side of the wooden wall with hinges on the right side. A door? You were in here so often, it's hard to imagine how you could have missed it! Tentatively, you reached out to grab the handle, curious as to what you would find. The small door slowly creaked open and...woah...

You blinked a few times to make sure you were seeing what you saw hanging in there. "Lingerie?," you mumbled to yourself. Well, it certainly wasn't yours, you never really cared to wear something like that yourself, and Lucifer never seemed to mind your decision either, thankfully. You pulled one of the hanging pieces from the rack to examine it closely. The design was elegant as far as lingerie was concerned. Black fabric with lacy red leaf designs on the breasts and stomach area with no coverage around either side of the abdomen.

It was cute...but who's was it? Perhaps it was Lucifer's ex-wife Lilith's? You weren't sure why she would leave it behind. Or why Lucifer would keep them. But the more you looked at the piece of clothing you held, that didn't seem right either. This was small, smaller than most lingerie you'd seen before. And from what you had seen from pictures, Lilith was not a small woman, far from it. She had to have been at least 7' ft. tall, she would never fit in something like this.

You continued to ponder this until you went back to explore the hidden closet. There were more items located at the very bottom that brought a sudden blush to you face. "Holy shit...," you mouthed, struggling to get your brain to process what you've just found. You felt like you just accidently stumbled into one of Hell's sex shops! Dildos, vibrators, butt plugs, collars, bottles of lube and...was that a strap on? What the hell was this perverted closet?! It didn't make sense! Why was this here? Who did this stuff belong to? Why would Lucifer...?

Wait...Lucifer...

Oh! OH SHIT!

It finally clicked in your brain. This was never Lilith's. This was Lucifer's!

“Ok, ok, it’s ok, it’s fine,” you told yourself, “it’s…oh fuck me…”

You stood there dumbfounded, imagining him in the skimpy outfit you held in your hand. You saw him sprawled out in front of you on the bed, drool trailing down the side of his mouth. You saw his half- lidded eyes staring back at you as you hovered over him, his expression filled with need and lust. Your face suddenly felt hot. You were so lost in your fantasy that you didn’t hear the footsteps growing louder behind you.

“Honey?,” Lucifer called out, “are you ready to go? We’re gonna be late for-” he froze as soon as he turned the corner and saw you in your hypnotized state. You snapped your head towards him, holding him in place with your vacant stare. You both stood there wordlessly for a few seconds until Lucifer finally found his voice again.

“I-I…,” he stuttered, “I can explain.”

Oh, you would love to hear his explanation for this. But you quickly decided that you were going to have a little fun with him. Feigning annoyance, you folded your arms across your chest, still hanging on the piece of lingerie.

"And when exactly were you going to tell me about this, Lucifer?" you chastised, almost cracking a smile. "Or were you hoping that I wouldn't find this dirty little closet of yours?"

"Yes! I mean no! Th-that's not it!," he stumbled over his words. He was panicking. It was adorable watching his cheeks turn a shade of red you've never seen from him before. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, trying to cool himself down after the sudden heat spike he felt climb up his face. "Please, love, I'll tell you everything! I'm so sorry, I-I didn't know what you were going to think. I was going to tell you...eventually."

"So let me get this straight," you replied as you sauntered your way over to him, making your way over to the shaken-up man. He backed away from you slowly until he hit the end of the vanity on the other side of the room, gripping it for dear life. Once you finally stood in front of him, you grabbed Lucifer by his tie and forced his face to be inches away from yours. He held his breath as you leaned in closer and closer until he could feel your hot breath on his lips. "You mean to tell me…,” you whispered, “that I could have been fucking you senseless in lingerie this entire time?!"

In that moment, Lucifer’s mind absolutely shattered. Did you say what he thinks you just said? He inhaled sharply after remembering how to breathe. “Y-You…I…th-this is…WHAT?,” he choked out.

“Did I stutter?,” you snickered. You closed the gap between you two and placed a searing kiss on his lips. Though hesitant at first, Lucifer couldn’t help but melt into you, his eyes fluttering shut, your tongues entangled in an elegant dance. You pulled away from him, much to Lucifer’s dismay and flashed him a lustful yet devious grin. “I’m sorry for acting like I was upset with you just now, Luci. That was a tad mean, I admit. In all honesty, it’s actually quite the opposite.”

Lucifer finally released his death grip on the vanity and stood up straight, adjusting his tie that you had loosened. “Th-That’s umm,” Lucifer swallowed hard, “that’s a relief to hear, darling. This is probably the best reaction I could have hoped for.” He flashed a nervous toothy smile, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I think,” you smiled coyly, dropping the towel you had wrapped around your body and revealing your nakedness to a now wide-eyed and mouth agape Lucifer, “we can be a little late for dinner.”

You saw Lucifer swallow hard at the sight of you. “S-sweetheart,” he began,” I admire your eagerness, I really do! B-but we shouldn’t be late, it’s nearly impossible to get a reservation there and-”

Before he could finish making up excuses, you tossed the lingerie onto the vanity behind him and leaned forward to place your hands on either side of him, effectively trapping him against it. “You’re the King of Hell, Lucifer,” you retorted, “what are they going to do if we’re late, turn you away? Besides…” you took one of your hands and palmed the very apparent bulge in Lucifer’s suit pants, causing him to moan, “we really shouldn’t go out while you’re in this state, don’t you agree?”

Lucifer tried to steady his breathing as you continued to rub him through his pants which were now becoming extremely tight and uncomfortable. “It’s-mmph fuck…your fault,” was all he could manage.

You chuckled, loving the effect you had on him. Not to be outdone, one of Lucifer’s hands quickly slipped down between your wet folds, eliciting a surprise yelp from you. You removed your hand from his pants and gripped his shoulder for balance instead. “Well, well,” Lucifer hummed against you, “seems like I’m not the only one who’s needy right now.” He continued to tease your entrance with his fingers, your grip on his shoulder growing tighter with every passing second. But you refused to let him have the upper hand.

“So that’s how we’re gonna play this, huh?” You breathed against his neck.

“You started it, so don’t-HEY!” With one swift motion, you latched onto Lucifer’s hips and threw him over your shoulder while he tried to playfully squirm away from your grasp. You turned and marched your way over to the bed with a coy smile. “Damn it, let me go!,” Lucifer laughed, but the hold you had on him tightened even further. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry! Please put me down, love, I didn’t mean to-WOAH!” You gave him wish by tossing Lucifer onto the mattress beneath him.

“If you’re really sorry,” you teased as you hovered over him, “you’re gonna put that tongue of yours to good use.”

Lucifer’s smile widened, nodding his head vigorously. You chuckled at his eagerness to please you; it was always so endearing. “You know this is supposed to be a punishment, Luci,” you joked.

“Oh trust me, darling,” he smirked, “this will NEVER be a punishment for me.” With that, he grabbed ahold of your waist and forced your body forward, your dripping cunt now mere inches away his lips. You had no time to respond before you felt his tongue dart across your slit. A wanton moan escaped your lips as he worked his tongue around your clit, circling it with such vigor and passion. His hands dug into either side of your thighs, making sure you couldn’t move away from his ministrations. You couldn’t help but begin to grind your hips against his face, attempting to feel as much of him as possible.

“So g-good for me, Luci,” you staggered, “ffffuuuuck, s-such a good boy for me.”

Your words only seemed to make Lucifer pick up his speed, humming against your slick. His forked tongue darted in and out of you at a relentless pace, his own erection all but forgotten at this point. He was more lost in your pleasure and your intoxicating taste to worry about the almost unbearable tightness in his pants. You felt yourself reaching your peak. No matter how many times Lucifer goes down on you, you knew you’d never last long. He knew exactly what he was doing and he took pride in it. That knot forming in your stomach was on the verge of snapping at any moment.

