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shockercoco · 2 days ago

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Better Late Than Never

Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings - fluff, some kissing, Valentine’s Day shenanigans, flirty!Bucky

Word count - 2167

a/n - Happy Valentine’s Day everyone, especially to all my fellow single readers! I’ve somehow ended up in my Sebastian Stan era again, so I thought why fight it. It’s been a while since I’ve written an imagine, and I’m feeling a little rusty, but I hope you all enjoy and thanks in advance for reading :)

“What’s got you smiling so much?” You ask Wanda as she sits down across from you.

It was Wanda’s idea to meet up for lunch after finding out about the rough morning you had, and she had also told you that she had some good news to share that might cheer you up.

You had woken up late for work, couldn’t find your car keys, and when you reached the halfway point on your journey to work, you realized you didn’t have your phone. Today just wasn’t your day.

“Remember how I said I had some good news?” Wanda asks, her smile huge as she leans in and rests her elbows on the table. When you nod, she continues. “Well, Vision surprised me at work and finally asked me to be his girlfriend! He brought me flowers and everything.”

Yeah, today just really wasn’t your day.

“That’s really great, Wanda, but how exactly is that supposed to cheer me up?” you question, giving her a small smile to soften your words.

“Because you were the one who suggested that I should confess my feelings to him, and you’ve pretty much been with me every step of the way,” Wanda tells you. Her expression then turns into confusion. “Is something wrong?”

You honestly were really proud and happy for Wanda, and if this were any other time of the year, your reaction would’ve been different. But it’s not. Valentine's Day is at the end of the week and you just want the week to be over with.

While you were walking down the street on your way to the restaurant, you walked past a woman getting proposed to in the park. While you were waiting for the light to change in order for you to cross the street, you saw a couple making out. As you walked past a street vendor selling flowers, you overheard the vendor making conversation with a man who was apparently looking for the right flowers to buy his crush. Now, Wanda hits you with this.

“No, nothing’s wrong,” you quickly shake your head. “I’ve just had a weird day.”

She looks at you for a moment longer, not fully believing you. “Hmm, there’s something else. Tell me.”

You let out a laugh. “Wanda, I’m fine. It just…it’s nothing really. I’m good.”

“It’s just what?” Wanda asks. When you hesitate again, she adds, “We’re not ordering until you tell me what’s up,” she smirks at you.

A small groan leaves you, before you speak up, “It’s just that Bucky hasn’t asked me to be his valentine yet, and this is our first Valentine’s Day as a couple. It stupid, I know. I shouldn’t even be upset.”

“No, it’s not stupid. Have you mentioned how you feel to him?”

“No, I didn’t think I had to since he’s always surprising me with gifts any other time of the year. I just figured this would just happen naturally, but nothing yet.”

“I’m sure you have nothing to worry about. After all, it’s still the beginning of the week. Who knows, he could just be waiting for the actual day to come,” Wanda says, and when you don’t say anything, she places a hand on top of yours and continues, “I’d honestly be surprised if Bucky does absolutely nothing for you. Everyone knows how obsessed he is with you.”

That makes you smile. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I am, and when Valentine’s Day comes and he still hasn’t asked you to be his valentine, call me, I’ll hunt him down,” Wanda tells you right as a waitress walks up to the table to take your guys’ order. She catches the end of Wanda’s sentence and has a confused, yet amused look on her face. “Sorry, just relationship problems.”

The waitress laughs as she says, “Don’t worry I understand.”

Later that night when you're at Bucky’s place for a movie night the two of you had planned the week before, you can feel Bucky looking at you repeatedly while your eyes are still on the screen. You’re cuddled up into his side with his arm wrapped around you, but you still notice the constant shifting of his head.

You finally give in and look up at him. “Is there something on my face?” you ask him, your tone teasing.

Bucky’s confused with your question. “No, why?”

“Because you keep looking at me.”

“What, I can’t admire my own girlfriend anymore?”

“It feels more like staring than anything,” you tell him, and Bucky just laughs.

“Well, then I’m sorry,” Bucky apologizes as he places a hand on your cheek to lift your head up. He leans down to place a gentle kiss on your lips, a smile still tugging on the corner of his lips. When he pulls away, he still keeps the distance between the two of you small as he looks into your eyes.

“Seriously, what is it?” you whine as you playfully shove him away from you, causing him to laugh. He knows how much you hate it when he does that. “Is there something bugging you?” you casually slide in the question, slightly hoping that he would use this time to ask you to be his valentine.

“No, there isn’t,” he laughs and pulls away, turning his attention back to the screen, but keeping his arm still wrapped around you. “I’m done, I promise.”

He misses the slight drop in your expression, but you quickly fix your face before looking back at the tv as well.

As the week goes on, you try to focus on more important things, but as Friday continues to get closer, your hope continues to diminish. You and Bucky continue to text normally throughout the week, but when Thursday afternoon comes Bucky calls you to let you know that he’ll be going on a mission the next day. On Valentine’s Day.

“I’m sorry it’s such short notice, doll, but Steve needs me,” you hear Bucky softly tell you through the phone. You’re sitting on a chair in front of your window watching people pass by with Bucky on speaker.

“Oh, no it’s okay, I understand,” you say, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice. “How long will you be gone?”

There’s a moment of silence on the other end, before Bucky speaks, “A couple of weeks.”

Weeks?

Your heart drops at his answer and you feel your throat start to tighten. You quickly mute yourself to clear the tears from your throat, before unmuting.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” he asks, noticing your delayed response.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be? There’s people out there that need you,” you speak up.

You catch sight of your neighbor’s boyfriend walking up to her house with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. You momentarily forget you’re on the phone and unintentionally let out a frustrated sigh at the sight, catching Bucky’s attention.

“Listen, I can probably get out of it. I’m sure Steve doesn’t need me that bad, there’s a whole team of people that are available to help out.”

A sad laugh leaves you. “Bucky it’s fine, I promise. He’s your best friend and he specifically asked you because he wants you, so go.”

“If you insist,” you hear Bucky sigh “I know you’re upset, though, so I promise to make it up to you when I get back, okay?”

That makes you crack a smile. “Okay.”

When the next day rolls around, you take your time getting out of bed. Unfortunately, you had the day off today, which of course you would’ve been happy about under different circumstances.

You decide to keep yourself busy and do some chores to pass time, but by the time you’re done cleaning every crevice and doing laundry, it’s only four in the afternoon.

At some point, Wanda calls to check up on you and asks if you wanted her and Vision to come over and have dinner with you. Vision was planning on cooking for just the two of them, but he told you he had no problem making more. Although the two of them both repeatedly insisted they didn’t mind making the drive to your place, you declined.

It felt wrong to intrude on a special night like tonight.

After telling Wanda and Vision that you would just order in, the two of you finally end the call.

You weren’t currently that hungry so you decided to just order something later. You make yourself comfortable on the couch and decide to put on a tv show you’ve been wanting to watch.

A couple episodes later, you finally start to get hungry, and right when you’re about to place an order, your doorbell rings. You shake your head thinking it was just Vision and Wanda coming to share their food, but as you look through the peephole to see Bucky standing outside holding a bouquet of flowers and a stuffed animal you had been wanting, your heart drops along with your jaw.

You look down at your outfit and contemplate quickly changing, but decide against it.

“Wh-what are you doing here? I thought you had to go on a mission?” you ask when you open the door.

“Surprise!” Bucky greets you with a bright smile. He leans in to give you a kiss, before whispering, “Happy Valentine's Day, sweetheart.”

Bucky can see that you’re still shocked and at a loss for words, so he just laughs as he pushes past you and makes his way inside. You close the door behind him and watch as he makes his way into the kitchen and lays the flowers on the counter along with the stuffed animal.

“As much as I’m happy that you’re here, why are you here?” your eyebrows are furrowed as you lean against the counter, your arms folded across your chest.

Bucky sends you a smirk as he quickly puts the flowers in water before making his way over to you. He places his hands on your waist as closes the distance between you two.

“You didn’t really think that I’d miss our first Valentine’s Day together, did you?”

“I didn’t even think you remembered, I mean you haven’t said anything about it all week,” you tell him.

“Yeah, Wanda told me you were a little upset,” Bucky mentions and your eyes widen.

“What a traitor, she wasn’t supposed to say anything,” you say slightly embarrassed as you look off to the side. Then a thought hits you, and you look back at him. “Wait, did you just come here because of what Wanda told you?”

“No, I was already planning on coming here tonight.”

“But what about your mission?” you ask, still confused.

Bucky smiles. “There never was a mission, doll. I made it up because I wanted to surprise you. You really thought I would spend today with Steve instead of you?”

“...Well, he is your best friend.”

“That’s true,” Bucky nods, grabbing your hands in his and placing kisses on your knuckles, “but, you’re my best girl,” he whispers as he looks into your eyes, causing butterflies in your stomach and your face to heat up.

What were you upset about again?

A chuckle leaves Bucky as he watches you shyly smile as you look away.

“You could’ve at least said something this whole week,” you tell him.

“I know, I know,” he admits, “but I was trying to get everything together.”

“Get what together?” you ask.

Bucky stays silent for a moment as if trying to find the right words to say. Then he says, “I want you to move in with me.”

Your eyes widen and your breath hitches as you stare back at him. “What?”

Maybe you inhaled too many chemicals while cleaning.

“I want you to move in with me,” Bucky repeats. “I know we’ve been dating for less than a year and I completely understand if this is too fast for you, but there’s plenty of room for you at my place and I would be much happier if I was able to have you next to me when I wake up every morning.”

Oh.

You blink.

“You’re serious?” you ask, even though there's no indication on his face to tell you he’s lying.

Bucky lets go of your hands to place his on either side of your face. “Completely. Like I said, you’re my best girl.” He watches a smile slowly form on your lips. “So, what do you say?”

“Yes,” you say, and Bucky’s grin grows wider, but you hold your hand up. “Don’t start smiling yet, I wasn’t finished.”

Bucky quickly fixes his face and tries to suppress his excitement. “Of course, continue.”

“I say yes, only if you agree to never pull anything like this ever again.”

“Ever?” Bucky repeats, raising an eyebrow.

“Bucky!” you playfully hit his chest.

“I’m just kidding,” he laughs, leaning in to kiss you. Then he pulls away just enough to murmur against your lips, “I’ll just wait until you forget.”

Like what you see? check out my masterlist :)

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x black!reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan x you #fluff #valentines day #marvel x reader #marvel fanfiction

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4linos · 1 day ago

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haircut drama

lee minho x gn!reader

synopsis: minho gets overly dramatic about you not noticing his haircut, drawing out the teasing until you guess right.

wc: 823

(based on his silly bbl messages lol)

The afternoon was peaceful, yet something seemed odd. You sat on the couch, scrolling through your phone, totally immersed in whatever was on the screen. Minho sat next to you, but his typically calm manner had shifted. He kept looking across at you, shifting in his seat, and sighing lightly; his small dramatic movements were beginning to add up.

You looked up and saw him looking at you before he hurriedly turned his head. His lips were pursed, and he kept looking away, as if he were trying to hide something. But it wasn't like him to be so distant. You lifted an eyebrow, sensing something was off.

“Minho?” you asked, slightly distracted, still not sure why he was acting so… off. “You okay?”

He didn’t answer right away, only huffed, crossing his arms tightly across his chest. His foot tapped a little too fast on the floor, his gaze never meeting yours. “I’m fine,” he muttered, though there was a playfulness in his tone you couldn’t quite place.

You glanced at him, a little puzzled now. “Are you sure? You don’t look fine. You’re acting weird.”

Minho huffed again, louder this time, as if he was putting on a show. “I’m not acting weird,” he said, looking at the ceiling as though it held the answers to the universe. “It’s just… it’s whatever.”

You narrowed your eyes, trying to figure out what was really going on. Minho was being unusually cryptic, and it was driving you a little crazy. He’d been fidgeting this entire time, making it obvious that something was bugging him.

You set your phone down and turned your full attention to him. “Okay, now you really have to tell me what’s going on, because something’s not right.”

He turned his head toward you, a tiny grin forming at the corner of his mouth, but he refused to say anything. You studied him closely. His outfit was the same as always; there was nothing new there. He wasn't upset about anything in particular, but he was acting weirdly distant. It was as if he was expecting something from you.

Finally, he broke the silence. "It's just...I can't believe you didn't notice," he continued, his voice dripping with mock annoyance. "You've been sitting right here the whole time, and you didn't even see it."

“See what?” you asked, still unsure of what he was talking about, your mind racing through possibilities. “What am I missing?”

Minho sighed dramatically, shifting again, this time looking at his reflection in the window. “Nothing. Never mind,” he said, clearly trying to sound like he wasn’t affected, but you could tell he was enjoying this a little too much.

You were about to give up when it hit you like a bolt of lightning.

His hair!

Minho's hair is usually messy, but it was nicely done today, shorter and more professional than usual.

“Oh!” you said, finally getting it. “Did you get a haircut?!”

Minho froze, his lips curling into a mischievous grin, but his eyes remained playful and a little teasing. “Took you long enough,” he said, still pouting like he was holding onto his frustration for dramatic effect. “I was starting to think you were really going to ignore it.”

You blinked, realizing how obvious it had been all along. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t notice right away!” You immediately reached over to ruffle his hair, grinning. “But it looks good, babe! You look great.”

His face softened just a little, but his playful teasing didn’t fade. “It’s fine. I mean, I know I look good, but I wanted you to notice. I thought we were closer than that,” he said, feigning an exaggerated look of hurt.

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re impossible! I was just distracted!”

Minho leaned back against the couch, a smug smile spreading across his face. “Mmhmm, distracted,” he repeated, clearly enjoying how much he was messing with you. “I’m still waiting for a good enough apology.”

You leaned in, narrowing your eyes with a grin. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry for not noticing sooner, but it looks really good. You’re more handsome than usual,” you teased, knowing exactly what he wanted to hear.

Minho pretended to think about it, then shrugged, his grin growing wider. “Okay, fine. I’ll let it slide this time. But next time? You better notice immediately.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes, but you knew he was just teasing. You gave his hair another playful ruffle. “I swear, next time I won’t even blink without noticing. You’ve got me trained now.”

“Better,” he said, his tone light as he relaxed again. But then he added with a smirk, “But seriously, it looks good, right? I mean, you weren’t totally wrong for not noticing immediately…”

You shook your head, laughing at how he kept pushing it. “You’re ridiculous, Minho.” But deep down, you knew how much he secretly enjoyed the attention, even if he played it off.

masterlist.

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chevxyn · 3 days ago

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tropes!

blue lock characters as romance stories genre.

fluff, written, romantic, alternate universes.

valentines special.

note; happy valentines day everyone, sorry that i have not been uploading; i am so busy these days :((

ROMANTIC COMEDY — Shidou, Karasu, Otoya.

Shidou, would be the all time favorite male lead if he was in a romantic comedy. you’re the opposite of him. he was loud, and you were quiet.

One of the most embarrassing thing he did was when he came up to you, and fell midway. As you went to him to ask him if he’s fine, he did those cringe pick up lines. Let me just, re-enact that scene;

It was after school, you had just finished your day to day activities, including extracurriculars. Now Shidou, (for whatever reasons) decided to wait for you.

When you went out of your extracurricular room, he suddenly ran himself to you, and before he could jump to you, he fell.

Your eyes widened as you walk towards him, crouching down to his level. And before you could ask if he’s fine, his gaze went to you, finger-guns pointing at you, he says, “Did you see that? Guess you can say, I fell for you.” and winked.

You cringed internally before chuckling, before helping Shidou to stand up, and you both walked back home.

He would also joke to you about him liking his friend that is in his football team more, but if he would really be honest. He would choose you anytime and any day, rather than him.

Karasu, his story on how he fell for you is kind of ironic. So somebody liked you, and told him about it. And he thought, Hey.. What if I matchmake? he did, but, it didn’t turn out like he thought it would be.

When he decided to ask you to become his tutor (even tho he was pretty smart), you agreed cause he said the opposite. Not knowing it was solely to just figure out what you liked and don’t. Unknown to him, with how the two of your chemistry worked. He fell for you too.

