#i don't remember were got some of the wording

[curiousorigins]

As someone who had Chronic Pain for the first like 25ish years of my life... Abled people literally do not understand the concept of a pain that never goes away.

They literally can't.

It's impossible. It even felt impossible for me because my pain was so early and so consistent that my brain literally just ignored it until one day I was doing physical therapy for a different injury... and it was just gone.

I felt it's absence and I felt the best I've felt in 20+ years.

I hadn't had a particularly good meal that day. Still had my stomach issues. Slept badly. My back hurt. Probably dehydrated. Definitely had tooth pain. But that was literally the best I can in memory, had ever felt.

The closest experience I can describe to it, is when you've got an abscessed tooth and they relieve the pressure and the pain is just gone and it's wonderful.

If there is no absence of pain... there is no relief. You can't just sleep in and feel better. You can't just drink water and feel better or get a new pillow etc. That's just your new default.

Now as someone who had previously considered myself abled who now has had an official disabled tag on me and all that... (I for the most part lucked out with a temporary disability. But know that plenty disabilities are chronic, permanent or get worse the longer you go.) I felt I was educated that I was an advocate but absolutely nothing prepared me for my body failing me so consistently. I listened to disabled folks and tried to amplify their voices.

I 100% was the person to go to bat for people who were in pain on my team. The problem is that for many people, pain is temporary. With rest, it goes away. With healing it gets better.

Most of those folks are sadly not educated. And conceptually it's a hard concept to work on despite all the empathy in the word.

The bigger the chain, the less likely that the person making the schedule can just hire another person and of course we all know companies have been understaffing on purpose for decades. This is definitely a Worker Rights issues. We've got a toxic working environment almost everywhere and the majority of the Working Class that's still working literally does not remember it being any better. You absolutely deserved better. And You definitely could use the support of an Advocate. I got in multiple fights on the behalf of co-workers all the time for these kind of issues. And when I was temporarily injured on the job, I had co-workers who fought for me too. The problem is people don't understand that we must stand together for this. For the abled folks, this is a temporary problem... just like their managers have been telling them understaffing is a temporary problem.

Look at your disabled co-workers folks and realize... one day that's going to be you. We literally all will at some point most likely be classed as disabled in some way. Sometimes permanently and sometimes not.

What you stand for TODAY is what might be left for you when it's your turn. Your managers/middle manager answer to a higher power then you and that is the greed of a very rich guy who literally sees you all as EXPENSES not VALUE.

DO NOT sacrifice YOURSELF on the Alter to Someone else's greed.

I understand the job market is tough and there are crappy work places that reveal themselves as crappy slowly. But YOU help create the CULTURE at WORK. ANYTIME I overheard management complain about such and such an employees issue with scheduling or with their ability. I ALWAYS spoke up.

I mentioned what a hard worker they were. How we'd been short on people for a long time. How we all deserved to be staffed enough that every one of us should be able to leave for 2 weeks and not have the store fall apart. I made people team lift. Reminded them that Corporate could not give them a new spine.

I trained most folks to speak up. And the more I did it, the more of use who would speak up.

And United We Bargain Divided We Beg.

The primary thing a manager is supposed to do is keep us compliant enough to work. Disgruntled rumblings are powerful when echoed.

Speak Up. Speak Up about TEMPORARY PAIN caused by WORK. TEMPORARY PAIN becomes PERMANENT PAIN if allowed to CONTINUE. PAIN is your body's FIRST attempt to get YOU to STOP doing something THAT IS HARMING YOU.

They decided that our anti-fatigue mats were a hazard. (It was actually the fact that our Stockroom was too small for the Stock they sent us and our Staff couldn't clear it with no space to work.) And tried to remove them. Every one of us had our shoes wear sooner and we all had greater back pain. I made sure to voice how weird it is that I hurt more now that we didn't have those mats. Sometimes I'd even sit down when we were unloading the truck to give my back a rest. I'd tell my other co-workers to do as well.

If a manager had the power to bring them back came in when I was sitting... I'd interrupt their telling me off for sitting that I literally hurt and what the cause was. That I'd probably be going to the doctor soon.

(Be sure to document your work pain by texting (not work but also work) other people about it. About how you hurt because blah blah at work. You might need it to prove that they should be paying to fix you if you ever need doctoring or disability pay.)

We got the mats back.

I would like to see more people talk about how jobs treat disabled employees.