“FUCK LUCIFER,” you moaned, “FUCKFUCKFUCK!” You forgot how to breathe as your orgasm hit you, your walls clenching around nothing as Lucifer lapped up your juices and helped prolong your high. You caught your breath once your body began to relax again. You shifted your body downwards so you could see Lucifer’s face again, now freshly adorned with your release. He flashed you an innocent looking grin, making you smirk and roll your eyes. You gave him a quick peck on his lips, tasting the faintest hint of yourself on them.

“Good boy,” you praised him, a small whimper escaping Lucifer’s throat. “Go change for me,” you tossed your head to side, indicating to the clothing you left on the vanity. Lucifer’s face flushed a deep shade of red, nodding his head wordlessly. “I’ll be right back, love.”

You made your way off the bed and walked over back to the walk-in closet, stopping at your now new favorite section. You grabbed the strap on and placed it around your waist, adjusting the harness to make sure it was snug against your body. The appendage itself wasn't overly large, around the standard 6 inches. It was perfect for both of you though, who knows how long it's been since Lucifer's done this. You wanted to take things slowly. You grabbed a bottle of lube and were about to leave when you something else in that small cupboard caught your eye. You reached down and grabbed it, wanting to complete his little ensemble. You hid the object behind your back so Lucifer couldn't see it at first.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped out of the closet once more. You scanned the bedroom in front of you until your eyes landed on him. His back was towards you, sitting on the opposite edge of the bed, seemingly gripping the sheets below him. You could sense that he was nervous. And if you were being honest, you were too. But tonight you we're going to take care of him, he more than deserved it.

"Luci?," you called out sweetly. Lucifer sat up straight when he heard his name, looking over his shoulder and giving you a faint smile. You slowly moved towards him, your breathing becoming shakier. He stood up from his seated position, hands clenched at his sides when you stopped in front of him. There was no way to hide the flush of your cheeks when you saw him in his lingerie for the first time.

Breathtaking.

The minimal clothing hugged his body so well, and the black and red coloring made his pale skin pop. You couldn't stop staring, and he noticed. He looked away from you, feeling embarrassed, as if he were on display. You took your free hand and placed in under his chin, turning his head and gazing into his lovely yellow eyes. "You look absolutely stunning, Luci. So beautiful..." you trailed off, placing a small kiss on his forehead. Lucifer couldn't help but bury his face in his hands from your words of affection.

"Can you turn around for me, baby? I have one last thing for you," you asked. Lucifer did as you asked, exhaling a deep breath. You took the object you had in the hand behind your back and wrapped it around his neck. A deep red collar with beautiful golden patters and swirls embroidered onto it. Sewn into the front in large cursive letters spelled the words "Pretty Boy". Lucifer turned around and faced you again, lifting his hand to grab his newly embellished neck. "It suits you, my pretty boy," you cooed, palming his cheek and gently rubbing your thumb against his soft skin. You could make out the tiniest of tears forming in your lover's eyes as he leaned into your touch.

"Are you ready?," you asked sweetly.

"Yes," he whispered against your hand.

"We're going to take our time, alright?," you soothed. "If at any time you want to stop, tell me and we'll be done, no questions asked. You promise?"

"I promise," he smiled.

"That's my good boy," you approved. "How do you want to do this; on your back or on your hands and knees? Whatever you want."

Lucifer swallowed hard. "B-Back, please. Wanna see you."

"I was hoping you'd say that" you chuckled. "Lay down for me."

Lucifer quickly crawled back onto the bed and laid down flat on his back, his legs dangling over the edge. You grabbed a pillow from the top of the bed and placed it underneath his head, doing your best to make him as comfortable as possible. You walked around to where his legs hung, grabbing the bottle of lube and placing some on your first two fingers. "Legs up," you told him, and he complied immediately. His ankles now rested on either of your shoulders as he looked at you with the neediest expression you've ever seen from him.

"Let's warm you up, love," you hummed, "just relax for me, okay?" Lucifer shut his eyes and took a few deep breaths in and out as you shifted the fabric out of the way from his entrance. It also wasn't lost on you that his cock had been straining against his clothes this whole time, you planned on giving it some much needed attention. Slowly, you placed your first finger against his hole, feeling his body jolt from the sensation.

"I'm alright!," Lucifer nearly shouted, making sure you didn't pull away from him, "just...surprised me is all! Please don't stop."

With a smile, you pushed your index finger inside of him, feeling the tightness squeezing around you. Lucifer bit his lip and released a guttural moan. You set a slow pace as you thrusted your finger in and out of him, feeling his muscles relaxing with every movement.

"M-more, please more," Lucifer babbled. It was impossible to ignore his pleading, so you complied by inserting your second finger into him, picking up your movements slightly. "Ssshhhiiitt..." you heard Lucifer curse as you separated your fingers inside of him, stretching him further. You stretched and pushed your fingers inside as far as you could; Lucifer was already becoming an incoherent mess. After a minute or two of your continued ministrations, you finally removed your fingers from him, causing Lucifer to whimper desperately.

"You're doing so well for me, baby," you praised. You took the bottle of lube once more and applied a generous amount to the strap. You lined up the tip up against his entrance, hearing Lucifer's breath hitch. "Ready, Luci?"

"Yes, please," he whispered almost inaudibly.

You pushed the tip into him as slowly as you could, stopping only halfway when you heard Lucifer nearly scream.

"Do you need me to stop?," you asked anxiously.

"No, no! It's...it's alright," he heaved, "j-just give me a minute, please. It burns somewhat, I kind of forgot about that part." You stayed motionless for about 30 seconds before you heard Lucifer give you the okay to start moving again. You shifted your hips to pull out of him and began to slowly sink back into him. Lucifer clawed at the sheets beneath him, overwhelmed by the sensations you were giving him. After only a few more seconds, you had sheathed yourself inside of him as far as you could go. The noises Lucifer was making sent shivers straight down your spine; you wanted more.

"F-fuck..." Lucifer choked out, "Please...please move...n-need it...need you..." He was barely able to form a complete sentence anymore. Not wanting to deny him any longer, you started thrusting your strap in and out of him at a steady pace. The slapping of your skin against his echoed throughout the room, mixing with Lucifer's moans of pure ecstasy. Lucifer arched his back as each of your thrusts brushed against his prostrate. You reached down and pushed more of the fabric away, finally freeing his aching cock that was already leaking an excess amount of precum. You began to stoke him in tandem with your thrusts. Lucifer's eyes shot open from this new sensation he could feel all throughout his entire body, letting out a scream of pleasure.

Lucifer stared back at you as you continued to pound into him. You saw the tears welling up in his eyes, a smile of pure joy spread across his face. It was a feeling of pure bliss; a sense of euphoria had ripped through him. His heart was full. You were and are his everything. You leaned down closer to him, and with your free hand, interlaced your fingers with his own.

“You’re taking me so well, Luci,” you cooed, quickening your thrusts. “You look so pretty, my sweet boy.”

“Hnng, c-can’t…fuckfuckfuck, so c-close, please, don’t stop…gonna-FUCK…gonna cum…” Lucifer mewled. “L-Love you…love you so much, my angel, p-please…”

Your thrusts became erratic and you felt his cock twitching in your hand, ready to burst at the seams. “Love you more, Lucifer. Cum for me, baby, it’s alright. Let it all out for me.”

