#half-tempted to write a little fic in what i remember of his voice and then fix it later

[starbuck]

i truly do not believe in hating characters (they are simply fulfilling their narrative purpose, leave them alone), but i also find it fun to figure out which character i’m the most upset with in a given piece of media and i’ve found one for the show i’m watching… he’s not even top 5 in the rankings of characters who have done the worst shit but, even still, he is not forgiven and he will not see the light of heaven.

[gghostwriter]

Out of Sunshine

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Having forgotten your dinner date, Spencer comforts his usually sunshine girlfriend Trope:Fluff & Comfort w.c: 1.2k a/n: been very overwhelmed with responsibilities and wants lately that I just needed to write a self-indulgent fic. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

Spencer’s knock on your apartment door was met with silence. It was a starry Friday night and he had arranged a dinner reservation with you, his girlfriend for a year and a half, to the newly opened French restaurant along the main street. With a certain spring in his step, he settled with Hotch, and by extension the team, that he couldn’t be disturbed unless an emergency case comes in—something he silently wished not to happen. He had also picked up a bouquet of your favorites from the local florist. An array of whites that reminded him of the dress he first saw you wearing at the park.

He knocked again, ears straining to hear anything behind the dark wooden door. There was nothing. He balanced the bouquet on one hand and reached for the phone inside his satchel. It was quite unlike you to not answer the door.

The number you dialed is either unattended—

“Strange,” he muttered under his breath. During his morning phone call with you, a much needed routine to tide him through the macabre of his job, you sounded so excited about the dinner he’d planned and had even promised to wear the same white dress that had plagued his eidetic memory. He chuckled in reply before asking any plans for the day. There was a slight pause on your end, no doubt thinking of ways to pass time before night winds down, and you answer—

The studio, he remembered. You mentioned passing by your art studio to occupy time. He sighed in relief as he enters his vintage blue car parked on the the sidewalk, bouquet placed securely on the passenger seat. The clock on the dashboard tells him there’s still time to make it to the reservation, granted he wasn’t sure if you were ready to go.

A non-descriptive tune played from the radio as he turned left to enter the designated parking space of your studio building. It was a mixture of soft piano keys that sounded like spring and sunshine, both adjectives he loved to use to describe you.

When he finally found the courage to fumble his way in asking for your number, the smile that flashed on your face was blinding. It was as if he stared directly into the sun with little to no protection for his vision.

Over the course of multiple dates, he found himself waxing prose about you in his head. The pinking of your cheeks reminded him of strawberries ripening, so tempting to touch with his own pair of lips. The twinkle in your eyes, full of adoration and trust, made him feel strong and protective—like he was some kind of crow guarding his loot of sparkling treasure. And the bounce in your step wherever you’d go had him envisioning a sprig of wildflowers growing from each footprint, the nymph of his very own Spring.

He let himself in the studio, grateful you’ve trusted him with a spare key. “Sunshine,” he called out.

The light inside the four cornered room was on, windows all open for the paint fumes to escape, and there you were, hunched over an easel, furiously painting without any care of your surroundings.

He called your name, softer this time, as if to slowly ease you out of the artistic trance. The timber of his voice and his sudden presence led you to squeak in surprise, paintbrush dropping on the wooden streaked floor.

“It’s me, sunshine,” he raised his hands in front of him in surrender. “It’s me.”

Your nose scrunched up in question, a streak of blue dried paint on your cheek, adorable. How adorable you were in his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” you bent down to grab the brush before resuming your old position.

“It’s 7:50, love.”

You swiveled to face him, eyes wide in distress. Hands promptly reaching to turn over the faced down phone. “No, no—oh my god, I am so sorry!”

“It’s alright,” he tries to placate you but his words of comfort seem to fall on deaf ears. “Really, it’s alright. It happens to everyone.”

Tears were starting to build up in your eyes. Your hands were wrangling with the apron tied around your waist as you mutter a series of apologies again and again. “I’m sorry. So sorry—we can’t make it to our reservation now, can’t we? Spence, I’m so so sorry. I—I forgot,” a sob escaped from your throat. “I don’t know what to do.”

He puts down the flowers on the nearest available space, your stool, and steps into your space. Filling it with his perfume and warmth meant to comfort you. He could see how distressed you were—rocking on your heels, hands unable to stay put, and lower lip sandwiched in between your pearly teeth.

“Breathe. It’s completely fine, love. No harm done. Really, it’s alright.”

The tears come rushing down, staining your flushed cheeks with its tracks. “It’s not—how could I forget?”

“Sunshine, it’s okay. It happens to all of us and I know you’re quite busy, it’s understandable.”

You burrow into his chest some more, afraid of separating from him and the haven he brings.

He continued on. “I also know you’re overwhelmed, the exhibit is just around the corner and I know how important it is to you, I understand.”

Laying your cheek near his beating heart, you mutter a reply. “It’s really not—I don’t want you to think you’re not important to me too.”

His hands cupped your face to stare into your saddened eyes. Spencer couldn’t see the warmth and brightness that was always present in his sunshine. There was a cloud of rain and doubt covering its’ greatness. He understood no one could always be happy all the time but it bothered him to see you breaking down from stress.

“Shouldn’t I be the one worried about that?” he lightly joked. “I’ve cancelled on dates so many times and did those ever make you feel less important to me?”

“No. Never,” you sniffled.

“Then what makes you say I’d think that, sunshine? I would never, I promise.”

The corners of your lips lifted up to a small smile. There it was, the rays of sun peeking behind the clouds, bringing warmth back to the dark crevices of his being.

“I’m sorry about your shirt,” your lower lip jutting out in a pout. The air of anxiety slowly dissipating around you.

Spencer laughed, noting the tear stained marks littered on his purple button down. “That’s alright. Why don’t we order from your favorite Indian place down the block? We can get your favorites and have our dinner date here instead?”

“You’d be okay with that?”

He leaned in to kiss your temples, taking in the twinkle back in your eyes framed by your wet long lashes and the flush on your cheeks from emotion—good and bad.

For Spencer, you had never looked more beautiful. The reason behind of your breakdown was raw, intimate, and it made him see you in a new light. Heat bloomed in his chest, like a series of red roses, filled with love for you.

“Anywhere with you is good for me, sunshine.”

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

[covenofagatha]

I adore your writing so much omg.

Agatha/Reader with a size kink and maybe include riding somewhere in there :))

I'm so tired lmao

writing size kink is lowkey really hard but hopefully i somewhat got it right

decided to combine this one with the priest!agatha fic cause i thought it was hot

literally going straight to hell for this 🫠🫣

Forgive me, Father (part 2)

You go back to confession after you can't stop thinking about Father Agatha

Word count: 2600

Warnings: religion kink, religious sex, strap-on, fingering, corrupt priest Agatha, naive and innocent and virgin reader, dubcon, slight size kink, probably some other filth

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been three days since my last confession,” you say, just those words causing the memory of what happened last time to heat through you. 

The priest was already inside the booth when you came in and didn’t say a word even after your door was shut so you were forced to start. 

You still didn’t know who was in there next to you, but a part deep inside you is hoping for Father Agatha. 

The priest shifts in the booth and you bite your lip. “What do you have to confess, child?�� 

It’s a man’s voice. 

Your face falls and now you have to come up with something to confess for because you don’t think he’ll be as understanding as she was. 

“I, um, the other day…” you start, completely fishing for something, when there’s a light through the partition. The door to the other half has been opened and you hear faint mutterings. 

The door closes and the priest clears his throat. “Excuse me, my child, but I must attend to an urgent matter.” 

“Oh,” you say, a little shocked. You’ve never known that they could just walk out of a confession like that. 

“Don’t fret. Father Agatha will be in shortly to hear the rest of it. She is a new wonderful addition to our parish and you’re in good hands,” he praises and you blush furiously. 

Good hands indeed. 

You cough. “We’ve met.” You can still feel her leg against your private parts – your pussy – and her fingers digging into your hips. The way pleasure rolled over your body because of her. The way her dark eyes tempted you to take a bite of the sweet, forbidden fruit of desire. 

The priest says something else that you don’t hear before getting out. You’re alone with your thoughts until the door opens again in a few minutes. 

Just from knowing that it’s her makes your heart get faster and your body starts to feel affected in the way only she makes it. 

“Hi, angel,” she says in her delightfully low voice. 

“Father Agatha,” you breathe. Her chuckle is sinful.

You can hear her moving around and her robes shuffle. You remember her pulling them up to her hips to show herself to you. “What do you have to confess, child?” 

“I can’t stop thinking about the other day,” you admit. “I even gave in and tried to touch myself like how you showed me, but I couldn’t get to that thing at the end. Like last time.”

You think you can hear her smirking. “You couldn’t orgasm? Poor thing, you must be so hot and bothered.” 

You squirm, not even trying to hide it. You’ve been so needy the past few days and you don’t know what to do. “I need help to get rid of these thoughts. I’ve tried praying and I did all the Hail Mary’s you said to but I feel like I’m still being corrupted. You said that you could help.” Your voice comes out whinier than intended but you don’t care. 

“I can help, my child. Why don’t you come back over here?”

This time, you need no extra convincing. You slide into her booth, sinking down to your knees already. You hear a sharp intake of air from her and she reaches out to brush your hair out of her face. 

“What do you want?” She asks and your eyes are pleading as they look up at her from the floor. 

“I want you to cleanse me of these thoughts,” you beg. This is a sin, you know that, and you don’t want to go to Hell. You’ll do anything to stop this heat inside you. 

Father Agatha tilts her head to the side to think about what she can do. “I don’t know if I can cleanse them entirely,” she says finally and you want to cry. “But I can quench them for now.” 

“How?” You ask, barely above a whisper. 

You hold your breath when she begins to pull up her robes again and reaches down to pull something out from the fabric between her legs. Your mouth falls open. You’re not sure what it is, but it’s long, thick, and purple. She grabs ahold of the base close to her skin and shakes it a little. 

“What is that?” It both terrifies you and makes the throbbing inside you a little worse. 

“Have you ever seen a penis?” She asks bluntly and your ears burn. 

“Of course not! I’m not married! But that’s not–” You know that she doesn’t have one, you saw her pussy last time. And you at least know that they’re not purple. 

She chuckles and spits down onto the thing, using her hand to spread the saliva over it. Your body betrays you and your breathing quickens. What is happening to you?

“No, this isn’t a penis,” she agrees. “It’s a special toy that has been blessed by God. If you orgasm around this, it will stop those thoughts.” 

You bite your lip, staring at the toy. “How is it supposed to fit inside me? It’s so big.” Her grin grows wider if possible. 

“We’ll make it fit,” she promises but it does little to quell the fear. 

“Will it hurt?” You ask timidly. 

Father Agatha tilts her from side to side. “Maybe a little. You’ll just have to get yourself ready.” Before you can ask how, she answers. “It will help if you stretch yourself out on your fingers first.”

Your mouth drops open. Last time was the first time you’d ever touched down there and you had just rubbed your clit over your underwear. The past three days, you had only also done that and tried to move against your pillow, no skin-on-skin contact. And now she wants you to put a finger inside?

“Is that even allowed?” You ask hushedly. “Isn’t that a sin?” 

She finally stops stroking the toy and reaches the hand out to cup your cheek. You can feel the stickiness on her palm and the sudden urge to lick it flits through your mind. 

You seriously need help. 

“Why don’t you let me do it, then? My hands are tools of the Lord. Nothing more holier. Let me help you.” 

You nod slowly and she smirks, patting her thighs. You get up from your knees, wincing at the soreness, and sit on her lap again, the ache inside you only growing worse from being this close. 

The toy is laying against your stomach and it’s a soft, spongy texture. It feels weird but you can’t help but imagine what it’ll be like inside you. 

Father Agatha’s hand slides under the skirt you’re wearing to touch you over your underwear and your hips jump. It’s a very different feeling than your own. 

She groans as she moves her fingers up and down, pressing the fabric against you, and you can feel how soaked it is. 

“Father,” you gasp out when she rubs at your clit. The sensation is so very new and feels so very good. You want her to keep doing it. 

“You’re such a special girl,” Father Agatha coos. “So pure, so innocent. Such a devout follower.”

You wonder if this is how the Virgin Mary felt when the angel came down to tell her that God had hand picked her. 

Or how Jesus felt when he was tempted by the Devil in the desert during those forty days. 

She slides your underwear to the side and you think you’ve died and gone to heaven when her bare hand cups you. 

Your head falls back and you let out a long moan. She traces up and down, collecting your wetness, and swirling it against your clit. You clutch onto her shoulders like she's a lifeline. 

You can’t believe you’ve never done this before. 

“Feels good, angel?” She asks, her voice husky. You nod desperately, but tense when she probes a fingertip at your hole. “Just relax.” 

You try to and you take a deep breath, but when she begins to push in, you clench so tightly you’re worried it’s going to hurt her finger. 

“It’s okay,” she coaxes, thumb rubbing your clit again. That helps you loosen up, but she doesn’t move, letting you adjust. “Your tiny little pussy has never had anything in it. But we’ll get there.” 

You bite your lip and give her the go ahead. She moves an inch and you gasp. You can’t seem to let go and unwind and she frowns. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, face turning red with humiliation. 

She tuts sotfly. “It’s okay, angel. I know what it must feel like. Why don’t you say one of your prayers? It will help take your mind off this.”

You nod, meeting her eyes that look like darkness has swallowed them whole. “Our Father, who art in heaven-” 

She pushes the rest of her finger inside you and you momentarily lose the ability to speak. 

The intrusion is not unwelcome and she experimentally curls her finger, tapping onto something inside of you that makes you whimper. She smirks wickedly and does it again. 

Your hips roll. 

“Father,” you moan, and when she keeps doing it and rubs at your clit, your entire body spasms. 

“Keep going, angel,” she urges. 

It takes a lot of effort to regain your thoughts. “Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done-” She waits for you to get a few lines out before moving all the way back out and pushing back in. 

You squeal and grab onto her tighter. She gives you a look and you know what it means. She waits until you start talking again to begin moving faster. 

“On earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.” 

Father Agatha pulls out of you and you groan at the emptiness but you’re quickly even more full when she pushes two fingers in. 

Your head drops forward onto her shoulder and you mewl loudly. 

“Too much, Father,” you cry. She rubs your clit frantically and doesn’t move until you slowly begin to loosen around her. Once you adjust, it feels even better and when she curls them to touch that special spot and –

– God. 

You don’t even feel bad about using the Lord’s name in vain. 

“So perfect, your tiny pussy feels so good around my fingers,” Father Agatha pants. “Never felt anything so tight. Can’t wait to fill you up with my big cock, watch you stretch around it.” 

Her filthy words make you flush but the heat inside you gets worse. Why do you find that so hot?

“Lead us not into temptation,” you start again, the irony not lost on you. It seems the priest also gets it because she twists her fingers with an evil smirk and it makes you whimper. You can feel yourself on that ledge you were on last time, the one that is an all-consuming wave of pleasure, and you’re just about to tip over. “And deliver us from evil.” 

“Amen,” Father Agatha finishes the prayer for you, swiping roughly at your clit and thrusting deeply. 

You orgasm all over her fingers and it feels even more intense than the last time. She gently keeps moving her fingers while you come down from your high and you rest your forehead against hers. Instead of feeling satisfied when she pulls them out, you only feel more empty and needy.

“Do you think you’re ready to take my special toy, angel?” She asks, moving her hand that’s wet with you up and down. You gulp and look at it. “It will feel so good, I promise.” 

“Okay,” you whisper and her smirk makes you feel things. She helps you hold yourself up while she positions the tip at your entrance after rubbing it through your folds a few times. You slide down the tiniest bit and you keen. 

If you thought her fingers were a tight fit, this is something entirely new. Father Agatha whispers sweet nothings, circling your clit again to make you less tense, and she slowly helps guide you down. 

“Oh, my God,” you moan. She is so big inside you and it’s stretching you out more than you thought possible. 

“Just Father Agatha is fine,” she remarks coyly, eyes never moving away from watching you take her in. “Angel, you’re so perfect, you’re taking my big cock so well in your tiny pussy. You look so delicious wrapped around me like that.” 

Hearing her talk about the toy like it’s actually part of her makes you grow even hotter and you finally make it to the bottom, the entire thing inside you. 

You feel so full; you think you can feel her in your ribcage. 

“Can I move?” She asks and you nod shakily. Her hands help you bounce up and down, just little movements at first, but gradually turning into sliding you to the top and then back to bottoming out. 

The burn inside you gives way to a wonderful feeling and you can feel her dragging the toy, her cock, against every ridge and groove inside you. 

Father Agatha groans when you start to take the initiative and ride without so much of her help. You’re chasing the pleasure that’s building up inside you and it’s so much better than anything you’d had before. 

“Look at you, angel, taking my big cock so well in your tiny pussy. If you weren’t such a good girl, I would’ve assumed you’ve done this before. But you’re so perfect and pure and innocent and God’s gift to the world,” she says, voice rough. “Do you like my cock?” 

You nod harder than you ever have in your life. “Feels so good, Father. This can’t be a sin.” 

Father Agatha shakes her head. “It’s not, angel. Anytime you feel that heat inside you and you think those dirty thoughts, come to me and I’ll help you. It’s not a sin if you’re with a priest.” 

She begins slamming her hips up into you as you drive down to meet her thrusts. She rubs your clit even harder now and you completely convulse all over the toy, the pleasure crashing through you so much more greatly than even before, clenched around her fingers. 

You feel like King Solomon, chasing after true gratification, but unlike him whose search is futile, you’ve found it in the arms of a priest. 