I used to prep, wash dishes, and cook at mellow mushroom. I had chronic pain that wasn't NEARLY as bad as it is today, but it was still very debilitating. I told my employer "i cannot stand more than 4 to 6 hours. I CANNOT do shifts longer than this due to my illness." And even though i made my boundaries VERY clear, everyday i worked it was 8 hours at the least and 10 or 12 at the most. I would go up to my manager and say "look i really need to leave, my shift is over, my chronic pain is killing me." And he'd say "we really need to here, you HAVE to push through." And so i did, and after one, ONE month of that job my crps got incredibly worse to the point where i could no longer walk my dog around the block which was .5 miles. I quit, and that was FOUR years ago, and ever since that day I HAVE BEEN BEDRIDDEN AND HAVE TO USE A WHEELCHAIR. It is my biggest regret in life.

My best friend who has seen my whole journey has recently developed undiagnosed chronic pain, and she is in the EXACT same scenario i was 4 years ago. Busting her ass at a pizza place with extreme pain that hurts her so much she tells me "im in so much pain i don't even feel like a person." She doesn't feel LUCID. And her manager and coworkers are saying the same thing "if you don't help us you will let us down, we'll be in the shit."

That job thats hurting you isn't fucking worth it. I promise you no money is worth losing all your physical abilities and never getting them back. Your coworkers and boss do not give a shit about you, so don't you dare suffer for them. They will never understand your struggle and they will never try. They truly think being understaffed is worse than whatever pain you experience. They would rather you permanently damage yourself than inconvenience them. FUCK THEM. DON'T FUCKING DO IT!

[writingwithciara]

family game night -quinn hughes-

summary: game night at the lake house. what could go wrong?

word count: 2.6k

pairing: quinn hughes x reader

notes: idk

game nights at the hughes' lake house were mandatory for anyone staying there. they were also known for being the most fun anybody in the group ever had.

but with the good times, come the bad ones and the awkward ones. some friendships are seriously tested when game night begins and if one of the boys brings a girlfriend to a game night, the relationship usually doesn't last much longer than the summer.

and that is why a 'no significant others allowed' rule was implemented for the summers. everyone wanted to protect their respective relationship and refused to subject their significant other to the torture that ensued.

hanging in the family room was a scoreboard that kept track of who had won the most games since the family game night started years ago. and luke hughes was tied for first place with his jack's best friend, y/n.

the youngest hughes had dreamt of claiming the crown on his own but that became impossible when he and y/n got paired together the first night. they went on to win every game that night and decided they would always partner together.

jack used to argue with it, claiming that it was against the rules to be with the same partner year after year. but seeing y/n and luke jump for joy whenever they won, meant more to him than he expected so he dropped the argument after the second year.

so when luke was unavailable for the fourth year, y/n turned to her best friend.

"please jack? you're my best friend and i can't win without you."

"don't you mean you can't win without luke?" jack smiled, knowing it would get on her nerves. but that's what they did. they bickered like brother and sister.

"he's the dumbass who went and broke his arm earlier this week so if you won't be my partner, i'm gonna lose my crown."

"well, it's about time, ain't it princess?"

"jack, i'm serious. will you please be my partner?"

"no can do, sweetheart. already promised trevor i'd play with him this year."

"but i thought this year, you were gonna partner with quinn. and if he's not your partner, then that means-"

"that he's a free agent. why don't you ask him to be your partner?"

"we never talk. i highly doubt we'd be on the same wavelength long enough to retain my crown."

"wouldn't hurt to ask. you both need a partner and you're both good at games." jack shoved some chips in his mouth and snatched the remote back that y/n had taken from him when she entered the living room.

"you were no help, jackass." y/n rolled her eyes and went upstairs to find quinn.

that was the year she and quinn won every game, causing her to take the lead over luke in most wins. she was happy with the outcome and had decided to partner with quinn the following year.

but when she arrived at the lake house for the 5th year, she was shocked to find out that quinn had brought his new girlfriend for the few weeks they'd be on vacation. and that meant that she'd be back with luke for game night. but that didn't bother her. she loved playing games with luke but she was under the impression that she and quinn had a surprisingly good amount of chemistry when it came to game night.

when jack arrived at the house, he went to quinn and started restating the rules.

"i thought we had a rule, quinn. no significant others allowed. remember?"

"i remember. but i also made the rule and therefore, am the one who can lift it. plus, our relationship is strong enough to withstand the torture of game night."

"well then if you're allowed to have your girlfriend here, then i'm going to invite mine." jack pulled out his phone and dialed his girlfriends number.