With a few more sharp thrusts of your hips, his orgasm had knocked the wind of of his lungs. Strings of his hot seed burst out of him, ruining his lovely outfit and spilling over your hand. Your thrusts and stroking had slowed as you helped him ride out his high. Lucifer was left a breathless mess beneath you. You hummed as you licked your hand clean of Lucifer’s mess, savoring its taste. You inched your way out of him gently, locking your hands around his ankles and letting his legs sway freely off the bed once again. After stepping out of the strap, you went and picked up the towel you had left on the floor over by the vanity. You patted down on Lucifer's stomach, wiping away the remains of his orgasm. Crawling up beside him, you outstretched your arms and brought him flush against your chest.

"You did so well, Luci," you murmured against his ear, "are you alright? Do you need anything?"

Lucifer shifted himself so he could face you. His eyes seemed to shimmer when he looked into yours, his expression was soft and serene. "All I'll ever need is you, my dear. Thank you...for this. For everything. I love you...more than anything."

You leaned into each other, your lips crashing together as if it would be the last time. But you knew it wouldn't. You'd always be there for him, just as he would for you. You pulled away and brushed his fallen hair away from his face.

"I guess we missed our reservation," you joked.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm absolutely famished," Lucifer laughed. "I should probably go change again, huh?"

"Yes, go get your suit!" Before he could sit up, you wrapped your hands around the back of his neck, placing his forehead against your own. "But leave the lingerie on underneath. I'm going to want dessert after our meal."

~~~~

⬆️ God reading my Lucifer smut fics live reaction

I got a lot of explaining to do when I meet Gigachad St. Peter after I leave this corporal realm.

Tag list: @kermitdafroggy, @luc1fersducky, @orbitinglumps, @bigfatbimbo, @myhornybrainonlyknowsthis, @lilzebeth, @bbootyyyshaker9000

[amywritesthings]

dating on airplane mode. | part one.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 3.9k Summary: So you're dating your neighbor who also happens to be a sex hotline dom named Levi Ackerman. Stranger things have happened, right?

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - alternate universe (modern), slow burn, eventual smut, sex work, neighbors au, newly established relationship, dual pov, the direct sequel to Press Four For More Options Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics submitted for @levievent 's #levimonth24 / day 22: neighbors

part two. | masterlist

“I'm seeing someone.”

Tea goes flying — metaphorically and physically.

When he confessed a new (and very unexpected) development in his (borderline nonexistent) dating life, Levi hadn’t anticipated Hange Zoe turning directly towards Erwin Smith to unleash a devastating spit-take attack to the face.

It’s a direct hit.

Erwin heroically takes the brunt of the damage, so at least his furniture is spared.

(Levi didn’t need to spend the rest of the afternoon scrubbing down the already scrubbed-down living room.)

Hange’s shout is shrill, the realization hitting them like a full-throttle freight train.

“You’re what?”

“He said he’s seeing someone,” Erwin answers in monotone before Levi can even try. 

The tall blonde extends a hand to leisurely grab the napkin cradling the bottom of his tea saucer. In true Erwin fashion, he doesn’t even blink at Hange’s dramatics — or their consequences unto him.

He raises the napkin to blot the side of his face sprinkled with a mixture of freshly-brewed lavender tea and Hange’s saliva.

(Then again, Hange could abruptly bang pots and pans in the middle of the night and Erwin would merely call it a minor inconvenience to his sleep routine.)

“No, no, I heard what he said,” Hange recovers with a crack to their voice, “but I can’t tell if he’s messing with us.”

“I’m not,” Levi flatly states.

“Okay, but how do we know?”

“Hange—”

Except it’s Erwin intercepting once more. “Because he would never pretend to have a significant other when one of his closest friends happens to be you.”

Hange squints, pushing their glasses up the bridge of their nose.

“Why? ‘Cause I joked that I’d stalk him the next time he finally found a date? That was one time, Erwin.”

Erwin rolls his neck to the right, offering Hange a pair of thick, disbelieving eyebrows.

“Technically speaking, Zoe, you threatened to stalk either of us if you caught even a sniff that we could be in the midst of a romantic pursuit. Plus, we’re well aware of the disguise kit collecting dust in the trunk of Moblit’s car.”

An instant shit-eating grin passes across their lips.

“Ha. Fair.”

If Levi’s eyeballs could roll any further into the back of his skull, they’d get stuck.

“However,” Erwin adds, those bold blue eyes flickering back towards Levi, “it doesn’t explain why we were in the dark until now. At the very least, we should hope you would feel safe enough to confide in us about someone you are serious about dating.”

Yeah. 

Out of his two friends sitting across from him, Levi figured Erwin would be the most suspicious of the surprise announcement.

Now that it’s been a few days since That Fateful Night, he doesn’t feel as self-conscious to confess his new reality.

It was as good of a time as any to rip the proverbial band-aid off.

(Besides, it was only a matter of mistakes before his friends learned the truth for themselves.)

Hange, Erwin, Moblit — they’re his only remaining connections tying him to this city. The others from his gym days have all found offers in other towns, returned to their old homes—

Moved on.

Meeting Erwin Smith in boot camp changed the trajectory of his life, for better or worse. 

Levi had known the man longer than he knew anyone else — but only by a few days and some change, considering he was destined (Hange’s words, not his) to meet the hyper scientist and their subdued partner, Moblit, in the army as well.

Then, as if attached to the hip, all four of them agreed to work at Erwin’s gym.

When that fell through, Erwin found the Scout Services Hotline.

.

.

— —

.

.

    The announcement came to him one summer evening with a printed job description and a six pack of beer.

Levi assumed Erwin’s confession on taking a sex hotline job had been one weird, shitty joke.

Picturing stoic, pragmatic Erwin Smith telling people how to fuck themselves in their bedrooms late at night for the almighty dollar felt obscene. 

Hell, it was obscene.

Levi didn’t want to consider his oldest friend in such a compromising position, but there it was laid before him without shame or fear of judgment.

Becoming a part-time sex worker for Erwin was as noncommittal as taking up a fleeting niche interest — like exotic bird watching or crocheting sweaters for fucking cats.

“At the gym, we improved upon people’s lives,” Erwin had told him while sipping his beer, staring out to the city sightline from Levi’s balcony. “Who has the authority to say this job isn’t doing something similar to those who may be lonely?”

“You would make yapping on a damn sex hotline prophetic,” Levi scoffed in return. “Selling some shitty porn script a dozen times a night sounds like the closest you could get to Hell.”

“I disagree,” Erwin argued without heat. “When I interviewed, they stated every employee is given the ability to do as they please. To show their strengths and make it their own.”

“Bullshit.”

“It isn’t.” 

Erwin rested the beer bottle on the knee of his trousers. 

“Flexible work hours give me the ability to find another place the gym can call home. The pay would certainly cover any initial costs after several years.”

“Several years?”

Levi frowned, sitting up straighter in his chair.

“Erwin… c’mon. Just take a second to listen to yourself.”

“I’m only offering a chance for you to do the same. You may not be fond of people, Levi, but you’re loyal to a stubborn fault.”

Erwin gave him a sidelong glance.

“I know you won’t put in applications to go to any other gym.”

“Tch.”

A dismissive sound was all he could muster at the time.

He always hated how Erwin could open the cavity of his chest and put his damn bleeding heart on display.

“Who says I haven’t been window shopping to pass the damn unemployment time?”

“I wish you would,” Erwin replied with a heavy sigh. “Your skills are better when in use, not lying waste with the rest of us.”

“Hange and Moblit’re doing just fine.”

Hange, a self-proclaimed babbler, returned to Paradis University to make headway on some fascinating research projects side by side with Moblit. 

It was where they belonged, really.

“Fine, then lying waste with me.”

After a beat, Erwin slid his hand across the space between their chairs and held out a slip of paper.