You slump against her, who softly strokes your back while you regain your strength. 

“How do you feel now?” She asks. “Are those dirty thoughts you were having gone?” 

You shift and wince at the toy still inside you. She lifts you up so it can slip out. You feel thoroughly ruined and you just want to take a nap. No more heat in you at all. “Yes, they are, Father. Thank you.” 

She pats your thighs and you stand up, blood rushing back to your stiff legs. 

“Glad I could help, child. It’s my duty as a priest to help you strengthen your relationship with God, and if this is what it takes with you, I’m more than willing to do it whenever you need.”

You run a hand through your hair and think about it. “We might need to do this a few more times,” you admit. You still don’t know how to take care of the problem yourself, and like she said, it’s okay if it’s with a priest. 

She smirks like the Devil incarnate. “I look forward to it.” 

[livelaughlovetojiii]

“my baby” — jake sully ୭̥⋆*

jake sully x fem!reader

warnings: stepdad!jake, masturbation , clit play, vibrator , and squirting.

when you were young you were adopted. you were really young but you still knew, your mom Eyrina wasn’t a very good mom. she acted like it around others but when you were alone she was never kind to you.

she always had boyfriends off and on and you never found any of them attractive until one day.. she got with a tall handsome man named jake sully. jake was everything you could ever want in a man, caring, knew how to cook, took care of the needs around the house, a very good hunter, good in bed- you cut off your thoughts that’s your mother’s boyfriend you thought, how you think such things.

you were cut off by the voice of jake “babygirl?” he puts a hand on your shoulder making you look at him in the eyes “mmh?” you mumble “are you gonna eat?” he asks pointing at the plate of food that you haven’t even touched yet “oh yessir, yes i was just thinking” you say starting to eat your food when you see jakes face turn a paler color and readjust himself under the table, you take note on that and don’t say anything the rest of the night

•°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆

you just couldn’t get him out of your mind, you were so hot and bothered at the way he called you baby girl at the table right in front of your mom, you knew he didn’t want anything to do with you because your his stepdaughter but god what you would do to fuck him. you turn on the vibrator you had hidden under your loincloths and put it right on your small bud, your head falls back and you sigh in relief rubbing it in small circles imagining jakes fat cock sliding in and out of your small hole “fuck jake” you let a breathy moan, you turn it up to full speed making your breath pick up “just like that jake” you moan with your eyes closed head back thinking no one was awake, little did you know jake was watching you from your cracked door rubbing a hand on his hard cock, he knew it, he fucking knew it he was so hard watching you. he couldn’t stand it anymore.

he walks in your room without making a noise, he’s a really good hunter remember? walking up your moaning mess of a body and covering your mouth with one of this hands making your eyes shoot open looking at him but for some reason it made you moan louder “shhhh baby let me see that” he says taking the vibrator from your hands into his, pressing it down your clit sending a shock down your entire body, you squeal into his hand “promise you won’t let mom about this baby?” he whispers to you, you nod and let out a muffled “yessir” into his hand making his groan pressing it down harder “mmm i love it when you call me that” he rubs his hard dick on the side of your bed “you called me that at dinner i was so tempted just to fuck you right there, in front of your mom” he says making you moan louder “oh you like that? me fucking you infront of your mom. my baby is such a dirty girl” the knot in your stomach tightens and just rips in half making you squirt all of your bed and your stepdads hand. he removes the vibrator off your clit slowly after your high making you jump. smiling at the mess he made you make he kisses your lips and says “goodnight my baby”

•°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆

it had been 3 days since that night, you and jake exchanging looks you walking around in beaded tops that show more of your boobs. he noticed. he noticed everything. one night at dinner your mom announces that she’s going on a healers trip for 31 eclipses which was literally a month. “we will miss you my love” he says knowing you both will be too busy to even care. he gives you the biggest shit eating grin you’ve ever seen, making your cheeks flush before he gives you a wink. and goes back to eating his food.

what the fuck did you just get yourself into.

A/N: hope you guys enjoyed!! let me know if you want a part to

[alxtiny]

Hello! Just read your Seonghwa request fic and I was wondering if you could write one with Yunho as well? Except that reader is the one being mean to herself, not the parents🥲🫶

Thank you!

Chocolate Sundae | Jeong Yunho x Reader

Synopsis: where yunho reminds you of the beauty you have forgotten

Pairing:  Jeong Yunho x gn!reader, domestic au

Genre: fluff, comfort, slightly suggestive towards the end

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: mentions of body dysmorphia

Notes: Thank you for requesting anon! I drifted a little from the comfort vibe of the fic at the end i hope you don’t mind :’)

masterlist 

The soft glow of the café lights illuminated the street as Yunho walked hand in hand with you. His presence brought warmth to the cool evening air, but your mind was preoccupied. The subtle aroma of baked goods wafting from the café mingled with the laughter of people enjoying their desserts inside. Your heart ached; you wished you could join them.

Your gaze lingered onto a chocolate sundae, sitting behind the display counter,  just begging to be eaten, complete with velvety chocolate sauce, whipped cream, and a sprinkle of crushed nuts. Your mouth watered at the mere thought of indulging in such a treat. However, a familiar wave of self-doubt washed over you, causing you to lean in closer to the menu and murmur to yourself, "Stop. You'll just get fatter with every bite." 

Sighing, you suggested "Yunho, let's find another place to go," attempting to divert your attention from the delicious looking chocolate sundae.

He looked at you and then his surroundings,his brow furrowing slightly. "Why? This place looks nice. Do you not like it?"

"It's not that, I just... I'm not really in the mood for sweets," you replied, your voice tinged with a hint of sadness.

"That can’t be true, what's going on?" he asked, his eyes searching for yours. 

You looked away, not being able to meet his gaze as you felt the familiar tug of insecurity pulling at your heart. "It's nothing. Let's just go somewhere else."

His fingers lifted your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes. "You know you can tell me anything, right?".

You let out another sigh, feeling a weight lifting off your shoulders just from his concern. "It's just... I hate the way I look. I can't even fit into half the clothes I used to, and every time I see something delicious, I just... I feel like I'm getting fatter just looking at it."

His expression softened, and he pulled you into a warm embrace. "You are absolutely beautiful just the way you are. And trust me, I've seen you struggle with these thoughts before. You're not alone in this."

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you blinked them back fiercely. "I know it's silly. I shouldn't let these thoughts control me."

"It's not silly, and it's not something you can just brush off," Yunho reassured you. "But maybe it's time to see yourself through my eyes."

Before you could respond, the waiter appeared to lead you to a table. You followed him, still lost in your thoughts. As you sat down, you couldn't help but glance at the dessert menu again, your inner battle continuing.

Yunho leaned over, his voice barely a whisper. "You know, that chocolate sundae sounds really tempting."

You forced a smile, trying to play it off. "Yeah, but I'd probably gain a pound just by looking at it."

He leaned closer, his warm breath tickling your ear. "You're not alone in this fight, remember?"

His words touched your heart, and you nodded. "I know. Thank you, Yunho."

---

Later that evening, you both returned home. The atmosphere was different now, a mix of comfort and vulnerability. As you prepared for bed, you caught Yunho's gaze lingering on you, and you felt self-conscious under his scrutiny.

He stood up and approached you, his eyes gentle yet intense. "Come here," he said softly, holding out his hand.

"I want you to know that you're perfect to me," he continued. "Every smile, every imperfection, they all make you who you are, and I love every part of you."

Your heart swelled at his words, the weight of your insecurities momentarily lifted by his unwavering affection. Yunho leaned in, his lips brushing against your forehead in a sweet, comforting gesture.

"But I don't want to just tell you," Yunho said, his voice filled with determination. "I want to show you. I want you to feel how much you mean to me."

With that, he leaned in, his lips pressing against the corner of your mouth. He moved slowly, as if savouring every moment, leaving a trail of soft kisses along your jawline. His hands cradled your face, his touch both tender and reassuring.

"You're like that tempting chocolate sundae," Yunho murmured between kisses, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. "I can never have enough of you."

As his lips met yours in a passionate kiss, you felt a rush of emotions flood over you. Yunho's love enveloped you, erasing the doubts that had plagued your mind for far too long. The kiss deepened, becoming a silent promise of acceptance and adoration.

Yunho's hands began to explore your body with a reverence that sent tingles of desire coursing through you. His touch was electrifying, each caress a testament to his affection and appreciation for every inch of you. Slowly, he began to pepper kisses along your collarbone, his lips trailing a path of fire.

"You're perfect, Y/N," he whispered against your skin, his voice laced with sincerity. "And I want you to see yourself through my eyes."

His words ignited a newfound sense of confidence within you. Your fingers found their way into his hair, your lips seeking his in a hungry kiss that conveyed your longing, your gratitude, and your love.

Yunho's fingers deftly began to undo the buttons of your shirt, his touch a mixture of urgency and tenderness. With each button that gave way, he pressed a gentle kiss against the exposed skin, his actions a celebration of your beauty.

As the fabric slipped from your shoulders, Yunho's lips followed the path it revealed, leaving a trail of heated kisses along your collarbone and down your chest. His hands caressed your sides, fingers tracing patterns that ignited sparks of pleasure.

"You're the most exquisite masterpiece, Y/N," Yunho murmured as his lips continued to worship your body. His words were a mantra, a reminder that you were cherished beyond measure.

You walked over to him, his fingers interlocking with yours. He led you to the full-length mirror in the corner of the room, and you stared at your reflection, the familiar sense of discontent rising within you.

Yunho stood behind you, his arms encircling your waist. All you could see were flaws, imperfections, and the weight you wished you could shed.

He placed a gentle kiss on your neck, his voice a soothing murmur. " You know what I see? I see the person I fell in love with. I see someone strong, kind, and absolutely beautiful. Your body tells a story, and every curve, every mark, is a part of it."

Tears welled up again, but this time, they were different. They were born of his words, of his acceptance, and of the love he had for you.

"I want you to understand something," Yunho continued, his voice unwavering. "Just like that chocolate sundae you saw today, you are irresistible to me. I want every part of you, just like you were made perfectly for me."

He turned you around to face him, his eyes locking onto yours. His lips met yours in a tender, passionate kiss, one that spoke volumes of his love and desire for you. His hands traced every contour of your body, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

"Let me show you how perfect you are," he murmured against your lips, his hands guiding you towards the bed.

---

In the quiet intimacy of the night, Yunho's whispered declarations of love filled your ears, mingling with the gentle sounds of your heartbeats. As he traced invisible patterns on your skin with his fingers, you felt your self-doubts melting away, replaced by a sense of belonging and acceptance you had long yearned for.

The next morning, as the sunlight filtered through the curtains, you woke up to find Yunho watching you with a tender smile. "Good morning," he greeted, his voice husky with sleep.

"Morning," you replied, returning his smile.

He propped himself up on one elbow, his eyes traveling over your features. "You know, you're like that chocolate ice cream I can never have enough of."

You laughed softly, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. "I thought you weren't supposed to have too much sugar.”

He leaned in and kissed your nose. "You're my guilty pleasure. But unlike a sugary treat, you're the kind of perfection that I can enjoy without any regrets.’

As he pressed a sweet, lingering kiss to every visible part of your body, you felt a sense of deep contentment settle over you. It was a feeling that you knew would stay with you, reminding you that you were loved for who you were, imperfections and all.

In Yunho's embrace, you found a haven where your worries couldn't reach you. With every touch, every kiss, he was rewriting the narrative you had held onto for so long. You were beautiful, just as you were, and his love was the mirror through which you saw your true reflection.

© alxtiny . Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost, or use my works on any platform in any way.

Send an ask or a message to be added to taglist 

DISCLAIMER: THIS IS PURE FICTION AND NOT RELATED TO THE MEMBERS OF ATEEZ IN REAL LIFE PLEASE DO NOT TAKE IT SERIOUSLY

Taglist: @sushi0517

[lorna-d-m]

Chapter Three: Emails

Pairing: Laszlo Kreizler x fem!OC (Alice Greene)

Summary: Professor Laszlo Kreizler is a workaholic. Between teaching university courses, running the Kreizler Institute, and minding Stevie -his ward-, he does not have time for relationships. That is until he meets Ms. Greene, Stevie's English teacher, at open house. Can he open his heart to the possibility of love?

Word Count: 2,831

W: Drinking, language.

A/N: Heyyyyyyyyyyy y'all. Good news, my semester is over! So hopefully I can make steady progress on this fic over the summer.

previous chapter

Alice sat at her desk scrolling through her emails. There were still a few minutes before students would stream through the halls, so she thought she would take advantage of the time while half-heartedly eating a granola bar. Alice skimmed through typical messages pertaining to district news, reminders about school policy, and pleas for club chaperone volunteers or coverage for another class. 

Her heart skipped a beat when she saw an email from Dr. Kreizler though she could not explain why. She ignored the subject line and clicked on the email. His tone was professional and polite, even wishing her a pleasant morning. She could hear his voice through the text, even imagining the soft accented lilt. He requested updates on unit tests and paper due dates so he would be aware of when Stevie should be studying or working. Dr. Kreizler mentioned, as he did at the open house, that Stevie was not a traditional student. This was his first time attending public school in two years, and prior to that, he was not known for his perfect attendance or grades. Stevie has potential, Dr. Kreizler urged her to remember, but he requires structure and support to succeed.

Alice took a sip of her coffee. She was almost out of creamer and rationed, so it did not taste as good. He must have sent a similar email to all of Stevie’s teachers, she thought, until she caught a note at the end clearly meant for her. 

I checked the reading list for this semester, and I am thrilled you chose Lord of the Flies. It was one of my favorites as a student. I remember writing a paper analyzing the novel from a psychological perspective; even then my interest in psychology was strong. Admittedly, I am tempted to re-read it alongside the class’s reading to see what piques my interest now.

A smile flickered across her face, quick and furtive. Alice did not know what to say, and thankfully she did not need to respond immediately. She wanted to talk with him about the book and pick his brain, but a little voice in her head told her not to. Instead, she should grant his request to know summative assignments and leave it at that. But then again, there was nothing wrong with discussing a book. 

Ugh, perhaps she should talk to Bitsy before emailing him back. But then she would ask questions and poke into why Alice felt so uncertain, and she did not want to open that can of worms.

The bell trilled, and Alice snapped out of it. She switched tabs, hit the button for the projector, and pushed the dreamy Dr. Kreizler from her mind. Alice enjoyed this part of the morning before classes began when people could chat and plan, and there was still hope for the day.

***

“Did you see admin’s email about coverage?” Bitsy popped her leftover pasta in the microwave. “I signed up for Smith’s class during my planning.” She leaned against the counter with her arms crossed while she waited.

“I did,” Alice sighed, “and I didn’t sign up for either of them. It’s not worth twenty bucks to me.” She took another bite of her sandwich and wiped the corner of her mouth with a napkin.

Bitsy stirred her pasta, still cold in the center, and stuck it back in the microwave. “Fair, not when you need to lesson plan and prep,” she chided.

“Ain’t that the truth.” Alice punctuated her point with a long sip of her water. She was still sorting out her plans for the end of the week, and Bitsy knew it. 

“Anything else going on?” Bitsy finally sat down across from Alice with her Pasta. 

Well, to be fair, Stevie was also in Bitsy’s class, so she probably received an email as well. It could be a casual conversation regarding an email they both received. There was no reason for it to venture into the uncharted territory of how his comment made her smile and how he held her eyes when they spoke at open house and the soft lilt in his voice. 

“I got an email from Dr. Kreizler, and since you seem to know a bit more about him, I thought I would ask what you thought of it.” Bitsy nodded knowingly. “I can pull it up now-”

“-no bother, I know what you’re talking about. I got the same this morning.”

“Afternoon, ladies,” Coach Connor entered the break room with a small nod, wave, and his lunchbox. They acknowledged him with a polite response and returned to their conversation.

“Honestly, he can sound like a bit of dick over email,” Bitsy shrugged, “but remember that he has good intentions.” Alice was taken aback while Bitsy continued. “He spends all day helping other people, so he doesn’t have time to be polite in his emails.”

Coach Connor hovered on the edge of their conversation, and he took their pause to butt in. “Are you talking about that whack job Doctor Kreizler? Because I got his email this morning, and I don’t like his attitude.” 

“Well, I-”

“-I don’t believe in mollycoddling these students, and he has no right to go sticking his nose into the way I teach. He can have all these fancy ideas about how to teach, but I’ve been in that gym for over twenty years.”

Alice and Bitsy sat in uncomfortable silence while Coach Connor ranted. They didn’t want to interrupt him or defend Dr. Kreizler for fear of receiving Connor’s red faced yelling.  

“-And I talked to my buddy Byrnes the other night, retired from the police station you know, and he sure had a lot to say about that crackpot Kreizler and his delinquent.”

She wanted to tune him out, but she was curious about what he had to say. Clearly, she knew to take what Coach Connor said with a grain of salt — or a handful —, and she did not want to give him the satisfaction of her attention. Alice did her best to seem uninterested though her heart raced. 

“He told me all about “Steve-pipe”, and if it was up to me he wouldn’t be here,“ he gave them a knowing, condescending look. “Theft and assault, of an officer no less, I don’t know how that man weasled him into this school. It’s a disgrace,” he huffed. “I won’t let any of that fly, not in my gym. He’ll learn in my class,” Connor chuckled darkly. 

Alice’s stomach flipped, and she cleared her throat to speak. “From what I’ve seen in my class, he seems to be turning over a new leaf.” Bitsy smiled and nodded in support while Connor crossed his arms in disbelief. “I think we should respect that, and approach him with an open mind. Is that so much to ask for?”