"i am too." luke did the same, leaving y/n to wonder who her new partner would be.

after everyone arrived, it was officially time to start the game night. since all the boys ended up inviting their girlfriends, y/n was forced to partner with brock. she didn't know much about him and he was fairly new to the group so she was worried about losing. but he turned out to be amazing. they ended up winning 2 of the first 3 games, basically securing her spot at the top of the leaderboard. but when quinn and jack got in an argument about whose relationship was stronger, their version of the newlywed game was announced.

"we don't have to play this, right?" y/n asked while looking up at brock.

"we don't have to. but i'm sure there's a way we could kick their asses in this game." brock smiled.

quinn went to go find the game and each couple started their own conversations.

"if we want to win, i need to know everything about you."

y/n and brock began to share as much information with each other as they could before quinn came back with the board and question cards. he quickly explained the rules and the game began.

after 12 rounds, it was shocking how far ahead y/n and brock were. for not being a couple, they somehow knew more about each other than the real couples did.

when y/n answered another question about brock right, quinn threw the cards down.

"you guys are obviously cheating. there's no way that brock could've known that your favorite meal to eat when you're upset is meatballs covered in nacho cheese with a glass of orange juice. or that you had a crush on danny phantom until you were 14. or that when you're sick, you really enjoy cuddles on the couch while watching coraline on repeat." quinn looked from y/n to his girlfriend. both girls were giving him weird looks. "what?"

"you sound jealous, quinny." his girlfriend marissa narrowed her eyes at him.

"i'm not. i just don't like losing this game. our relationship is strong enough that i don't have to prove it with this stupid game." he grabbed his drink and stood up. "come one, babe. let's go."

he and marissa walked outside while the group dispersed into their own little worlds.

"guess that means we win, huh?" brock looked at y/n as he began cleaning up the game.

"yeah. guess so." she smiled and started helping him. "thanks for helping me retain my crown."

"it was a lot of fun. maybe next year, we can be partners again."

"okay. that sounds like a good idea." y/n looked at the back door and saw quinn and marissa arguing. "so, what do you think was going on with quinn earlier?"

"i'm not sure. he's usually competitive but seeing him blow up over a game as meaningless as that one was very odd. but also kind of interesting." brock followed her gaze and only saw quinn standing outside. "i think he has a thing for you."

"no he doesn't. why would you say that?"

"the way he was upset that we were getting so many questions right."

"he would've gotten mad at anyone who was beating him."

"but he and marissa were in 5th place. he could've gotten upset with trevor, luke or cole. he didn't have to be upset with us. but he chose to get mad at you instead. plus, he rattled off those facts about you like they were common knowledge. face it. he pays attention to you, y/n."

"maybe so. but that doesn't necessarily mean he's into me."

"believe what you want." brock chuckled. "but i can tell when he's into someone."

as brock headed up the stairs & to his room, y/n went out to the back porch to talk to quinn.

"hey. you alright?"

"why brock?"

"pardon me?"

"why did you partner up with brock?"

"because all you assholes broke the 'no significant others' rule and invited your girlfriends to our game night. brock and i are the only single people in the group & game night is mandatory. i was not allowed to sit out." y/n looked at him. "although, since one rule was broken tonight, i probably could've said 'fuck it' & went out for a ride on the lake with brock instead."

"okay. that's fair, i guess." quinn sighed. "but how did he know all that stuff about you? you guys have barely ever talked before."

"i don't know. maybe he just knows things about me."

"it sounds a little creepy to me. i'm thinking you should stay away from him."

"why? he's your friend."

"yeah. but still. better safe than sorry."

"okay, you know what? no. you do not get to break a rule & then try to take over my life like this. if i want to hang with brock, i will. because it's my decision. not yours." y/n sat down in her favorite chair. "ugh. why are you being such an asshole today?"

"i'm just looking out for a friend."

"great excuse." y/n shook her head. "stop trying to run my life, quinn. i don't want you in it."

"you don't want me in your life?" he sounded shocked.

"not if you're gonna run it." y/n looked out towards the boat. "you're not gonna stop, are you?"

"no." he sighed. "i'm sorry but i just can't. not when i'm only looking out for you."

"i appreciate it, quinn. but i'm a big girl who can take care of herself. i don't need you doing it for me."

"i'm sorry."

"if you're really sorry, you'll let me have fun the rest of the time i'm here."

"okay. if you want to have fun, whether it be with brock or by yourself, i will try to stay out of your way."