“So, you were trying to set me up with someone else?” You chuckled and his hand slithered to your shoulder, “Maybe.” he looks at you.

“You’re not a really good wingman, Tabi.” you said, and he glanced at your direction. “How did they act when they found out we were dating instead?”

“Well, safe to say, they hate me” He smirked and you just leaned into his shoulder, giving a small smile, “But atleast I now have the most amazing tutor.” As he said that you gave his back a small hit, “What was that for?”

“For making me giving my all to tutor you, just to figure out you are smart enough.” with that, he just gave out a small laugh; and he kisses the side of your hair mumbling a small ‘I love you’.

So yeah, he was suppose to matchmake you, he was the one who fell and got you. To him, you’re the most perfect person, and nothing could make you mediocre.

Otoya, he is someone that made a bet. yeah, him, and his friends made a bet on if he could try and get that quiet person on their class.

When he agreed to the bet, everytime he made a move on you, you kinda just ignored him since you knew of his reputation. But after weeks of him pressuring you to go out with him, you agreed.

And he took you to a festival, only to realize at that festival, you are that kind of someone that he would admire. And eventually, he did fell for you, without the feeling of you being bothersome.

“Is this another bet?” You were standing beside him, a year at the same spot they had their first date. You knew about the bet a week after they made it, you weren’t dumb. But you didn’t expect he would fall for you and vice versa.

But here is the two of you, coming back here, at the same night and place of where they saw the fireworks together. “I don’t do bets anymore, babe.”

You just smiled and turned your gaze towards him, “And I don’t play with someone’s feelings.” He continued, “Anymore.” you finished and he held your shoulder.

And he promised as such, to himself. That he will be committed to you, since in the years he had lived, you are the only one that made him comfortable enough.

ROMANTIC FANTASY — Sae, Ness, Kaiser

Sae, He was the Crowned Prince of the Northern Kingdom. Who was the elder brother of your soon to be betrothed, you both first met in the Garden.

The first time you saw him, the two of you didn’t think much of eachother. Although, fate played a game. And the two of you would bump into eachother constantly, from the Library to the same Garden.

Eventually you both did talk more than you would with his brother, and when his father figured it out. They re-arranged the plan. And surprisingly, the two of you didn’t mind.

“[name],” it has been a few months since the two of you got married, and the two of you are set to lead the kingdom together. he called you, and your glance went to him. “Hm?”

“Ever thought what would’ve happened if you had married my brother?” he asked, his hand searching for yours, and when they held eachother, you gave a subtle smile, “i would assume it’d be a less interesting story.”

“I’m glad I got to marry you, Sae.” you said and he smiled, before pulling you close to him. “So am I,” he was so sure he wouldn’t fall for anyone during his life. So at that time when he met you at the Garden, and so on, he knew what true love is, and that is you.

So did he fell for you on the first sight? possibly, did he plan the ‘fate’ on meeting you everytime? definitely.

Ness, You were the knight of the kingdom, While you were walking the halls of the castle, a guy, that looked around your age, was searching for something.

At first, he looked like a guy that was gonna steal something from the hall, and when you stopped him, he panicked and introduced himself.

He was the new Magician, a new entertainer for the King and Queen. He introduced himself as Alexis, a guy from the North.

You apologized for scaring him and he was okay with it, and from there, the two of you were friends. Although there was something there that you couldn’t see.

“So, you defeated a dragon?” Alexis was surprised when you mentioned it and was admired of you, not that he wasn’t. “I did, it wasn’t that hard anyways.”

“You’re so easy to be admired, [name].” A pink hue could be seen in his cheek, and you just chuckled, “Thank you. I mean, you’re an awesome magician too.”

“What— no no, I have a frien—“ You let out a small ‘shh’ sound, “I wanna hear more about you, not that guy.” His cheeks reddened and he nodded. The sunset accompanied them, as they would get to know eachother better.

Kaiser, he was a general, during the war against another, he got shot by an arrow. He thought it was over, when he felt his vision getting blurry and darkened.

He never expected that he would wake up in a forest home, where an Elf came to his aid. It was you, you were kind enough to find him and took him in.

He thought the Elves was just myth, infact he thought he had died and this was just an Angel, but it proved him wrong when you touched his face just to let him know how real you are.

He didn’t wanna leave yet, not when an Elf looking Angel came to his rescue. Infact, he seems interested in you, as you are to him.

“You’re cute, ya know that?” He said to you, and your eyes averted it’s gaze to him, “Hum?” He glanced at your pointed ears, and how you looked at him.

“Come home with me.” He said and you frowned, you know you can’t go. You’re forbidden to go there due to the warnings that the Humans would kill the Elves. “I promise I won’t let them hurt you.”

Your heart raced, and you looked down. “Promise?” And he nodded, pulling your face close to his. Before he gave your forehead a kiss.

SCI-FI ROMANCE — Nagi, Isagi, Rin

Nagi, You met him on a game, VR to be exact. Where he absolutely destroyed you in a shooting game. Cause you somewhat hated losing, you dmed him.

1v1 occurred, and the two of you didn’t stop until you won. Which you did after losing 5 consecutive times to him. But it ended up making the two of you friends.

Months went pass, and the two of you met, it didn’t take long until you get an attraction towards him, and so did he.

The two of you sat down next to each other, on a flying board, enjoying the view of the city. Flying cars was passing by, as he laid down on the board.

And he pulled you down next to him, “The stars, despite dying looks beautiful.” He said and you glanced at him, “It’s like you.”

“..Are you telling me, I’m dying?” You hit his shoulder, and he huffed, “No. that’d be bothersome to think of, I meant you’re beautiful.”

Your cheeks heated up, and he laid his head on your shoulder, “I’ll teach you to be better in the game, only if you agree to be mine.” He said and you chuckled, “Sure.”

Isagi, fell down a black hole, and landed on your planet. He was nothing like you ever saw, where you came from you were cyborgs.

He was lucky enough that you met him first, and how two spoke the same language, and that the Planet that he is on isn’t quite as different as Earth.

How the two of you got close is when he figured out that you played something that called “Air-Football” Which was similar to football, but which he plays Professionally.

“So, the rules are just like football.” He said and you raised your eyebrow, “Eh, I guess if that’s what it’s called in your world.”

You were amazing at it, you scored goals after goals, it made Isagi wondered, what if you played the football that he knew?

When he tried it, he was not that bad, he just struggled at the part where well, you float. Everytime he falls, you would catch him.

One time, he fell on you, and the two of you chuckled on how he couldn’t get the hang of it. Honestly, the two of your chemistry was good, he never really had this type of chemistry with someone.

Rin, was a space explorer, searching for his brother. But, while being a planet, he saw someone that was laying down on the green grass. surrounded by flying creatures.

When they woke up, they looked like something that was not from this earth that’s for sure, wings that looks like ones of fairies that he would hear from his childhood stories.

You looked at him with your eyes that was oddly enchanting, and he froze. Before asking you if you ever saw someone that was on his photograph.

“No, I have not.” you had said, as your wings fluttered, your feet off the ground. “Why? is he lost?” You asked, and he looked at you, not wanting to answer that.

But, rather than letting him go alone, you decided to accompany him cause of sympathy. And you joined him, in hope you will find his brother with him.

He refused at first, but he eventually agreed after some persuasive arguments, and to be honest, it wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be.

“And this is Earth,” he said, he showed the holographic image, and your eyes would sparkle, he gave a subtle smile at that, he thought you were cute cause you are amazed at everything that he showed about earth, he liked that about you.

©chevxyn

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captain-bubble-wrap · 1 day ago

Note

Quinn wanting to pamper us but he's not really sure what he's doing?

"Am I doing this right?"

Quinn's fingers clumsily prodded at your shoulders, hoping whatever he was doing felt okay. His latest injury of the season had him staying in Vancouver instead of traveling with the team. For several weeks, his mood hadn't been the best, and you had dealt with the worst of it. Now, he wanted to apologize for his behaviour, and treat you in a way where you wouldn't think he was just trying to buy you off.

He had made you dinner, which had been wonderful, even though you had offered to help him. Quinn wasn't having any part of it, and every time you'd try to, he'd insist you just have a seat. He knew what he was doing in the kitchen, but you felt guilty just watching him do everything by himself.

Now, however, he had decided to massage your shoulders as you sat in front of him on the floor, with him on the sofa. Though the sounds you were making made him wonder if he wasn't just causing you more pain. "It seems like I'm hurting you."

"No, no, you've just-- Ow!"

Quinn withdrew his hands immediately, "I'm sorry!"

"You don't have to stop. That's just a tender spot." You laid your head towards your right shoulder, hoping to alleviate some of the sharp tension that Quinn had triggered. "I'm alright."

"Are you sure?" He questioned, slowly returning his warm hands to your skin. "I never want to hurt you."

Breathing deep, you closed your eyes against the pain once more, hoping to hide it from Quinn, so he wouldn't keep thinking he was making everything worse. "Ye--yeah, I know.

"Baby, if you want me to stop, I will. I don't like making you feel this way -- doing more harm than good. How about I just make you an appointment for a massage tomorrow?"

Letting out the held breath you didn't realize you were holding, you felt like you had somehow hurt his feelings. "Quinn, I'm good. I've just got some-- really painful knots in my shoulders. They're going to hurt until I get them dealt with. You haven't done anything wrong."

Leaning down to kiss the inflamed skin, Quinn later let his fingers undo the scrunchie holding your hair in place. As the locks fell about your face, he coaxed you to lay your head back while he decided that a scalp massage would be a better option. Instantly, your eyes rolled closed feeling his digits work deep into your hair. He was slow in his movements; applying the right amount of pressure to take your breath away -- in the best way possible.

"Is this better."

Containing the urge to let a moan answer for you, you swallowed hard before answering, "You-- have no idea. Thank you, baby."

His soft laughter at your words made him feel better. "You're welcome. And thank you, for everything these past few weeks."

Words were beginning to be difficult for you, "Oh, it's-- it's no problem. I know things have been hard for you."

It was insane how good his fingers felt --how good he was with his hands-- and you could have drifted off to sleep had it not felt as good as it did.

"What do I have to do for you to do this more often?" You begged, your eyes still closed in bliss.

"Just ask me, that's all."

#🗣 hockey mom daydreams #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fluff

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comicaurora · 2 hours ago

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Hey, firstly I just wanted to say I’ve been consuming your content for years and thank you and Blue for being the only thing that kept my academic brain from turning to mush during online COVID middle school!

But I’m entering a new academic era, notably Junior year of my very rigorous collage prep program at my high school. I’ve always thought I would go to collage after high school but I’ve recently stumbled into some very interesting ways of making a living only perusing my creative passions (some very scary publishing opportunities). So I’ve been wondering if I actually want to go to collage or not, since going to collage just to be a published writer is an objective waste of money and I don’t want to spend the rest of high school breaking my neck earning collage credits I’m not going to use.

So I was wondering, if you had known you could make a living only perusing your creative passions, would you have spent the time, money and academic energy going to collage for something you didn’t end up doing professionally?

(I would ask my advisor but he’s too obviously pro collage and doesn’t have any experience making a living creatively).

(Sorry for the long ask)

No problem about the long ask! This is a very good question!

I'll start with the short answer, which is that nobody can make this decision but you, and if you decide not to go to college right now, that does not mean you are deciding to never go to college. Especially with Covid, plenty of people are taking gap years, and plenty of full-on adults go to college later in life, simply because the mood strikes them, or they now have income to burn, or they're interested in a career change, etc. This is not a coinflip that will decide the trajectory of the rest of your life.

For the longer answer, for me personally? Knowing I'd be able to earn a living doing art would have no bearing on my decision to go to college. Setting aside that a ton of the literary analysis my job is based on is skills I learned in college, I liked college because it gave me the opportunity to learn a wide swath of things, from anthropology courses to dinosaur science. I like learning new things! College was an opportunity to learn a ton of new things, and even if it was very challenging in places, I thrived in it. I didn't go to college with the goal of becoming qualified for a Real Job - because of who I am as a person I think I'd seriously struggle at most Real Jobs, and I knew that even back then. I was in college to learn, and to learn how to learn. I got my degree in mathematics, a thing I do not use in my Job, but the functionality of mathematics - to logically reason through problems, step by step, comparing it to known problems to map the way to solutions using operations that preserve truth - is an invaluable skill that I apply everywhere there are problems to solve, especially literary analysis. I learned a wide swath of tools with surprising applications, and I couldn't have known when I started how I might use them in the end.

However, there's a big caveat there. This was my personal experience of college as a playground where I could work towards a solid major and also branch out to take weird one-off electives and summer courses when anything struck my fancy. But I was in on a scholarship to cover a good chunk of my tuition, and one of my relatives very kindly paid for the rest. I got to do college without accruing any college debt, and that is an enormous factor. I can only share my personal take, but I'm not going to pretend that things would have been the same if I'd had to enter adulthood finding a way to quickly pay off a six-figure sum.

I've been extremely lucky to get to the point where I can navigate life in a way where money is very rarely something I need to worry about. It was certainly not always like that, and I do not miss those times, but it invariably shapes the way I see the world and the steps I took to get here. For me personally, I do not consider college in any way a waste of time; I think the opportunity to learn is one of the most exciting things out there. But my experience cannot be pretended to be universal.

This decision is yours, and it is also not final. Whatever choice you make, you can always choose again later. You have time.

#asks #not aurora

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yutassweetangel · 1 day ago

Text

Val special ♡

kiss kiss fall in love! 💋

song: ᵏⁱˢˢ ʸᵒᵘ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵒ・┈ I know, you know, chska

❥⁀➴featuring ! jjk men and how they'd confess to you through cliche ways! (+ kiss chu!)

︶🤍Pairing ! gojo, yuta, yuji, geto x reader

🤍 Cr ! @enchanthings-a , @ethereal-graphics

︶🤍authors note ! Had sm fun designing this! Oh yeah and im alive :D.Working on a fanfic heheheheehheh. Enjoy for now and happy valentines ♥ im alone.... As usual... heh.... Also the colour for the borders dont fit... Heh... Happy (late) valentines day! PS. This was kinda rushed sorry if the writing sucks.

🤍 word count ! 2.1K

︶🤍 warnings ! geto almost chokes you and loves to tease you, he kinda lashes out on you, but he's tired so dont blame him :(, mentions of kissing, biting and licking your lips 💋 mentions of tongue ON TONGUE YAHOOOOO, no smut but there is A LOT of spice in the kissing part

gojo

confession

not so cliché..... but gojo would confess through flirting. yes, flirting. it honestly sounds like him... one moment you'd be talking to him, just chatting. next second he's grabbing onto your hand, rubbing circles that would relieve you of any stress and anxiety before popping the big question—smoothly of course.

"did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?" gojo compliments, and you giggle at. "no like, do you want me to confess right now how much i want to be yours?"

your blood rushed to your cheeks and you look down, to notice gojo rubbing your soft, delicate hands. "y/n. how about i make you mine right now, hm? your cute, im cute, lets make cute children together eh?" he confessed.

you giggle. you can tell he wasnt joking by the way he looked deep into your eyes, searching for an answer. "gojo if this is another one of your jokes...." you said, jokingly and gojo looked hurt.

"am I THAT unserious?" gojo asked, chuckling. "yes." you agreed. "yes to my confession? love you pumpkin." you were about to retort before gojo pulled you into a hug, and squeezed you so tight, it took your breathe away.

i guess you'd let him win...... for now.

kiss

your first kiss with gojo is as expected. rough, but tender. he'd kiss you by grabbing your arm and pulling you into the most hot and intimate kiss of your life. he'd tilt his head to get better access to your lips. he'd bite, lick and nibble on your bottom lip before finally sliding tongue in once your mouth was open. he'd leave you breathless after the kiss, leaving kisses on your neck before feasting off your lips again. he'd place his hand on your chin too, for a much better access. the heat of your body radiating off his. rough, hot, passionate and tender. but also, sweet

________________________

yuta

confession

definitely through letters. what can you say? yuta is a scared and anxious guy. he's tried to confess before, but fumbled so badly you'd think he was saying his first words.

yuta's first time was so bad he'd get second hand embarrassment from it. he walked up to you in an empty classroom, his hand behind his back as if he were a little kid. unbeknown to him, you had ear pods in one ear at full volume so you could barely hear a word he said.

yuta cleared his through loud enough to get your attention. his soft cheek would turn a light pink as he looked to the ground and immediately stammer on his words before finally making a comprehendible sentence.