“Well,” Connor scoffed, “if he ever tries to pull anything in your class, give me a call.” He wrote his number on a scrap piece of paper. “You know I’ll handle him,” Connor winked. He left soon after. 

“Ew,” Bitsy laughed, “Did he just hit on you?”

Too stunned to speak, Alice blinked slowly. “Yes, I believe he did. Now excuse me while I throw this away.” She crumpled the scrap paper.

Stretching his back and rolling his neck, Laszlo settled into the plush leather armchair. He thought he would have time to cook dinner for once, but a mild emergency at the Institute prevented him from leaving on time. Stevie said he understood on the phone and didn’t mind, but his tone dropped when Laszlo said he would have to pick something up. Guilt weighed in his chest for canceling, as Stevie would often assist him in the kitchen cutting and dicing whatever he needed, but he knew if he left he would have felt worse. 

And, if Stevie’s disappointment wasn’t enough, the responses from his teachers were less than positive. Some provided vague answers, while others outright dismissed and disrespected him. He scrolled through his inbox, deleting unimportant emails on instinct when he spotted something significant.

Ms. Greene responded to his email in the afternoon. He double-clicked on the email and leaned forward. Her answer was polite, helpful, and genuinely kind. Of course, that was his impression of her at the open house. She seemed the most receptive to him and Stevie as if she was genuinely excited to have him in her class. Laszlo remembered her enthusiasm. 

She said she would be “happy to help” since the parents and the teachers form a team to help the student succeed. Laszlo smiled at that. He remembered saying the same thing to parents at the Institute. It was nice to see someone agree with him. She went on to say she overheard unkind comments regarding Stevie’s background in the teacher’s lounge, and she is sorry if his teachers are holding his past against him. Ms. Greene wanted him to know she understands Stevie is in the process of turning over a new leaf, and he needs all the positive encouragement and support he can get. Laszlo felt relieved that at least one of Stevie’s teachers understood. He spent many late nights worrying about Stevie’s well-being and adapting to high school, and one sympathetic teacher could make all the difference. 

At the end, she left a note for him. 

If you find yourself so tempted to read alongside us, please let me know what you think. I would love to know your insights.

His heart skipped a beat, and if he thought about it for a moment he could rationalize why. But Laszlo did not want to think of that. He did not have time for feelings or doubt. Instead, he started drafting a response so he could call it a night. Laszlo was willing to bet who spoke in the teacher’s lounge, but he was not the gambling type. That was for John, or even Stevie when he didn’t think he would be caught. 

I am disheartened someone would speak of a child that way, but I confess I suspected something like this may occur. I hoped it would be later in the year when his teachers formed impressions and ideas of him without this knowledge, but it seems that is not to be. I can imagine the thoughts that may have run through your head, and I appreciate you for maintaining an open mind. Thank you for letting me know. I truly appreciate it. 

Laszlo stared at the email. Something did not feel right to him, but he did not have the energy to fix it either. Instead, he saved the message as a draft and told himself he would return to it in the morning. Laszlo shut down his laptop and turned out his desk light, leaving his office until tomorrow evening. 

He changed out of his slacks and button-up shirt, telling himself he would do laundry soon. Stevie offered to wash their clothes at the same time, but he did not pay enough attention to the water temperature and settings as Laszlo liked. It was well-intentioned but unpreferred. Perhaps he could make up for the dinner incident with Stevie on the weekend. He could pick something that would take time to cook, such as soup or braised meat, and Stevie could assist him with the prep work.

A cheesy cooking competition show played on the television, but neither woman sitting on the couch paid any attention to it. They scrolled on their phones, sending each other posts, and sipped their wine glasses.

“I’m thinking of doing a face mask,” Alice decided.

Bitsy didn’t bother to look up from her phone. The two friends were comfortable and familiar enough with each other that half their conversations passed without ever making eye contact. “Which one?”

“Maybe the lavender? It’s supposed to reduce stress, and we know I need that,” she laughed. “Plus I love the smell.”

“True true. If you’re getting one out, can you grab me one?” 

“Of course.”

While up, Alicce also refilled their wine glasses and the snack bowl of chips. She knew Bitsy’s apartment like the back of her hand. Alfred, Bitsy’s adorable gray cat, made his presence known, and Bitsy called to him. He was shyer than Georgie but warmed up to Alice after several years of friendship. 

She sat back down on the couch, and her fingers hesitated over her phone. One of the contestants was from Germany, and his accent reminded her of Dr. Kreizler. Alice glanced at Bitsy, and she was distracted by her own phone. Still feeling suspicious, she typed his name into the university staff directory search bar. 

There was a small, professional photo next to his name. Light blue to gray background, and he wore a black suit jacket. He did not smile, and his piercing eyes gave him a hawkish appearance. Alice did not realize how much a smile changed his mien until she noted its absence.

He completed a doctoral degree in psychology at Harvard. Laszlo published numerous academic papers regarding criminal psychology before shifting his focus to child psychology. He taught introductory psychology to undergraduates, and criminal psychology courses to graduate students. 

Bitsy glanced up from her phone to ask about changing the channel and found Alice engrossed in her phone. She was practically hunched over, not quite scrolling, with her thumb hovering over the bottom of her screen. 

“Whatcha doin?” 

Alice was so startled she dropped her phone in her lap. Her phone lay screen up showing Dr. Kreizler’s university picture. Bitsy looked from the phone, to Alice, and back to the phone. 

“Listen, I-” Alice blushed. 

“-I’m not here to judge,” Bitsy assured her. “I’m here to guide you, my padawan.” 

Alice giggled, embarrassed and relieved. She could always count on Bitsy.

Bitsy took another sip of her wine and petted Alfred as he sashayed by the couch. “If you’re going to internet stalk him, you need to do it right. First, if you’re looking at his university bio, then you should also check his Rate My Professor. Get the balance of his professional work and what his students think of him.”

“You’re a genius.” Alice picked up her phone and started typing in the website. “I never would’ve thought of that.”

“Read my ass off, came to all office hours, still barely got a D in his 100 level”

“Horrible with freshmen, amazing with grad students. If you can’t survive his intro, drop the course.”

“He psychoanalyzed me in front of the entire class on the first day. I dropped the course.”

“Helped me with my thesis, but horribly blunt and rude the entire time.”

“Fuck this guy.”

“Great depth of knowledge that he may use against you.”

“Oh.” Alice kept scrolling, but Bitsy held out her hand. Alice surrendered the phone and stretched against the armrest. 

“Ouch,” Bitsy grimaced. “A few positive, some neutral, and a whole lot of negative.”

“But I feel like most people who leave a review are people who had a bad experience.” Bitsy looked at her skeptically, one eyebrow raised in judgment. “Like if you have an okay or even a great time, you don’t think to say anything. At least I never did. But if you hate it, you’re going to shout it from the rooftops.”

Bitsy couldn’t resist teasing her. “Sounds like you’re defending your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she protested with a playful kick. “He probably doesn’t like me like that, and if he did, it’s got to be some kind of breach of ethics. I’m teaching his kid.”

“That could be a conflict of interest,” Bitsy admitted, “or it could be a happy coincidence to bring you together.” Alice snorted and rolled her eyes. “Didn’t he bring you coffee this week? What was it, Wednesday afternoon?”

“No, it was Tuesday. He came to pick up Stevie, and he wanted to have a quick conversation with each of Stevie’s teachers regarding his recent emails.”

“Uh huh, I remember. He spoke briefly with me, too, and I certainly didn’t receive coffe.”

“He’s just polite like that, I suppose.” Alice knew it was a feeble defense as soon as she said it. 

“Does this,” Bitsy pointed to his Rate My Professor score, “seem like the kind of guy who commits random acts of kindness?” She waited for Alice’s response with eyebrows raised in certainty. 

“Maybe?”Alice’s voice inflection revealed the truth.

“Yeah, he’s into you, babe. I think you should go for it, and get some of that German sausage while you’re at it.” 

Alice giggle snorted again, shocked but not surprised at Bitsy’s humor. As much as Bitsy insisted, Alice did not believe Dr. Kreizler was interested in her. There could be a dozen reasons for the coffee and smile, reserved for her. A dozen reasons not to get her hopes up. To wear her heart close to her chest. To keep her head screwed on her shoulders. A dozen reasons…

Next chapter

taglist: @scuttle-buttle @fictionlandslanddreams @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @hardlyinteresting @sapphiredreamer26 @aedeluca @alycu1 @linkpk88 @rachreads @fandom-princess-forevermore @groovyponypatrollamp @to-fat-to-give-a-crap @kateris-world @eli-the-thinker

[matenrou-fan]

Can you write a fic about Werewolf ichiro, please

Werewolf! ichiro with GN! s/o

hii darl, you didn't mention any details so I let my fantasy play a little so here we are!! I hope you will enjoy it..!

GNreader, it feels kinda ooc??;; 1110 words;;

'Don't get too deep into the forest, honey. The beast is always watching..'

Well, maybe you should listen to your parents and other people in the village more properly sometimes..

But you were bold and probably a little bit dumb and naive, being absolutely sure it's nothing but fairy tales for little kids to scare them away from the forest and avoid all this headache with searching for these small perishers later. Yet you are not a kid now, then for what all this farce? It's just annoying now.

Especially due to your love for something new and mysterious, and this tempting woodland near your house always amazes you with its beauty, luring you to step in and get to know this place better. It almost feels like it's not the wind swaying the green-pointed bushes, but it's trees waving to you, begging to dance with them…

So how can you resist the magic of nature itself? Never listening to anyone, you were dreaming about getting deeper than for a kilometer or two in this dark green world, exploring all the beauty from the inside.

All the beauty.. But the only thing you're experiencing now is an unbearable level of fear and shock, as you remember all these words that you always treated like something unimportant.

This guy.. Well, actually, he didn't look that bad at first glance, and when you noticed his figure between bushes, you thought that maybe it's just a local madman or maybe the lost alcoholic as his clothes were kinda dirty and torn. But when he gets closer to inhuman speed, knocking you down as his pretty strong hands push your shoulders, you finally fully understand how much you messed up this time. Maybe the last time in your life.

His black messy hair framing his face, in such dark this mad pair of eyes glowing so bright, hypnotize you with a red flash in it. You even can see his fangs from half- opening mouth, as he breathes heavily. Strong smell of forest, like from damp moss or needle-covered path coming from his clothes and dirty hands..

He leans closer, sniffing you almost like an animal. Why 'almost like'? Isn't he actually an animal, that beast everyone told you to avoid?!

"Your fear smells really yummy.." - he chuckled, as a small smirk got across his lips. - "But you're lucky you meet me in my human form, otherwise I would have eaten you already.."

"Haha.. That's why you pinned me like that anyway..?" - despite you trying to sound more chilly, your voice was trembling too much, betraying you.

"Sorry.. I thought you're one of the hunters." - he sighs and gets up, letting you finally breathe a sigh of relief, as you keep laying on the ground, still in shock.

Oh of course, hunters. Some villagers, mostly adult men and oldsters, decided to form something like a team to hunt The beast down. They did not succeed yet, but do love to brag about their sacred mission.

For a moment you both looked at each other and suddenly he extended his hand to help you get up too.

"I'm Ichiro.." - as you get up, he looks at you with a small smile, surprisingly soft and cheerful for someone who's called 'The beast'.

"I'm s/o.." - you mumble confused, not able to hide your curiosity. - "Are you actually.. you know, a beast..?"

"I prefer to be called werewolf, but I think it doesn't really matter, huh..?" - A small sigh escapes his lip and he scratches his head, also kinda confused. - "I think you probably should go home now, you know? I'm not the only beast here, or you wanted to be eaten by some bear?"

"I wanted to stay for a while.." - maybe you should bite your tongue and actually just run home, yet the whole Ichiro's figure and his simple face makes you think about all this stuff about an invincible immortal being in another light. - "If you survive here for so long among these bears and other folks it means you can protect me too?"

"Did you actually call predators of the forest "other folks?" - werewolf scoff, crossing his arms in his chest. - "You're really bold for a young human.."

Despite him calling you young, his appearance in the soft light of the moon didn't look too old either, as if you were almost the same age, actually. You get closer to watch his face more carefully, yet he quickly backs away, suddenly all surprised. Is this small blush on his cheeks?

"And you're really timid for a strong beast.." - you can't help but giggle, enjoying his reaction. It's probably from all this adrenaline you get after such a spectacular introduction from Ichiro, yet you get so playful, feeling that the danger is over now and you actually have a chance to walk around in the depths of the forest.. To explore so many things and especially the most mysterious secret of local folklore, who was standing right in front of you with furrowed brows now.

"I'm just not used to talking with people too much.. Most of the time when I see one I eat them.." - another tired sigh escaped his lips as he looked at you. - "Really, listen, you should go home now. Isn't it kinda late for humans to not sleep? And I also need to bring more food for my brothers.."

"So you're not the one here?!" - you gasp, getting closer and almost grabbing Ichiro's shoulders but stopping yourself at the last second.

For a moment his brows twitch as he realizes what he just blurted out, then he gives up, thinking it's probably easier to tell in full than get rid of you.

"Of course I'm not, I do have a family.." - Ichiro looks up at you again and then smirks. - "I can introduce you to my little brothers, yet don't whine when they'll take you for food, okay? They're more unruly than I am.."

"Did you just say you're kinda obedient in other words? That I can tame you?" - oh, just how easy it actually was to tease this guy, you clearly can see how his cheeks get darker in these shadows as he blush.

"If I'm ready to tolerate you, humans, in my human form, it doesn't mean you can act like that, understand?" - he mumbled but reached for your hand, squeezing it a little. - "Now follow me, or you will get lost in this labyrinth.. It's already pretty late so there's no point for you to return home, so i only let you stay for one night as a small apology, okay? Keep it as our secret…"

[beneathashadytree]

WICKED WHISPERS - SYLUS QIN X READER

Warnings : themes of corruption, mild blood play, hand on neck, fear play, a little primal, and yet nothing actually NSFW, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : spicy, I think? But SFW!!

Word count : 0.7K words

Additional notes : Now come on, you didn’t expect me to not write anything for our new man, now, did you? Leave it to Sylus to bring me back from my 5-month fic-writing hiatus😭

Tip jar!

Masterlist

It was tantalizingly slow, how his thumb traced over their bottom lip, catching the plush skin and watching—always watching, in that keen, fixated way of his—as their breath caught at the slightest hint of his touch brushing against the tip of their tongue. That sharp metallic taste lingered where it shouldn’t have; kissed where it should’ve been forbidden from; tainted what should’ve been kept saintly pure.

But that wasn’t in Sylus’ nature, was it? To watch his finger smear dark, fresh blood against their trembling lip and flickering tongue gave him a thrill like no other, and his spine tingled at the very prospect of absolutely ruining them—from the inside out, and for anyone else.

After all, no man would be able to satisfy the darkest, most dangerous pits of desire inside them like he could. No one would be able to bring forth their most vicious side and spin them into an endless dance with the devil, until their feet throb and their bones remember the ache of unbridled want.

Only him.

And that gaping maw of hunger threatened to swallow him whole, leaving a raging inferno in its wake. Had he ever wanted anything, let alone anyone, as much as he did them? Had there ever been a moment when a sicker craving had almost consumed him entirely, urging him to get his blood-slicked hands on every inch of what heaven had forbidden him from?

There they were, with eyes that flickered between unadulterated hate and something else entirely, and with a soft mouth that chased after his deft thumb while threatening to tear him apart. And yet, and yet. Feet firmly chained to the ground and labored breaths leaving them in pants, they remained where they were without fleeing as good sense would’ve urged them to.

That was his greatest victory of all, and he wouldn’t rest a single moment until he could conquer everything that they were; trample over everything they thought made them.

Sinful lips curled into a half-sneer as ruby eyes glinted with the promise of their demise. Something so utterly tempting yet disastrous left a trickling need for more; a plea to give in to what would always be illicit. Sylus had never been more like a fallen angel than he did entrancing them, burning with the light of a thousand glaring suns and a thousand flaming hells.

“That’s it,” he slowly purred, wicked delight dancing behind his scarlet eyes as he watched them fight against their aching thirst to pin him down or let him prey on them. “You wouldn’t leave.”

“What…” They sharply inhaled at the way his other hand gripped at their chin, as though daring them to push against him. Sweet thing, how they loved to play pretend! Surely they didn’t think their words would fool him when they trembled like so and their voice grew reedier? “What makes you so sure of that?”

He chuckled, a deep, rich tempting sound that reverberated through their bones; sweet as molasses, and darker still. Streaks of coppery red followed him as slender fingers trailed down their neck, torturously slowly, slowly inching down their pebbled skin, resting against the fluttering pulse of their neck. My, my, how it raced!

Sylus could almost see the thick and syrupy desire that surged through their veins, and it took all he had to not devour them right then and there. Patience. He must leave them wanting more.

Leaning in so close that his fine silver hair brushed against their cheek, such a depraved mouth tasted every syllable and rolled it between his teeth before whispering it against their ear. “Because you want this.” The lilt of amusement carried through every word, and with every stroke of his fingers almost around their throat. “You keep coming back for more, don’t you?”

There wasn’t any time to wait for an answer. None would come; not after he’d spoken the words they feared to admit even to themself. No matter, he’d had his fill of playing with them for now. Pulling back, he huffed out a half-laugh, eyes as hard as jewels, and mouth in a devastatingly perfect smirk as he squeezed their chin almost painfully. “What a brave, brave pet you are,” he mockingly cooed, pearlescent teeth bared, deadly-sharp fangs and all. “Though I do wonder, what would they say if they saw you now?”