"thanks, quinn." y/n got up and headed back inside. she had one goal in mind and as she ascended the stairs, quinn's words echoed in her mind. she knew getting involved with a hockey player was risky, but she liked brock. he was a good guy.

she knocked on his door lightly and waited for him to open it.

"hey. how'd it go with quinn?" brock smiled when he opened the door.

"he tried to tell me i should stay away from you. we argued for a minute but he apologized and promised to let me have fun the rest of the time i'm here."

"did you guys talk about him having feelings for you?"

"didn't come up, actually. we talked about you and why he got so upset with the game earlier."

"and what did he say to that?"

"he said he was only trying to look out for me and kind of told me i should stay away from you."

"y/n, he's got a thing for you. why else would he be getting so protective and jealous?"

"brock, i really want that to be true. i like him. i really, really do." y/n stepped into his room. "but he's got a girlfriend. one who's actually in his league. marissa is so pretty & i don't know what to do."

"talk to him like he's your best friend. talk to him as if he were jack. be honest with him."

"it's so hard to be honest with quinn. and believe me, i want to tell him how i feel. i just don't think i can anytime soon."

"you're strong and brave. i'm sure you'll figure it out."

"maybe you're right." y/n sat on the edge of the bed. "i originally came up here to tell you how much fun i had playing games with you tonight." she lied.

"i had a lot of fun too." brock smiled. "for the record, it was cute when you got excited every time we'd win."

"oh." y/n blushed. "thanks. i try."

"you and quinn really need to talk."

"yeah yeah. i know." y/n walked over to the door. "see you in the morning." she walked out slowly and stopped in front of quinn's room. "i'm an idiot. he and marissa are probably in there doing god knows what. i can't talk to him now." she sighed and went to turn away. she was only 3 steps down the hall when she heard his door open.

"y/n? what are you doing out here? and who were you just talking to?" quinn asked.

y/n faced him and walked back to him. "we need to talk."

"what is it about now?"

"before i say anything, where's marissa?"

"probably almost home by now." quinn looked at y/n. "she dumped me just after we went outside and right before you came out to talk to me."

"oh. i'm really sorry, quinn. i know you liked her."

"yeah. i think that was the problem. i liked her, but i wasn't in love with her." he smiled slightly, his gaze never leaving the ground. "kind of hard to find someone else to love these days."

"have you been in love before?"

"um, once. when i was 17." he took the opportunity to look to at her. "i didn't know it at the time though. and just when i finally figured it out, she ended up in a serious relationship."

"oh. that sucks. sorry to hear that. what's she like?"

"she is the most kind and gentle person i have ever met. she puts up with someone as crazy as my brother and she seems to truly love him. don't know if it's platonically or otherwise, but there's definitely love there."

"have you ever told her how you felt?" y/n looked at him. "what if there was a chance she felt the same way?"

"i don't see how she would. i haven't been the nicest to her lately. yet, she's still sticking around."

"does this girl happen to be best friends with jack? and is she at the house right now?"

"yeah. she is." he looked at her. "i'm sorry, y/n. i know that you figured it out. and i really am sorry. perhaps i should've told you back when i was 17."

"so, brock was right? you do have feelings for me?"

"yes. but i'm an idiot and i already know you don't have feelings for me. so, as promise, i'm going to stay out of your way while you have fun this summer. i'm sure brock could help you with that."

"i don't want to have fun with brock. i want to have fun with you, quinn."

"with me? why?"

"because....i love you too, dumbass. how can you not understand that?"

"because, as you so affectionately put it, i'm a dumbass."

"clearly." y/n smiled widely when quinn grabbed her hand. "so, are you gonna kiss me or what?"

without another exchange, quinn pressed his lips to y/n's. no hesitation and all the passion one person could give in one simple kiss.

neither of them heard the door open down the hall. but when they heard brock chuckle, they knew they had to pullaway from each other.

"about time. seriosuly, dude. how could you not know y/n was in love with you too?"

"because he's a dumbass." y/n smiled.

"yeah. but i'm your dumbass now, right?"

"absolutely. and it's going to stay that way, right?"

"oh, you bet it will." he kissed her nose, making her giggle.

"you guys are so perfect for each other, i swear." brock shook his head with a chuckle before retreating back to his room.

"so, you and me, huh? i really like the sound of that." quinn smiled. and intertwined his hand with hers.