"erm... y/n.... I..i.... like you!" he squeaked and he immediately felt embarrassed. he wanted to disappear so badly right now. lucky you didnt hear him.

"what?" you shout, taking your ear pod out. "you like what?" you ask him, and yuta froze up. he was both happy, and disappointed. happy you didn't hear his very awkward confession, disappointed you didn't hear his awkward confession.

"I said I like poo, good-bye." yuta dashed out of the the room in embarrassment and you stood there confused.

his second confession is.... too embarrassing to say. since both his approaches failed, yuta decided since he cant voice out his love for you, he'd write out his love for you.

its a usual friday morning as any usual one, until a letter falls out of your locker. a love letter? on Val? thats so cliché yet so cute. you read the letter and it said:

"I love you. I love you, every time I breathe in, and every time i breathe out, im reminded just how much I love you. the way your cheeks rise up when you smile, the way you twirl your hair in class, the way you bite your pencil when you dont know the answer to a question, the way you jump up when your excited. the little things, I love that too. I wish you could hear how much my heart races every time i see you. I love you. they may sound like just empty words, but if I have to say it a million times before you believe me then so be it. I love you.

so can I be yours and yours only?

��yuta, your classmate if you dont remember:)"

fuck. yuta hated it—the feeling of waiting that is.

he paced around the classroom, deep in his thoughts. what if you hated it? what if you saw it as too cliché? what if—

"yuta?" your sweet, sugary voice called out to him and he froze. "y-yes?" you looked at him, both amused and in adoration. he was so cute, you thought to yourself. you ran up to him and hugged him.

yuta was stunned at first, but he quickly reciprocated it back. having you in his arms, made him the luckiest man on earth.

kiss

yuta's kisses would be just like him. soft, gentle, intimate and a little rough. yuta had this exterior of a softy, but deep inside he was an animalistic fool, and it showed most when his kissed you. he'd cup your cheeks and pull you in immediately, and then he'd go berserk. finding ways to make the kiss as deep as possible so you can remember it all day. biting your lips until they bleed. feeding off them like they're a midnight snack. then when he's done he'll ask you in his usual softly and gently tone, "are you ok? did it hurt?" as if he doesn't know what he just did. but you had to admit, they were always the best.

____________________

yuji

confession

yuji gives of MAJOR football, basket ball, or just any sports typa guy. but for the sake of these headcanons we'll do football (american yk the one where they tackle people)

yuji would definitely be the star player of the football team due to his resilience, endurance and his strength. his way of confessing would be through writing on the field for you to be his.

it would be the hottest game of the season, if yuji's team won this, they'd go to nationals. one. more. goal. that was all that rang in yuji's head as he crotched down, eyeing the opposite team member holding the ball.

he looked up to see you in the crowd holding a banner with his team name. he had to win. not for his team, not for himself, but for you. then he could pop the big question. for you to be his.

the referee blew the whistle and in an instant the ball went flying in the air, yuji immediately went after it, catching the ball and running towards the opposing teams post. he pushed, fell, stumbled and crawled his way to the goal post.

as he ran he looked at the timer, sixteen seconds left. a group of the opposing team jump on him, and just in the last second he threw the ball into the opposing teams post.

"goal!!!!" the crowd scream and erupted into cheers, some crying and cheering yuji's name, other groaning and calling the game a fluke.

yuji looked up at you, excited, happy and gorgeous as you hugged your best friend beside you in happiness. with the tension of the game finally at ease, yuji asked the big question. he ran up to the head cheerleader, whispering something into her ears before going back onto the field.

and there it was, written on the cheerleaders pom-poms and on a big paper, which his team mates held. "may I be your boyfriend y/n?"

you immediately gasped as you looked at yuji and everyone in the crowd turned to look at you. how could you ever say no?

you shouted out in the crowd a big "yes" and yuji couldn't help but smile as the crowd erupted into big cheers.

kiss

yuji's kissed would be unexpectedly soft and gentle. he'd kiss you by holding onto your waist and smash his lips onto yours. despite the way he did it, he makes sure to go soft and easy. its after sometime that he'd finally slide his tongue into your mouth—with your permission of course. your tongues would share a dance before he'd pull out, breathy as ever. a irresistible smirk on his face. oh, you just want to wipe it off... chu!

____________________

geto

confession

geto is a calm, quiet and reserved guy who doesnt seem like the type to just put himself out there and tell you he liked you and has been dreaming about kissing you, touching you and being with you every other night.

he'd confess similar to yuta's own, through poems. he seems like a man who knows his literature. he'd write you the sickest poem in the world, but he can't just make it just off the bat.

you were someone special, so this poem had to be just as special as you.

one night, while geto was brewing an amazing love poem for you, you knocked on his door and geto would respond with a tired "come in"

you allowed yourself in and was amazed by the outcome of his room. geto was a germaphobe. so to see his room, scattered in crumbled up papers and for him to writing with only a dim, yellow night to accompany him was crazy.

"hey..," you leaned on his door, crossing your arms on your chest. "are you ok? your room is... not.. you." geto sighed, running his hand in his hair and rubbing his temple in frustration.

the single light that lit up his whole room shined on his face and you could see the very visible eye bags under his eyes.

"I'm just... tired." he said, his voice deep and hoarse from the sleepless nights. you looked down at what he was writing, but couldn't see it due to the lack of lighting.

"whatcha writing about?" you asked, stuffing your hands into your pockets, your posture relaxed.

"about you." "what—?

"fuck, y/n, this is what love does to you. it drives you crazy and makes you do stupid shit," has he lost it? "look at me! I'm a mess, for you." why was he lashing out on you?

"listen geto, your tired, I think its best you get some rest." you suggest and geto sighed again, nodding his head to your suggestion. "ok. yeah, I do need some rest." geto gets up and walks over to his bed, rolling over before closing his eyes and immediately falling asleep.

you watch him and sigh before looking at the lamp. you lean over to turn it off before you look into his book.

"if now is the only time and only place, the only place, then let be with you. if i have to hold cars our heart together, then let it be with you. I want to with you, despite how mad you make me. how sad you make me. how crazy you make it. how much you break me. please, im begging you now, please say yes..."

the rest were just scribbled and crossed out words. a smiled creeped up your face as you turned the lamp off and closed the book before shutting the door behind you and smiling to yourself.

kiss

geto would pull you in for a kiss, holding onto your chin. he'd pull you so close with your eyes closed shut. waiting for him to close the distance between yours and his lips. then he'd smirk, knowing how much he's been craving for you everyday. now that your his, your craving for him. then he'd pull you in, finally closing the proximity and you'd taste his tongue, feel his hot breathe, feel how much he's been wanting this for like, ever. he'd grab onto your neck as if he's choking you, but he doesn't, he just wraps one hand on your neck, the other on the back of your head. it was like poison. his mouth, tasted like poison.

do not copy, translate. All credits to original author @yutassweetangel

if gotten inspiration from please give credits <3

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hivemuthur · 1 day ago

Text

Nothing's New - Ch.6.

viktorxfemale!reader explicit!

AU modern era, lovers to enemies to lovers, getting back together, angst & smut present

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5.

word count: 8,8K (sorry!)

warnings: angst, unsafe sex, dacryphilia, spanking, d/s undertones

tag: #nothings new

author's note: It's Sunday where I am lol. No real notes, just thank you for coming with me on this journey, it's very weird to bear your soul like this and people reacting well, never happened to me before. Moments like this, I love internet. @rennethen beta read 🖤

Cross-posted on AO3

—

It took a long time for you to part on Sunday evening. You stood in the hallway, arms wrapped around Viktor, his arms wrapped around you, and only the sound of breathing surrounded you both. He pulled away first, placed a hand on your cheek, and said, “Think about everything. And let me know.”

You nodded, and a question—the answer to which you so desperately needed—was resolved before you even mustered the courage to ask.

“Come on Friday. I’ll text in the meantime? Or call?”

“I would like that,” you admitted with a relieved sigh, and Viktor offered you a kiss on the forehead. When you finally stepped out through his door, he lingered in the frame until the lift swallowed you.

The week passed in a diluted blur of working, eating, and sleeping, interrupted by little earthquakes in the form of Viktor’s messages and brief calls. Nothing with significant push or pressure—just simple, casual chats that let you know he hadn’t forgotten you, and made sure you wouldn’t forget either. And each one made your face beam in a way that earned you silly and curious “Who is that?” questions, until you were red-faced with a juvenile blush.

It happened every time your phone buzzed. You’d be in the middle of scanning through data, only half-listening to a coworker’s offhand remark, when you’d catch a glimpse of his name on the screen, and suddenly, the rest of the world blurred at the edges.

I am convinced my students are attempting to end me. I asked one of them to justify their methodology, and they said, “I just had a feeling.”

A barely suppressed laugh slipped out before you could stop it. You masked it with a cough, ignoring the glance your colleague shot you from across the table.

Another time, you’d been elbow-deep in paperwork, eyes dry from staring at the screen too long, when your phone lit up with another text:

I hope your day is going well. Eat something before you get grumpy.

You scoffed but still reached for the protein bar you’d left untouched beside your laptop.

And then there were the messages that made your stomach turn weightless, that left you pressing your lips together to fight off a giddy, ridiculous smile.

I dreamt of you last night. It was... pleasant.

It was impossible to focus after that. You stared at your screen for a full five minutes, rereading the words like they might change or disappear. Your mind whirred with possibilities, until the sound of your name snapped you back to reality and you scrambled to act as if your brain hadn’t just short-circuited.

Not once had he asked what you were thinking. Not once had he pushed beyond a sweet Goodnight call in the evening and a Good morning text when you woke up. It made the days more bearable, but it also made new questions rise. Is this trust already? Or just caution?

You faltered on Wednesday, when there was no message to greet you. And then no message to remind you to drink water.

You told yourself it was fine. That he was probably just busy. That this wasn’t some sort of test. But by lunchtime, the silence had settled too deep, turning over thoughts you didn’t want to examine. What if he’d changed his mind? What if he was waiting for you to make the next move? Or worse—what if this was a quiet way of pulling away? Your sanity was wearing thin.

You weighed your options, over and over. If you texted and he didn’t answer, would calling be too much? If you called first and he didn’t pick up, at least you could still send a text after. But would that make you seem desperate?

It took another ten minutes of pacing before you finally pressed the call button, cringing at the way your heart was thundering in your chest. The dial tone felt impossibly loud. One ring. Two. Three—

“Hello?”

And just like that, the breath you hadn’t realised you were holding slipped out of you. “Hi! Oh, um… why are you whispering?” You blurted out the words in a rush, voice pitched higher than you intended.

There was a pause, followed by Viktor’s voice, low and steady, tinged with quiet amusement. “I’m in the middle of a lecture—”

“Oh shit, Viktor, I’m so sorry!” you gasped and started to whisper yourself, as if the class could hear you. You winced, clasped your hand to your forehead and hoped that Viktor didn’t hear the sound of the slap.

“—but I am happy to hear you,” he continued smoothly, the warmth in his tone easing some of the tension gripping your chest. “Let me call you after?”

And he did. And you talked about nonsense until Jayce caught Viktor twirling his hair, hunched over his desk like he was trying to hide.

This was your week—full of insignificant, annoying events that conglomerated into something called life, interrupted by small Viktor moments. And for Viktor, it was small you moments.

And even though a massive weight had been lifted off your chest during that session of helpless sobbing on the couch, nuzzled into Viktor’s neck, you still feel a pang of guilt each time you replay the events of last weekend in your head. It’s hard to pinpoint where it comes from, but it’s ever-present.

Now that it’s Friday, finally, you write it down on a piece of paper filled with bullet points for later this evening. Absolutely convinced you won’t use it, you still write every single invasive thought down—just in case you gather the courage to tell him.

Before leaving, you make a few critical last-minute decisions—hair up or down, skirt or trousers, or a dress? Makeup or none? Take extra underwear, or not tempt fate to make a joke out of you?

You end up in a dress, with no makeup, your hair gathered into a loose updo, and a wishful-thinking extra pair of knickers stuffed into your purse.

You walk to make yourself less giddy. You stop to buy some food for later, glancing nervously at your watch, only to see that you are, in fact, too early. Sitting on a bench to read is futile—you just end up staring at your phone, willing the time to pass.

And when you finally, finally buzz his door, it’s like last time—you are immediately let in, without him checking the intercom. But this time, you almost run to the elevator, jabbing the button over and over for the doors to close and carry you upward. When you step out, Viktor is already waiting by the entrance to his flat, greeting you with a quiet, sweet, “Hi,” as soon as he sees you.

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out at first, not even the breathless hi yourself you’ve prepared. The week of waiting, of uncertainty, of second-guessing every moment—was it real? Was he real? Or was this just a fragile illusion, something too good to hold? The part of you that has spent too long in doubt tugs at your resolve, asking if you’re just imagining the warmth in his voice, the way he’s looking at you like he wants you here.

But then his fingers brush against yours as he plucks the bag from your hand, and the heat of his touch travels up your arm, quieting the noise in your head. The doubts don’t stand a chance once his hands slide up your thighs, wrapping around your waist, anchoring you to him. Your back thuds lightly against the door as he kisses you. You don’t even get a proper look at him before his mouth is on yours, his hand pulling your updo apart, fingers tangling into your hair.

Your palms clutch at his shirt and slide up his neck, pulling him closer. He muffles a quiet ah against your lips when you tug his hair and nip at his lower lip. His hips press into you, your chests flush together, and he breathes in deeply, catching up with your scent—the one he’s been missing for five days.

When he finally pulls away, he says again, “I said hi.”

“Hi yourself,” you reply, smiling sheepishly against him. You brush your thumbs over his beauty marks, and his eyes flutter closed. Your foreheads touch. Viktor looks relieved.

“I missed you,” he says, feeling stupid for admitting it—five days is nothing compared to the six months you spent apart, yet it still felt like agony. “You smell nice,” he adds, nosing at your neck, his lips curling up at the sensation of goosebumps rising under his touch.

“Thank you,” you whisper, dumbfounded by this unfiltered flood of affection. Viktor chuckles, realizing he’s overwhelming you. He moves away, and you would protest—if not for the fact that he’s still holding your hand. You squeeze it tightly, letting him lead you into the kitchen, where you watch him make tea.

“So,” Viktor starts, setting a cup in front of you before taking the seat opposite. “How was your week?”

“I—” Horrible. A blur. A very long blur. Long. Painful. “Painfully long,” you finally huff out with a chuckle, feeling the warmth of a blush creeping up your neck. You lower your gaze to your fidgeting fingers, and soon, in the periphery of your vision, Viktor’s hands creep in, cradling yours across the table.

“And why would that be?” he asks quietly. You don’t have to look up to know his eyes will be hooded and his mouth quirked into a sweet smile.

With a pained sigh, you pull your hands back, stand up, and in a heartbeat, you’re kneeling between his legs, resting your head on his lap, arms wrapping around his hips.

“And whatever is that for?” Viktor giggles, startled by your clinginess, unaware of the quiet, pathetic truth that you feel safest like this—between his legs, wrapped in his warmth. You breathe in the scent of his clothes and whisper, “You smell nice too. I missed you too.”

He places a hand on your head, fingers threading gently through your hair, and you inch your hands toward his belt. Slowly, his palm comes to rest over yours, halting your movement. When you lift your gaze to meet his, Viktor almost melts into a puddle at the sight of you—kneeling at his feet, eyes pleading—but he has to ask, “What is this about?”

“I just really missed you,” you say quietly, fingers twitching at his fly. “May I?”