Taglist: @angry-and-yandere @nxx-jordiepord @honestlyjustablog @dawnbreakersgaze @tartartagliaboo @lucis-noctiana @mushriiin @flurrina @reika-desu @randomidk-123 @tikitsune @cofijelli @roll-of-royces @lemonsupernova @loveyoutodeep @belovedof @obiwanmcprobie @hawtlineblingz @kalatipunan @eurekazz @bifedebruxa @thescribeswife @mysticangel123 @xenasolos @jvnluvr @dann-acalle @rosariymchapter @rin-sv14 @yololesgo @an-ever-angry-bi @semi-orangeapple @lavanderbliss @myturnwhen @winterlvod @carsonology @deepzombieyouth @respitable @stellisangelicus-world @kvsqkiii @bitchynightmarepost @snoozeflare @spotted-salamander @cindywasneverhere @ladyparamount @sncrly0urs @huntersmoon1 @musiclover2119 @girl-who-lives-in-delusion @milktsukii @fromdeepspace-withlove @flavoredhappy @hrhmimieucliffe @icedunderwaterroom @ay-chuu @granddearduck @skriblobz (more in replies!)

[Since he’s a new character, I’ve tagged everyone already on my LNDS taglist! Let me know if you want to be officially added to the Sylus taglist, or if you want to be untagged here.]

Sign up for my taglist here! NOW: SYLUS INCLUDED!

[onegayastronaut]

Quiet Nights (Kate Bishop x Reader)

I was going to write this as a bratty Kate fic but it turned out to be Kate being a puppy and going 🥺🥺🥺

Dating Kate was one of the best things that had happened to you in recent memory, but it wasn’t without its pitfalls. One of them was constantly worrying about her safety when she was out with Clint doing whatever it was they do when they’re together. You know that Clint would do his best to take care of Kate, but you also know that your idiot girlfriend tends to take risks that, were more often than not, unnecessary.

Biting your nails, you turned and tried to get back to your essay only to realize that you had written only half a page in the last two hours. You groaned as you closed your laptop and rested your head back on the couch. Lucky raised his head and put his paw on your lap, as if sensing your frustration. It was a useless exercise trying to get work done without Kate’s warmth by your side. You were tempted to text Yelena to come and hang out, but you knew she would spend the next few hours going around your apartment making fun of you.

A knock on your window jerked you out of your gloomy thoughts, and your mood immediately brightened when you saw Kate crouching outside. Apparently, she had stopped by your favorite take out place on the way home, and had climbed up through the fire escape instead of using the elevator like a regular person. Opening the window, you jokingly looked around while saying, “And who is this stranger, knocking at my window so late at night?”

“I know I’m a little late, but I got you your favorite food.” Kate gave you the pout that she knew would work on you no matter what, and you let her in. She kept the bag out of Lucky’s reach as she went over to pet him. After she was done, you went to hug her but noticed her flinch when you did.

“Babe? What happened?”

“Nothing! I just had a little run in with this guy on the street when I was out with Clint, it’s really nothing. You should see the other guy.”

“Babe, take off that suit. I’m going to see what’s going on and see if there’s anything for me to patch up.”

“I’m okay, really! Babe, can we just eat and cuddle? I miss making out with you.”

“Kate.” The use of her name and your facial expression told her that there was no whining her way out of this one.

Sighing, Kate slowly took off her purple jacket and the shirt that she had underneath. On her side, there was a red blotch that was already starting to change color. “I just know that’s going to hurt tomorrow.”

“Whoever that guy was he sure left you with something to remember him by.” You gently touched her side and immediately lifted your hand when she winced. “I’ll be right back.”

Her abs were on full display for you, but you tried to focus on the fact that she needed you in a different way at the moment. You tore your eyes away from her midsection, but not before she noticed. “See something you like?”

“Oh shut up.” You hated how your voice wavered, and a blush started to creep up your cheeks.

“Don’t act all shy now! We all know you love running your hands up and down my abs. Maybe I should put the food I got tonight on my stomach so you can eat it off of me.” Kate reached into the paper bag and waved a French fry in the air, but before she could put it anywhere, Lucky reached up and snapped it out of her hand.

At this point, your face was burning up so hot that you forced yourself to look away.

As you walked around the kitchen making an ice pack for your girlfriend, you stole a peek at her in the living room. Kate had turned on the TV and was humming along with the song in the commercial, and she was waving Lucky’s paws in time with the music. You rolled your eyes as you tried to fight off a smile at her antics. As if sensing the effect she had on you, Kate turned around in the couch and blew you a kiss. “Your brave soldier awaits medical treatment.”

“Oh, but I thought the brave soldier just wanted to make out.” You came back to the couch and pressed the ice pack to Kate’s side, causing her to suck in her breath. “Does that feel a bit better.”

“Much better, actually. Thanks.” Kate turned and gave you a proper kiss. “I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

“You could sulk with Clint and ask him to give you lessons on how to be broody.” You pulled a face, trying to imitate Clint whenever he was in one of his moods.

“You’re too cute.” Kate couldn’t help but giggle as she kissed you again. “You should do that in front of him next time you see each other. Who knows, maybe he’ll take you under his wing so you can sit on the curb together.”

“Oh, I doubt that.” After kissing Kate’s forehead, you pulled her on your shoulder and opened up the paper bag containing dinner. “You know, next time we should go to the restaurant down the corner and see if they’re any good. I keep hearing good things about them.” You turned to Kate, but saw that she was nodding off. Lucky was already asleep on top of her, and you couldn’t help but snap a quick picture of the two of them before turning off the TV. As you moved to pick up Kate, she whined and attempted to cling tighter on to you. “Baby, no, I want to stay here with you.”

“I’m right here, we’re just going to bed right now, okay?”

“No, I want to stay here with you and our dog.” Kate tried to pull off a pout, but she was so tired that she ended up drifting off to sleep again.

“You’re such a baby sometimes. A bigger baby then even Lucky.” You waited for a response, but all you got was a light snore from your girlfriend. It didn’t take long for you to settle her down into bed, and once you managed to get on it with her, she latched onto you like her life depended on it. Her breath tickled your neck as she held you, and her strong arm snaked its way across your midsection. You could hear her sigh happily now that you were in her arms. Having a puppy for a girlfriend could be hard at times, but it was worth it for moments like these.

[drxwsyni]

show me heaven, take me to hell︱okkotsu yuuta x f!reader

“Going so long ensuring that you wanted him and nobody else ended up having adverse effects, all this time spent putting you first had turned him selfish, and he didn’t quite care anymore. He needs you—all of you, anything less for any longer and he might just go mad.” a/n: this is my part for @seita’s corrupt-a-virgin collab! i was really excited to write a fic with this prompt, and this collab was super fun so pls go check out the other writers involved!!! words: 3.7k warnings: ALL CHARACTERS AGED UP 18+, noncon, somnophilia, virginity loss, rough-ish sex, oral (f. receiving), fingering, choking for a quick moment, creampie, a little praise, heavy stalking & obsessive behaviour, gen. yandere themes

Yuuta liked to think he had control over his emotions—but peering down at you, he knew that was far from the truth. How those emotions manifested was what he could control, because if it weren’t for the steely expression cemented into his face, he’d be sure you’d know of all the debased things running rampant throughout his mind.

And yet, he doesn’t fear the falter in his masquerade right now.

You’re fast asleep, none the wiser to the looming figure of your boyfriend, locked onto the way your chest slowly rises and falls in a rhythmic manner. How his eyes nearly gloss over as they travel down the curves of your body, half exposed as you’ve only pulled the sheets up to settle around your waist.

Yuuta reminds himself to breathe, exhaling a little too shakily, wondering to himself how he’s made it this far. He was a damn good actor, and he knows that fact currently stood as the only thing that’s gotten him to where he is today.

If he thinks back, it’s hard to even find one moment out of all the time he’s spent with you in which he’d shown you his genuine self. Hell, the very first time you spoke to him wasn’t even honest. He remembers asking you your name after introducing himself, lying through his teeth because he already knew what your name was. Yuuta knew what rank you were (well below his), your cursed technique (too weak to really protect yourself), how long you’d been working alongside Gojo (two weeks―starting the day after Yuuta had gone overseas). But he still asked, enamoured with the way you bashfully looked down at your feet when he praised you for being able to put up with the white haired sorcerer so far.

Another lie―how he claimed he’d love to team up with you and show you around, when it was just to keep you as far from any real danger as possible.

But you didn’t know that, going along with each and every falsehood that left his mouth. Lie after lie, he’d draw on the knowledge of you he’d spent months gathering, gradually molding his character into whichever form earned those soft little gifts of affection. Becoming the person you wanted, the person you needed, slowly until you recognized him as someone special. Yuuta did everything right—only to be completely overwhelmed now that he had you alone.

Because of course suppressing himself wouldn’t work out in the long run. Burying the desire that felt goddamn near insatiable, ignoring the feeling of it festering, growing into something ugly and uncontrollable—the kind of thing he saw in others, and exactly what he was trying to protect you from. But Yuuta wouldn’t let himself believe that what you really needed protecting from was him, even though standing over you now, proof of that reality was finally beginning to surface.

Just for a second, maybe not even that, it crossed his mind—just a taste couldn’t hurt, right?

The bound passion he could never let see the light of day unraveled in the dead of night. You were just so tempting, blissfully unaware of the danger towering over you, a vulnerability that tore away at the seams of his self control.

Yuuta felt the first thread snap, a barely there fracture to spur his irreversible descent into self-destruction.

Moving without really even thinking of any future consequences, long fingers that were calloused from battle and endless training reached to where the sheets atop you rested. White, silken and gleaming under the moonlight, he carefully, calculatedly pulled them down your body. Letting it pool at the foot of the bed, he slowly appraised your sleeping form.

An almost inaudible curse left him, whispered under his breath—he didn’t even notice the way your sleeping shorts were discarded onto the floor before peeling back the sheets, but he couldn’t miss it now. Maybe...you wanted him to find you like this?

No...he knew you weren’t that daring. The two of you might be dating, but all those past insistences of not wanting to move too fast, dancing around intimacy like it was the bane of all evil alone told him that this naivety was genuine.

There was that, and the fact that you were staying in his guest bedroom. Too shy to sleep in the same bed, how cute. He was all too understanding just a few hours ago, leaving you for the night and planning on retiring to his room. Only he was drawn right back to where you lay, realizing it was yet another subconscious lie to tell you he was fine with taking things slow, giving you your space.

He wasn’t even supposed to be in this room—there was absolutely no way you planned on Yuuta finding you like this.

A voice in the back of his head warns him, tugging at his subconscious to leave you be. Yuuta ignores it for the first time, crossing a new boundary, knowing that it won’t be the last.

You’re sprawled on your back with the hem of your oversized shirt riding up just a little.

A little too much, he thinks, eyes travelling lower and lower until they land on the lace trim of your panties. Thin, adorned with a small bow at the top. His fingers itch, wanting to feel the fabric for himself, likely soft in comparison to his rough hands.

Yuuta props one knee up onto the bed, the mattress sinking slightly with his weight. With one more glance, just to make completely sure you’re still fast asleep, he allows his fingers to trace up the inside of your leg. Gliding along your calf, then meeting the soft plush of your thigh. Your muscles don’t even twitch, unmoving as his hand gradually creeps higher, higher, higher.

All he needs is to be closer, something to tide him over until you’re willing to let him in. He wants to know just what it feels like to have you under him, little weaknesses you hold that nobody else knows of.

Just a taste, he reminds himself.

Yuuta peers down at you, relieved and on edge at the same time when the tips of his fingers brush against the cotton fabric of your panties. Ever so lightly, his ring finger dips lower, gently pressing against your clothed slit.

The heat between your thighs makes him shiver, warmth pulling him in impossibly closer. Your legs are spread just enough for Yuuta’s hand to fit perfectly in between them, almost invitingly so. He feels like all of his nerves are standing on end, vibrating as just the simplest touch has such a large effect on him.

It’s a familiar feeling, despite always looking at ease, he frequently had to mask these turbulent emotions inside him so that he didn’t scare you away, just as so many others did. This new sensation, not having to worry about constant control, it was unimaginably refreshing. He didn’t want it to end.

You don’t seem to be stirred in the slightest, which is good, because he’s not quite satisfied. The both of you did have a tiring day to be fair—now making you a heavy sleeper. Yuuta deems it a saving grace, curiosity unquelled in wanting to know how far he could push his luck.

That same singular finger travels along the dainty fabric, gently dragging up your folds until stopping at your clit. Experimentally pressing into it, Yuuta spots the way your brows just barely draw together for a moment. The sound of your breathing meets his ears, turned airy as your lips part when he begins rubbing back and forth, a light friction that makes your sensitive, untouched body react unconsciously as you continue to sleep.

Yuuta thinks for a second of how you touch yourself when you’re alone—if you do as he is now, teasing your clit, making you squirm at the light stimulation. You’re not waking up, but your body is still reactive even in this state. With how your panties hug the curves of your body, how he presses them into your heat, it’s not hard to see the small patch of your arousal already leaking through.

It’s cute, you’re so much more honest when you’re asleep.

An idea strikes him, coming more as an intrusive thought than anything helpful, but it’s dangerously enticing nonetheless—if he could make you cum without waking you up. Earn a glimpse of what he hoped you’d let him see eventually.

You look like you want it, chest rising and falling a little heavier, and when he pointedly nudges your clit with the smallest increase in force, your breath hitches.

It would be cruel to leave you like this—Yuuta isn’t a cruel man.

He’s doing this for you now, not himself. It’s repeated in his head, words reassuring as he slinks onto the bed. His grip is delicate, pushing your thighs apart a tad bit more, just enough to make room to lower himself between them.

Eye level with your heat, the scent of your arousal washes over him. He can’t help but place a few ghosted kisses on your inner thighs, a quick nip at the supple skin that leads to a trail of the same before his lips hover over the seat of your panties.

Through long lashes, he focuses on your face, almost shuddering with you as his tongue comes into contact with the patch of wetness, dampness growing as he licks a slow strip up over the cloth. Yuuta repeats the action—once, twice, three times, then loses count. His movements are slow, soft and steady, taking what he can get but soon becoming frustrated with the barrier in his way.

The hands placed on your thighs twitch, and it only seems logical that if he wants to finish what he started, he needs to make things a little easier for himself. An unnatural strength imbued with cursed energy flows through his palms. He’s eager, doing it without thinking, not realizing the force he puts behind his actions until the seams of your panties tear with almost no resistance.

Yuuta’s eyes widen slightly, because his plan was to merely push the fabric aside. But that problem can wait, especially when he can’t.

The offending fabric is casted aside, and Yuuta knows he wants to take his time. Testing the waters, his thumbs come up to spread apart your soaked folds, taking in the way your hole clenches around nothing as he gently blows cold air against it.

He’s not shocked to find your muscles twitching so easily now, reacting to every little thing he does. Not shocked, but it does make him greedy. It makes him want to abandon caution entirely. Taking his time turns out to be a lot easier said than done—when his tongue places a few kitten licks onto your clit, the near sinful whimper that escapes you has his lips latching on and sucking instead.

You’re always so quick to flee from him, Yuuta can barely get a lasting kiss in before you push him away. To hear that leave your mouth, intentional or not, it’s dangerous. He’s starved for intimacy, starting to lose sight on why he’s worked so hard to become close with you, drowning in the thoughts of why he instead wants to rip that safety he provides from you entirely just to see the things you keep hidden from him and everyone else.

There’s his own personal heat building, hips grinding into the mattress now and then to relieve the ache you don’t even know you’re causing in him so quickly. It doesn’t do much, if anything it only makes his resolve weaken, low groans making their way up his throat and sending soft vibrations onto your sensitive nub.

His tongue darts back out, flattening as your hips buck against his face, trying to gain more friction.

And all it tells him is that you want this—just as much as he does. You’ve never told him, but you don’t need to. Your body speaks for itself.

The wet muscle pushes past your entrance, Yuuta’s nose bumping your clit every time his head jerks when his tongue curls against your walls. From how your body tenses, the feeling unmistakable under his large hands, he can tell you’re getting close.

All the breathy sighs and whines leaving you, the overwhelming taste of you on his tongue and in his mouth, it clouds his judgment more and more as each second passes.

Yuuta forgets about the hard work he’s put in to keep you safe, to make sure you ended up choosing him over everyone else. You’re intoxicating, and he can’t get enough. There’s no such thing as just a taste, not when he’s stopped trying to hold back and instead starts trying to devour you.

You deserve more, he thinks, coating his ring finger with your slick, teasingly swirling it around your entrance before letting it sink into your heated pussy. It reaches far deeper than his tongue, and with a few thrusts, curling his finger inside you, Yuuta finds what he’s searching for as you tense hard around the slender digit. His mouth returns to your clit, sucking and flicking it with the tip of his tongue.

Yet no matter what he does, it’s still not enough. He wants to watch you finally fall apart, wants you to stop pushing him away.

And he realizes, it’s not a want, but a need. One that can’t be satisfied as easily as he thought when he first removed the sheets from your unsuspecting body. Going so long ensuring that you wanted him and nobody else ended up having adverse effects, all this time spent putting you first had turned him selfish, and he didn’t quite care anymore.

He needs you—all of you, anything less for any longer and he might just go mad.

Yuuta can’t think straight to save his life, he’s hooked on the way your body shakes beneath him, adding another finger pumping in and out of you, groaning against your clit as he desperately ruts against the bed.