"yeah, me too." y/n stood in the hallway admiring quinn like he was going to disappear any second.

they were oblivious to the world going on around them. but they didn't care one bit. they were finally together and that's all that mattered to either of them.

[raysrambles]

on the day the election results got announced, one of my friends wasn't at school. she was the friend that I had the most classes with, and I remember as the hours ticked by the painful knowledge that she wasn't sick, not physically, but that she just couldn't bear to be there that day.

i overheard classmates talking. "how are you?" asked one; in a broken voice, another: "I don't know".

"I'm scared," was the most common sentence I heard that day. "i can't live like this," said someone in the hallway; "we've still got each other," said another in what I desperately wanted to believe was hope.

"I prayed last night for the first time since I was five," said a friend of a friend; I looked out the classroom window at the cloudy sky and wondered if there was a god, and if he had heard them.

I watched people break down crying in the middle of class. by the end of the day, several kids had left school early.

"I need to get out of here," I said to my friends at lunch. "we're not going to make it another four years," said one of them grimly. how dystopian, how orwellian was it that a group of seventeen year olds were so casually discussing their escape from the country they had grown up in, the country that had raised them only to throw them to the dirt before they were even able to vote?

after school i drove to another school for a debate tournament. one of the judges who I hadn't seen in a year and with whom I'd only had one or two conversations came up to me and asked "how are you doing?"

"could be better," I admitted, "but I'm surviving." that was a bit of an understatement; there were tears in my eyes even as I spoke.

"I'm here," she told me, this woman who I hardly knew, and I realized that she was asking because she remembered one of our only interactions, a year ago, where I had casually mentioned being trans--

--and her gaze flitted down to my shoes, where back then I had had beads in the colors of the trans flag, beads that weren't there anymore, not because of any change in myself but that of the world around me.

"I'm here," she said again, and we stared at each other for a few seconds. I managed a "thanks", not trusting myself to say anything else.

that night I went onto Instagram. someone I hadn't spoken to since we fell out over a year ago had texted me a simple "I love you and am with you" type of message. all of my friends and even people I hardly knew were posting about the election, and I remembered

back when Biden was elected, the Republicans I saw online reacted with hatred, disgust, doubt for his abilities

but now all I saw from the ones who had lost this battle was fear

when the other side lost, they had the privilege of hatred

now that we've lost, all we can do is fear.

terrified sixteen, seventeen, eighteen year olds, in flurries of messages to long-gone friends and frantic posts. I had never felt more united, and yet I could not relish in our closeness because I knew it was not the closeness of friends but the closeness of soldiers too young for war, huddling close as their imminent death rained down from the sky, searching for some last comfort at the end of their too-short stories.

"I won't pretend this isn't as bad as it is," I typed out, "honestly I'm freaking scared. But we owe it to ourselves not to let this be the end of our beliefs.

"We still know we're right, even if the government doesn't agree. We're still all in this together.

"Love to everyone who's affected by this. I'm right here with you. Stay safe everyone."

I posted the Instagram story, praying to a god I didn't know that the words were true.

the next night when the house and senate election results came in, I cried, and it was not pretty crying, it was a child wracked with sobs in the dark on the floor of their room because they were only seventeen and terrified for their future.

I spent a long time writing that night, something I do to process my thoughts when everything is too much. I will simply offer this passage, which I think speaks for itself.

"Shall I tell them I am afraid because of the election? Shall I tell them that all day I have felt like a child masquerading as a man, scared of the boogeyman as i am scared of the fascist-like creature whose grasp is tightening and whose claws never cease, closing in on lives like a predator its prey? That I am a child scared of insignificance, of a fate I did not choose, of becoming a meaningless name among many, not of democracy falling but of not being the one who felled it?"

So to everyone celebrating the election, I'm glad that you're happy, truly I am. But I ask you to think of me and my friends, still children, most of us not quite old enough to even have our say in this country, as you laugh and rejoice and mock all of us who you defeated.

How many times must we cry, must we fall, must we watch each other die before enough will be enough?

Will it ever be enough?

[screamlet]

08x06 fix-it fic: break and be mended

not connected to that excerpt i posted before, just something completely different. 4.5k, read on the ao3

---

Another hospital room. Buck takes a deep breath and closes his eyes again, letting it out and hoping he gets back to sleep. It doesn't happen, though, because his brain catches up to his eyes:

Maddie, wearing a yellow paper hospital mask, a hand anxiously on her belly, sitting in the chair next to him with that too-familiar oh-thank-god-you're-finally-awake face… and Tommy leaning in the doorway.