"Look it over. Really sit down and think about what you did for our fighters and see where I’m coming from. You have a knack for leading. Of making people believe in themselves at their lowest."

He made it a point to stop. Stare.

Levi bit his tongue, meeting his friend's stern gaze.

"Conventional or not, you would still be helping people. Even if it’s a job for a month, at least you’ll be putting a hell of a lot of money in your pocket. It's better than waiting for my signal to move on.”

.

.

— —

.

.

    The bastard was always great at a rousing speech.

That night was the night Levi plugged in the damn website and read the job description.

By morning, he had submitted his application for a part-time hotline employee that included an .mp3 file auditioning his voice.

Erwin must have told his boss that he had a life-long friend possibly interested in the position, because by that night?

Levi Ackerman had a job.

A night turned into a month.

A month turned into six. 

Six to a year.

Suddenly denying begging, pleading people from their chased orgasms became as second nature as completing an Excel sheet.

Yet nothing else changed.

Levi still kept to himself.

Considering the friend group worked odd hours — Erwin with his own clientele, Moblit working towards his Masters, and Hange testing the scientific project of the week at the same university when unsupervised — it was easy to.

Wake up. Work out. Eat. Run errands. Clock in for work. Clock out. Eat. Sleep. 

Repeat.

Routine.

Hell, a lot of his life worked like a well-oiled machine until you showed up.

Now his world is slightly spinning off-axis, and he knows:

Without talking to his friends about his (uncharacteristically selfish and) impulsive decision, everything could very well go up in flames.

(Because when it comes to sticking matters of the heart and Levi Ackerman in one room, the former never walks out.)

After a pregnant pause in this three-way stand-off, Hange leans in, pressing both hands onto the tops of their thighs. 

“So when you say you’re seeing someone, you mean like… romantically?”

“As opposed to what?” Levi flatly asks.

“Well, seeing someone could mean anything, especially for you,” Hange reasons. Levi’s eyes narrow when Erwin gives that short huff of air through his nose like he’s stifling a laugh. “You could be seeing someone about finally fixing your dryer.”

“Seriously?”

“I’m just saying, romantically isn’t the first idea that comes to mind!”

“I have to agree with Zoe,” Erwin finally states, shifting his blue eyes to Levi’s. “You never mentioned that you had met someone in our group chat, and you haven’t made any changes in your schedule that suggest otherwise.”

Levi can’t help but scoff.

“Oh, so now you’re following Hange’s goddamn Google calendar?”

That fucking calendar.

The ‘we’re so busy but we can’t lose touch just because the gym went under’ calendar hastily made at two in the morning and sent with a declaration of war if no one accepted the invite.

All four of them did.

(Then again, Moblit didn’t have much of a choice.)

“I check on occasion,” is Erwin’s short rebuttal, before sitting up straighter. “But the former argument stands: you didn’t tell us that you were dabbling in the dating scene.”

“Wouldn’t really call it dabbling, Erwin,” Levi huffs, picking up his tea cup by clawing the rim of the ceramic. “Shit just kind of happened.”

“Uh-uh,” Hange interrupts. “We’re not playing coy right now, Levi. I want details: name, height—”

“Occupation,” Erwin agrees.

“Where they’re from.”

“If they have siblings.”

“Do they live near here?”

“If they’re allergic to cats.”

An involuntary grimace passes over Levi’s face.

“Ooh! We also need to know if they like tennis,” Hange adds excitedly. “Don’t trust someone who likes tennis, spectator or player. They’re always too put together with an underlying layer of batshit crazy.”

Erwin halts mid-sip of his tea. 

“...I like tennis.”

Hange’s thumb and middle finger sharply snap. “Exactly.”

Enough.

Levi hastily pushes his black fringe out of his eyes with his free hand. “I— No, Jesus, can we stop speculating about her?”

“Why?” Erwin challenges.

“Because I told you what you needed to know,” Levi challenges without tripping over his words. “And I’d prefer to keep the rest of myself.”

“Ah, her.”

When he turns his attention to Hange, there’s a wicked glimmer in their eye.

Well, fuck him.

Too much has already been said.

Hange whistles low. 

“So how recently was this fair maiden introduced into thy friend’s life?”

“Don’t start talking like a freak, Four Eyes,” he warns them while they suppress a cackle between pressed lips. “And — fuck, fine. If no one is going to let it go—”

“We aren’t.”'

Erwin interrupts, making it two against one.

With a set glare at his blonde friend, the smaller man sinks further into his chair and sighs with reluctant resolve. 

“I… met her a few days ago. It...”

Trailing off, he sets his tea cup down to rub at his temples with one hand.

This is going to bring on a headache. 

He really doesn’t need it on a work night.

“You’re both going to have an opinion on the how, and trust me, so do I.”

Hange’s face screws up in confusion, but he sees it out of the corner of his eye.

Erwin grows still. Contemplative.

Yeah, he knew this was going to go terribly.

“Huh?” Hange whips their ponytail back and forth to look between both men, smacking themself on the sides of their face. “Why wouldn’t we approve of how? Is it one of the old fighters?”

Levi scoffs, dropping to sit back in his chair. “I’d rather choke.”

“Then I’m not following. You don’t even talk to cashiers at the grocery store.”

“When did she call the hotline?” Erwin asks, cutting straight through the bush instead of beating around it.

His stare is almost indiscernible. Stern.

(Protective.)

The lightbulb clicks. Hange finally settles their attention on him. 

“Whoa — wait, she’s a…”

“Former client,” Levi confesses after Hange trails off. “Emphasis on the former part.”

The room grows silent.

Levi doesn’t have the capacity to see Hange’s true reaction, because he’s keeping eye contact with Erwin.

Their own telepathic argument bounces back and forth like that very proverbial tennis ball Hange had so teasingly laid down.

The ethics of it all;

The logistics of what it could mean for the future;

The gravity of this choice and knowing its weight is crushing him.

Erwin’s gaze softens a fraction.

Levi’s shoulders relax, if only a little.

“And how did that opportunity come to pass?” the taller blonde finally asks, but it isn’t as harsh as Levi anticipated. 

Hell, it’s curious.

Willing — to not judge; to hear him out.

“Accidentally stumbled into her at the bar down the street,” Levi confesses.

Stumbled is an understatement.

.

.

— —

.

.

    “So then — what does this mean?”

He doesn’t know.

God, he has no fucking clue.

Just like he had no fucking clue you’d be at this bar tonight; that you not only lived in the area, but in the same goddamn building just a few floors south.

You were meant to be a fluke thing.

A moment of weakness.

An anomaly he could solve like every other problem in his life, one he could reason to death and move on from once you realized that this hotline is a slippery slope to financial debt.

At the end of the day, it wasn’t meant to be real.

The calls, the laughter, the exchange of stories felt real, but that’s the selling point.

Imagining idealism.

He could send as many discounted invoices as he could to management to ease the cost of your calls, but there was only so much he could do from his position.

Still—

That being said, he wanted this.

For the first time in a long time, he wanted something.

Ever since Erwin’s gym went under and the staff were forced to find something else in the interim, Levi Ackerman turned off his emotions. His passion.

Money was tight. 

Bills were bills. 

But there are worse things to do than apply to a remote-working sex hotline with the promise of flexible hours, medical insurance, and the opportunity to get away from people for a while.

Maybe he hadn’t realized he was simply going through the motions of buying a morning tea at the coffee shop down the street. 

Maybe he hadn’t noticed that his drive to push himself to the brink of exhaustion at the gym all but disappeared.

Maybe he existed to simply exist.

Then you called.

Petra had pinged him to let him know that there was someone looking for a deep voice — not surprising — with a tendency to overtalk and overthink.

Easy.

Those types always cave the second you call them a pet name or sprinkle a little praise.

Yet you burst into his life like a damn firework to the face and he’s never recovered since.

Being nervous is a staple on these calls. He’s heard every justification in the book just as he’s witnessed people use the hotline like they’re robots.

You wanted to talk.

Petra doesn’t send people to him if they want to talk.

(Did she know, somehow, that he needed this?)