You’re responding so well, it only confuses him more as to why you haven’t let him take care of you sooner, as clearly you needed him like this. He can practically hear his name fall from your lips, airy and begging him for more.

His eyes are screwed shut, and yours are open.

“Ahh—Yuuta...wh—ngh”

Those calloused fingers know just how to make you shake in pleasure, not relenting as you suddenly cum around them. He feels your swollen clit throb, over and over against his tongue.

When you start to convulse, near pained whimpers leaving you, he finally stops.

He’s frozen for a moment, your full awareness dawning on him.

A sheen of sweat clings to you, chest heaving, heartbeat going a mile a minute and hammering against your ribcage. You were falling back down from the high that made you see stars, the closer to reality you got, the more you understood what had happened.

The fear would hit you first, and it’d be fast—you’d scream, fight, try to leave him.

Yuuta knew this, he knew you, and so he moved faster.

Before you could make another sound, panic rising in your throat, a firm hand clamps over your mouth.

And god, you look fucking terrified. Both hands flying up to push him away, nails biting into his wrist while tears begin to well in your eyes. Irises swirling with fear, confusion, betrayal.

It should make him feel guilty, it does—but it’s not enough to stop him from wanting to make it worse.

His palm stays cemented over your mouth, muffling your cries. “Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

It’s not, all your squirming does is grind against his aching cock. And he’s so far gone that he might as well go further—he doesn’t even try to stop you. The hand over your mouth pins you down well enough, your body so much weaker compared to his.

“M’sorry, just—fuck…”

You’re not calming down, struggling harder with each second that goes by while Yuuta fights to hold you still.

“It’s alright, baby, you’re okay.” With everything running through his mind, the only thing consistent and true is that he has to be inside you. 

His free hand grips the waistband of his sweats and boxers, hastily pulling them both down at the same time. He hisses when the cold air of the room meets his cock, slapping against his abdomen. He’s already in between your legs, and you’re still trying to get away, hips lifting off the sheets as your legs helplessly kick. Your movements are uncalculated, frantic—it’s an accident when his cock brushes against your heat.

You squeal at the contact, but there’s nothing you can do to stop him from rutting against you, length sliding between your folds and coating him in your slick. A slight shudder runs through you as the tip of his cock catches on your puffy clit, repeatedly nudging it with each thrust.

It’s not enough. Not before, not now, he can’t seem to satisfy whatever want inside him has broken loose, and you’re forced to deal with it all because he couldn’t keep himself in check.

“Just relax, okay? Gonna make you feel good...promise you—”

Yuuta practically chokes on his words, lining himself up with your entrance, unable to stop his hips from pushing himself inside you all in one go. Blood rushing behind his ears drowns out the sound of your whimpers, lost in the way you keep sucking him back in when he goes to pull out. So goddamn tight—Yuuta’s glad he’s made sure he was the first to get to you, despite the circumstances.

He’s a mess, you’re a mess, it’s sloppy and it’s perfect, because the quick back and forth of his hips goes so deep that he’s grinding against your clit with each thrust. Your whines are in tandem with his movements, pain mixing with the building warmth spreading throughout you.

The body draped over yours is so much larger, broad shoulders blocking out the moonlight as Yuuta keeps himself propped up above you with a hand beside your head. The one over your mouth disappears, lightly wrapping around your throat for better purchase instead.

It’s too easy to lose himself now, letting his guard down—and you jump at the chance.

There’s a shove to his chest, and then he’s being kicked down the bed. The door is on the adjacent side of the room and so to make quick time you scramble across the bed sheets. Of course, a hand too cold clamps around your ankle, and it feels like he’s about to crush the bone beneath when Yuuta drags you back.

All your pleas go ignored, and he’s suffocating as your body is pinned against the bed by his own.

A lanky yet toned arm snakes around your waist, lifting your hips to meet his. “Just a bit—” there’s a pause, groaning as he drives his cock right back into your pussy, “—bit longer…”

Yuuta hasn’t completely forgotten why he decided to take things this far, his free hand reaching down to toy with your clit. With the new angle, his cockhead hits that soft, spongy patch that has your walls fluttering around his length.

Your fighting spirit diminishes more and more, not much strength to begin with in how you were woken up, only worsened by the way the coil in your stomach keeps tightening. When you go to shove the arm wrapped around your body, it’s not genuine, not completely at least. You’re overwhelmed just as much as him, and letting it happen doesn’t seem all that bad.

Slick is dripping down your thighs, the sounds of skin slapping against skin echoing throughout the room alongside his grunts and your airy moans.

There’s a shake in your body, legs unable to keep themselves up as your voice breaks through the noise. “Yuuta...p-please…”

It doesn’t matter what it is you’re begging for exactly, but he tries to console you anyways. “I’m right here, baby. Just let go for me…”

The pads of his fingers press harder circles around your clit as the cant of his hips picks up.

You’re reaching your end, unmistakable in the way you tighten around his length, your muscles contracting and releasing. Yuuta is right behind you, thrusts growing erratic, barely pulling halfway out before sinking in again.

“Ah—that’s it, cum for me, good girl—”

There’s a moment where you go quiet, body locking up and mouth opening into a silent scream. It’s enough to have Yuuta’s body reacting much the same, a harsh ‘fuck’ leaving his lips before painting your walls white. There’s no thought to pull out, just that he wants to relax with you in his arms.

You’re trembling, aftershocks washing over you in waves, especially when he slowly drags his cock out and past your g-spot before leaving you empty.

Yuuta finally releases you from his hold, watching as you slump pitifully into the mattress. There’s a trail of his cum leaking down your slit, a little pool of it forming on the sheets. You look absolutely ruined, face turned and smushed against the bed—he can see the tears heavily wetting your cheeks, mouth agape as your chest heaves.

And he just...stares. Somewhat out of breath himself, hunched over, unmoving otherwise while realization crashes down on him.

You’d never forgive him, you’ll leave the second you get the chance. What Yuuta’s done to you is irreversible.

...As far as you know.

It’s always been like this, he thinks. Yuuta keeps you endlessly in the dark, meticulous pre-planning to make sure you’re protected always. And so he steps away, tucks himself back into his boxers, pulling up his sweats and grabs his phone. It looks like you’ve pretty much fallen asleep, which makes his job easier.

Plan A through Z, Yuuta has something to fall back on no matter what.

The screen illuminates his face, fingers swiping until Inumaki’s contact shines back at him. The cursed speech user owes him a favour, and there’s no time more perfect in Yuuta’s mind than now to cash it in.

A deep sigh from him sounds throughout the room—you won’t remember this happened, none of it. Yuuta will clean you up before Inumaki arrives, use reverse cursed technique to handle any wounds you may have, and then he’ll have his friend make you forget anything past going to bed.

While he still wants to keep you safe, keep you pure—it’s no longer for the same reasons. 

Darkened eyes land on your weakened form, and Yuuta knows this won’t be enough for him. You’ll push him away, he’ll get impatient...the rest is predictable, to say the least.

His message sends, phone turning black. 

Somehow, he’ll need to find a way to earn more favours.

[ichorai]

pearls and pastries ; j.jk

pairing ; pirate!jungkook x baker!reader (gender-neutral)

summary ; a crew of pirates have been pilfering your village for several weeks now and one particularly keen buccaneer has stopped by your bakery practically every visit; whether it be for the delectable pastries or for the sweet baker he's taken an interest to, jungkook couldn’t say. but there’s a catch - the baker doesn’t know that he’s a pirate.

themes ; fantasy, angst, fluff, pining, slight action, pirate au, baker au, medieval au

words ; 3.6k

warnings / includes ; descriptions of weaponry, stealing (from the rich), jungkook being a sad lovesick sap, pirate!bts, poetic sadness but when do i not do angst lmfao everything i touch turns into written sorrow </3

a/n ; written for the @ficscafe fic exchange event for @sunshinerainbowsbts !! i hope you like it <3 i'm definitely considering writing a part two to this :D

Jungkook wasn’t quite fond of parrots. Well, his mislike wasn’t necessarily directed towards the multi-hued rotund bird itself, but the fact that the wretched thing was squawking out a poor rendition of what Jungkook had announced earlier whilst clambering down the crow’s nest.

“I’m going to the bakery! I’m going to the bakery! I’m going to the bakery!” the winged devil screeched from atop Jimin’s shoulder, ruffling its bright feathers as if taunting him.

Shooting it the nastiest of scowls, Jungkook reached behind his head to untie the vermilion bandana holding his overgrown locks away from his narrowed eyes. “You better shut that bird up before I toss it to the sharks, Jimin.”

“If I let you do that, I’d also have to throw you overboard. The both of you are equally annoying,” the other pirate snorted in contempt, glancing up at his younger friend striding across the ship before moving his gaze back to the knapsack he was emptying for the pilfer. Out fell several empty bottles of rum, a few gold pieces glinting in the harsh midday sun, two jewel-encrusted daggers, and a worn eyepatch that suspiciously looked to be the same as the one Yoongi always wore over his left eye. “You seem to forget that we’re here to steal from the rich, not buy fancy breads! You’re lucky that Namjoon has half the decency not to kick you off the boat. Jin, however fond he is of you, still calls you a moocher.”

Rouge faintly dusted across Jungkook’s cheekbones as he coughed into his fist, lifting his shoulder in a half-shrug. “I steal stuff sometimes,” he muttered under his breath. It was useless to defend himself against someone who saw straight through him.

“Sometimes, my foot!” Jimin scoffed, hiking the bag over his shoulders. “Bringing back a goblet you found rolling down the street doesn’t count, you know that, right?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes to the cloudless sky, far too stubborn to admit that Jimin was right. With not another word, the young pirate clambered off of the large vessel and onto the rickety docks, grunting upon landing. It didn’t bother him much that Jimin was irked at his lack of contribution. They were rich enough as it is; what was the rush?

The air was tangy with sea salt and damp wood as he inhaled a deep breath, setting off for your bakery. Walking there took exactly three hundred and seventy two steps. Jungkook had memorized the shortest route to your little shop, mumbling the numbers under his breath with a growing grin blossoming across his lips. He subconsciously rolled the sleeves of his white tunic down, the fabric concealing the pirate tattoos inked all over his arms.

When the youthful sea wolf stepped foot into your store, a familiar chiming of the bell hooked atop the door echoed across the cream-walled room. At the reverberating sound, your head peeked out from the kitchen situated in the back. An illuminating beam danced on your features, eyes lighting up with mirth at the sight of Jungkook.

It made the muscle within his chest slam against his ribcage, desperate to be freed from its confines because it belonged to you, and only you. He wasn’t quite sure when the sudden fixation for the village baker his crew was stealing from started, but he had acclimated to his own change of heart by visiting you as often as he could.

“Fancy seeing you here today. Are you coming in or are you now my human door stopper?” Your heavenly voice floated towards Jungkook, snapping him out of his thoughts. Sheepish, he shuffled inside, engulfed by the warm scents of chocolate cakes, powdered pastries, caramelized fruits, and toasted almonds. His stomach gave an impatient snarl at the sight of tempting desserts. You had also walked to the front of the counter, dusting your flour covered hands on an apron. Some of the white powder had managed to smudge on your cheek, and Jungkook had to resist the urge to reach over and thumb it away.

“Hi,” he said with the brightest of grins. “I’ve missed you.”

At his bold statement, you suppressed a chortle. “I think you missed those chocolate cream puffs you like so much, not me. What’ve you been up to while you were gone?”

Jungkook hesitated at that. For the short amount of time he’d been visiting you, not once had he mustered the courage to tell you of his true origins. A savage pirate like him shouldn’t even be around the likes of you. You had no idea that he was part of the crew that was robbing your village, and the very thought of you finding out had him terrified. You were a taste of all the goodness in the world, and Jungkook was afraid you’d crumble into ash if he dared touch you. The sinner had no rights touching an angel, after all.

“Visiting family,” he hummed, quick to move on. If you noticed his strange demeanor, you didn’t say anything. For that, Jungkook was grateful. “I brought something for you.”

There was something about your smile that seemed to expel any and all feelings of gloom in a room. Jungkook was no exception to this feat, his knees almost buckling against the soft pink counters. He righted himself by leaning his elbows on top and propping his chin up with a palm. Gods, he didn’t know he was in this deep.

“Oh?” you set your hands on your hips, tilting your head to the side. “To what do I owe such pleasures?”

The corners of his eyes crinkled. “For those cream cheese tarts you made me last time I visited. Thought I’d repay you.” Whilst saying this, he used his free hand to reach into his back pocket, fishing out a string of authentic pearls, adorned with a glimmering clasp of gold the same hue as the sun.

Your smile melted into a confused pucker, brows knitting together in a muted painting of hesitance, yet you ogled the expensive necklace dangling by one of his spindly fingers nonetheless. Where on earth had he gotten such a valuable treasure? “But you already paid me with money. I really can’t take that, Jungkook.”

Disappointment was easily detected as he slanted his lips to the side. “Alright, then.” He tucked the pearls back into his pocket. It surprised you how easily he had complied.

The worrisome atmosphere was quick to dissolve when the bell jangled once more. A small child meandered in with a toothy beam, holding a small pouch of clattering coins in their palm. They were no taller than Jungkook’s midriff, and he liked it a little more than he should have watching a certain softness adorn your features at the sight of the kid.

“I recommend the cinnamon apple pie. Or maybe the brown sugar crepes if you’re looking for something sweeter,” Jungkook said, gesturing to the treat behind the display glass. The child angled their head to stare at the taller man with wonder. “Anything Y/N makes is to die for, though.”

The child excitedly babbled something in return, but you didn’t quite pick up what they had said. You were far too focused on Jungkook’s animated features when he kneeled down to point at some more desserts. Sure, he was a handsome man, you’ve known that since day one. You’ve never really looked at him in this light. It was as if he were carved from pure luminosity, whittled by the hand of the most skilled sculptor. Everything about him was practically perfect; the gentle slope of his nose, the angles of his raised eyebrows, the dappled rouge of his lips, the beauty marks mottling his dewy skin, the dangerous cuts of his jaw, the twinkle of gaiety you found in his irises. With the sunlight filtering through the windows, it basked Jungkook within a golden radiance, the shadows casted along his face only highlighting his best features, doing nothing to aid your fluttering pulse. Has he always been this beautiful?

“I’ll have a slice of apple pie!”

The sudden clinking of coins being dumped onto the counter snapped you out of your trance, and you kindly wrapped up what the child ordered and handed them the paper bag. Both you and Jungkook watched as they smiled in thanks and trotted out of the bakery. Curse his handsome physique.

A little flustered by your earlier thoughts, you busied your hands by sorting the coins the kid had coughed up. Jungkook, ever the kind soul, merely stood with you as you worked, engaging you in entertaining conversations to keep you occupied while your store was empty. Where did the sun go once it disappeared down the horizon? Why did everybody else seem to enjoy the bitter taste of coffee except him? Why did his heart beat so quickly when around you? The last question he couldn’t muster the courage to ask, and much to his perturbation, he already knew the answer. You enjoyed Jungkook’s company very much; to the point where you couldn’t quite remember what it was like before he had sauntered into your life.

Before the both of you knew it, the sun was already setting. Jungkook noticed the way you deflated just slightly when red kissed the sky. It was a telltale sign that Jungkook was long overdue to go back to his ship. Yoongi would have his ass if he was late again. The whole situation was ridiculous, really. He felt like a fairy tale princess running away from the ball before his clothes grew into tatters. Well, in his case, he supposed it’d be pirate-wear.

Your smile betrayed only the gentlest hint of disappointment as you thrusted a bag of warm cookies into his arms. “Take this for the road,” you had said.

And so Jungkook did, smiling like an idiot the whole way back. A part of him absentmindedly wondered what your face would look like when you noticed that he had left the pearls on the countertop for you.

The ship rocked as the young pirate scampered across the deck at a startling speed, flinging the doors to the cabins open. Six older pirates stared at his panting form, a few looking on with unsurprised indifference, most glaring at him in disappointment. Jimin merely stuck his tongue out, his childish way of saying I told you so. There was expectancy in the captain’s eyes, but it waned away at an instant upon seeing that Jungkook carried nothing of value. Namjoon pinched the space between his brows in mild frustration.

Stiffly, Jungkook jerked his arm to thrust the bag in his hand forward. “Cookie?” he asked. Nobody said anything. Jungkook slowly brought his appendage back down, guilt roiling in his abdomen. “I take it you guys don’t want the cookies?”

With a huff, Namjoon stalked forward. “Of course we want the cookies, give me that.” He snatched the bag out of Jungkook’s hands and tossed it to Taehyung, who caught it with eagerness vividly splayed across his ruffled features. “I do have to admit, we’re getting tired of you bringing back nothing but sweets every time we go on raids, Jungkook. C’mon, kid, this is a team effort here. Look, just today Yoongi managed to steal a dozen coffers from a nobleman. The least you can do is try.” True to the captain’s word, there was a mountain of chests and boxes full to the brim with gold coins and shimmering jewels piled to the side of the cabin.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Jungkook nodded in understanding, though not without a miniscule frown twinging his lips. What was a pirate without his treasure, right?

Taking note of his glum demeanor, Namjoon clapped a hand to the younger man’s shoulder. “We’re not mad at you—”

Yoongi snorted at that.

“We just… want to help you help us,” Namjoon finished, ignoring the salty pirate’s quip from behind him.