He takes another deep breath and opens his eyes again.

"You're okay," Maddie says patiently, slowly, as Buck tries to slam the door shut or set the doorway on fire with his brain. "It's just the turkey flu, it hit you hard."

That breaks Buck's concentration. "Wait, is this a dream? Another coma dream? Turkey flu has to be something I made up."

Maddie raises her eyebrows and looks over her shoulder at Tommy before turning back to Buck. "Another one?"

"No, no, don't look at him," Buck interrupts. "He's not supposed to be here, not when I have turkey flu, not ever. He broke up with me, remember?"

In the doorway, Tommy shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He's wearing the dark blue LAFD t-shirt and pleated pants, a special Air Ops patch on his shirt sleeve. They always lurked under his flight suit, under his turnouts when they were on the same scene, but Buck didn't get to see them often. It was for the best, he thinks now, because the shirt fits perfectly across Tommy's chest and shoulders, the pants belted low. His shirt is tucked in better than Buck's ever is. He almost never got to see him like this so it feels like some new Tommy he's seeing, a Tommy that hangs around Harbor long enough to take off his flight suit but doesn't peel the rest of his work self off. He doesn't get off his shift, put the pilot away, shower and go home.

Buck looks away. He's looked too long.

"I'm actually here, you know." Tommy raps his knuckles on the door like that's proof of anything except a very strong poltergeist. "I can hear you."

Buck watches something that he hasn't seen in years sweep across Maddie's face (mostly her eyebrows, because of the mask).

She turns around and snaps, "I let you come within ten feet of my brother and you think bitchy fun Tommy was invited, too? He was not." Tommy looks shocked and abashed; Buck loves her so much.

"Why was he invited at all, Maddie?" Buck asks. "And you're both real, right? Like I'm not hallucinating both of you. Is that a turkey flu symptom? Can I have my phone? I need to look up turkey flu."

"It's a strain of avian flu, you just happened to get it from a turkey farm. Hen said you had a call to one of those last week," Maddie explains. "And you kept giggling when I said the words turkey flu so, you know, why not?"

"It's pretty funny," Buck admits. "Hey, why's he here?"

Maddie turns around and looks at Tommy expectantly. Buck still knows his face, still knows him, and can see the quip that wants to escape past his lips. He can see the work it takes to hold it back and look sincere, really sincere, for them.

"You collapsed at a scene and I flew you over," Tommy says. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Buck stares at him as he presses his lips into a fine line. "I'm okay. Thanks."

Tommy nods, then asks, "Can we talk? Alone?"

It's taken four months, almost as long as they were together, but Buck's finally hearing the words he's wanted to hear since Tommy walked out his door. I'm sorry, I was scared, I love you, yes let's take the next step together, from now on let's take every step together—that was Buck's first choice. Can we talk as a jumping off point for all those other things—that was Buck's second choice. Was.

Buck glances at Maddie and knows his face does something dumb. "I'll be outside," Maddie says. "And I'm not far, if you want me to throw him out." She looks over her shoulder at Tommy. "I'll do it."

Tommy nods. "Wouldn't doubt you for a second."

She squeezes Buck's hand and lingers for a beat, one long look at him like she's waiting for him to say actually, wait, don't, stay, but he doesn't. He hates that he doesn't. He hates that he wants to hear what Tommy has to say.

She and Tommy swap places; he takes the chair next to Buck's bed and she leaves, shutting the door behind her. Tommy doesn't see the way she passes by the window like a shark, watching, but Buck laughs. When Tommy looks back, she's gone.

"Your sister's changed a little," Tommy says casually. "Her sense of humor, I mean."

Buck licks his lips. "Yeah, well, when you were my boyfriend, you were her friend. Now you're neither."

"Yep, got it," Tommy says. He sits back in the chair, but looks so uncomfortable that someone would think he'd never sat in one before.

"Are you okay?" Buck asks. "Why are you here?"

"This chair is so weird."

"Tommy, what do you want to talk about?"

It startles Tommy, and it should. He only got soft and smitten, totally-in-love (even if he couldn't admit it out loud) Evan Buckley, cute and bratty Evan Buckley. He doesn't get that Evan anymore. No one has.

Tommy sits with his feet flat on the floor and his hands folded in his lap. He takes a minute, a long minute, of staring at the floor before he looks up and stares at Buck. "You asked me to move in with you."

Buck blinks. "I did."

"You asked me to move in with you."

"You said that. I mean, I said that, but you—"

"Evan," Tommy interrupts.