Conspiracies aside, the last two weeks became some of the best of his life.

Now you knew his face, and he knew yours.

And Christ, you were beautiful. 

Your voice was one thing — like a soothing balm to his insomnia — but your face nearly took him right the hell out.

Even in the mirror backsplash of the bar, he couldn’t stop staring. Didn’t want to, not when he finally saw what he wanted right in the palm of his hand.

So he was honest.

Honest about his life, his job, his black hole of an existence — maybe to scare you away so you’d choose better than a guy like him.

That he was the first to break the rules.

That he was sorry, because you weren’t looking for more baggage after a shit breakup with a shithead of a guy.

You didn’t care.

So he decided to rip a page out of his goddamn advice book:

Be selfish.

“Well, if you don’t get too wasted with your friends tonight—”

Autopilot.

Everything is on autopilot when he picks up that damn pen and starts to scribble on a napkin, allowing his nervous system to suckerpunch his logic right out the damn window.

“—and you end up going to the gym tomorrow—”

Bail.

Bail, bail, bail, before you make a damn fool of yourself, Levi Ackerman.

He doesn’t.

He straightens his spine, folds the napkin, and reaches for your hand. 

The heat of it almost makes his stomach clench.

If he were bolder, then maybe he’d steal you away from your friends. Keep asking questions to make you talk more. Watch as your eyes light up about your favorite things—

He can’t. Won’t.

You’re with your friends. He’s already taken enough time away from them for you.

“—give me a call.”

Maybe he’s chickenshit for running, but at least there’s a part of him brave enough to leave him his personal cell number in the palm of your hand.

Before you can say anything, he drops some money on the counter to pay for both drinks and a tip and leaves to walk home.

To contemplate.

(Assuming you likely won’t call. He wouldn’t blame you.)

The night air leaves a sobering sting on his cheeks as he steps outside.

It’s considerably quieter than the cramped space of the bar, but cabs bustle in the street.

His pocket vibrates not once but twice.

(So not a text.)

Fishing his phone out, Levi squints at the ‘Unknown Caller’ ID staring up at him.

He swipes right to accept said call, pressing the phone to his ear.

“Hello, Levi Ackerman speaking.”

“Hi, Levi. It’s formerly Scarlet.”

His heart falls out of his ass.

Whipping back around to the tinted windows of the bar, Levi can’t help but look for that now-familiar face.

You’re blocked by an endless sea of conversations and bodies, but he still searches.

“My schedule just opened up,” you tell him from the other side of the line, your voice airy like you hold a secret. “I know it’s a little late for some coffee, but — are you free for some tea now?”

Shit.

Maybe he should be giving the headset for the hotline over to you.

“Depends,” Levi exhales. “Any shop worth a damn is closed at this hour.”

“Shit, you’re right.”

He liked it when you cursed. 

Hell, he liked it when you weren’t afraid to be yourself around him the most.

“There’s a pop-up shop about six floors above yours,” Levi reasons with a shrug he assumes you can’t see; autopilot, “if you don’t mind walking a neighbor home.”

.

.

— —

.

.

    “You said that?”

Hange, now at the brink of teetering off of their chair, gawks.

Levi blinks twice, realizing he’s given more of the story than he wanted to.

That they know it’s serious — dead fucking serious for him, actually — and that you’re his neighbor.

Yeah, he didn’t believe it either until you said yes.

“What?” Levi asks. “Something wrong?”

“No, that was just fucking smooth, dude,” Hange whistles low, impressed. “Pop-a-button-and-open-a-window kinda smooth. Holy shit.” They thumb towards Erwin. “You teach him to talk like that!?”

“Self-taught, I’m afraid,” Erwin hums. “Can’t take the credit.”

Hange flops back into their chair unceremoniously. “Jeeeez.”

“Six floors down, then?”

There’s a rare tint of pride in Erwin’s tone, like there’s a joke somewhere in that question he isn’t saying. 

Levi immediately narrows his eyes.

“Yeah. She’s been my fuckin’ neighbor all this time, if you can believe that.”

He sure as hell can’t. The fact that you’re six floors away — have been — has kept him up at night.

He could run down there right now and show you off to his friends.

He could leave you home-cooked meals if you’re running behind at your office job.

He could do a lot of things, but—

“Is she requesting you to end your time at Scout Services?” Erwin asks, interrupting his trailing thoughts.

Levi’s stormy eyes meet a contemplative, oceanic stare.

“...no.”

A beat passes.

Despite his trepidation, he explains himself.

“She’s not asking me to quit it. Says she gets it, a job’s a job, but I don’t know how true that’ll be in the long run.”

“And you believe her?”

He knows Erwin’s skepticism isn’t unfounded, but it sets a fire in his belly.

Questioning you, the newfound gravity keeping him grounded on planet earth.

(You're just a stranger to him, too, at the end of the day, but you don't feel like one. Not really.)

“I can’t expect anyone to stay neutral about what the fuck it is we do, Erwin," he reasons diplomatically. "I can say everything on my mind and put it on paper, but I’m sure the doubt will still creep in. Everything’s too new to tell. It won’t be easy, but it…”

He sighs, running his hand once more through his straight-and-narrow black hair. 

“I just need you two dumbasses to keep me in check. I can’t—”

Hange frowns, and he hates the sympathetic tone they take when they say his name. 

“Levi—”

“Four Eyes,” Levi interrupts stronger yet weaker in resolve, effectively shutting down their protest, “I can’t fuck this up. So don’t let me.”

The air grows thick, like winding vines corrupting the foundation of a tree.

Levi glances between the two of them, nostrils flaring with unspoken difficulty.

Erwin is the first to nod. Wordlessly, but he does.

Hange sighs with conclusion not a second after and nods, too.

“Am I at least allowed to ask one thing?” they chirp, holding out one slender finger to the sky. “Just one teeny, tiny thing — yes or no.”

A part of him really wants to say no.

A part of him really wants to say this conversation is over before he gives them anymore concrete information about you as he navigates these uncharted waters of being a not-so-normal boyfriend to a very-normal-ass person.

He fights.

Fails.

“...fine,” he grumbles. “The fuck’s the question?”

Hange perks up, all too smug.

“Did the pop-up shop six floors up line work?”

The memory blossoms in the back of his skull.

His body warms as if trapped under an electric blanket, heat setting cranked a little too high. 

Instinctively his eyes flicker to the front door of his apartment.

Like you’ll burst in at any moment with your work bags and stress and the hope that he’ll have the same soothing balm you’ve gifted him, hands at the ready to fix your problems for you.

He hasn’t wanted much.

He’s never wanted much, but—

Shit, if he doesn’t want to be good to you.

“...something like that.”

.

Author's Note:

AHHHH HI EVERYONE! WE'RE AT IT AGAIN WITH MODERN!LEVI SHENANIGANS! How are we feeling to be back?

I seriously cannot believe we're here. I've never done a sequel before, but the demand was overwhelming and I couldn't help but agree: we could do with learning what happens after the final call.

And we will, in this seven (maybe more?) part series. I had to actually break up part one because it got way too large of a chapter, so I promise we'll be picking up right where we left off in P4 -- like, quite literally That Fateful Night in part two.

[lex-the-flex]

Better in Yellow

WorstLogan! Howlett x reader

Summary: Returning from a taxing mission, Logan is ready to relax with you, but first, you’ve got to see your man in the iconic yellow suit.

Word Count: 703

Warning(s): None! Just pure fluff and flirting!

A/N: Hello all, I'm back after a short break! I've been thinking about this idea for the past couple of days and I need more Logan fluff in my life. Feedback is appreciated and enjoy!

The fresh scent of lemons and sugar overtake the large gardens attached to the vine-covered brick mansion. Rays of sunlight stretch through the tall trees, allowing every square inch of the green nature to feel alive.

Lightly scrubbing a large batch of lemons in a stone sink built into the wall, the cold water feels refreshing on your hands. Gently wiping the thin layer of sweat off your face, you quietly hum to yourself.

“I found some wild lavender growing in the far corner.” Rogue announces to you.

Turning around from the stone sink, a bright smile overtakes your lips.

“I didn’t even know we had that here. I wonder how many other herbs Storm and Scott have locked away in a cabinet somewhere.” You reply.