He studies you for a moment, swipes his thumb over your lips and says a breathless, “Yes,” reinforced with a nod. And then his eyes glue to your fingers undoing his belt and tugging at his pants to slide them down all the way to his ankles, to finally discard them. And then—

Viktor’s breath hitches, but you cannot help yourself. You press your face to his boxers, breathing in his scent and it’s a gesture so full of adoration, he whimpers despite himself. You unroll his waistband and kiss him softly with your mouth open, leaving a slick trail all the way up from his base to the tip. He is still soft, his skin is warm and silky, and he shudders at each and every one of your pecks.

You slide his underwear down and make your way up, starting by kissing his knee, up his inner thigh, to finally take his balls into your mouth and hum at the contact. Viktor’s fingers curl in your hair, his legs straighten out in front of him, head falls back, and he gives out a deep, long moan.

It’s almost crushing to feel so worshipped. You’re being so gentle with him—it reminds him of your first time together. Back when things were easy, full of possibilities. Now, things are a little harder, but the possibilities keep slipping back in, one by one, with each passing minute.

He sags in the chair, eyes glazed, and cheeks reddened when he looks down to you—rubbing your face against his cock with reverence that makes him want to pull you up and kiss you until you can’t breathe. And you hum, and kiss and lick off his pre-cum for the longest time before you give him as much as an actual proper lick to his underside, tracing the prominent vein with the tip of your tongue. And Viktor twitches and writhes under your touch, his cock resting heavily across your face.

When you finally take him into your mouth he shudders, his legs jolt and he scolds himself for acting like he’s being touched for the first time. But after a second, he decides he feels safe enough—to let you touch him like this, to give you this power over him. And as if you catch that split-second hesitation in the way he tastes, you release him with a quiet pop and ask gently, “Is this alright?”

“More than alright,” Viktor slurs, his thumb sweeping over your lip again. The string of drool connecting his cock to your mouth now clings to his hand. He leaves it. “Please, don’t stop,” he adds, a blush creeping beneath his shirt.

With a smile, and God help him, another hum, you take him back in, placing your hand on whatever you can’t fit into your mouth. Viktor sighs, the sensation of being enveloped in warmth flooding over him, when you do something that nearly makes him come on the spot—your hand flattens at the base of his cock and you push him past your throat, releasing a fresh wave of spit to drip down his length, while you gag, and the sound makes him go insane. He looks down, and oh, there it is—the first tear you shed today as you disconnect from him to catch a breath and stroke him with a slow movement of your wrist.

It’s a small tear that dries out somewhere in the middle of its journey between the corner of your eye and your chin, but it’s there nevertheless and Viktor commits it to memory. So when you kiss his tip again and open your mouth for him, he cradles your face and gives you one, languid roll of his hips. He stops to ask, “Can I?”

Your eyes flutter open, then closed, then open again. You nod, mumbling a sound as close to yes as you can manage with your mouth full, and you hope Viktor won’t retreat because you don’t want to lose the feeling of his hands cradling you and the feeling of his cock pulsing between your lips.

And, oh God, he takes it as it is. And he gives it back to you, with another thrust, careful and slow, his mouth falls open and eyes are fixed on yours. You see the vein in his neck pulsing, and you take your quick breaths through your nose each time he retreats to push back again. His cock keeps hitting the back of your throat, gently, just a touch, just enough to make your thighs clench and your knuckles go white on his thighs.

And you watch him becoming progressively prettier and prettier as sweat pearls up on his forehead and his mouth loses restraint with all the sounds he is giving you. “My good girl,” he keeps whispering. “Fuck, you are so good,” falls out next. “I love you so much, I missed this so much,” is your favourite one and makes your heart jump all the way up to meet the head of his cock in your throat.

He pants out your name, his grip tightening and the last thing that tips him over is when he sweeps your hair away from your neck to gather it in his fist. And he sees them, his own fingertips already yellowing on your skin, a faint memoir of bruises that were once there, from when he had forced you to look him in the eye while you admitted to still loving him.

“Oh, fuck,” is all Viktor can say as he spasms between your lips and spills himself inside and over, even though he wants to tell you how amazing it feels. How amazing you are, how amazing it is to fuck your mouth. How amazing it is that you shed another tear for him and that you swallowed almost all of his cum, and to convey it, he pulls you up just as he wanted earlier.

And you sit across his lap where he is still warm from your touch. And his mouth is on yours, and oh, it’s almost like the first time. The taste of him still lingers heavily on your tongue and he sucks on it with love and care and gratitude, humming and licking into you, caressing your hair and your shoulders. He kisses you like you are worthy of redemption. Finally his head falls into the crook of your neck, skin clings to skin, as he mutters, “Thank you.”

"You taste just as I remember," you say absently, the words bouncing off the shell of Viktor’s ear. Just when he thinks he cannot possibly come undone any further, you take him apart.

"What have I done to deserve this?" Viktor asks weakly, and you huff a quiet laugh at how dramatic he’s being over a blowjob. You take his face in your hands, guiding his gaze to meet yours.

"There are things I have no idea how to tell you. But you deserve this every day," you whisper, resting your forehead against his.

Viktor sits there, dumbfounded, with you perched over his naked lap, foreheads touching, his pants and underwear crumpled in the middle of the kitchen. And as if your thoughts have seeped from your mind into his, understanding dawns.

"Is this your way of repenting?" he asks, trying to catch your gaze.

You say nothing, only scrunch your nose.

"Hey, look at me, please," Viktor says firmly, his fingers tilting your chin up. The warmth of his touch is steady, grounding, but not forceful. His eyes search yours, full of something unknown. "What are you trying to atone for?"

"For… everything," you sigh, pressing yourself down until you sag against him, your body moulding into his like you could dissolve there. The warmth of his skin on yours should be comforting, but it only makes the ache deeper, and you wince at your inability to express yourself.

"And yet, there is nothing," Viktor replies without hesitation. His fingers remain at your chin, keeping your gaze locked to his, as if he won’t allow you to look away, won’t allow you to slip into this spiral.

"Viktor—"

"I do mean it," he interrupts, his voice unwavering. "I do not want any of this. We start anew, sins not forgotten but cleansed. We learn, and we start over. Nothing to repent for."

"But—"

His other hand tightens around your waist, a small squeeze that grounds. "What do you feel?" he asks, softer now, but still insistent. "You have to tell me."

You hesitate. The words feel thick in your throat, soaked in self-doubt. "I—" You inhale sharply, then admit, "I feel shame. Or guilt. Or both, all the same."

"And whatever for?" Viktor presses, patient, his thumb brushing idly over your skin, a subconscious motion of reassurance.

"For how this went before, Viktor," you say, voice strained. "I see it now, and I just can’t—"

His brows pull together in concern, but he doesn’t let you trail off into silence. "What do you need to get over this?" Ever the problem-solver.

You huff out a mirthless chuckle, the sound brittle. "I don’t know. Punishment?" you say, half-joking, half-serious, but the weight in your chest doesn’t lighten. A punishment seems fitting. The insistent heat of tears pricks at your eyes, and you try to blink them away.

"I don’t think you deserve that," Viktor says immediately, voice firm, as if the thought alone is ridiculous. His hand moves to swipe the tear from beneath your eye while he does his best to remain unaffected.

"Hey—" He moves in by an inch, your stuttering breath fanning over his face. "I really don’t," he murmurs, quieter now, more to himself than to you. His grip tightens, like he needs to keep you close to not break. "We’ve changed, and it’s alright. Oh, God," he exhales, as his thumb swipes the tear from your cheek and his expression shifts from worry to adoration in an instant.

Your brows furrow, confused. "What?"

A flicker of hesitation crosses his face. He swallows. "I have my share of shame in me as well, love."

Your stomach twists at the admission. "What? Why?"

He exhales sharply, pressing his forehead to yours. His voice drops lower, as if he is giving away his best-guarded secret. "I… seem to enjoy it when you cry," he admits. "Not in the sense of enjoying your suffering," he clarifies quickly, "but somehow, being cried for, or in front of, makes me feel… loved."

"Oh, Viktor," you whisper and pull away, your hands moving instinctively to cup his face. His skin is warm beneath your touch, the sharp angles of his cheekbones softening under your fingers. "I am doing a terrible job with love confessions if you have to seek confirmation like this," you mumble, a self-deprecating huff of a laugh dancing under your nose.

Viktor shakes his head, pressing his forehead against yours again, unwilling to let you part. "I disagree. I felt just as loved a minute ago." Then he exhales, long and slow. "I think… it’s just a byproduct of everything," he says carefully. "A change." He pauses, then asks, voice softer, "Does it repulse you?"

"Of course not," you answer instantly, faster than a blink. Your thumbs brush over his cheekbones, gentle, reverent. "You could never repulse me."

His eyes flutter shut for a moment, like he’s soaking in your words, like they’re something sacred. When he opens them again, there’s a softness in his gaze that crushes you completely. "The feeling is mutual," he murmurs.

He studies you for a moment longer before speaking again. "So tell me—what do you need to overcome your shame?"

And you hesitate again. It still lingers. Creeps up to coil somewhere around your throat and you can’t possibly bring yourself to say this, can you? The most obvious stupid cliché. Not because of the act itself, but because of the nature of it. Because of the reason for it. You crave to shed it, to start anew, to get all dressed up in your fresh new skin, old one feeling to tight around your bones. But this is Viktor. And of all people, he’s the one you would ask.

So you lean in to whisper your undisclosed desire straight into his ear. "Spank me."

Viktor stills, his mouth falls open, and he covers it with his hand. Not in shock—just to think. He doesn’t let the moment linger, as his brain works fast. He cups your cheeks and sweeps his thumbs under your eyes. Takes a deep breath.

"This is your wish?"

You nod, lowering your gaze and fixing it on the space between you, but Viktor tsks at you. "I will need you to use your words for this and all the way through. Is this what you want, for sure?"

"Yes," you answer, quietly, but audibly enough for Viktor to accept.

"Alright," he says firmly, then smiles and places a kiss on the corner of your mouth, sweet and lingering. "Will you pass me my pants?"

You huff out a laugh but scramble up from his lap, helping him get roughly dressed—underwear left in the kitchen—when he leads you back to the bedroom. And it’s all so very sweet. He leans on you, just like last time. Kisses your cheek and neck all the way through. You manage not to look at the empty spaces this time.

He leads you to the bed, where he sits down, and you don’t know what to do with yourself. Holding your hand, he guides you to sit beside him. Without question, you do, heart all the way up in your throat.

"Alright, let’s go over this, yes?" Viktor states, as if this is a project. Safety rules, roadmap, scientific approach. He gives your thigh a gentle squeeze and smiles softly. "I will check how you are doing constantly. If you tell me to stop, I stop immediately. If, for whatever reason, you don’t feel like you can tell me, you tap my thigh three times. If you don’t like it, we never do this again. If you do, we will explore. What do you think?"

"You don’t think it’s weird?" Do you think I’m weird is truly what gnaws at you, but you can’t bring yourself to ask it. You just look at him, waiting, excited and scared.

"Of course not. Peculiar, at best," Viktor smiles again and places a flurry of kisses on your face. "Do you wish to continue?"

"Yes," you answer with more confidence now.

"Then lay across my lap, please," he says, leaning back, hands still on you—grounding and reassuring.

Air gets momentarily knocked out of your lungs when your belly presses across Viktor’s thighs. He runs a hand down your spine, finding himself strangely excited about this. The trust he asked you for last week now lay splayed across his knees—he couldn’t help but think. All he has to do is indulge you.

His hand slides down, cradling your ass. He lifts the skirt of your dress, draping it over your lower back, and runs his fingers under the hem of your underwear. Gently, soothing you with soft sounds as he does, he pulls your knickers down to your knees. Your face burns, heat prickling across your skin in goosebumps with every touch—nails grazing over the inside of your knee, up your thighs, stopping at your core. He palms your naked skin and hums once he realises you are wet.

“Good,” he murmurs, playing between your legs for a while. Your mouth parts and eyes close, while you give him quiet gasps. He spreads the wetness onto your ass cheeks and cradles your bum one last time before starting. And then, without warning, the first slap lands—firm, of medium strength—but still, you yelp in surprise.

The sensation is alien—it both hurts and doesn’t. With the mild pain comes something else, something fleeting, but you can’t quite grasp what it is. Warmth spreads across your skin, and you dig your fingers into Viktor’s thigh.

Viktor, however, receives something entirely different. Nothing flees him—something grows. Both between his legs and in his chest. He has to take a second before he asks, “How was that?”

“Good,” you reply immediately.

So he continues. Another slap echoes through the room, and Viktor watches as the imprint of his hand whitens against your skin before dissolving into pink a second later. How pretty it looks. He checks in with you again. And again, you encourage him.

Slowly, slap after slap, each one interrupted by Viktor’s questions, you feel lighter, warmer. A strange feeling of relief washes over you. At some point, your skin begins to sting, and even that is welcome. Your mouth loses restraint, and you moan each time Viktor’s palm connects with your ass. Your back arches, ribs pressing into his legs, and you feel a drop of slick rolling down your inner thigh.

So debauched. So pretty, Viktor thinks.

He can’t help himself and runs his fingers down between your legs. Gasps at the wetness pooling there. “More?” He asks, voice breathy, eyes completely transfixed on your reddened skin and he almost drools at the sight. All his doing. His hand did this. This, and the drenched state of your cunt, it’s all him.

“More,” you say weakly. The burn feels good. You feel the doubt seeping out with the warmth radiating from your skin. With each touch, something inside you feels lighter. Bigger. Like there is more of you and less of whatever had been gnawing at you.

Viktor gives you three more slaps, and when your thighs quiver with the last one, his hand comes to rest at the base of your spine. “How is that?” he asks, admiration seeping into his voice.

“I think it’s enough,” you reply in a small voice. His hand returns to your bum, a gentle caress spreading from the tops of your thighs to your hips. Slowly, you rise from his lap, only to straddle him and wrap your arms around his neck.

“Thank you,” you breathe into his skin. Viktor pulls you close, inhaling deeply through his nose.

“Thank you,” he murmurs in return. “Please, lie down on your stomach. I’ll be right back.”

You blink in quiet question but obey. Crawling onto the bed, you curl up on your side, fingers ghosting over the heat still lingering beneath your dress. When Viktor returns, the soft tap of his cane against the floor announces him, and you wonder how he got all the way to the kitchen without it.

“I said on your stomach,” he says gently, placing a hand at the small of your back. You roll over, propping your head on your crossed arms.

“Good girl,” he coos before exposing your reddened ass. The mattress dips on each side of your knees and once again you feel Viktor’s hands on you. Soft, gentle. Callouses gliding over your tired skin with care and love. He presses his face against your cheeks, holding them firmly, hums in appreciation, making your toes curl and your back arch, belly pressing into the bed. Then his mouth joins, as he licks you with a flat tongue. Lips grazing over you, the trail of open mouth kisses spreading all the way from the crease of your ass to the small of your back. You press yourself into him and bury your nose in the sheets, trying to muffle your whimpers.

And then comes the coolness pressing against you, making you wince at the first touch. A cold compress.

“Shh, it’s alright,” Viktor whispers. His free hand comes to thread gently through your hair. You feel safe. Whole. That sense of belonging blooms within you again—stronger this time—and you are so, so glad it’s with Viktor. You sigh and close your eyes.

He lies beside you, his hand running up and down your spine. When you blink, your eyes meet. “How are you feeling?” he asks, and he looks so in love your heart is about to burst.

“Very good,” you say quietly, offering him an honest smile. You turn onto your side to face him, the compress slipping off. “Better. Empty and whole at the same time,” you murmur against his mouth, kissing him with reverence. “You?”

Viktor thinks for a second before answering. "Knowing you trust me enough to let go like this makes me feel irreplaceable," he says finally, and you are left speechless. Because he is. And it feels great that he knows.

“It’s all very new, isn’t it?” you ask finally, and Viktor gazes at you, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“No,” he murmurs, pulling you closer, your name falling softly from his mouth. “Nothing’s new. It’s still love.”

You nuzzle against his neck and sigh, your eyelashes tickling his skin. The last question gnawing at you slips past your lips before you can catch it.