"I thought I was Buck now," Buck interrupts.

Bitchiness lurks on Tommy's tongue, but he holds it back. "You asked me to move in with you. Into the loft."

Buck tilts his head. "Yeah?"

Tommy shuts his eyes hard and shakes his head before he looks at Buck again. "Evan, I own a house."

"... okay?"

"Did you ask me to move in with you and expect me to give up my house?"

"What, no—" Buck says, then stops himself. "I don't—I didn't think—"

"Did you even think about that?" Tommy asks. "Like when you talked about moving in together, getting married, the future, all of that—did you even remember that I own a house?"

"You know," Buck interrupts. "Four months ago, you could have said, haha, wow, that's moving pretty fast, also I own a house, maybe when we're ready, we could move into MY HOUSE and make it OUR HOUSE, but you needed to run out the door so why would you say any of that?"

"Yeah! I was freaked out! Because here was this guy I—this guy I really liked, and he asked me, a 40-year-old man, to move into his loft?"

"What's wrong with it? Why do you keep saying it like that?"

"It's downtown! Downtown is loud and filthy and did I mention it's noisy? It was hell sleeping there in the summer because even with your central air, heat rises and it rises right into the bedroom. I saw your electric bill, Evan, it was unforgivable."

Buck wants to throw something at him. "And we could have been at your house, quiet and with better temperature control, but we weren't because…?"

"I'm just saying," Tommy continues. "Yeah, all that's true, but I realized you wanted me, wanted a future with me, and you didn't even remember that when I wasn't working or with you, I was at my house."

"I get that," Buck says. "Now how many times did we hang out at your house?"

Tommy sighs. "It's out of the way, your place was always closer to the 118 and to Harbor, and I kept—I was going to, okay? Like maybe after our anniversary, we'd take a week off together and we'd actually be at my house, or take a trip somewhere—"

"You got me basketball tickets," Buck snipes at him.

Tommy stops completely.

"For our six month anniversary, remember?"

"How the hell am I going to forget that?"

"You got me tickets to see the Lakers. Really good tickets."

Tommy rolls his eyes. "Alright, well, that's the last time I call that guy I know in the press office for anything."

Buck thinks he's getting closer to setting something on fire with his mind. "I hate basketball."

Tommy stares at him. "What the hell are you talking about? We met because of basketball."

Buck sits up so quickly and angrily he starts wheezing and that turns into a coughing fit. Tommy's immediately there, sitting on the edge of his bed with water, getting him to take a small sip as he rubs his back. When Buck realizes what's happening, he covers his mouth with his blanket and shoves Tommy away, coughing even more.

"Sorry, I was just—"

"I have turkey flu!" Buck yells through the blanket covering his mouth.

"The doctor said you're not contagious anymore."

Buck points at a small paper box across the room. Tommy, so put-upon, grabs a pale yellow mask and slips it on before he sits in the chair again. "Sorry."

"It's—" Buck halts because Tommy had grabbed two masks and was holding one out to him expectantly. Tommy motions to it again and Buck can see how he wants to make a bitchy comment about not having this conversation through a hospital blanket, but he doesn't. That's what makes Buck reach out and put the mask on. The icy fist around his heart thinks about melting.

"We didn't meet because of basketball, we met because of Bobby and Athena and the cruise ship," Buck corrects. "I wanted to see you again after that tour at Harbor but I couldn't think of another reason—"

"I gave you the widest of openings," Tommy interrupts. "Hello? Flight lessons? When you finally offered to buy me a beer, I almost dropped to my knees right then and there."

"But you never called me! You're the one who left to hang out with Eddie!"

Tommy throws up his hands. "Ball was in your court! Speaking of basketball."

Buck sighs, exasperated. "We weren't, like, running into each other, I didn't have a reason to call you—don't say the beer—so finally I saw Eddie was going to that pick-up game with you and I dragged Chimney along."

"Right," Tommy says. "And you played basketball with us. We kicked your ass in a way that made me think you were pretending to be bad at it to make me feel good or something? And then there was the whole thing with Eddie's ankle."

"I hate basketball!"

"You brought your own ball!"

"I same-day ordered a basketball so that when I showed up you'd be like, wow, that guy's ready for basketball, what a cool guy!"

"So you're mad that your basketball ruse worked on my dumb ass, and worked so well for six months that I got you Lakers tickets for our anniversary."