Quickly drying off the fruit, you return to the picnic table where Rogue has occupied herself with cleaning and cutting the lavender. Carefully peeling and chopping the fresh lemons, the faint sound of the Blackbird fills the air, signaling that the crew were home. Bouncing on her toes, you can tell how eager Rogue is to see Bobby, so you give her a reassuring nod.

Bolting from her spot at the table, runs through the courtyard and in between the perfectly trimmed hedges. Smiling after her, you happily return to your task.

"I see you found my secret stash." Scott teases.

Wrapping his arm around your shoulders, you can't help but laugh.

"Oh come on! It's not like you were using it anyway. But you can thank Rouge for finding it. She's got quite the eye." You reply.

Adding some ingredients to the glass pitcher, Rogue returns with Bobby and the rest of the gang.

"Speaking of having an eye, maybe don't mention the new uniforms to your beloved Wolverine. It was like pulling teeth with him just to wear these damn things. He's still a little sensitive." Scott explains, grabbing a glass.

"Who's still a little sensitive?" Storm asks, placing her hands on her hips.

"Oh you know, the moody and broody Logan over there. Besides, the mission was a little rough." Jean teases, blindly aiming her thumb behind her.

"Or rather: Logan was a little rough." Scott interjects.

"Guys, you all look absolutely amazing. Regardless of how eye-catching the suits are, they still prove who we are." You state.

Pouring everyone a glass of the lemonade, the crew slowly depart from the picnic table, and you sit on the wooden surface. In the meantime, Logan slowly and surely makes his way over to you.

"Heya darlin'." Logan says.

Joining you at the table, he leans against the edge, and finally focuses on you. Taking in his tired features, the sight of Logan's light hazel eyes bring a sense of peace to your chest.

"Hi, Lo." You reply.

Silently smiling at you, Logan leans toward you, pressing a loving kiss to your lips.

"I've missed you, bub. I wish you were on the mission with you. We really could've used you. Besides, these suits didn't help either. They already need to be repaired." Logan admits.

Briefly turning around, Logan lets you examine a few slashes and dents caused by bullet holes. Running your fingers over the ridges in the damaged fabric, Logan turns back around to face you.

Carefully placing his hands on either side of your hips, you calmly stroke his cheeks. Feeling a little pit of disappointment rise in the pit of his stomach, Logan tries to open his mouth to speak his mind, but you place a finger on his lips.

"I know what you're going to say and you don't need too. While the mission didn't go the way you wanted, at least you all tried. You tried, Logan. And that's what matters. Even if yellow might secretly be your color and you look pretty damn sexy in it." You clarify, not letting go of Logan.

Earning a rare full smile from Logan, he kindly laughs at your joke. Suddenly, the heavy weight of the mission gradually leaves Logan's chest just as he leans his forehead against your own. Embracing the moment, a great wave of tranquility consumes Logan in the best way possible, as long as you are by his side.

wolverine taglist ~

@dreamliners

@chronicallybubbly

@dontfeedthebigbadwolf

@the-resident-vampire

@ovaryacted

@misssarcasmos-blog

@yellow-eyed-sams-wife

@lost-in-horrorland

@peterparkernotfound

@pcrushinnerd

@quillycrow

@till-hes-90

@the-moth-archives

@stilllivindue2spite

@wolviesgal

[wndaswife]

Wanda returns to bad habits after her breakup with you.

Tags: references to smut, lot of angst!, self-destructive habits, toxic relationship, abuse, possibly triggering topics, unhealthy sex, cheerleader!wanda, references to fem!reader

Word count: 2438

Before being with you, Wanda didn’t know that there was any other way of having sex. In fact, she didn’t think sex was something one could even tie emotional connections to. 

You and Wanda never had sex until she was the one who brought it up, nearly two months into the relationship. Granted, in the beginning, Wanda never regarded it like a real relationship, taking your feelings for her for granted, using your love for her as entertainment. 

She was uncertain when you first had sex; you asked if she was feeling alright, if you were making her feel good, and you were gentle, taking time to run your hands over her body and get to know her in ways you hadn’t before. 

It made her feel so seen, so thought of. 

Wanda wondered about a lot of things for the first time when she watched as you kissed down her body, carefully undressing her and treating her delicately. 

When she laid on her back, her hip bone became more prominent and casted a shadow over a birthmark she had on her left hip, making it seem like it disappeared. Would you notice it while you were taking your time unbuttoning her pants and kissing her lower stomach?

She felt her bottom lip tremble and the back of her nose tingle with incoming tears when you pressed a kiss to it, your thumb brushing against it softly as you descended further. 

In some way, it felt good to have her clothes taken off of her so harshly her thighs burned briefly against the denim waistline of her jeans, to have nails digging into spots you would kiss tenderly, to know her body only ever belonged to you in the way you took her because she was only treated so harsh when she wasn't with you.

Wanda wasn’t close to the boys she slept with, though after being with you she didn’t quite have the same interest in being with as many as she used to. 

Vision was the only one Wanda had enough energy to see. He intellectualized his violence, at least — tried to explain that he couldn’t help but want to claim her and make her his. When he was able to pull at her hair, bend her how he wanted, slap her, spank her, redden her skin and bruise her flesh while he claimed her until he was fatigued, she belonged to him. 

She understood the rationale, enjoyed the distraction of being someone else’s rather than belonging to herself, or having to come to terms that she didn’t know herself enough to be anything on her own, or to be forced to realize that in her lack of herself, there was a lack of you too.

Why didn’t you fuck her until she was telling you it was too much? Why didn’t you make her question whether she’d reached either her threshold of pain or pleasure when she told you to stop?

Which she never did, because she never had to. 

It was miraculous the things you could read in her body — the twitching of her hips away from your fingers or a furrowing of her eyebrows.

You knew when she had enough, and when she needed more. 

Why didn’t you treat her like everyone else did?

“Was Y/N boring?” Vision asked, wrapping an arm around Wanda’s body and pulling her against his side. He took her chin in his hand and turned her head to the side to press a kiss to her lips. 

Wanda felt a pain in her chest when anyone mentioned you; the only role you had in her life now was when other people brought your name up. She was only able to interact with you through discussing her time with you in the past tense. 

“No,” she answered. “She wasn’t boring.”

He reasoned, “She didn’t know you at all.”

Wanda didn’t know whether she wanted to protest and give away what was special about her relationship with you to someone else. But then he added, “The CD she put together for you, the poems and all those dull gestures — you don’t like that.”

“And you know me better?” Wanda retorted, frowning and attempting to pull away from him slightly, only to be pulled back by how his arm wrapped around her shoulders completely. 

“I know how to treat a girl.”

She held back a scoff, mostly because she wasn’t interested in arguing about you; you were too precious of a memory to discuss in argument. 

You were a memory that was hers and hers only. 

But she couldn’t help but come to your defense, for a part of her did want to talk about you, to keep you in her life that way. 

“She tried her best,” she said, leaving out the part that you’d tried your best in spite of how terrible of a girlfriend she was to you, how she used you and your feelings for her to entertain her friends. “She cared.”

Some time close to the end of the first month you were together, you put together a CD of songs for her. Wanda had never been given something like that before, didn’t understand the significance nor what you were trying to do by gifting it. 

‘For Wanda,’ it said — so simple.

She didn’t think twice before giving it to her friends.

One of them put it into their laptops and they listened to it together, wanting to see what kind of things you put together for her for your sham relationship Wanda hadn’t been putting any effort into, though a part of her was curious in a way that her friends weren’t. 

After the first two songs, skipping through most of them to get a general idea of your effort, they moved onto something else, even resolving to throw the CD out. 