“Do you hate me less now?”

Viktor scoffs, outright appalled. He pulls you back by the neck, forcing you to look at him, his eyes full of intent as he replies simply, “No.”

Your heart beats only once before stopping entirely. Then Viktor’s expression softens, and he speaks again.

“I never hated you. If anything, I only love you more.”

And your heart resumes beating—hard and erratic. You wrap yourself around him, letting out a shuddering breath. “God, how can this be so good now when we’ve fucked up so badly?”

Viktor picks up what you’ve put down. “Change is inevitable. Sometimes abrupt. Maybe this is where we were supposed to be to get here, miláčku.”

Oh, God. There it is again—dragged up from the pit you were hoping to forget. The one thing that once felt most dear, a treasure Viktor gave freely, only to let it slip into someone else’s hands. Now it’s tarnished, dulled with grime. It doesn’t sound sweet anymore. It tastes bitter, feels wrong. Feels like it doesn’t belong to you.

Your heart drops again. Your voice shrinks to almost nothing as you push him away and plead weakly, “Please, don’t call me that again.” Tears are already pricking at your eyes, and you wonder when you became so quick to cry.

“Wha—Why?” Viktor chuckles, trying to wrap his arms back around you, but you keep your distance, splaying your palms flat against his chest in quiet defiance. And then he sees it.

“Oh, darling. It never happened, I promise you. The note, I—”

“What do you mean?” you ask, as if you don’t already know. Your brows knit together, a tear clinging to your lashes. “It was on the note,” you try again, your voice frail with disbelief. Your lips press into a tight line, and Viktor looks so remorseful that you fear what’s coming next.

“It was on the note,” he says carefully, “because I was fully lying to you.”

It’s so quiet you almost don’t hear him. Your eyes flick between his eyes and his lips, your mouth parting—but nothing comes out. A couple of imaginary pins drop on the floor, the sound echoes in your head.

And then a sob slips through as you blink rapidly, trying to hold back the tears. “No. Viktor, I thought—”

“I’m so sorry.” He tries to cradle you, but you resist. “I knew it was horribly wrong as soon as I saw you that day. I regretted it in an instant, and oh,” he murmurs, pulling you against his chest. He holds you tight through this last, stupid display of jealousy, doing his best to reassure you.

“I would never. I would never call anyone else that. You are the only one, I promise. It’s all yours. Please forgive me. Miláčku, please forgive me,” he pleads, pressing his face into your hair, into the crook of your neck.

You don’t respond—not with words, not yet. Your breath is shaky against his collarbone, your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt like you need something solid to hold onto. His heart hammers against your ear. You know he’s afraid.

Viktor shifts, pressing a kiss to your temple, lingering like he’s willing you to believe him through touch alone. His hand cradles the back of your head, his thumb brushing small, rhythmic circles at your nape.

“Please,” he whispers again, softer now, like he’s running out of words, running out of ways to reach you. “I promise it’s yours. Forever.”

“How do you know it’s forever?” you ask, voice hollowed out. That would be a gift too good to be true. Yet. You dare to have your hopes up.

Viktor winces. Your body grows pliant against him. He hooks his leg over your hip bone and nestles you close, his arm wrapping under your waist, his palm resting between your shoulder blades. His other hand cradles your cheek, his face inching closer. Your noses press together, and when Viktor speaks his quiet truth, your lips brush.

“Because loving you isn’t a feeling that fleets,” he murmurs, pouring the words into you. “It’s a condition. And I will carry it with me always, no matter what happens between us.”

Your breath hitches, and you shudder. You squeeze your eyes shut, searching for something—anything—to say. But instead, you press your salty lips to his, not in a kiss, just a press. Just to steal a breath from him.

“Come back to me,” he coaxes, his knuckles paling against your skin. “Miláčku, come back to me.”

And Viktor doesn’t really believe in any higher form of consciousness controlling the universe. The only thing he believes in is the void, that we scream into like an echo chamber, questions bouncing back to anyone who’s asking. That we only get one life and have to make the very best of it. He doesn’t believe in God, that he has called upon too many times already in the spirit of figurative speech. But if there was one thing he would pray for, it would be this.

To tether himself to you, bind himself to something real, something beyond the desperate loneliness he’s learned to live with before he’s met you. He’s been waiting and waiting for this love to fleet, and it never fucking did, no matter how hard he’s been trying to squeeze it out of himself. So, instead of praying, he offers himself to you, tries to prove in the only way he knows how that he is yours, that he will always be yours—with his needy hands that chased away your shame, with his loving eyes so honest they pierce right through you, with his hot mouth that needs, needs, needs to suck on you so his lungs could expand, and his heart could beat.

And as if gears slowly begin grinding against each other in your head, you give it all back. You kiss him—deep and messy, snot mingling with drool. Viktor sighs in relief, the taste of your tears on his tongue sealing something unspoken between you. He murmurs sweet things between breaths, hands tangling in your hair, legs hooking you closer. And he needs, needs, needs to show you how much he wants you to come back. How nothing else could ever compare. How the thought of anything else is harrowing and empty.

“So we start over,” you slice through his thoughts, stating more to yourself than to him, as if the matter has nestled in your head securely only just now.

Viktor nods brushing his nose against yours and whispers a quiet, “Yes.”

“Yes,” he says again as his shaky fingers begin to unbutton your dress. “Yes,” he breathes when his thumbs brush under your breasts and palms twitch to cup them. “Yes,” comes another murmur when his tongue meets your skin, tits squeezed together so he can lick between them, and then a moan escapes him as you slide your hands to the nape of his neck and tug at the short hair there.

Your back arches, excited and willing when the sensation of his tongue on you mingles with the sounds he makes echoing in your mind, and you breathe out a needy plea, “Do it again.”

Viktor cocks a brow, hums into your skin as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, and asks a playful muffled, “Which one?"

“Oh, God, both,” you whine, squeezing your eyes shut and buck your hips against thin air, Viktor’s knee too far for you to reach. Your fingers pull at the base of his skull, and Viktor chuckles, a flush creeping up his body underneath the layers of clothing when he sinks his mouth into your breast and obeys—letting out a quiet, wrecked, “Oh, fuck,” somewhere around your heart.

His thigh finally, finally, comes to your salvation, sneaking between your legs and pressing on your core with a quiet obscene squelch. The thought of a wet stain he will get to see there makes his cock twitch painfully against the half-assed job you did of buttoning up his trousers earlier on. You breath grows short as you rub yourself on him and when a stuttered whimper escapes your mouth, Viktor huffs, “Please, do it again,” through a sharp exhale.

You tug at his hair, forcing him to look at you. "Give me a reason," you whisper in a strangled breath.

Clearly, you have no idea what you’re asking for. The cry that escapes you when his knee retreats is, to say the least, embarrassing. The sound transforms into a quiet gasp, when his hands leave your chest, one finger slides through your slit and Viktor hums, so, so pleased with you, “Baby, look how wet you are.”

“So wet for me, my girl,” he coos, and he sounds almost too grateful as his lips come back to kiss you, and a gush of cold air fans over your nipples. He palms your sickly heat, grinding the heel of his hand against your clit and you blink rapidly as your eyes roll back in your skull. Your hands fumble blindly to unbutton his shirt in a need press yourself flush against him.

And you do a very poor job, jolting and pulling at his buttons whenever Viktor’s hand parts you and his fingers tease your entrance, so his other hand comes to help you, undoing what you can’t with an ease that has you huffing. It’s annoying that he can do two things at once, while you clearly cannot. Your sulking doesn’t last very long, because as soon as his naked chest is free to be roamed, you leech yourself to his collarbone and suck a red glaring love mark into it.

Yours. All yours.

And Viktor slips, figuratively and literally, as his head instinctively falls back to grant you full access to his neck and his two fingers push inside you, where you are so, so hot it almost burns him. As if the mark on his neck wasn’t red enough, you bite on it, trying to muffle a groan. Viktor has nothing to muffle his groan on, so you can feel it crawling up his throat and vibrating under your lips.

When his fingers push in further, the only gesture you can muster is to hook your hands over the waistband of his trousers, mouth choking on his neck. You pull his pants down and he hisses as the material hooks over his cock before it springs back to slap heavily against his lower abdomen. You try to distract yourself by sliding your palms flat up and down the slope of his sharp hips, but it’s futile once Viktor buries his fingers knuckle deep and curls them brushing the sensitive spot within you. He twitches as you moan. Precum leaks out of his slit. No thoughts cross your head, only impressions. Only want and need.

You can’t decide which one it is—want or need—when your fingers wrap around his length and rub whatever weeps at the tip all over the head. He’s silky and heavy in your hand as you trace your favourite vein with the tip of your finger.

“Oh, God,” Viktor whimpers to the imaginary being again, pumping you with a stuttering rhythm of his wrist. Feeling every crevice of your cunt, he pulls you in for a kiss and you no longer know where he ends, and you begin. Attached by the mouth, his hand deep inside you, your needy wanting hands on him, just drawing gasps and moans from each other.

He has to retreat to pull his pants further down and has an audacity to chuckle when you whine in protest. His hand leaves you drawing a wet sound and your thighs fall back together with a sticky smack. “So impatient,” he hums, while doing a shitty job of undressing himself, kicking off one leg of his pants, while the other still entangles around his calf. He hooks his freed leg over your hip, takes his cock from you and aligns it at your entrance. You are completely wrapped around each other—leg pressing on leg, arms hooked around necks, fingers adding to already damp hair.

“Do you want me?” he asks, pressing his cock against your clit, hard. You tie up into thousands of knots, trying to suck him in by the force of your sheer will when you see the question is honest. He really wants to know. Eyes pensive, hooded, mouth parted. So you kiss this mouth, bite his lips until he hisses and breathe into him, “I want you, fuck, I want you.”

A silent moan rips through him, as he enters you, inch after painful inch until you can feel every ridge, every vein, every pulse of his cock against your walls. At this point you are just clashing mouths and teeth in something that once was a kiss. He fills more of you than was empty as you lose control of the clenching and unclenching of your own muscles. A quiet ah falling from him dies in the sound of a slap as your hips slot together.

He stills for a moment, buried deep, and you swear you can feel his pulse inside you, thrumming in time with your own. Chest to chest, forehead to forehead, he exhales heavily through his nose, his grip on you tightening. And then he moves.

Your mouth falls open so wide your jaw aches, breaths intermingle, brows knit together. Viktor's hands anchor around your ass as he thrusts into you, slow and deep, each movement pounding the shape of his cock into your core. You arch against him, offering yourself, giving him everything you have. Your fingers twist in his hair, and the moment you tug, he groans—a low, breathy sound that coils something filthy at the base of your spine as your skin slaps against his.

And Viktor feels himself melting against your lips, inside you, as your walls squeeze tighter and tighter around him. He loses control of his hands—they just roam, fisting at your dress, kneading the soft flesh of your thighs as he sinks deeper, hitting a spot that has you gasping hiccupped breaths straight into his mouth. He pants, struggling not to be the one who falls first, trying not to look, not to think about your clumped eyelashes, the tears that he is fucking out of you. He tries not to think about how every slap of his hips against yours must echo across your poor ass, how pleasure and pain must be bleeding together inside you.

But it just feels so fucking good for you. Every roll of his hips is a reminder of how his fingers sank into your skin not long ago, heat pouring out of you in waves. You don’t move anymore—it’s only Viktor’s sloppy, determined thrusts guiding you toward the edge. You cross your eyes to focus on his parted lips, the beauty marks dusting his cheek and lip, and when his breath fans over your face, you let your lashes flutter closed, surrendering to it. Letting it build, slow and aching, every deep stroke tightening the coil inside you until you’re cramping around him.

“Fuck,” Viktor pants as you curl into him, whining his name into the crook of his neck, fighting the urge to bite down on his tendon. Your thighs squeeze tight around him, and your cunt grips him like a vice, milking him as you finally break apart. You spasm and clench around him, neck wrenched and jaw tight as you try to catch a breath through your silent shout and it’s almost impossible for Viktor to move in the tightness you’ve created. His sweat drips onto your cheeks, and, at last, he can stop holding back.

He curls his arms around you and rolls you over, pressing you down with his weight. Adding gravity to every snap of his hips, his stomach cramps more and more with each desperate thrust as he fucks you through the aftershocks, chasing his own undoing. His mouth hangs open against yours when he holds you tight enough for his fingertips to whiten, bruises already threatening to bloom where he grips. “I’m so close,” he whispers on a breath, and you thought it impossible, but you clench even tighter at the sound of his strained voice. And when he cums, it’s with a wrenched-out grunt, his head buried in your neck, his body trembling against you.

A few stuttering jolts of his hips, spilling his seed deep inside you, and the sensation of being filled, of being utterly his, has you moaning one last time, spent and breathless. Eyes unseeing, mouth touching mouth when he falls on top of you and just stays.

And then, nothing, for a moment, only your damp stomachs rising and falling against each other.

Until Viktor is the one to move first. He pulls out, his cum spilling from you onto the sheets with a wet spurt, and rolls onto his back, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow. A shuddery breath escapes him as he presses a hand to his chest.

“Viktor?” you say softly, gliding an open palm over his stomach.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what—” he croaks, then pulls you in, guiding your head to rest against his chest. His heart pounds beneath your ear, his breath uneven, and when you lift your chin to look at him, you catch the glistening trail of a tear slipping down his cheek, barely visible.

And Viktor has no idea what came over him. He has no idea whether this is a stupid way of paying back his debt to you or is it just a surge of affection that he cannot hold in, but it feels strangely freeing to pour all this fear into a wet breath. Or maybe his fucked out brain just can’t keep up with the bliss, he doesn’t know.

Gently, you tug his arm away from his face, nuzzling into him as you whisper, “It’s okay. You’re okay.” You press a soft kiss to his lips, and he exhales shakily, like he’s been holding something in for far too long. And to come undone like this is completely unlike for Viktor. You are fairly sure you’ve never seen him cry before, though you’ve heard the legends. And now they all come true, before your very eyes and even though you feel nothing close to arousal watching him spill his emotions over, the feeling you do have in your chest is about to make it burst, nevertheless.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, kissing you back through an embarrassed chuckle. “I guess something is new after all.”

“Don’t apologize, please,” you whisper, nuzzling your nose into the hollow of his cheek. “I love this.”

Viktor offers a smile and a squeeze to your neck. Wordlessly, you fall into each other, arms tightening, bodies entwining. The roam of your hands slowly dying to settle on each other’s hollows. The scent of sweat and warmth heavy between you, intermingling, blending—just as you do.

And even though all of this looks hurried and disorganised—your dress half undone, his pants tangled around one leg, brace slid down from his knee, shirt twisted around him, cold compress melting away, dampening his sheets—it feels right. And as you rest against him, your heart slowing in tandem with his, you think of how this is both familiar and new. How you’ve shed the bad and kept the good. How it’s all very fucking new and exciting and frightening, but it’s good, because it’s with Viktor.

At some point, the sun has set as you both drift into sleep. Heavy breaths, calm, bodies still half-clothed. Your dress has rolled all the way up, exposing your lower half, and Viktor, with sleep-ridden hands, pulls it down before throwing a blanket over you both. No dreams interrupt you, only the damp cloister of your shared aftermath.

He’s closed his eyes a second ago, and when he opens them again, the night has turned into a blue morning. No sun yet, but the dark already pales. Carefully, he shuffles from between your legs, pressing the soles of his feet to the wooden floor, blindly reaching for his cane. Then, takes a long breath. His knee is aching—a faint, but present feeling. Slightly annoying. Managable.

He discards his pants to the floor, the outline of the fly buttons pressed into the skin of his calf after clinging to it the whole night. He glances over his shoulder—you, fast asleep, hair clumped into a tangled mess spilling over his pillow. Mouth open, soft breaths coming in and out, the faintest sound nestling in his mind. His hand hovers over your cheek as he dusts away a stray eyelash. Moments pass as he just looks.

Quietly, he stands and expands himself into a slow stretch. Breathes out long and heavy. Then, half-naked, walks toward the kitchen. And there—his underwear on the floor. Two cups resting on the table. He puts his cup in the sink and reaches for yours—half-drunk tea, a once-wet, now dried-out ring left behind. He smiles.