The youngest man on deck raised his hand to his forehead in an awkward salute. “Yes cap’n!” Shame prowled within his chest; just thinking about the dishonor he brought to the pirate reputation by loitering in a bakery all day, ogling at sugary treats (and the sweet baker, but Jungkook digresses).

A part of him felt even worse knowing that he’d see you less and less, what with the other pirates breathing down his neck. He could only hope that you’d still look forward to his visits, though few and far in between.

Authentic bottles of expensive wines were shoved into his knapsack by Taehyung, lacing chains of aureate crammed into his hands by Hoseok, bars of cold silver wedged into the pits of his arms by Jimin, and more treasures thrown at the youngest pirate to hold as they lithely ran across the village. Being one of the stronger and more agile ones of the group had its downfalls, after all. He was being treated like a pack mule, hauling all the treasure for them. Not that he was going to complain; Jungkook knew that he deserved the rough-housing.

“Hold onto these for me, will you?” Yoongi gruffly uttered as he slid the thick hilts of gem-encrusted daggers into his belt. Jungkook complied hesitantly, but not without a suppressed groan of annoyance. “They’ll sell for more than a pretty penny, so don’t lose them.” The older pirate seemed to be in a grumpier than usual mood, considering he lost his eyepatch and the mottled scar crossing over his eye was on display for anybody to gawk at. It would’ve been worrying to Jungkook if he wasn’t aware of the fact that Jimin was merely prolonging his juvenile game of ‘keep away’, attempting to dance away from Yoongi’s inevitable wrath.

Perhaps being a pirate wasn’t his true calling, because Jungkook found that his mind kept wandering off to the matters at hand—running away from the guards. Though it was a relatively easy task (the guards were quite thick-headed in this village), he thought about the pretty plants dangling from the balconies of a building they jogged by, or the scents of exotic spices carried by the souq market not far from where they were. Most of all, much to his expectancy, his thoughts were centered around you. Had you gotten many customers for lunch rush? Were you lonely without him? How many times have you smiled today? Jungkook was all too fond of your smile.

Blinded by his unsaid affectionate ramblings, he only barely caught on to Namjoon’s quiet, “We shook the guards off for now. Be careful next time, Seokjin. The sun’s about to set soon; we should head back to the ship before it gets dark.”

Jungkook hissed out a small sigh of relief, bending over to catch his breath. Jogging across the village would have been no problem, but running with treasures twice his weight draped all over him was a different story.

When he righted himself back to standing, the sudden pit of shocked trepidation unfurled within his abdomen. There you were, beautiful as ever, but a terrifying sight to see. Normally you’d be the only person he would want to see, but as of this moment, you were the absolute last person he fancied bumping into.

Why now? He had the most rotten of luck.

Today you weren’t wearing your regular apron, but a pair of fitted grey trousers and a soft beige blouse far too large for you, hanging off of one of your shoulders as you cradled a basket of breads and cheeses and other groceries in your arms. It was a simple outfit, but one that made his heart clench nonetheless. The glinting of iridescent pearls draped over your décolletage had his breath stolen away from him as raw sentiment overtook his form. You were wearing the pearls he left for you and you never looked more beautiful. Jungkook, on the other hand, was clad in clothes that practically screamed pirate; a golden-clasped corset tightened about the small of his waist, a tattered white button-up tucked into his dark trousers, worn sea boots covering his feet. A large gun was also slung over the belt cinched around his hips, along with multiple daggers of the like, and not to mention all the riches and jewelry the other boys had thrown at him.

You couldn’t see him. No, it would absolutely ruin Jungkook.

Perhaps dropping everything he was holding in a panicked effort to dash away as quickly as he could was the worst possible thing he could have done to not warrant any attention.

The concerned and confused questions erupting from the other pirates as they whipped their heads towards their youngest comrade went completely ignored. He scampered away from them, lunging towards a shadowed alley and hiding behind a teetering pile of musty boxes. A stray cat nuzzled against his leg, but Jungkook merely shooed it away with a frustrated glare and not-so-subtle shushing gestures.

What a fool I am, the young buccaneer berated himself, pressing a knuckle against his temple in frustration. He waited for another minute, before slinking out from the shadows, peering around the corner to see if you were still there.

No sign of you. Relief seized his chest, but not without the gentlest flower of disappointment staining whatever solace he felt, a weed amongst the roses. Jungkook’s mind was still reeling from the fact that you were wearing his pearls.

Treading carefully, he strode out of the alley, turning the other direction before halting in his tracks completely. A queer, garbled noise tumbled past his lips.

It was you, a confused smile gracing your features, and all Jungkook could think about was how the sunlight was made for you, how you glowed in front of him, how he wanted to cradle you into his chest and murmur confessions of his pure, unadulterated love into your ear. But Jungkook didn’t do any of that. Instead, he merely stood there, as if he was imitating a statue in all of his pirate glory. Terrified, regretful, and ever so angry at himself.

Fate was a cruel game.

The pearls shone prettily on your skin. A reminder of the best mistake he’s ever made.

Your eyes had yet to wander down to fully take in his appearance, for your expression still held fondness for the man that’s visited your bakery so often, still having no idea that he was a filthy pirate, locked into his molten gaze. “I think you dropped something…?” The golden chains dangled loose between your fingers as you held them out to him. Jungkook didn’t take them, frozen on the spot.

It was as if he could pinpoint the exact moment you found out his true origins. Your brows furrowed upon seeing the weaponry strapped onto him, one of his pirate tattoos on display (Jungkook cursed himself for not thinking of rolling his sleeve back down), and the six other men watching in silent despondency behind them. You had always been a sharp one, far too smart for your own good.

Or, perhaps, it's always been obvious. Jungkook was only wishing for the impossible.

“You’re a pirate.”

The statement wedged a stake into his chest, splintering his heart into pieces. When you stepped away from him, confused horror marring your beautiful features, Jungkook knew that it was over.

He lost you.

A flurry of emotions, overwhelming and tumultuous, evidently took over you at his lack of denial. You looked to be just as heartbroken as he was.

“You’re a pirate,” you repeated, dazed. You wanted him to say something, anything. Much to his surprise, you didn’t sound angry. You took several steps back this time. The weight of pearls around your neck suddenly felt choking.

The sudden calling of his name had his head whipping around to look at his captain, watching the brutal exchange with gentle sternness. “We have to go.” The guards’ll be coming soon, no doubt.

Jungkook looked back to you, any and all words lodged in his throat. Despite the fear in your irises, a soft expression of acceptance folded over your visage, for under all his pirate exterior, he was still the same man that you thought so fondly of from your bakery. The look was short-lived however, quick to fade away when Jungkook reached out for you hesitantly. A part of him pondered how a simple baker managed to steal from the stealer. You had robbed him of his heart, and Jungkook didn’t even try to stop you.

Upon seeing you inch away in mortification at your new revelation, Jungkook retracted his arm and pursed his lips. The agony clawing at his stomach was begging to be set free. He wanted nothing more than to get onto his knees and plead for your forgiveness.

I’m sorry I lied. I’m sorry I’m not the man you thought I was. I’m sorry I fell in love with you.

His name came out again, this time from Yoongi. That meant it was serious.

“I’ll come back,” Jungkook said, tears rimming the bottom of his warm doe eyes. You watched him start to trek backwards. “I promise.” The words felt heavy on his tongue, like he was swallowing down a knot of thorned ivy.

Before you had the chance to say anything back, he was gone, bounding back to his ship with his comrades. Not long after, the distant barks of guards pursuing them rang throughout the village. You took that as your cue to leave. Swallowing down the urge to cry, you forced your eyes away.

You hoped he wouldn’t uphold his promise, for the both of your sakes.

[weirdhorrorenthusiast]

Hello can I request headcannons of Ben drowned asking out male reader?

Ben Drowned asking out M!Reader

AAA first request, you’ll forever be remembered <3

Also i ended up writing a short fic instead but…

And hopefully i do this request justice

Whenever you first joined the creeps, you instantly caught his eye. All the wanting to hang out often, training together, flirting, and invitations to random activities made it quite obvious

But anyways

He wants to pretend to be confident about it, “oh yeah, y/n is definitely gonna say yes to me” when in reality he’s anxious as fuck

It’s the early morning because he couldn’t sleep at all, your favorite snack/candy is in his hand as he cautiously made his way to your room. Once he’s staring right at your door, a shaky hand would reach up and gently knock

Forfuckssake

You groan as you get out of the comfort of your bed, still half asleep and half conscious. You had no early training today, what the hell!?

And so you open the door, still in your sleep wear and groggy voice and messy hair😩. “Wh- Ben…?” And oh mygod, ben feels bad waking you up accidentally but he can’t help but think you’re the most handsome guy in his eyes right now

“O-oh shit, y/n. This- is this a bad timing?” He curses at himself for his glitchy voice and his now red face. He quickly hides your little gift behind his back, awkwardly and very stiffly standing there. You quickly shake your head, leaning against the doorframe

“Nooo..not at all. What’s up?” Ben takes a deep breath, he never would’ve thought his heart could beat this quickly

“Y/N, i think you’re really cool and..really fucking ho- attractive. Will you go out on a first date with me?” He stuttered out, shutting his eyes tights as he extended his hand with your gift. Your eyes widened, now you were fully awake

His confession was very sudden and it had caught you off guard, especially this early…

Of course you said yes, finding the blond creep incredibly cute whenever he was flustered and bashful. Plus, the date and the tasty snack were very tempting

Immediately his eyes widened in shock (“wait, shit really?”) then excitement overtook him as he took you in his arms (you’re probably taller than him so he tries) grinning from ear to ear, he repeated millions of “thsnk yous” and how excited he was. Some words were terribly unintelligible because of how distorted they became

“How could i say no to you, ben. But uhh, you mind if i sleep now?”

Be prepared for cuddle, Netflix, or gaming dates😼😼

[toddperrys]

Carry Me Home

Hello all, I know I haven't written in quite a while but my mental health has been much better lately and I've been feeling a lot more motivated so have some Anderperry. I'm actually writing a longer fic with them and I'm hoping to have the first chapter of that out soon. In the meantime, enjoy!! Reblogs always appreciated Title: Carry Me Home Pairing: Anderperry (Neil Perry and Todd Anderson) Word Count: 1735 Rating: G Read it on AO3 here

Despite the music thrumming from behind the counter, Neil’s eyelids were drooping shut. It was late, nearly four in the morning, and the dumpy Irish pub was nearly empty save for a few townies sitting alone and—of course—Neil’s friends, drunk and chortling and hardly able to stand. 

Neil, however, was stone cold sober. When Charlie proposed going out to celebrate the end of finals week, Neil didn’t hesitate to volunteer as designated driver. Normally he loved drinking with his friends, but after a grueling final that morning for his queer theatre and film class, he wasn’t in the mood for a wild night out. 

Many hours later—sitting in the bar and watching his friends sign a terrible rendition of Britney Spears’ “Womanizer” they surely wouldn’t remember tomorrow morning—Neil decided it was time to go. He stood from his stool and approached the others.

“Alright, American Idol, let’s get out of here,” Neil said. 

“Neil,” Charlie moaned, “A little longer, please.” 

Neil sighed, “We’ve been here since eight, you’ll hate me if I let you stay and continue to embarrass yourselves.”

The others huffed as Neil herded them towards the door. Meeks and Pitts leaned against each other, snorting at their own half-coherent sentences. Charlie dragged his feet and complained and Knox followed closely behind, silent and still as a rock aside from the dopey smile plastered across his face. Cameron muttered to himself, as drunk as the others despite his earlier scolding about the dangers of too much alcohol. They made it to the sidewalk and Neil opened the car. 

He ran through a mental checklist as they climbed in, making sure everyone that entered the bar came out—wait, where was Todd? He scanned the group’s faces once again and confirmed his earlier observation. Todd was missing. Once the other five were in their seats, Neil hurried back through the door. 

He spotted Todd slumped against the far wall near the bathrooms. He was smiling peacefully, the anxiety that normally coiled in his muscles gone and replaced with a nearly unrecognizable ease. Something inside Neil softened at the site and he was tempted to just settle on the floor beside him, DD be damned.

“Todd, there you are,” Neil said. 

“N-Neil,” Todd slurred. “C’you lift me?”

“What?”

“Lift me,” Todd repeated. His eyes suddenly became alert, a hopeful glittering blue that rendered Neil incapable of saying no. 

Neil sighed and looped an arm over Todd’s shoulders. He groaned as he pulled them both upward. 

“Better?” he asked.

Todd nodded, “Much better.”

They trudged across the bar. Todd nestled his head in the spot where Neil’s neck met his shoulder and took a deep breath. 

“You smell good,” Todd said. “And this sweater, looks s’good.”

“I–” Neil paused and looked at Todd. His eyes were closed and he was leaning against Neil. One hand rested against Neil’s chest, just over his heart. Heat flood his cheeks. He swallowed his question and instead said, “Thank you, Todd.”

They made it to Neil’s car at the curb, Todd still snuggling against him. The others had gone quiet in the backseat and Neil helped Todd into the passenger side. As he pulled the seatbelt across his chest, Todd grabbed Neil’s hand. 

“Where we going?” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Neil smiled, “Just home.”

This answer seemed to satisfy Todd. He released Neil’s hand and allowed his head to loll back against the seat, eyes closed and smiling. 

Neil slid into the driver’s seat and started the car. As he steered through the empty, rain-slick streets, he occasionally stole glimpses of Todd, who gazed out the window at the buildings slipping by. Street lights would occasionally throw light onto his face, turning his eyes to a shock of blue and his hair a brilliant copper for just a moment before everything went dark again. 

“Neil?” Todd said.

“Yes Todd?”

“You’re so good to me.”

They were at a redlight. Neil turned to look at Todd. His eyes were closed and his face was still save for the slight movement of his lips as he spoke. “Why wouldn’t I be good to you?” Neil asked.

“So many people aren’t,” Todd said, “But you always are, you always have been.”

A few beats of silence passed. Neil swallowed and said, “I appreciate you, Todd.”

They pulled up to the dorm a few minutes later. The car’s interior lights flickered on when Neil turned the key, waking the others. 

“Home?” Charlie said.

“Home,” Neil confirmed. 

They stepped out, Charlie and Knox first followed by Meeks and Pitts, then Cameron, and finally Neil, still supporting an unsteady Todd. It was a short journey up the stairs and down the hall to the cluster of rooms they called their own. 

Todd was quiet as he and Neil stepped into their dorm. Neil leaned down to help Todd settle himself on his bed. He unwound his arm from his shoulder and began to straighten, but Todd grabbed his arm and pulled him onto the bed beside him.

“Stay,” Todd said. He leaned against Neil, burying his face into his sweater, “Please just stay with me.”

“This isn’t my bed, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Neil said. His face felt like it was on fire now and his heart only seemed to be hitting every other beat. 

“You could never make me uncomfortable,” Todd said. “Please just be here.”

Neil hesitated. Everything in him screamed to stay put—to lay down against Todd’s comforter and wrap his arms around Todd’s waist and breathe in Todd’s scent—but this couldn’t be right. Todd wasn’t sober and Neil was just his friend, he’d never want Neil that way. 

“Todd, I just think—”

“Neil, don’t go,” Todd repeated. He lifted his face from Neil’s chest and met his eyes with a soft, beseeching gaze. “I really, really want you to be here with me.”

Neil’s head was swimming and he thanked God Todd was too drunk to notice the increase in his heart rate. “Okay,” he finally said. 

Todd grinned and relaxed against Neil as they laid down. Their legs tangled and Todd was so close Neil could count the silver flecks floating in his doe-like blue eyes. The night’s excitement fell on him all at once, his eyes and limbs growing heavy. 

“Good night, Todd,” Neil said. 

“G’night,” Todd answered. “I love you.”

Sleep overtook them both. 

Neil didn’t know where he was when he woke up the next morning. He panicked and bolted upright before spotting his empty bed on the opposite side of the room, the books and journals spilling across the floor from both he and Todd’s creative endevours, and—most surprisingly—Todd sleeping soundly beside him. 

The night’s events came flooding back to him—the bad karaoke, the quiet drive home, stumbling up the stairs to bed, and Todd saying he loved him. 

Todd said he loved him. 

Panic and joy rioted inside him. He wanted to jup up and down and shout to the whole world that Todd loved him, but he also knew Todd had been drunk. What if he hadn’t meant it? What if it was a mistake or a joke? How was he supposed to talk about any of this?

Before Neil could answer any of his questions, Todd stirred and opened his eyes. “Neil,” he said, his voice hoarse with sleep. “What are you doing in my bed?”

Neil forced his roiling emotions to subside. It felt like trying to contain a hurricane. “Do you remember anything about what happened last night?”

Todd furrowed his brow, “I remember going out, then drinking a lot of cheap alcohol, then not being able to walk and—” Todd cut off his sentence and went white as a sheet, “Oh God.”

Neil could see the anxiety building in Todd’s frame, watch as his muscles tensed and his breath sped up. “Todd, it’s okay—”

“I’m so sorry,” Todd said, cradling his face in hands. “Oh my God, Neil, I’m so sorry.”

“Todd, you don’t have to be—”

“I fucked up so bad I’m so sorry, oh my God.”

“Please just listen to me, Todd, I—”

“Just forget it ever happened, okay? It’s all irrelevant and I fucked up so bad, I know—”

“TODD!”

Todd went silent. 

Neil didn’t meant to shout, but he had to stop the tidal wave of fear that was threatening to drown both of them. 

“Todd, I didn’t mean to yell, I—” Neil paused and met Todd’s eyes. They were round and terrified, like Neil was about to slap him. Neil’s chest ached. “Just tell me, did you mean it, or was it just drunk mumbling?”