Wanda argued that that would’ve been a bad decision in case you asked about it or wondered where it had gone. 

When she got home, she put it into her own laptop, her chest filled with a feeling she couldn’t explain but often felt around you when she looked through the songs and found that a majority of them were ones you or she had mentioned before. She remembered you asking if she’d ever heard of some of them. 

She listened through the entire CD that evening, laying in bed as she did. 

It felt like every word was made for her, and it felt special; you listened to all of them too, picked them out, and put it together just for her. 

She loved them all. 

Vision’s expressed contorted. “Cared about what?”

“Cared about me,” Wanda spoke quietly. 

When she thought of you, the way you made her feel, the way you cared for her, Wanda wasn’t able to do it without the inevitable following of pain. 

You cared for her like no one else had ever, treated her so gently and loved her selflessly, and now you couldn’t, and now you didn’t. 

But to voice it out loud, to speak it out into existence that she had known your love, and more than that, to know that it was no more, felt different than just reminiscing, allowing her memory to form your love into a reality in which, maybe, you just didn’t love her as much as she remembered you did. 

As much as she knew you did. 

Did she ever make you feel loved?

One afternoon, the day the two of you were planning on going out for a picnic, you came to her apartment looking conflicted and confused and upset. One of Wanda’s friends had told you about how the relationship was initially meant to be a joke, that Wanda was dared to go out with you once one of her other friends noticed that you were into her.

The things you were told and then repeated to Wanda made the things she had done to you so much more real, for in the beginning, she didn’t quite take things seriously, so the terrible things she had done almost didn’t exist.

It almost felt like she had done it all to someone else.

For her, the relationship didn’t really start until she started falling in love with you.

Suddenly, you knew that she had cheated on you several times during the first month you were together, that she had shared your poems and the CD with her friends, that she repeated all the sweet and thoughtful things you did for her to them.

At the time they meant nothing to her — how could you love her, anyhow, how could the things you did mean anything to you?

They thought the dedication and feeling you put into a fake relationship was funny. Maybe they also couldn’t fathom Wanda as deserving of that kind of love either.

Wanda never thought it was funny so much as she thought it was absurd. It was as if someone was speaking a different language to her.

“How did she care about you?” Vision asked, sounding slightly defensive. “Did she treat you like I do?”

What a fucking joke, Wanda thought, for him to place himself in your likeness, even by distant comparison.

Wanda was becoming irritated, and she would’ve much rather when he told her that she was made for getting slapped around, forcing her to swallow the truth that she liked when he did. 

But her mind flooded with memories anyways in spite of her annoyance at Vision’s prodding. 

You’d called her beautiful before, so it wasn’t the first time she’d heard it, but there was once after you’d had sex for the first time that Wanda often thought about. 

She was laying on her side, cuddled close enough to you that she could lay the back of her hand against your stomach, close enough that your hair brushed against her forehead when she adjusted her head on her pillow. 

The both of you were under her blankets. She felt warm, wrapped in your body heat as your arm draped around her naked waist. 

Your arm unwrapped itself from her and Wanda opened her eyes. She hadn’t been sleeping, but she liked how it felt not to talk and not to go anywhere — just to be close to you. 

She thought you might be leaving, but instead your hand came to her cheek, your palm warm from how it had been laying against her lower back. 

You brushed her hair away from her eyes. 

She couldn’t explain the way you looked at her; it wasn’t with any sort of intention to dominate or claim or dissect her. 

You were just looking at her, taking her in. 

At that moment, she felt a sort of pressure to perform, wondering if she should smile or blush or ask what you were looking at, but she could only look at you back, in silence. 

You’re so beautiful, you said. 

“She treats me nothing like you do,” Wanda presently told Vision, slightly resentful as she spoke. She was silent for a moment before adding, “She… made me feel special, and important.”

He could only scoff. “That’s pathetic.”

How could it be pathetic, the way you made her feel? The gentleness of your hands, the curiosity in your eyes, how loving your kisses were, how you made her feel beautiful.

Wanda laid, bored and as pathetic as Vision had said, as he unwrapped his arm from around her and turned her onto her stomach. 

Maybe if she was able to hate herself enough, she could prove you wrong, recall the memories of your love and see you as a liar or as deluded, in order to deal with the fact that she no longer had you.

Vision was good at it — making her feel deserving of hatred and filth. He would hurt her and spit the most degrading insults at her, and he’d tell her how wet she was getting, how he could feel her twitching around his cock, slap her across the face and feel her tighten, pull her hair and feel her pushing her ass back against him.

She felt the hatred and the degradation and the objectification, and each time, hoping that it would recode her body, recondition her skin to know only violence and hurt. But each time it only reminded Wanda that the feeling running through her wasn’t what she felt with you.

You’d never do these things to her, never make her feel this way.

Everything that distracted her from you could only ever be defined as a lack of you.

Anything different from you, wasn’t you.

To remedy that, she tried to think of how you might react to seeing her this way. She only felt shame; you’d think she was a monster, as fucked up like Vision had said.

If you saw the things she let happen to her, listened to the words she got off on, would you still love her, think she was beautiful?

Once, Vision asked if maybe Wanda would’ve liked you more if you’d treated her like he did. Maybe she wouldn’t have fucked around with your feelings for her if you treated Wanda as he knew she deserved.

The idea of those horrible words coming out of your mouth, the anger and the violence and the disgust, made Wanda nauseous. She remembered going home the night he suggested it and throwing up. 

You would never.

You’d never.

She tried to redefine you, thinking that maybe if you hated her you would, that you fantasized about hurting her, but even then, Wanda couldn’t imagine it. She couldn’t because she didn’t only see you as the way you loved her, but as who you were.

You were kind and gentle.

Every time she left Vision’s place, she thought every moment of her interactions with him over, trying to hate herself for things he did to her and things she let him do because she liked them. She wanted to go back to when the things you did for her meant nothing, when your love was a language she couldn’t understand.

But she couldn’t erase any of it from her memory, couldn’t rewrite it, couldn’t pretend it didn’t happen.

Anything she felt and experienced after you broke up with her was only an absence of you.

Wanda wondered if you often thought of her, or if she even crossed your mind. Maybe you were glad to have gotten rid of her. She hoped you hated her, so that way she could imagine that she didn’t cause you pain.

She hoped you might just forget about her altogether.

[drabblesandimagines]

Cramped

Inspired by @creativepromptsforwriting prompt 1080! "I can't stop thinking about kissing you." "And what are you going to do about that?" Leon Kennedy x gn reader

“I can’t do this.” Leon mutters under his breath, but you hear it as clear as day from your position.

How could you not, seeing as you’re currently only an inch away from his chest, his head nearly resting atop your own?

You’ve been trapped in this tiny storage cupboard for at least 20 minutes now, waiting for Hunnigan to give the all-clear that all 27 heat signals had dispersed from outside your current location. You would describe yourself as a relatively decent shot, Leon more so, but the numbers weren’t in your favour.

“Claustrophobic?” You whisper back, cautious that your voice may carry. You wish you could shift your left foot ever so slightly, currently standing awkwardly over a bucket that was sat at the bottom at the cupboard when you entered.