Nothing’s new, comes the thought.

He drinks your cold tea and puts the kettle on.

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #viktor x reader smut #viktor x f!reader #arcane #viktor smut #arcane fanfic #my writing #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #viktor x oc #viktor nation #nothings new

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aestheticpearl · 1 day ago

Text

“ BUT I HATE TO THINK ABOUT YOU WITH SOMEBODY ELSE ”

synopsis. leigh isn’t jealous. he doesn’t get jealous.

featuring. leigh (sakuverse)

a/n. if you’re reading this in the future and it’s inaccurate to his character, keep that to yourself i’m going off of a single episode and a prayer here

leigh has honestly confused himself at this point in this stunt of a relationship he has with you. it’s just a normal company picnic with your software company. they wanted their employees to be able to get some fresh air on the job or something like that. regardless, leigh watched for under a shaded tree as you grab some snacks for the both of you from the table they’ve set up on the field.

he’s watching your body language more than anything as you speak to one of the guys in the sales department who clearly doesn’t know how to take a hint. he keeps moving forward as you step back at each advancement, even glancing over to leigh himself to communicate ‘are you seeing this?’ with your eyes. he is unfortunately.

he remains planted under the tree, knowing full well you can very much handle yourself and if you needed help you would ask, but after a certain point it’s not just about how he’s getting impatient with the guy blabbing his whole life story to you, it’s about how he’s trying to make moves on his fake partner. that’s when he knows he has to intervene for appearance sake. at least that’s what he’s telling himself. he ignores the feelings that it stirs out in the pit of his stomach as he stands up and starts walking over to you.

you feel leigh before you see him as he wraps his arm around your waist, a wave of comfort washes over you at the feeling; finally someone that can get you out of this uncomfortable situation without being rude—

“quit hitting on them. they’re my partner.”

nevermind.

you watch the poor guy sputter out a few apologies before stumbling away from the two of you.

“that wasn’t very nice.” you mumble as you place a few veggies on your plate.

“i wasn’t trying to be, mate clearly couldn’t take a hint.” leigh responds, picking a carrot off your plate and munching on it. “you should tell HR about that.”

“what? that my fake boyfriend scared off an employee for trying to shoot his shot?”

“hey what are fake boyfriends for?”

something pulls at both of your heartstrings when you say the word fake, but you both similarly opt to brush it off.

you both walk back to the shaded tree area that leigh has practically claimed for his own and sit down with the snacks in hand.

“so have any bets?”

“sorry?” you look at leigh puzzled.

“any bets on who’s gonna win capture the flag?”

“oh.” you follow his eyes to the scene that unfolds on the field. your coworkers in some kind of team building exercise that they are definitely too old for.

“i’m honestly not too sure.” you enjoy your snacks as you watch the game, absentmindedly offering leigh the same snacks by holding the plate in front of him. he is also is locked on to what you are watching unaware of how couple like you both look right now.

“do you think this is going to effect the weekend project?” you ask, looking back at him.

“yes, but i don’t know if it’ll be in a good way or a bad way. depends on how this ends.” he smiles back at you.

you laugh and lean on him, not evening thinking.

you only realize the mistake when you feeling leigh tense under you and you quickly pull away.

“s-sorry!”

“you don’t have you act like i am hot lava.” you chuckles a bit at you reaction.

“i didn’t want to overstep—”

“i didn’t think you were overstepping.” his eyes flicker over you facial features to try and read your emotions a bit better. you’re panicked and… flustered?

“relax okay? i just wasn’t expecting it, i don’t mind though, it is pretty chilly today.” he opens his arm for you to move into, which you do eventually with some hesitation.

he’s warm and somehow comforting. you remind yourself that this isn’t something that’s real, it’s just an act that you both have to keep up with and he seems to be better at remembering that appearances need to be maintained. you secretly pray that he doesn’t notice the flustered state he as been putting you in by doing this.

“you’re warm.”

oops.

he chuckles.

“thank you.”

“i d-didn’t mean to say that.”

“but you did.” he smiles. “which means you meant it~”

you roll your eyes at him and genuinely reconsider your feels for a spilt second in that moment.

new character rahhhhhh. i’m just hoping to get pulled out of this writing slump cause i’m lowkey starting to lose interest in this. the hyperfixation isn’t fixating. happy valentine’s day btw 🤍

.love always<3 pearl

.masterlist

#pearl’s ❤︎ works #zsakuva #sakuverse #zsakuva fan fic #zsakuva audio #zsaku #zsakuva leigh #sakuverse leigh

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del-thetiredwriter · 3 days ago

Text

Mafia au/Good luck while running away from mafia part 6

Intro, part 0.5 , part 1, part 2 , part 3 , part 4 , part 5

Notes: So close to the ending. I am going to post next part when it gets enough interactions. As for the Otome Au I will post the Octavinelle part in a week. I hope you enjoy it.

Warning: Yandere stuff, gender-neutral reader, mentions of murder and death, English is not my first language be aware of that.

Taglist: @morokumi , @lorkai , @hasty-desert , @oceanside-pixie , @lianreine , @h3apm3ch4n151m @burntwolf25 , @lilyalone , @juliechi , @noemiaaomi , @stingywiththeirusername , @kchan3s , @aryuunachigiri , @sxftiebee , @lucid-stories , @literallyjustidiashroud , @roseapov , @serenity-loves-red , @randomlyappearingartist I tried to tag everyone but some tags didn’t work sorry for that.

“Don’t you think the Boss is a bit strange? I mean I’ve only seen him a few times but he doesn’t look like a boss at all.”

The red-haired Heartslabyul rookie asked. It was lunch break and you were sitting in a café with the rookies.

“Indeed. The way he talks and acts is nothing like I imagined.” The lilac-haired rookie assassin agreed. You chuckled. Despite being his right-hand man, sometimes even you couldn’t understand how Crowley managed to become the boss.

“What did you expect?” you asked.

“Tougher? Cooler?” You laughed to their answers . They were right.

While the conversation continued, you got a notification on your phone and said goodbye to the rookies and got up from the table.

You knocked on the door of the main headquarters meeting room and went inside. Crowley was leaning back in the boss chair at the head of the table, drinking tea.

“Oh, you’re here, sit down.”

He gestured for you to sit down at one of the chairs.It always seemed strange to you. Even though there were seven executive in organization, there were only eight directors at the table. A bouquet of white lilies was placed on the extra chair.

“You wanted me.”

You sat down in the Heartslabyul chair to Crowley’s left. Your masked boss smiled.

“I just wanted to chat a little. You know, today is a special day. Today…is the day you completed your first mission and joined the mafia.” He looked at the lilies and then at you. His voice was sad. You nodded.

“Yes sir.”

“Tell me Y/n…how was your first mission?”

You were confused. Crowley had asked you that question before. Many times. And you gave the same answer again.

“The target was unarmed. Or rather, he dropped his weapon on the ground in front of my eyes and wanted to hug me-“

“Okay, no need to continue.” He looked at the lilies sadly.

“…Y/n, I raised you. You are like my own child to me. You know that.”

You nodded. It was true that he had taken you from the orphanage when you were little and raised you.

“Life can do things you can’t predict. You never know what the future holds for you. I’ve done a lot to survive in this organization. You understand?”

It’s the same thing every year. Every year, Crowley would call you into this room today, and for what felt like hours, he would speak to you in this strange and uncharacteristic way. Like he was confessing his sins…

“You are loyal to me. My right-hand man. My most trusted man…”

- Previous boss’s timeline

“Crowley…”

A sick old man in bed called out to the man standing next to him in the chair. His voice was dry and weak. His narrow eyes were tired and full of hatred.

“Yes boss,”

“Haven’t you destroyed the Royal Sword yet! Destroy it!”

The old man started shouting again, as if he were crazy. The man sitting on chair smiled. He seemed quite used to this situation. He stood up and leaned over to the man lying on the bed. The man in the bed’s screams stopped. The white sheets were stained red.

“Ah, finally. He’s been going through a lot of dementia lately. If I had waited a little longer, I was sure I would have lost my hearing. Don’t you think so Crewel?”

Crowley turned to the assassin standing right by the door. Crewel’s face was unreadable, but Crowley smiled understandingly.

“It was bound to happen eventually. It’s just a matter of timing and patience. And don’t tell me you’re sorry. I mean, he’s been going through a lot of dementia for the last year and a half.”

He waved his hand in the air.

“I will inform the other executives of the death in a few hours. Have the body cleaned. I must prepare a funeral worthy of our dear old boss. I will see you tonight.”

The masked executive put on his coat and left the room.

“What is this?” Savanaclaw’s new executive Ashton Vargas slammed his hand on the table.

The first extraordinary executive meeting was being held since the tragic sudden death of the former boss. The subject was the treason accusation of the 8th Division Ramshackle executive– code name Blade.

“Apparently, Blade, who has been supposedly ‘on a mission’ for a long time, was working for Royal Sword.” Heartslabyul executive Trein explained the subject while sipping his tea.

“How is this possible? He was the boss’s right-hand man. He was his heir.” Ashton Vargas read the documents over and over in disbelief.

“According to the documents, a large amount of money was transferred to the Ramshackle executive’s bank accounts. Why didn’t Octavinelle mention this?”

Crowley, executive of Diasomnia, asked.

“Because there was no such gap-”

“Or you didn’t notice it.”

“I don’t believe it. There was no reason, and these documents, photos, audio recordings… how do we know if they are fake? I would also like to point out that we don’t know their sources. Blade had many enemies.” The Pomefiore executive spoke up. He said his last sentence while looking specifically at Crowley. The room was in complete chaos.

“Night Raven needs a boss. We don’t know where Blade is. The charges against him are too serious to be taken lightly. If Blade is truly a traitor-”

The Scarabia executive was interrupted by Octavinelle.

“But it’s still not certain. There’s also the possibility of a conspiracy. We must wait until Ignihyde verifies the documents. We cannot take the choice of a new boss lightly.”

As the six executive argued among themselves, Ignihyde finally raised his hand to speak and made the expected statement.

“Ignihyde…confirms the truth of the documents.” The Ignihyde executive spoke.

With Ignihyde's approval, a brief silence fell over the room...

“…That’s it for today. Thank you for attending the meeting.”

The new masked Boss ended the meeting with a smile. All the executives began to leave the room one by one.

“Crewel, sit down. How about we have a chat?”

The new Pomefiore executive paused. He turned to the masked man. He had a strange expression on his face. It was obvious that he didn’t want to sit down, but he sat back down in his chair.

“That face…You’ve been wearing that face a lot lately, huh? When the Boss died, when I made you an executive…”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

The masked man smiled.

“Crewel, how’s the mission I gave you going? Have you found him?”

Crowley’s question caused a brief silence.

“…No. I haven’t found him yet.”

His voice was normal. However, he couldn’t look him in the face when he answered.

“I see… By the way, we’re going to adopt a child today.”

“What?”

Crewel looked at Crowley in surprise. He hadn’t expected to hear something like this all of a sudden.

“Yes. The child you’ve been seeing a lot lately. The child you’ve been secretly visiting behind my back.”

Crewel clasped his hands together under the table in fear. The events of the last six months had made him very nervous about what Crowley could do.

“Don’t get nervous like that. I’ve been visiting that kid for the last few months, and aren’t they cute, I must say? I also think they have potential. After all, they are from his blood.”

Crowley stood up and patted Crewel on the shoulder.

“We’ll be out in a few hours. Okay?”

Then he left Crewel alone in the room…

“You should have guessed as much.”

Divus raised his head. Heartslabyul’s executive Mozus Trein was standing in front of the door , looking all serious. The older executive walked over to him and sighed.

“When the previous boss made him his heir, it was clear what would happen. You should have made a choice back then. You’re lucky he left you alive, though.”

The younger executive looked at the older executive with pain. He shook his head slightly in denial.

“I…”

“When the previous boss went crazy and fell into his sickbed, Crowley gradually took control of the entire mafia. You either stood by him or died. You saw it , after the previous boss died , executives of Pomefiore and Octavinelle…Ramshackle was completely destroyed. If you want that child to live, come to your senses. Swear your loyalty to Crowley and forget about him.”

- Current timeline

Silence… It had been about an hour since you escaped from Pomefiore. The road was completely empty. There was only your breathing and the sound of the vehicle. Apart from your tense and anxious heartbeat, it could be called a very calm drive…

You turned down the crackling sound of the radio that suddenly increased slightly. The navigation suddenly changed the route a few times. At first, you didn’t think much about it since you thought you were in an area with no internet connection, but something didn’t feel right. The vehicle suddenly accelerated beyond your control. Yes, something was really wrong. While you were trying to understand what was happening, the vehicle started to slow down. When the steering wheel started to move on its own, you tried to control it, but the vehicle changed lanes. You had lost control of the vehicle.

“Ahem. Sound control one two. Y/n-shii, can you hear my voice clearly?”

Idia Shroud. Everything had settled into place now.

“It seems you do.”

You tried to regain control of the vehicle, but it was useless.

“Don’t bother. No matter what you do, you can’t regain control.”

The Ignihyde executive chuckled at your futile efforts. You couldn’t see him, but you could tell by the tone of his voice that his face was currently enchanted with pleasure.

“I must be lucky. I made a slight change in plans when I realized that the vehicle you were in when you escaped from Pomefiore was one of the newer models produced by S.T.Y.X. Normally, I would have caught you in a different way, but this is more comfortable and safe.”

You didn’t want to waste time talking. You had to think of something fast. You tried to unbuckle your seat belt, but it was stuck.

“What are you doing?”

When you finally got rid of your seat belt, you reached into the back seat and grabbed your gun. You tried to roll up the windows, but as you expected, they wouldn’t open.

“I don’t recommend that, Y/n-shii. If you break even one of the windows, I’m giving you a firm warning that my drones outside will intervene.”

You looked out the window. He was right. You were trapped in this vehicle.

“Now that you’ve given up, how about we chat a bit? We have a long way to go.”

“What are we going to chat about?”

You leaned back on the couch. You had to think of something. You couldn’t use your phone. If you did, Idia would definitely intervene.

“Don’t say that. I-“

“You were the one who prepared the false documents about me. Or rather, you were one of the ones who prepared them. What would I have to talk to you about?”

“You were the one who first tried to leave the Organization.”

“I did it because you betrayed me! To survive!”

“You’re lying even now, Y/n-shii. We would never hurt you. If we really wanted to, you would be dead by now.”

He was right. If they had, they would have finished you off long ago. You clenched your teeth in anger.

“But it’s okay, I forgive you. When I take you back to the Organization, we will decide on your punishment. Well, as the person who caught you, I will have the most influence on the decision.”

You scoffed. Now it was clear why they were working separately on purpose.

“Don’t worry, I would never wish you harm. You were truly precious to me. And you still are.”

Idia truly said these words sincerely. Not to get on your nerves. You were precious to him. You used to visit him almost every day, cook for him, play games with him, listen to even the most absurd things he told you, and scold him while taking care of him. Even though you weren’t his completely , your old life was perfect for Idia. However, you tried to leave him. He prepared those documents against you with the others in order to hold on to that life, even though he didn’t want it. Then you ran away…

Idia sighed. You two couldn’t be completely the same anymore, but you would have plenty of time to fix everything after he took you back.

“By the way, how did you escape from Octavinelle? I couldn’t find the camera footage. Azul swore that he caught you.”

Wait a minute. Didn’t they know that Sam helped you that day? You didn’t answer.

“Whatever Ack-“

Idia’s voice suddenly stopped. After a minute of silence a voice came.

“Ignihyde has withdrawn.”

The voice was familiar. Crewel Sensei!

“You will regain control now.”

The voice stopped before you could respond. You had regained control.

The former executive left the building after destroying all evidence of his involvement. Then dialed that number.

“I did as you said. You better keep your promise.”