Todd hesitated. Neil felt like they were standing on ice. The shore was just a few feet away, but one wrong move and they would be plunged into icy territory from which they could never recover. 

“I meant it,” Todd finally said. “I’m sorry—”

“Please, Todd, don’t say sorry, you can’t say sorry,” Neil said. 

Several beats of silence passed as Neil took a breath. He noticed Todd’s hands were balled into fists and trembling. 

“I love you too,” Neil said. 

Todd blinked, “You love me?” He released his hands and his body relaxed and stilled. 

Neil let out a breath and smiled. “God, yes, I love you,” he said. “I love you so much I could barely say ‘I love you’ because I was so terrified I’d scare you away.”

Todd let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, “I can’t believe this.” He kept laughing and Neil laughed with him. 

Neil lunged forward and tackled Todd to the bed, tears welling in his eyes from relief and happiness and love all at once. They kept laughing as Neil ran his hands over Todd’s face and Todd admired the warm sturdiness of Neil’s torso against him.

“Can I kiss you?” Todd asked. 

“Yes, please kiss me, in fact,” Neil replied, laughing harder. 

Todd crashed their lips together and it was even better than Neil imagined it would be. It was the comfort of a fire in winter and the excitement of a roller coaster and the novelty of a first spring rain, it was past and present colliding and a million things unsaid and conveyed only through the sweet press of their mouths. 

They pulled apart and Neil leaned his forehead against Todd’s, “Remind me to take you out more often.”

[doctenwho]

Hangovers, Love and Space Vodka (PE Pt. 2)

Hello! Requests are definitely open, even if I’m awfully slow! I feel bad at how slow these are coming out especially since there’s so many in waiting, but writing just hasn’t been on the table recently. Apologies for that!

But I’ve found the time and the motivation, so I decided to get this done! Thank you for your patience! This is such a cute idea, and it always makes me happy that people like the first parts enough to request a continuation. I had a lot of fun writing it, so I hope you readers like it too! 

So, please enjoy the continuation of Purest Expression (also, you should probably read that one if you haven’t already, this fic heavily references it!) Also, I just thought the name was funny and I was in desperate need for one, so feel free to suggest others if you’ve got one!

Warnings: Talk of alcohol, but no drinking!

Word Count: 4,050

Summary: Check out the prompt above! :)

(Gif doesn’t belong to me, credit to the talented creator!)

You didn’t really remember a lot when you woke up. All you really knew was you'd drank far too much of that delicious cocktail, and that your brain was pounding in your head. This was quite possibly one of the worst hangovers you’d had, but honestly, you’d do it all over again to have another one of those space cocktails.

You rolled onto your back, lifting your hands to cover your eyes in an attempt to block out what little light managed to stream into the room. Your stomach churned at the movement, but it settled out easily enough after you didn’t move a muscle for a few minutes following your roll.  

You relaxed back into the bed when your stomach settled down, and finally uncovered your eyes, staring up at the ceiling with a bleary gaze.  

As you laid there, you tried to piece together the evening. The bits and pieces between arriving and having enough to drink that you could no longer walk a straight line.  

You knew you’d gone out on the town with the Doctor—he'd been excited to show you things. He'd raved enthusiastically about the planet, and you’d listened along as your own excitement grew too. Then, you remember finally stepping out of the TARDIS and being completely astounded by this new planet, with all its colours, music and general liveliness.  

The cute little bar wedged between two buildings; you remember that too. And of course, you remember the cocktail—you'd had two, or three, or... had it been four? You couldn’t really pinpoint it. The Doctor had said it was weaker than earth vodka, and maybe it was, but the after effects were definitely more intense to a human that human vodka was. That said you’d still be down for another drink or two before you left.  

It was well worth the pain of a hangover to taste that drink again. Just the thought of it made your tastebuds tingle.  

You let out a light laugh before rolling back over onto you side, but this time following it up with pulling yourself to a sitting position. The nausea was still there, but hardly noticeable; just a subtle warning to keep your movements slow and steady lest you start gagging.  

Your head was still pounding, but you knew that wasn’t going to go away without pain killers, so you stumbled to your feet to go find the Doctor. He’d have something that could help, and at this point, you didn’t care what planet it came from, so long as it killed the raging headache and... well, didn’t kill you.  

You found the Doctor in the kitchen of all places.  

He was perched at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee in front of him, as well as a book. He startled when you stepped into the room, breathing a light, “oh, (Y/N),” as a greeting.

You continued into the room, wobbling on your feet for just a second, “good morning,” you greeted in return, forcing a smile onto your lips despite the headache, “you don’t happen to have any pain killers do you?”

The Doctor frowned, “are you unwell?”

“Just a bit of a hangover,” you promised with a wave of your hand, “a little worse than an earth alcohol hangover, but it’s manageable. I’ll be fine, my head just really hurts.”

“Right, of course,” the Doctor nodded, pushing himself up and moving towards the cupboards. He rifled around the cabinets, reading labels of things and putting them back before he finally found what he was looking for, “these aren’t of your earth, but they are basically the same thing as your planet’s Advils. I’m sorry I don’t have anything that’ll help from your earth, I should really invest in some if I’m going to keep soliciting companions from earth.”

“Soliciting?” You snorted a laugh, which made you wince lightly, “really?”

“Well, I do tempt you humans away with the offer of the entirety of the universe, now, don’t I?” You smiled at the Doctor’s cheeky grin as he joined you at your side, setting the pill bottle in front of you to do with as you pleased, whether that was to ignore it, or take a couple, before he carried on to the counter. “No different really, I offer the universe in exchange for companionship, and I’m proud to say very few have ever declined. Now, would you like a tea, or coffee?”

“Jokes on the ones who declined, they’re really missing out,” you huffed out as you picked up the pill bottle, surveying over the list of ingredients. None looked too out of the world, but honestly, you’d do anything at this point to ease the thrum of your headache, so you uncapped the bottle, “surprise me.”

The Doctor turned back to flash you a grin from where he’d busied himself at the counter, “will do, my Dear.”

You shook a few pills into your hand from the bottle, eyeing them as if they were about to change colours or something similarly alien-like, but when none of that happened, you frowned, “how many do I take?”

“Well...” the Doctor turned thoughtfully to lean against the counter, “I’d say to start off with one and see if it does anything for you. There will be small differences from planet to planet, and we wouldn’t want you to overdose. After a half an hour you can try taking another pill if one doesn’t help.”

“Sounds good,” you popped a single pill into your mouth before you could hesitate. As if the Doctor was magic, he slid a mug of you go-to morning beverage towards you, and you washed the pill down with a sip of the perfectly prepared drink.  

You savored the taste of your drink, sighing into the warmth. When you’d had a couple sips, you put the cap back on the pill bottle and slid the bottle to the center of the table. You watched the Doctor move around the small kitchen as he made himself another coffee before joining you at the table.  

The two of you settled into a silence, thankfully. You hunched over the table, your elbows on the surface and your cheeks cupped in your palms, as the Doctor continued reading, but he looked like he was lost in his thoughts instead of actually reading.  

“How long have you been up?” you asked slowly, squeezing your eyes shut before blinking them open again to see the Doctor’s gaze on you. “You’re kinda spacing out.”

“I’ve just... some things on my mind,” the Doctor admits with a tiny curl upwards of his lips. It didn’t really answer the question, but at the same time it did. You didn’t think the Doctor had even gone to sleep. “Has the headache eased at all?”

Your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape noticing suddenly that the headache was in fact almost gone. You hadn’t even realized, “yeah,” you informed with a laugh, “almost gone. I didn’t even notice—space things are so much better than earth things; the drugs and alcohol.”

“That would be a very worrying observation if I didn’t know exactly what you were talking about,” the Doctor snorted a laugh. You laughed along too, even if the statement was completely true—it had only been about ten minutes and the space Advil was already working wonders, where as the earth stuff could take anywhere from fifteen to thirty minutes to actually kick in.  

“So,” you drawled after another string of comfortable silence between the two of you, “what’s been on you mind then?”

The Doctor eyed you up and down briefly before sighing, running his fingers through his hair and making his already untamed locks stand up at odder angles, “I was just thinking about yesterday.”

“Yesterday,” you parroted under your breath. You’d been thinking about yesterday too. How could you not be? There were still gaps in time where you don’t really remember what happened. “What happened yesterday?”

“You don’t remember?” The Doctor blinked.

“No, I do,” you leaned back in your chair with a sigh, “well, most of it, I think. But some of it... I don’t know? It’s kind of a blur. I guess the cocktails started hitting me towards the end of the evening, I barely remember coming back.”

“You were a bit out of it,” the Doctor admits sheepishly, “glad I cut you off at three drinks then.”

“I could’ve handled more,” you scoffed, smiling widely in a teasing way.  

The Doctor rolled his eyes, leaning forwards, closer to you as his voice dropped, “I do believe three is probably your limit, Love.”

You let out a bout of bright laughter and the Doctor smiled softly. You loved how easy it was to banter with the man—how the two of you were so comfortable with the other that you could tease back and forth like this.  

As if to prove his point, your head gave a warning thrum of pain that drew a shallow breath from you, “yeah,” you shook the pain off, “you’re probably right about three being my space-cocktail limit.”

The Doctor shook his head fondly at you as he settled back in his chair, “so, anything you’d like to know about yesterday? I did promise I’d tell you anything you’d like to know?”

You thought back to what you remembered about yesterday: the walk from the TARDIS to the bar, the ideal seating at the bar, those amazing rainbow cocktails that tasted like dreams. Drinking and chatting and laughing with the Doctor—splitting a plate of chips that were unbelievably delicious... and then... well, the space English the TARDIS didn’t bother translating for you.  

“What was the bartender saying to you?”

The Doctor drew in a breath as his cheeks dusted the faintest pink, “nothing important, I assure.”

“C’mon,” you pouted, cradling your half drank, significantly cooled drink between your hands as you leaned towards the Doctor this time, “you said you promised to tell me about yesterday, right?”

The man chewed at his lip, subdued, but clearly trying to figure out the best course of action, “alright, well, we... I suppose we were acting a tad bit... involved? And... some assumptions were made about us by the barkeep.”

“Involved how?” you raised a questioning eyebrow. “And... what kind of assumptions?”

“Involved involved,” the Doctor cleared his throat, eyeing your level of understanding before rubbing his forehead and adding, “uhm, romantically involved. Those were, well, the main assumptions made as well.”

You gaped for a second before a thought came back to you suddenly, “he kept calling us lovers.”

“Yes,” the Doctor managed a light, fond smile, “I did try to explain it to him: us, our companionship—but, well, he... he didn’t believe me.”

“He didn’t believe you?” You repeated back, surprised.  

“No,” the Doctor laughed, rubbing the back of his neck, “he made some pretty solid points in favor of us being romantically involved too, actually.”

“Oh yeah?” you teased, “and what points might those be?”

“Well, we were sitting fairly close--”

“As friends do,” the excuse came easily. The Doctor raised an eyebrow, but continued on like you hadn’t spoken.

“--I was hovering close to you, I suppose... A bit at least--”

“You were worried about me,” you interjected with a fond eyeroll at how wrong the bartender had been. Lovers? Come on, no way. You guys were... you were friends. Obviously. Though the thought of the Doctor hovering over you, making sure you were okay warmed your heart.  

“--we leaned into each other’s sides, uhm, multiple times throughout the evening--”

You struggled for an excuse for that one, you did tend to lean into his space, not that the Doctor ever seemed to mind. And he liked to press into your personal space as well—neither of you really cared about proximity, so you managed a one shouldered shrug, “it was just loud in the bar, hard to hear each other.”

“--and, well, he pointed out I was staring at you occasionally; odd for him to have noticed, when I didn’t even realize I was doing it.”

You couldn’t come up with an excuse for that one, eyebrows furrowing in confusion that made your breath catch in the weirdest way. He’d been staring at you? Why did that make you feel so happy?

“And then the fact that you returned the stare when I wasn’t looking. Honestly, that barkeep spent more time watching us than he did working last night, I’m sure.” The Doctor let out a playful scoff, genuinely amused that the bartender had put more time into them than his job.  

You however, were suddenly caught up in the information.  

He’d been staring at you when you weren’t looking—fondly, you were sure, if it had caught the bartender’s attention and led him to believe the two of you were in a relationship. Then there was the fact that you were staring at him in return? You’d been caught by someone staring at the Doctor? You knew you did it sometimes, how could you not? He was a good-looking, kind, compassionate man who liked your company. Just being with him made your heart speed up.

“That doesn’t mean we’re a couple,” you forced yourself to say, even if... well, you were questioning it just slightly. You knew, of course, that the two of you weren’t a couple but... “That bartender was just bored and looking too far into us, I’m sure he was doing it to everyone...”

“Of course not, surely we’d know if we were, right?” the Doctor agreed with a light grin. The grin only lingered for a second before it faltered and he chewed at his bottom lip. You were about to question it, but he spoke again before you could, “but, well, I suppose there is the song he had to go off of as well.”

“The song?” You questioned before it all flooded back—well, most of it, at least, “we were on a stage. We... we sang together. Was that a karaoke bar or something?”

“We were,” the Doctor ducked his head in a nod, “we... did. And it, well, it was kind of like your earth karaoke bar. Do you remember anything about it?”

You tried to remember, you know the Doctor explained it last night after he’d gotten the information from the barkeeper, but you still don’t really know. And you’re sure there were bits and pieces that he didn’t tell you last night as well. So, you shook your head.

“Right,” the man nodded, settling his elbows on the tabletop as he held his chin up, “well, the concept of the song ritual we were roped into performing is that you sing whatever song best corresponds to what you think about your peer. I’m not exactly sure how it works to be honest, the expression through song is just strong.”

“So, whatever I felt about you would be... conveyed through a song?”

“Yes.” The Doctor gives a light nod.

“And whatever you felt about me would... would also be?”

“Indeed,” his head tilts as he surveys you, trying to piece together where you were going with this string of questions.  

“But... we sang a duet, didn’t we?” You furrowed your eyebrows, running a finger along the rim of your mug. You faintly remembered chiming in with the Doctor’s song, instantly knowing the new lines to his song despite not knowing his lines, or the actual song. “Does that happen? What... what does it mean?”

“Well,” the Doctor cleared his throat, looking nervous. “It does happen, it’s just, well, it’s rare? I suppose. The barkeeper, just before we left, told me that the last time he saw a duet happen during the expression through song ceremony was when he was a child.”

“Wow, okay,” you bit the inside of your cheek. You had a feeling you knew what it meant, and the thought made your cheeks heat up, but you asked anyways, “what does a duet mean?”

“Well, generally speaking...” the Doctor shot you a small, crooked smile, “it means that we feel exactly the same way about each other. Exactly the same to the point that our expression would be through the same song, at the same time.”

“Wow,” you couldn’t help but repeat, “that’s... wow. So it really is unusual then? Why did it happen to us? Was it a fluke?”

“No, don’t think so,” the Doctor shakes his head, a blush rising to his cheeks as his fingers tap against the table, “something like that would be hard to fake, so I doubt it was a fluke. We chose the song—deep in our subconscious when thinking of the other... I mean... I didn’t know the lyrics beforehand, did you?”

“No,” you breathed out, fingers fiddling with your empty mug, “I don’t even think I remember the lyrics now. They were just... in my head when they needed to be. I didn’t even know your lines of the song. It’s weird that we were the people that got the duet—random visitors.”

“It was the same for me,” the Doctor sends you a small smile, “I think few people view their... companion the same way their companion views them. It seems highly unlikely that any two people can feel the exact same way...”

You’re not sure why, but there’s something different about the way the Doctor says companion this time around. Maybe he holds a different fondness than you’re used to, or perhaps some other reason, but there’s an unfamiliar warmth in the word.  

“But we did,” you whisper, looking up momentarily and catching the Doctor’s eyes before dropping your gaze back to your cup.

“But we did,” the Doctor repeats, just slightly louder than you. Like he too can’t wrap his brain around it. There’s a pause before the Doctor’s clearing his throat, forcing a crooked smile onto his lips. “Well, I promised you we head to the shops for some alcohol and other treats, didn’t I?”

The Doctor stands, moving swiftly towards the door without looking back.

“I meant it, you know?” You speak before you even realize you’re speaking. You don’t see the Doctor stop, since you’re facing the other direction, but you hear his steps come to a halt, feet planting in spot.  

He doesn’t say anything for a second, which prompts you on, “I do need you.”

He still doesn’t say anything, or move, so you stand and gather both your mug and his own, walking in the opposite direction from him towards the sink. You set the mugs in but don’t touch the faucet, instead mumbling a soft, “I want you.”

You’re not even sure if he’d still there anymore, or if he’d taken you moving as his cue to escape. You don’t turn to look, afraid to not find him there, so instead you whisper what little of your lyrics from yesterday that you remember, “come on back to me.”

Another moment of silence drags in before you hear the Doctor moving. His steps are quick, and you think he’s leaving out the door when suddenly hands are on your waist and he’s swiftly turning you around and gently pushing you against the edge of the counter beside the sink.  

You manage to muffle your surprise as his lips press against yours, soft but urgently all the same.  

You melt into his lips, eyes slipping shut as his hands leave your waist, one wrapping around your middle, as the other rises to cup at your jaw. It spurs you on too, your arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him just slightest bit close, to which he blindly follows your lead.  

You don’t pull away until the need to breath outweighs how good it feels to be kissing him.