“No.” He has his hands braced either side of you against the opposite wall, seemingly caging you in more than the cupboard is. Your arms awkwardly hung by your side, painfully aware of how if you moved even slightly forward you’d be pressing your front into his chest, fingers ghosting against his hips.

“I can’t do this.” Leon says again. “Missions - with you.”

“Oh, come on,” you wish you could step back so you could give him a proper withering stare. “You can’t blame me every time something goes wrong. The intel definitely said only five guards were on site at any one time.”

“No. I mean, I…” He’d rub the bridge of his nose if he could bring his arm forward to do it without hitting you in the process. “I can’t concentrate.” You scoff, immediately defensive. “And how is that my fault?” “Because I can’t stop thinking about kissing you!” Silence. “Oh.” “Yes, oh.” He mocks, frustrated. He's meant to be better than this. Hell, he usually is when the two of you are paired up. Leon’s flirty, sure, but he knows to be professional when it’s a matter of life and death, and trapped in a cupboard with a number of hostiles outside is definitely a time when he should be at his most focused. But ever since the two of you retreated in here, all he can think about is how close you are, how good you smell, the warmth of your body pressed up against his, how he could place his fingers under your chin, tilt your head up… “Well, what are you going to do about it?”

“Sorry?” He looks down at you in disbelief, sure he’s misheard. “I said,” you lift your hand and trail your fingers up his chest before you rest it just above his pounding heart and meet those soft blue eyes. “What are you going to do about it?”

He doesn’t need a third invitation, dropping his hands from the wall. One arm wraps around your waist, bringing you needlessly forward that final inch, your left thigh finding its way between his in lieu of anywhere else to go. His other hands grabs the back of your head and tilts it up to meet his lips, stealing your breath with a deep, frantic kiss... Hunnigan smiles to herself as she leans back in her chair at HQ, your voices falling silent on the comms in what she suspects is the result of other activity – Leon had left the channel open when you'd been forced to find cover. It’s only when she hears Kennedy let out a muffled moan that she taps to disconnect the audio, her suspicions now well and truly confirmed. The computer screen in front of her shows a blueprint of the factory, where two red dots reside in the small storage cupboard she’d directed them to after she’d ‘alerted’ them to the unwelcome company. She still needs to work out how to explain the sudden disappearance of 27 hostiles, but it’s worth it so she won’t be forced to watch the two of you dance awkwardly around each other in the office anymore.

--- This is probably the closest to a drabble I've ever gotten despite my blog name, ha! Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

PS: Thanks to @porcelainseashore for helping me clarify the ending <3

[fairyhaos]

how seventeen act with their bookworm s/o

requested by my dearest 🍒 anon!

masterlist

seungcheol

just. buys you everything you want. bookmarks, books, book signing tickets, bookshelves, hell he'll even build you your own library to house your books if that's what you want. he'd buy u anything you want anyway tbh, but he knows how much you love reading so his gift-giving tendencies have shifted towards the side of fully letting you indulge in your hobbies. what can he say? he likes seeing you happy. 

jeonghan

sometimes he'll just sit there and watch you read bc he thinks that you're just really cute. likes to watch all the different facial expressions you make whilst you're reading through different passages, and laughs when you give horrified gasps whenever the characters make terrible choices. gets bored whilst listening to you explain the plot, but Loves when you explain the drama to him like you're teenage girls gossiping over the latest drama

joshua

doesn't know how you have the time or patience to just sit there reading words for hours, but he supports your hobby for sure. sometimes when you're feeling down, he'll take you to the nearest bookstore and buys every single book you so much as hint at having an interest in. buys you handbags that are big enough for books to fit inside so when you two go out with others, you can bring ur emotional support book for when things get too boring 🫡

junhui

goes “ooh what are u reading???” when he catches you holding a new book. you tell him the title and the genre, but as soon as you begin explaining the plot, his eyes are glazing over and he's already clocked out of the conversation. he tries his best to listen, he really does!!! but he supposes it just isn't for him :(( watches the movie adaptations w you if there is one tho and let's you rant about the deviations the directors made from the novel

hoshi

gets insanelyyyy jealous when you find a new fictional character to fixate and fawn over bc like, hello???? your boyfriend is literally right here????? why are you crying over some character that doesn't exist????? but then you argue that you put up with his tiger agenda so he can at least put up with this. doesn't like reading the books, but loves you explaining it aloud to him, hand gestures and all. he thinks it's really cute. 

wonwoo

entertains all your theories about the lore and character backstories of the novels you've been reading lately. you could look like that one guy in the corkboard meme with the red string and he'll just smile indulgently and ask you to tell him more. he's bought you about 70% of all the books you own, and he's not stopping any time soon. he'll stop when you run out of books to read, probably. and by the looks of it, that's not happening any time soon.

woozi

absolutely loves all those fantasy/ dystopian kinds of books the most. at first he was like “:// no thanks i have work” when you first asked him to read some books but now he likes reading them in his free time bc he gets to discuss lore with you in the evenings. likes watching the movie adaptations if they exist, bc then you both get to either applaud the accurate adaptation or complain loudly at the horrible inaccuracies that distort the plot beyond repair

minghao

forces you to take rest breaks every now and then when you're going on a whole reading binge bc it is Not good for your eyesight okay and he worries about you >:((( brews theeee best tea of all time for u and he'll sit down next to you in bed with his own book as you both read throughout the rest of the day. those are the best kinds of days, tbh. nothing gets better than sitting next to the person you love most and doing the thing you love most too

mingyu

he's the type to watch you with soppy eyes as you're reading your book beside him in bed. raises an eyebrow at you fondly when you finally finished, the “how was it?” clear in his eyes, and he just laughs delightedly when you simply explode with all the pent-up emotions as you rant to him about the ending and all the drama and tension that went on in the lead-up to it. loves that you're so passionate about your books. thinks it's super endearing. 

dokyeom

asks for book recs every. single. month. then adds them to his list before promptly forgetting about them and asks for recs again. thinks that everything you read sounds like theee most interesting thing in the world which is why he's always asking for the titles, but he's just always so busy you know?? he did somehow actually read ‘the song of achilles’ bc of your rec, however, and cried over it for 2 days straight

seungkwan

likes to have, like. a mini book club between the two of you where you both read the same book bc then he gets to fully understand your rants and also bc he actually gets kind of invested??? his favourite genres are those modern slice-of-life ones bc then he gets to trash talk with you about all the bad decisions the characters are making in their lives

vernon

you read books, he plays games. the both of you can sit together in complete silence and be utterly content, and the arrangement works for you both. (seungkwan thinks you guys are crazy for just being able to sit there with your respective hobbies and Not Talk.) he bought you a kindle for christmas which turned out to be the best present ever bc now you never go anywhere without it. you thank him for it at least 3 times a day. 

chan

thinks your love of books is one of your biggest charms. he met you on the train where he made the mistake of asking what book you were reading and ended up sitting through a 25 minute explanation and missing his stop, but it was okay bc he liked hearing you talk and ended the day with your number in his phone, so he counted it as a win. definitely a win in his opinion bc now he gets to listen to your book explanations as your boyfriend <3

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