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #yandere idia shroud #yandere idia x reader #idia shroud #twisted wonderland idia #twst #twisted wonderland mafia au

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monster-disaster · 2 days ago

Note

A) have access to a facility with an unlimited budget and staffed with the most highly trained scientists, geneticists, surgeons, and wizards ( yes wizards as this is a theoretical fantasy) that can change or augment your body in any way you can imagine.( Temporarily or permanently)

B) the same type of facility similarly staffed and equipped, but they can engineer or clone any type of being(s) or creatures(s) you can imagine with the mental instincts to fulfill your deepest desires.

lizardman!Rask x human!Reader Warning: tease but no smut

A/N: My answer is B) and I will bring the smutty second part tomorrow under your other request. :)

"I… I did something." Rask’s voice is uncharacteristically quiet in the stillness of your office.

The lizardman stands awkwardly just inside the door, his hulking frame still wrapped in a lab coat. Underneath, his crispy white shirt is buttoned all the way up to his thick neck.

"What did you do?" you ask him, eyes scanning his meek posture; hunched shoulders, head tilted downward, his yellow eyes avoiding yours as they stare at the hard metal floor.

Rask hesitates, his claws fidgeting with the edges of his coat. "I… I tried the cloning machine."

Your brow furrows further. "So?" you ask, trying to make sense of his guilt. "We use it all the time."

"No." He shakes his head sharply, his yellow eyes flicking up for the briefest of moments before dropping again. "I mean, yes, but… I used it on myself."

Your eyes widen in disbelief. "What?" You lean forward in your chair, hoping that you misheard him, but the way Rask shrinks further into himself confirms your fears.

"But why?"

"I was curious," he admits, wincing at his own flimsy excuse.

"Rask," you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose between your fingers.

"I know," he says quickly. "I was stupid. I shouldn’t have-"

"Where is your… clone now?" you interrupt. His tail flicks behind him at the sharp edge of your voice.

"In one of the cells," the male replies. "I didn’t know what to do with him."

"You should have thought of that before you tried something so reckless. We work by strict protocols, Rask. How am I supposed to explain to the board that one of my employees used himself as a test subject?"

"I’m sorry."

You let out a long breath, forcing yourself to stay calm. What’s done is done. You can’t undo his actions, and while his apology won’t fix the situation, there’s no point in berating him further. You’ve worked in this facility long enough to know that curiosity often walks hand in hand with chaos. Scientists push boundaries, sometimes too far. It’s the nature of this place.

You stand, closing your laptop with a click. "Go home, Rask. And I want a detailed report about your… experience on my desk first thing tomorrow."

His head snaps up, yellow eyes wide with worry. "Will you fire me?"

Shaking your head, you reply; "No, Rask. You’re a good worker, and you’ve proven yourself time and again. But this... this can’t happen again. I’ll figure something out."

Relief flickers across his face, though his tail continues to swish nervously behind him. "Thank you, boss."

You walk him out of your office, closing the door behind you. "Come to my office first thing tomorrow morning. And make sure that report is ready."

"Yes, boss," Rask repeats, nodding earnestly.

As you watch him walk away, his shoulders still hunched, you can’t help but shake your head. This job was never going to be easy, not with the kinds of minds you worked with, and now, you had Rask's clone to deal with.

The building is almost empty. Most of the staff have already clocked out, leaving only the guards for the night. The long corridors stretch before you, their silence broken only by the soft scrape of your shoes against the floor. Above you, dimmed fluorescent lights flicker occasionally, following you up to the upper floor, where long rows of cells stretch out before you. From behind the thick metal doors, you can hear the creatures stirring. Some shuffle restlessly, the faint sound of claws scraping against walls or floors reaching your ears. Their growls and snarls are low and guttural, but muffled by the walls of the cells. You catch glimpses of them through the small, reinforced windows set into the doors, sharp eyes watching, shapes shifting in the shadows.

The cell of Rask’s clone lies at the very end of the long, dimly lit row. Through the narrow window, a pair of sharp yellow eyes meet yours, the slit pupils unblinking and focused. He doesn’t move as you stop in front of his door. His posture is unnervingly still, almost statuesque, and for a moment, you’re frozen, unsure of what to do next. What Rask did was reckless, a line no one had seriously thought to cross. And now, you’re face-to-face with the fallout; a creature that is, in every way, Rask and yet undeniably someone else.

How are you supposed to handle this? How can you possibly sweep something like this under the rug?

Damn it, Rask.

You exhale slowly as you reach for the security pad beside the door. Your fingers hover over the screen for a moment before you punch in the code. The soft beeps echo faintly down the hall, followed by a sharp hiss as the door unlocks. Your hand lingers on the handle, your grip tightening as hesitation creeps in. This isn’t a decision you should take lightly. You know better than to step into a confined space with an unknown entity, especially one born of such uncharted science, but as your mind races with all the ways this could go wrong, you push the door open and step inside.

He’s still watching you, his body eerily motionless save for the slow, deliberate rise and fall of his chest. His yellow eyes track your every move as you carefully step further inside while the door seals shut with another hiss.

Every thought you had about safety, protocol, and caution evaporates as you take in the figure before you. He is Rask, but he isn’t. The shade of his scales is identical, a familiar blend of muted greens, catching the dim light in the same way you’ve seen a hundred times before. His broad shoulders, the line of his jaw, even the way his tail hangs behind him. It’s all unmistakably Rask. And yet, there’s something else. Something off. It’s not just the uncanny stillness or the way his eyes seem to pierce through you. It’s something deeper, something that sets your instincts on edge.

And he is naked.

Your gaze flickers downward before you can stop yourself. His lean, muscular form is undeniably Rask’s, only now seen in a way you never have before. Every ridge, every scale, every taut line of his body is familiar, yet it feels foreign. That dissonance gnaws at the edges of your thoughts as you force your eyes upward, meeting his sharp yellow gaze again. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t shift to cover himself, and shows no sign of embarrassment or awareness of his nudity. Instead, he simply stands there, watching you with an intensity that feels almost predatory.

"Do you understand me?" Your voice comes out steady despite the unease coiling in your stomach.

For a long moment, the clone says nothing. His eyes remain locked on yours, unblinking, unyielding. Then, slowly, he tilts his head. "Yes," he finally replies, carrying the same cadence as Rask’s but with a subtle, unnerving edge.

You nod, a small motion that feels heavier than it should. "Good." You lick your lips, suddenly aware of how dry they’ve become. "Do you know why you are here?"

His gaze slides over you, unhurried and deliberate, lingering in places it shouldn’t. It sends a ripple down your spine.

"Yes," he says again, his tone measured.

You exhale, nodding as though to convince yourself that things are still under control.

Cloning is still new and its outcomes are unpredictable. It’s why the facility operates in secrecy, why every precaution is taken to avoid the public eye. Clones may appear identical to their originals, but there are always differences. Some emerge feral, untamed and violent, while others manifest traits that were either latent or entirely unexpected in their originators.

But Rask’s clone…

At least he seems to understand you. His speech is coherent, his demeanor calm, calmer than you anticipated, given the circumstances. Yet that knowledge brings you no comfort, only questions.

What are you supposed to do with him? What can you do?

"Are you here to mate?"

The sudden question shatters the momentary silence, making your breath hitch and your eyes widen. You snap out of your thoughts, staring at the lizardman who stands barely a few inches taller than you.

"What?" The word escapes your lips in a rush, half disbelief, half reflex.

"I can feel your desire."

Your mouth opens, but words fail you for a moment. "No, I-" Whatever you wanted to say dies on your tongue when your gaze falters, and you see it: his hard cock emerging from its sheath. Heat blooms beneath your skin as you force yourself to look away.

"Do you want my original?" he asks with a slight tilt of his head.

"No," you snap as if it could get back the control into your hands.

The slits of his pupils narrow as he studies you, his unblinking gaze like a predator locking onto its prey. "You are lying," he says with unnerving certainty. "You find him attractive… and you find me attractive too."

Your breath catches in your throat, and by the time you force yourself to exhale, he’s already in front of you. You didn’t even register the space between you closing, but now his presence looms, overwhelming and steady. The scales of his chest glint faintly under the dim light. His scent, metal and earth, curls around your senses, making it impossible to focus.

"I’m not lying," you manage, though your voice is quieter than you intended.

"You feel one thing… and say another."

You step back instinctively, but your back hits the cool wall of the cell.

"You can’t hide from me," he says, his breath warm as it brushes against your skin. "I can feel it."

"We have more important matters than-" You try to deflect, the words tumbling hastily from your lips, but before you can finish, they falter into a sharp inhale. His head dips, and you feel him at the crook of your neck. The heat of his proximity is dizzying, but it’s the sudden, wet flick of his tongue against your pulse that sends a shiver rippling through your entire body. You gasp, your breath catching as the sensation floods your senses. His tongue glides over the sensitive skin, deliberate and unhurried, as if he’s savoring every beat of your racing heart.

"You’re thrumming," he murmurs against your neck.

"You need to stop," you whisper.

"Do I?" he asks, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. His gaze is intense and unwavering. "Or is that another lie?"

The question hangs in the air, heavy and challenging, as you struggle to steady your breath.

There’s a choice to make, and despite how obvious it seems, the words refuse to form. Your lips part, but nothing comes out.

You shouldn’t.

He is a clone. A being created from the mind and body of someone you trust. Someone you work with. Someone you’d even call a friend. But he’s not Rask. Not entirely. Yet, he looks like him, every detail painstakingly identical. The same sharp yellow eyes, the same strong jawline, the same deep voice that carries a hint of warmth and familiarity. But this clone is different. Where Rask is often a whirlwind of restless energy, his thoughts spilling out in frantic tangents, this version is steady. Calculating. Confident.

"Another lie." Your voice is barely louder than a whisper, yet it cuts through the charged air between you.

You can’t deny it. The ache and curiosity you feel are too overwhelming, too raw to deny.

A slow, confident smile curls on the corner of his lips, one you could never see on Rask's face. And his hand settles on your hips like Rask's never would. You can feel his claw grazing over your skin where your shirt has ridden up.

"You don’t need to fight it," he says. "I'm here to fulfill your desires." His breath brushes against the sensitive skin of your neck. It’s warm, teasing, and far too intimate.

The heat of his body radiates against yours, and before you can react, his thigh presses firmly between your legs. The hard curve of his muscle nudges you through the thick fabric of your jeans just enough to make your breath catch. He moves slowly. He doesn’t rush. Every shift of his body, every subtle press of his touch is deliberate as if he’s testing you, learning you. His sharp pupils narrow, catching every flicker of your reaction, and a self-assured smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

"I’m not him, but I can give you what you’ve been denying yourself." The words cut through your hesitation, leaving you exposed in a way you weren’t prepared for. Your hands press against the cool wall behind you as if it could somehow anchor you, but his presence is everywhere, drawing you in despite yourself.

"I can give you what my original can't."

The words are bold, unapologetic, and hit far too close to home.

How does he know? You are sure Rask doesn’t. You’ve never said anything, never let even a hint slip about your silly little crush or the urge to climb him every time he rambles on about something you don't even understand.

"N-not here," you stammer, your voice trembling as the burn in your core spreads, impossible to ignore.

His movements stop, and you catch the faintest twitch of his lips. He is trying not to smile, but his smug satisfaction is undeniable.

"Will you take me out of here?"

It’s a crazy idea.

It’s reckless, absurd, dangerous.

You shouldn’t.

"Yes."

#monster romance #monster x human #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #teratophillia #monster fucker #terat0philliac #sweet asks #lizardman x reader #lizardman x human #monster love #monster kink #terato #monsterfucker

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bedurder · 1 day ago

Note

I want to start by apologizing for asking the question in the first place. It was done impulsively and I didn't properly think it through and realize the implications. I shouldn't have asked and I am sorry. However, I am not a Nazi, and I despise their ideology with my whole heart. I am also not a Prussian German Nationalist but that is closer to the reason for my profile picture. When I was 15 I was a Kaiserboo, and I chose that picture for my discord profile because I was somewhat obsessed with the imperial German aesthetic. I luckily grew out of that phase, recognizing it for the idiocy it was, but I kept the profile picture because I don't like change and I didn't have another in mind. I eventually began to use it for all of my accounts because I had simply gotten used to it being my profile picture and I didn't even think of what it actually was anymore. I was also not aware that it had been co opted and used by the Nazis. Now that I know that I will be changing it once I can think of something else to use (any suggestions?). I once again wish to sincerely apologize for all of this. I am not very good at social interaction and didn't realize how tone deaf and ignorant the question was, I am sorry.

Is there any way to become Jewish without either adopting the Jewish faith or being born Jewish? I ask because I have always had a fascination and love of Jewish culture, history, and theology but I wasn't lucky enough to be born into a Jewish family. Conversion isn't an option because I am not able to believe in something without proof, so at best I would just be faking belief in G-d and that feels like it would be a pretty messed up thing to do. So is there any way to join this wonderful community that I am missing? Thanks in advance! Sorry if this is a weird question.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 day ago

Text

Little Miss Sunshine 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Nick Fowler

This AU is called Watcher Anonymous and will include different series for different characters. This is our introduction to Nick and Cloudy.

Summary: a bored man needs a new light in his life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Nick has a lot of habits. Some would call it a routine. His work is often unpredictable so his personal life needs to be tightly curated.

His new habit is her. He knows he shouldn't. That he's abusing his security clearance and his professional access. He knows that he is in dangerous territory but he's always thrived there.

Unusual territory for sure. He's a bit too old to be in the campus cafe but one might assume he's faculty, not pupil. He imagines that line of work might be boring. Safer, sure, but he's not sure he could bear the monotony.

She's at the corner table with her small tea. The cheapest thing on the menu. She counted out nickels just to purchase it then got a dirty look from the barista for having to pour hot water without a tip.

She pores over a textbook as she nurses the brew. She's oblivious to everything else going on. To him. It might be why she finds herself in such a downtrodden state much of the time.

Her phone lights up. She looks at it and frowns. She shakes her head and goes back to reading. She makes notes in her notebook, roll her hand to stretch her wrist as her fingers cramp. He can't say she doesn't try.

Her cell buzzes again and she blows through her lips and pops her head up. She swipes it up and reads the screen. Her face falls. He subtly slides his own phone from his pocket. He can see her messages on his screen. An old work trick.

'Call me. Now.'

It's from Jackie, her aunt. From his observation, he knows that's her aunt. She lives in her spare room so she can afford her classes. They don't have a very good relationship.

She closes up her books and slides them into her knapsack. She drapes it over her shoulder and her jacket over her forearm as she gets up. She knocks the table and sends the dregs of her tea all over the floor, spilling some down her jeans. She hangs her head and cleans it up. She wads up napkins as she only manages to spread it around. She gives up and apologises to the disproving employee behind the counter before fleeing.

He takes out an earbud and puts it in. She hurries out, a dot on his screen, and he flips through his apps. His Bluetooth picks up her call as her aunt picks up.

"I've been calling," the woman chides.

"I know. Sorry, I'm studying--"

"You have lots of time to study. And to find a new place."

"What?" She blurts out.

"Eh, well, your cousin needs to move back--"

"But-- but I've been paying you--"

"It barely covers the light bill," her aunt snips.

"But I buy my own food and--"

"It's too bad. What am I supposed to do, put my own child out on the street?" She huffs.

"When--"

"This week. You need to start packing."

"This week? How am I supposed to--"

"You're an adult," she derides. "You are just like your mother. I knew this was going to be a problem."

The line clicks. The call's over. Nick sneers and snags someone's gaze. They shy away as they mistake his spite as being aimed at them. He gets up and goes back to the map.

Her mother isn't any better. He's seen their messages. She's on pills even though she denies it. She burned bridges with the rest of the family. Her sister has every right to be upset. He went through months of messages. Still, the sins of the mother don't belong to the daughter. He's no stranger to cruelty, not in his line of work, but he doesn't see how anyone could be mean to her.

This is a problem. Not just for her. He can't just watch her be tossed out and yet, how can unveil himself without giving away the game? Watching is what he does.

He hears her crying before he sees her. She's at the bottom of some stairs, hiding as she mops her face. She doesn't hear him. He doesn't want her too. He needs to figure out how to finagle this. Maybe a fake ad? An email? Campus services always sends out housing stuff... He'll figure it out.