You both gasp for breath, but neither of you pull away, lips still touching the faintest bit, “I didn’t think you even remembered the lyrics... how... intimate the duet was...” It’s the first thing the Doctor’s said since trying to flee the room.

You slowly open your eyes, catching his eyes waiting to make contact and a smile pulls at your lips. You pull away a bit, pushing your forehead against his, “I didn’t really remember the lyrics until just now, but I never forgot the feeling of singing them to you, and hearing you singing them back to me.”

The arm around your waist tightens around you, “I didn’t know you felt the same way,” the Doctor whispers. “I didn’t want to... make you uncomfortable, or chase you away. And then you woke up this morning, and didn’t remember anything with the hangover, so I... was going to let it go.”

You’re sure you make a noise of protest, maybe even disappointment, but you only assume because the Doctor lets out a chuckle before stealing another kiss that you’re more than happy to give.  

When he goes to pull back, you snake your hand up to hold him in place, mumbling softly against his lips the last of your lyrics, a message he’d sure to understand, “I love you sundown.”

The Doctor freezes against you pulling back just enough to look into your eyes before a smile creeps onto his face. You smile at his smile, watching him fondly as his head tilts in that adorable way, affection bright in his eyes, “and I, you, my Love.”

You melt at the words leaning into him and pressing your head against his chest, fitted perfectly under his chin like a puzzle piece. Your arms wrap around him, and his move to hold you against himself just as you had done to him seconds earlier.  

You stay like that for a while—you're not sure how long. You feel protected tucked against the Doctor, and it’s a feeling you’re never going to forget.  

“How’s your head?” he asks softly above you, the voice after so long of nothing by his steady heart beats startles you. The Doctor presses an apologetic kiss to the top of your head.

“Better,” you decide, nuzzling closer to him, “why?”

“Well, I did promise we’d check out the shops, if you’re feeling up to it.”

“I almost forgot about that,” you laugh, finally pulling away. The Doctor unwraps his hand begrudgingly, frowning as he does so. You let out a laugh, slipping your hand into his. “I wanna see the shops before we leave this evening. We’ve gotta get some of that vodka.”

“I see more hangovers in your near future,” the Doctor snorts as he leads you along by the hand.  

“Oh, and, we should definitely pick up a gift for the bartender from last night,” you add, ignoring the Doctor’s teasing jab at your weak human alcohol tolerance.

“Why’s that?”

“Well, without his instance that we sing, and his instance that we were a couple, none of this,” you gesture down to your interlocked hands as the two of you step out of the TARDIS and onto the busy, colourful streets, “would’ve happened.”

The Doctor’s quiet for a second as the two of you fall into step. “There’s nothing in the universe that can ever thank him enough for what he’s done,” the man softly admits, giving your hand an adoring squeeze that drives his words home.  

Your cheeks heat up as you tuck yourself in his side. He moves easily to accommodate you, releasing your hand to wrap his arm over your shoulders instead. You move your hand to squeeze around his waist, grinning as you respond cheekily, “I don’t know, Doctor, the space vodka is pretty good...”  

The man sputters at your response, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow, “I was being all cute and you’re comparing the gift of our newfound relationship to vodka?” the man questions, genuinely dumbfounded.  

You give a one shouldered shrug at his side, giggling at his reaction. It wasn’t long until the man was letting out a fond sigh, thumb stroking against your collarbone, “what am I going to do with you?”  

The tease in his words has you smiling. There really is nothing in the universe that seems equivalent to the gift the bartender bestowed to you, but... yeah, a bottle of space vodka was a nice start.  

<><><><>

Hello again! Hopefully you liked this continuation. Not sure if it kept to the prompt exactly, I got a bit carried away writing it, but nonetheless, I hope it was good! Feel free to prompt again if it wasn’t what you were looking for, as always!

I’ll try to keep up with the prompts but idk how well I’ll be able to manage between life and the other works in other fandoms. Anyways, hope you have a great morning/day/night!

[witching-by-the-willow]

Weapon-room Waltz

DESCRIPTION: Listen, I wanted to write a little filler scene in Chapter 20 when they were dancing, because I stay up at night thinking about what Wrath was about to say to Emilia before Anir interrupted (😡). So, until Kerri decides to show me some mercy and tell us what he thinks she is, this will give me some sort of peace. I hope.

This fic doesn’t have any major spoilers. The text in bold italics is straight from Kingdom of the Cursed by Kerri Maniscalco, with slight changes in pronouns to fit the third-person narrative. 

Hope you enjoy, feedback is very welcome. ❤

Right step back, follow with left. Emilia kept repeating the movement Wrath had taught her in her head, still worried about stepping on his toes and making a fool of herself. Or worse yet, giving him an opportunity to gloat.

Dancing in a room filled with weapons with a half-naked partner should have felt odd, but instead, it felt serene. Right. She could have been swaying here for minutes or hours and not noticed the difference. 

Wrath’s voice through their maneuvering brought her out of her thoughts as she looked up at him, mischief shining in his eyes. She took a deep breath and said a quick prayer to all the goddesses to bless her with her enough restraint to keep from slamming her heeled shoe on his foot. There was no reason for him to look so pleased.

“Tilt your chin up so you can gaze adoringly into my eyes.” He grinned down at her scowl. “I want you to focus on how handsome I am, how talented at dancing and killing, and forget everything else. Except for how much you want to kiss me.”

She couldn’t help herself; she laughed. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Perhaps.” His voice turned low and seductive as his hand slid down to the small of her back, drawing her a little closer. “But you’re waltzing like a goddess now.”

The warmth of him, his praise, the hard muscle beneath her fingertips...all had her swaying nearer. Wrath placed his lips against her ear.

“You’re exquisite.”

She froze, acutely aware of the flush currently making its way down her neck. Curse him for having this effect on her. Putting up with a smug Wrath was the last thing she wanted to do.

As if the goddesses had decided to do her a favour, a memory from their first meeting in the cave came back to her as inspiration.

She smirked as she brought her own lips close to his ear and imitated his tone in her one whispered word.

“Liar.”

Wrath pulled back a little- though she noticed his hand stayed at her back, keeping them close- and arched a brow. He had picked up on his favourite word being used on him, just as she'd hoped. “I speak the truth and only the truth, my lady. Or do you have some inhibitions about your own captivating beauty.”

She willed her voice to remain even, trying not to give away how his words made her want to hide her face in a pillow and scream with delight. After she’d kissed him senseless. No, focus.

“Oh no, You’re Highness. I have no doubts about my allure.” His other eyebrow shot up. “But I seem to recall a certain demon Prince finding me quite repulsive not too long ago.”

She saw the precise moment he remembered what she was talking about and bit back a giggle as he tried to come up with something to say. 

She would spare him the effort. For the moment. Doing her best mimicry of his deep, smooth voice, she started. “You’d need to be the last creature in all the realms combined for me to want you, witch. Even then it might not be enough to tempt me.” She paused to observe him as he huffed, the sound awfully close to a laugh. “I believe those were your exact words, Your Highness.”

“That was before I knew you. And to be fair, you looked quite haggard at the time.”

Now, it was her turn to raise a brow. “Thank you.”

“What I meant was, that was before I knew you. Or saw you in other...forms.”

“And?”

He closed his eyes, seemingly wanting to vanish in a mass of smoke. “And I might have changed my mind.”

Good. But she was not quite done yet. “So you admit defeat, then?”

His eyes flew open as he frowned. “I beg your pardon?”

“You were wrong. And failed to fight off my charm. This is the moment all the realms have been waiting for. The mighty General of War has lost a battle of wills. Hell ought to bow down to me for achieving this feat."

Wrath was fighting a smile, and for some reason, it gave her visceral joy. "You are entirely too proud of yourself, my lady. But your dramatics aside, I would argue I'm the victor here." His smile slipped free at her scowl, and he pressed a chaste kiss to her nose. "Look at me, in a room full of lethal weapons, dancing with an equally lethal fiancée, who has gone from miserably failing her assassination attempt at me to performing a magnificent Waltz with me. I am perfectly content right here, and if that is your victory, then I will gladly lose to you everyday." 

Emilia swore she could have melted from the warmth in his eyes. His words were making any wall she'd managed to put up against him crumble to the floor of this cursed room. Stupid Prince. Stupid spectacular Prince. 

He bent down slowly, much too slowly for her liking, and met her lips with his in a tender kiss. Not hurried or fueled by hunger. This kiss was gentle, leisurely in a way that felt like they'd done this a thousand times, and would have time to do it a thousand more.

She was contemplating running her tongue across his bottom lip and deepening their kiss when someone cleared their throat loudly, making her jerk away from their embrace.

"I hate to interrupt, Your Majesty, but I believe you made sure your Palace had a thing called Bedchambers for such activities. And Is this a godsdamn ballroom now?” Anir propped himself against the doorjamb, arms crossed. A lazy grin spread across his face as he batted his lashes. “Will you be teaching this new technique to all of the soldiers, your highness, or just us pretty ones?”

With what appeared to be immense effort, Wrath tore his gaze from her, but didn’t release them from their position. “A good fighter is skilled in weapons. A great fighter is skilled in dance. Perhaps I’ll appoint you as the new dance master.”

“While that sounds titillating, I do come with news from the dungeon.” Anir pushed himself up from the spot where he’d casually leaned, his expression serious. “It’s the mortal.”

~~~~~

Note: Oh, lord. I'm so insecure about any scene that involves romance, mostly because I am clueless in ✨matters of love✨ So, please do tell me if it was bearable, and if you have any tips for me, I'm all ears! Once again, feedback of all kind is welcome! ❤❤

@ssardothien @ghostiewriter @feysandfeels @city-of-fae @kingandfireheart @evolving-dreamer @bookologist @godscursedd @sirendeepity @quinlars @gwynlaithlunel @tea-istic @polaroidsintheocean @lost-in-fictionn @rubyriveraqueen @dadopedirectioner @trowen @effervescent-bean @zombichlerka @snickerdoodlechittybangbang @wrathscannoli @lysandra-ghost-leopard @tessvirtch @the-introverted-reader @leviorsa @readingbooksbymoonlight

If anyone wants to be added or removed from the tags, let me know!

[majesticbrownjawn]

Nervous

@soufcakmistress didn’t realize when she posted this that it would inspire me to write. Thanks boo. Here’s what happens when you so thick it makes Erik nervous...but not really cuz he doesn’t get nervous. 

--------------------------------------------

“I ain’t shy, you just so thick I’m a little nervous.”

“Really?”

He laughed at her shock at his statement. The look she gave him as she stared up at him in awe was cute as shit.

“Don’t worry, when I’m fucking you, all that nervous shit gon be out the window.”

“Excuse me?”

The trap music was loud, but not that loud.

“You heard me Thickums.” He leaned in close, his beard tickling the side of her neck when he spoke.

Y/N squeezed her legs together involuntarily, the weight of her thighs pressing against the sides of her clit, causing a soft moan to slip from her lips. He definitely heard it and now she was nervous.

Again.

As fate would have it, she’d seen Erik on Instagram before on multiple occasions. He gained notoriety after one the mother of one of his students posted him on IG with the caption, “My son’s teacher bout to have my ass bringing him an apple everyday!”

Another user found Erik’s profile, and BOOM, 40K followers overnight. It was no wonder though. Y/N had seen the photos of him in the school’s navy blue polo, muscles protruding from his sleeves.

But seeing him in person was almost too much. Your heart and other bits went thumpity-thump-thump when you spotted him at the house party two hours ago. You weren’t surprised to see the swarm of women around him or the fact that he was enjoying the attention.

“I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before...were you at the brunch on 14th a couple weeks ago?”

“No. I don’t go to brunch often.”

“Too many niggas like me hassling you, huh?”

You bit back a smile as he glazed over your frame again. Yea, niggas hassled you, but they certainly didn’t look like him.

“You’re not hassling me.”

“Aight good. But for real tho, like damn… you just so—“

A woman plopped down next to you with a cup full of alcohol. She was drunk and desperate for the attention of the man sitting to your right. She leaned into you hard, so you leaned into Erik. The pads of your fingers to gripped his thigh for leverage. You couldn’t have anticipated brushing up against the tip of his firm, warm dick. Time stopped and you momentarily forgot about the freshly spilled tequila on your white t-shirt dress. Erik’s mouth hung slightly ajar, clearly turned on by your accidental groping. You didn’t read it that way though.

“I’m so sorry!”

You flew up from the couch and ran to the first door you could find. As you raced through the party, you’d decided as soon as your dress was dry, you’d head for the front door and straight to your car. The music was so loud and you were so frazzled that you couldn’t hear Erik behind you trying to tell you to slow down. You nearly slammed the door in his face when you found a random bedroom just behind the DJ booth.

“You move fast girl.” You jumped in surprise at the sound of his velvety voice.

He was stuck when you finally turned around, revealing the mess the woman on the couch made on you. The cotton fabric of your dress was saturated with tequila, giving Erik a vivid display of your mesh bra underneath. He could just barely see the outline of your deep brown areolas. You watched his eyes dilate as he zeroed in on your pebbled nipples. You felt vulnerable and exposed and turned on as he stood before you, speechless.

“Erik?”

“Yea, baby?” He slowly lifted his head to meet your eyes.

“Baby?” You giggled.

“Yea. You baby now…And, I don’t know your name. You dipped out before I could ask.”

“It’s Y/N.”

“Y/N, Y/N,” he repeated it like he was trying to etch it in his brain. “Why you run away?”

“I tend to do that when things get awkward. I’m sorry.”

“Shit ain’t get awkward until you took off.” He walked a few paces to lessen the space between you. “Don’t run away from me again. OK?”

His large hand gripped the side of your neck, his thumb caressing your jaw. He had to be the type of nigga that sprayed his colonge on his inner wrist. The sweet-spicy musk tempted you to turn your head and kiss the palm of his hand.  

“Umhm,” you nodded.

“Umhm, what?”

“I won’t run away from you again.”

“Good girl. Now, what were you going to say?”

He took a seat on the bed, keeping an eye on you like you’d still bolt at any second.

“Did I really make you nervous?”

He smiled so wide that the gold caps of his canines gleamed against the light in the room.

“Yea. I meant that shit. You perfect.” He reached out and pulled you in between his legs. “These thighs are what I noticed about you first.”

His hands slowly glazed over the back of your knees and upwards until he reached your thighs. He gripped them suddenly, making you gasp. His deep eyes grew dark with desire as he gazed up at you. The intensity in them made you want to look at anything but him.

“Hey…Y/N.”

“Hmm?”

“Look at me.”

Your eyes darted to his lips. They were so full and kissable.

“C’mere.”

You were already standing in between his legs staring down at the growing knot in his jeans.

“Sit down.”

You took a half step back to sit next to him on the bed, but his hand grabbing your ass signaled that wasn’t he meant by sit down. You carefully lifted your dress a bit and straddled his lap. It felt like you melted into his bulky frame. He gripped you so tight, it felt familiar. Safe.

“Imma be real witchu, Y/N.” Erik’s head was nestled in between your breasts, listening to your sporadic heartbeat. “I know where I know you from.”

You could barely hear him. His warm hands exploring your body clouded your senses. All you could do was feel.

“I asked Teddy to invite you tonight.”

You were surprised, but you were so relaxed that you didn’t react in the way you normally would.

“I DM’ed you like two years ago, but you never responded.”

All you could do was chuckle. You would have remembered him DMing you and you absolutely would have responded.

“You don’t believe me? Look—“

He tried to pull away from you to grab his phone from his pocket but, nah. You tightened your thighs around him, cementing yourself further in his lap. The heat of your pussy stilled him from moving further.

“So you already knew my name?” Your fingertips massaged his scalp. All he could do was hum in the affirmative. He allowed your hands to explore him as much as they wanted. Shoulders, arms, lips…

“Kiss me.” There was a hint of desperation in his voice that made you weak. The faint moan that slipped from him when your tongue entered his mouth made you weaker. The involuntary grind of your hips against his dick drove you crazy. You couldn’t get enough of the feeling of him pressing into you.

He leaned back with you still gyrating on him. Erik wanted to see more of you. You didn’t realize he slipped your dress over your head until you felt the pads of his fingers swiping back and forth across your nipples. You were so needy to cum now.

He drank you in, intoxicated by the look of you get getting off on his clothed dick.

“Erik,” you whispered. “Imma cum.”

Just the thought of his face between your legs, lapping up your pussy juices had you nutting all on his lap.

“Oh shit, oh shit….Fuuuuuuhhhhk.”

You whimpered into his mouth as you finished and he kissed you hungrily, suckling your lips.

“You feeling good as hell right now, huh?”

“Yes, nigga. What you think?” You laughed, looking down at the sticky puddle in Erik’s lap.

“I made a mess on you. I’m sorry—“

“I like that shit, Y/N. It lets me know how bad you want me…it’s good to know, especially since you was ignoring my DMs and shit.”

“Whatever. I know I would have talked to you if you DMed me.”

“You was with dude then.”

He was referring to your ex, Mark.

“I could tell you were a good girl so I figured you might not respond but it was worth a shot.”

“Would a good girl do what I just did with you?”

“Yea. Maybe with her man.”

You kissed him and smiled.

“Good thing I did it with you then. Wouldn’t want to ruin your opinion of me.”

Erik reached over and grabbed the dress from the other side of the bed and put it back on you.

“I love you so much, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Erik.”

“You ready to go home? I wanna be comfortable while I’m eating ya pussy. All this noise is too much.”

He held you close to him as you made your way back out into the crowd. You could faintly hear Teddy, Erik’s best friend yell, “Happy anniversary!” as you exited the party.  

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