Her shoulders shake as she sobs. His chest pangs. She looks so frail down there. She leans into the wall and hugs her bag. Nothing else has gone right for her but maybe he can be the one thing that does.

Shit. Now his phone is going. He quickly retreats before the vibration can give him away. He pushes through a door and eases it shut behind him. He answers.

"Fowler?" The voice on the other end greets. He furrows his brows. Strange, he hasn't heard from Jensen in years. Not since they worked together.

"Jensen, long time."

"Sure has been," the other man agrees. "I... I have a favour to ask you."

"Really?" Nick taps his chin as his brain sparks. Jensen has a talent for tech and he's clever to boot. "Just so happens, I have one too."

#series #au #drabble #the 355 #nick fowler #dark nick fowler #dark!nick fowler #nick fowler x reader #little miss sunshine #watchers anonymous

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charliedawn · 3 days ago

Note

knocking on your door at three am in the rain

Charlie, dearest, I am… so sorry to bother you so soon and so close to the date… but may I perhaps inquire about a Valentine’s Day with the Hannibal’s? Please? Please?? Pleaseeeeeee????? They deserve something nice today :)

Valentine’s Day with the Hannibal Family

The morning at the Hannibal estate began as it always did—refined, quiet, and steeped in an air of sophistication. But today, a subtle shift had taken place. There was a box of chocolate waiting to be unwrapped on the side of the table. A vase of crimson roses sat at the center of said dining table, a rare acknowledgment of the holiday that none of them usually bothered to celebrate.

You, however, were determined to bring a little more heart into the occasion.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my terrifying murder family,” you announced as you walked into the room, arms full of small, individually wrapped gifts.

Peter’s face lit up immediately. “Wait, we’re doing Valentine’s ?”

Kevin smirked. “Apparently.”

Hannibal Sr. raised a brow, a knowing glint in his eyes. “I suspect you had something to do with this.”

You grinned, placing a package in front of each of them. “Of course. What, you thought I’d ignore the perfect excuse to force you all into a unwanted display of affection ?”

Morgan picked up his gift, eyeing it suspiciously. “What is it ?”

“Open it and see,” you replied confidently, plopping down in your seat with a self-satisfied grin.

One by one, they unwrapped their gifts. Peter gasped audibly as he pulled out a hand-knit scarf in deep forest green. “You made this ?”

You nodded proudly. “I did. Thought you could use something warm.”

He brought it to his face and took a long inhale. “I love it…Thank you so much.”

You smiled.

Okay. Hannibal 1 is happy with his gift.

Kevin tore his open too, revealing a T-shirt that read Trust me, I’m an artist in bold letters. He burst out laughing. “I’m wearing this immediately.”

He ran upstairs to change.

Morgan, ever the skeptic, unwrapped a sleek, elegant pen—one you had painstakingly researched, knowing he would appreciate quality over sentiment. He turned it in his fingers, nodding in approval. “Not bad.”

Hannibal Jr. lifted the lid off his box to find a carefully curated collection of rare teas. He let out a soft hum of approval. “You do pay attention. Merci, mon/ma cher/chère.”

You smiled as he called you dear in French and nodded. Fancy…Seems like he also liked his gift. Good job you.

“And for you, sir,” you said, sliding the last box toward Hannibal Sr., “a new set of antique wine glasses. Because, frankly, I fear for my life every time you handle the old ones.”

A low chuckle escaped him, and he lifted his glass of morning coffee in a mock toast. “A thoughtful gesture. I’ll be sure to use them wisely.”

After breakfast, Peter surprised everyone by shyly pushing a box of chocolates toward you. “I, uh, actually got you something too. Since you’re always making things for us.”

Your heart warmed as you took it, grinning. “Peter, that’s adorable. You’re my favorite today.”

Kevin snorted. “Wow, no hesitation.”

“Sorry, I play favorites on Valentine’s,” you teased.

“Then I suppose I’ll have to bribe my way into first place,” Hannibal Jr. mused. He reached into his coat pocket and handed you a small, wrapped package. Inside was a beautifully intricate bookmark, its design reminiscent of old-world craftsmanship.

You blinked, touched. “This is gorgeous.”

“I know you read more than you sleep,” he said, taking a sip of his tea. “It seemed appropriate.”

Morgan rolled his eyes but handed you something as well—a first edition of a book you had casually mentioned months ago.

“Wait,” you whispered, flipping it open in disbelief. “This is impossible to find.”

Morgan smirked. “Not for me.”

You opened your mouth to respond, only to be interrupted by Kevin shoving something into your hands. It was a mixtape.

“A mixtape ?” you asked, amused.

He shrugged and pretended to be nonchalant about it. “Figured I’d introduce you to good music.”

“I will treasure it forever,” you declared dramatically and chuckled before putting all of them in a bag.

Then, finally, you turned to Hannibal Sr., raising a brow. “And what about you ? Do I get the Valentine treatment or…?”

He studied you for a moment, then reached into his pocket and placed a small, silver key in your palm.

You frowned. “What’s this ?”

“The key to the library,” he said smoothly. “You now have unrestricted access.”

Your eyes widened. “You never let anyone in there unsupervised—maybe Morgan sometimes but...”

“A rare exception,” he admitted, amusement flickering in his gaze. “One you have earned.”

For once, you were speechless.

Peter clapped his hands together. “Well, this was unexpectedly wholesome.”

You beamed at all of them, your heart warm. “Happy Valentine’s Day, you terrifying, ridiculous, wonderful people.”

Kevin smirked. “We should do this every year.”

Hannibal Sr. merely raised his glass again. “Perhaps.”

But the rare, almost fond expressions on all their faces told you everything you needed to know.

Message from Author:

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #slashers #hannibal x reader #hannibal family #hannibals #hannibal lecter #morgan hannibal #kevin hannibal #peter hannibal

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joelmillerpascal · 2 days ago

Text

Your Valentine 💝

summary: Pedro has been acting strange, but he gives you a surprise for Valentines Day which leads you to spend the night at his apartment.

P.S. I am no good at summaries.

warnings: Pedro acts strange, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), (innocence kink, pet names, fluff.

WC: 2301

February 2024

You and Pedro have been seeing each other for about 6 months now. The both of you have been keeping it a secret because of his publicity and because you are simply new to the life Pedro lives, not even your family know about him but you aren't not going to tell your sister because she is a huge Pedro fan. He has shown you enough love and affection to prove your relationship is not ending any time soon. You're both really happy with each other.

Pedro has been spending nearly every night at your place. You haven't been inside his place yet. He says it's because he's having new stuff done to the apartment, new renovating, but the way he's been acting lately, I don't know what's up with him.

♡♡♡

Tuesday 13th February

You were walking the streets of New York, taking in the loving air that just brings a smile to my face every time I step out the door. You were on your way to the grocery store because you only have little bits in the cupboards and fridge. You stepped in, and the smell of fresh meat and vegetables caught through your nose. You smiled wider, and you continued walking down one of the vegetables sections when you got a text from Pedro

Pedro

Hey baby, don't make any plans for tomorrow night. I have something planned for us

You

What are you up to now, babe?

Pedro

Nothing, just don't make any plans for tomorrow, okay? I love you

You

Okay, I'm trusting you with whatever you have planned in the adorable brain of you. I love you too

You put your phone back in your handbag to continue your shopping. Your brain kept on guessing what the hell was going on with him. He's been acting strange for a couple of weeks now, and it's starting to freak me out.

After you get home, you pack away the groceries, and you go over to relax on the couch. You turn on the TV flicking to any random channel. You end up falling asleep for the next few hours. You are woken up by your phone ringing, you go to check, and it is your sister Mandy,

"Hey, big sis, are you doing anything right now?" She asks

"No, not right now, you just kinda woke me up from my nap," you say, yawning

"I'm sorry, but I need you right now. I just broke up with my boyfriend"

"Are you kidding me a day before Valentines Day?" You say angrily

"Yes, he say said he doesn't love me anymore, and his words were 'What's the point celebrating V-Day if I'm with someone I don't love'. Please, I need you, sister. I have nowhere else to go." She says sobbing

"Well, I guess you can stay with me," you say with a calm sigh

"Thank you so much, sis. I will see you soon" she says before she hung up the phone.

A couple of hours later, your sister Mandy shows up with a two big bag, you let her in she's sobbing telling you everything about how she thought they were happy and then he turns everything upside down. You were about to say something back to her when you heard a knock on the door. You tell your Mandy to wait while you go to answer the door. You open the door to find Pedro stood there, you shout to your sister that you will be right back

"Hey baby, are you okay?" He asked, giving you a kiss

"Hey, and yeah, I'm fine. I'm just right nows not a good time." You say hugging him

"Why, what's wrong?" He asks

"I have my sister inside, and she just broke up with her boyfriend, a day before Valentines. Seriously, can you believe that?"

"Oh my god, that's the worst time to break up with somebody. How is she now?"

"She's okay, I had her crying on my shoulder for the past hour. But seriously, Pedro, I'd let you in, but she's kind of a huge fan of yours, and she's doing know about us, you know"

"How's about this, I come in and say hi, if like you said, she's a big fan, and it will probably put a smile on her face," he says, smiling.

You think for a second because you don't want your sister bugging him with question and being all over him. After a few minutes, you hold your one finger up to say 'give me a moment' before walking back into the living space. Your sister looks about you weird while drying her eyes

"Mandy, I have somebody for you to meet. But you got to promise not to freak out, okay? "

"Okay" she says rubbing her face

"Okay, wait here"

You walk back out the door, grab pedro's hand, and walk him inside. You don't know how your sister will react. You've never seen her crazy for someone she's a fan of. You both walk into the living space

"Mandy, I would like you to meet my boyfriend," you say. Her eyes flick to Pedro's, and she instantly recognises him

"Oh my God!, is this a joke? He's really your boyfriend, " she says, excitingly, like all her troubles have disappeared

"It's nice to meet you, Mandy." Pedro says to her, holding out his hand. Instead of shaking his hand, she instantly goes in for a hug, hugging him tightly as tears appear in her eyes again, but this time, happy tears. When she lets go, she instantly apologizes for it

"I'm so sorry for hugging you, I mean, you are the Pedro Pascal," she says, sniffling, trying to try her eyes

"No apology needed, your sister told me you're a big fan and that you were going through a tough time, and I just wanted to say hi and see how you were doing," he says rubbing her arm

"This is the best day of my life. Seriously, I loved you in Game Of Thrones, Narcos, The Last Of Us, and damn many more stuff, " she says, smiling

"I appreciate it, Mandy, I hope you're ready for the second season of The Last Of Us in April," he chuckled

"Totally," she says

After talking for hours, Pedro says he's got to go because of an early start tomorrow because of rehearing for SNL, he tell you he loves you and he will see you tomorrow night

♡♡♡

Valentines Day / evening

Pedro invited you and your sister to the 50th SNL homecoming as well as his sister Javiera.

The four of you walk to the homecoming concert, pedro wants the Valentines Day party to be the best thing of your life and it definitely will.

You and Pedro walk hand in hand to find your spot before the show starts, he wraps his arm around your shoulders and kiss the top of your head, your sister Mandy is next to Javiera. You all wait for the show to start

"Sorry it's no romantic dinner but I thought this would be better" he whispered in your ear

"It's still romantic because I'm with you" you say kissing his cheek

"And I also thought tonight would be the best night to reveal our relationship" he kisses you back "because at some point tonight one of the cameras will be showing us on that screen over there" he pointed to the screen off the side of the big space in SNL

"Oh my god I hate looking at my self"

"Why your too gorgeous not to look at yourself" he wraps his arms around your waist resting his chin on your shoulder

"No I just hate looking at myself" you say hiding your face

"From my view your beautiful baby"

In the middle of the show where you could see Miley Cyrus started to sing Crazy Little Thing Called Love, you and Pedro started dancing, swaying he had his hands on your hips, gripping you as he brushed against you. Pedro started to sing the lyrics in your ear just as a camera got a few seconds shot of you both

"Smile for camera mi amor" his hand comes to your cheek as he kisses you on the lips "just that shot everyone knows I'm yours now. Happy Valentines day baby"

The show was just finishing as you and Pedro hug. You both were heading out to walk back home, Javiera went her own way so Mandy walked back with us

"Come back to my place with me babe, still need to finish the night with just the two of us" he says in your ear

"Okay I'd love to finally see your place" you say kissing his lips "Mandy are you okay to stay at my place on your own?"

"Of course I've already ruined your Valentines enough by not letting you both be my yourselfs" she says hugging you

"You haven't ruined anything Mandy, your going through something rough so I wanted to make sure your valentines day was good too" he says hugging her. He gave her a peck on the cheek

"Thank you so much Pedro" she says

"You're welcome cariño"

♡♡♡

You both walk into the apartment you walk around admiring the kitchen to the living space it was beautiful. You sat down on his couch as he got two glasses and a bottle of wine, he poured you a glass and then himself one

"Happy Valentines Day mi amor" you both clinked your glasses together "I love you"

"I love you too Babe" you both finished your glasses. You both stare at each other smiling

"I think we should take ourselves to my bedroom because I want to rip this dress off your body, I want to give you a Valentine fuck" he says rubbing your thighs

"Oh I don't know about that one papi, if your bed is comfortable I might be asleep in seconds" you say moving to sit in his lap

"I'll make sure your on top then" he picks you up, both start kissing all the way to his bedroom, he sits you on the bed as he started to unbutton his shirt, you start with his belt, unbuckling it

"God your still pretty as ever" you say to his cock before you kiss the tip, and then flicking your tongue on the tip

"Oh my god baby you know it makes me want to cum hard if you do that to the tip" he says in moan. You pull away take off your dress, he places you in the middle of the bed

As you laid there nearly falling asleep you soon shot back up when you felt Pedro shove two fingers deep inside your pussy, his thumb rubbing your clit. He was grinning as he came up to kiss you

"I'm just preparing you baby. Cum on my fingers come on" he fingers picking up the pace curling inside you. You arch your back, scrunching your face

"Oh god P-pedro, just give me your cock already" you moan

" I want you to cum on my fingers first cariño. You cum and I'll fuck you deep. Deal" he says resting his forehead against yours "such a pretty, aweet pussy"

After ten minutes you cum on his fingers screaming his name. He takes his fingers out and puts then in his mouth

"Fuck, you taste so beautiful" he says

"Can I have your cock now?" He nods as he placed himself inside of you "fuck me daddy"

"Come on hermosa"

He started pounding into you, slamming his hips, the sound of skins slapping and panting it was getting too much, to Pedro he could go for hours.

After what felt like hours Pedro could feel you tightening, squeezing around him "babe I'm gonna cum!"

"Come on, baby cum on me. After you can milk me dry" he started rubbing your clit with his thumb after 5 minutes you come on his cock

"Holy shit. God I love you" you moaned

"Yo también te amo bebé. ahora es mi turno" ( I love you too baby. now it's my turn )

"Come on daddy, cum in me. Fill me up nice and deep" you grab his face to kiss him deeply, sucking the air from his mouth

"Baby I'm gonna...hmm I'm gonna cum." You moved your hands down his body, squeezing his ass, pressing him deeper inside you.

After a few minutes he came deep inside of you pressing deeper, "baby I will you move in with me?"

"Pedro do you even know what your saying, your all cummed out, your not thinking"

"You heard me loud and clear baby I want you to move in, I want to wake up next to you for the rest of my life"

"Okay" you say

"You will?" His eyes wide you nodded

"Of course I will papi"

He pulled his soft cock out

"Happy Valentines Day baby. I love you"

"I love you too babe"

You both lay there in bed staring at each other, Pedro's phone started ding every 5 minutes, he gets his phone and looks at all his fans tagging Pedro in post's "See we are officially out there baby."

Pedro fell asleep with you in his arms and in his bed, or should you say both of your bed now.

(This fic was a last-minute idea to write, I know V-Day has gone now, but here's the fic anyways)

#pedropascal #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedrohub #pedro pascal fanfic #valentines day

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