Buck's so annoyed that he put it like that. Maybe that's true, but he didn't have to say it. "I don't like basketball! It was a ruse but I didn't hide it after. You watched games with Eddie and I never came along because I don't like basketball."

"You said you wanted us to have our Eddie-Tommy friend time!"

"Why do you make me sound and feel like a five-year-old? Eddie-Tommy friend time? Seriously?"

Tommy folds his hands together like he's in prayer and shuts his eyes. "Okay, listen, I just. I wanted to get the house thing off my chest, alright? Because it's—it's bothered me so much."

Buck could argue about the basketball thing for about another 500 years, except that Tommy has said what he said. "Has it?"

Tommy puts his hands in his lap again, folded politely as he looks at Buck. "I meant what I said. You were so swept away in how new and exciting everything felt, that I felt like you forgot who you were talking to. Like… I'm not a guy who's going to move in with you. I'm a guy who has a house with a home gym and a car lift, and—and the winter was so mild that I put in this little patio space in the backyard. I bought furniture for it. I took this corner of my front lawn, too, and started to plan a pollinator's garden because they sounded really interesting after those three days of bee hell. Evan, I have a house."

"You keep saying that," Buck says. His ears are burning, but he's listening too intently to feel embarrassed about it (much).

"I freaked out, alright? Because I heard: give up your house to live in this downtown loft with a couch that has a faded but GIANT blood and placenta stain on the other side of the cushion, and then the words engaged and married got thrown in there, too? All in the same breath?"

Buck stares flatly, then nods. "Yeah. I get it. Sorry." He clears his throat and grabs his water before Tommy can offer it to him. He takes a sip, looking at Tommy before he nods at the closed door. "Are we done here?"

"And I'm not a gay rights hero," Tommy adds. "You said that, too." Tommy looks away, and looks so miserable. "I'm just a guy, Evan. I've been burned before by younger guys who thought I was everything that their first gay boyfriend should be, and then—and they didn't see who I was. It's always—" Tommy holds out his hands like he's balancing scales. "Not straight enough to fake a life with a woman, not gay enough to have a real life with a man."

Buck hasn't done this in so long that his throat almost aches with it. He sighs, pained and breathless, the word crinkling against the mask: "Tommy." He swallows again and asks, "Did you really think that was me?"

Another long pause. It ends with Tommy saying, "I thought you were too good to be true."

"I'm not, though, I'm—I'm just me," Buck says. "And I did have a lot to figure out, but not about you."

Tommy laughs suddenly. "Really? Because you forgot I was a homeowner and I didn't know you hated basketball. Did you even go to that game?"

Buck coughs. "I gave the tickets to Karen and she took one of her brothers. They're nuts about the Lakers."

"Huh," Tommy says. "Well. I'm not mad about that."

The two of them are quiet until Buck says, "Seems there's a lot of things we don't know about each other."

Tommy glances at him; Buck can see the shape of his smirk beneath the mask, and the very specific way it makes his eyes crinkle. "And just when we thought we knew everything about each other."

"Yeah, I thought that, too, and then you dropped that you were engaged to my first serious girlfriend at our six month anniversary dinner." Buck raises his eyebrows. "Do you land helicopters that smoothly, too?"

"I got you here, didn't I?" Tommy bites back, then catches himself with a laugh. "Okay. Fair point."

It's so easy, it's so easy, it's so easy, it's so easy and Buck hasn't had it easy for months. He hasn't had these quips, this back-and-forth, this person who got him until he didn't, who—Buck rubs at his eyes. Tommy made it easy. He made everything easy. Not perfect, not effortless, but easy. Easier.

"So, uh." Buck fusses with the blanket in his lap. "What have you been doing for the past four months? You, uh…"

"Am I seeing anyone?" Buck nods. "I was, yeah. Didn't last that long."

Buck can't help himself: "Neither did we."

"Ouch." Tommy looks back. "And you?"

"Yeah," Buck says. "I liked them but I broke up with them because it just—it wasn't going anywhere."

"And what's wrong with that? Staying in one place? Isn't that what you wanted for us?"

It's not, but Buck can't articulate it, so he says, "Do you think that's the same?"

A beat, and then Tommy says: "No. No, I don't."

"Tommy," Buck says quietly. "How many people do I have to be with before you decide I've figured it out?"

Tommy's eyes widen. "What? I never said that."

"Tell me what you said, then." Buck swallows painfully, that turkey flu kicking his ass harder than he thought. "Tell me what you meant when you said I didn't know what I wanted. Because I told you what I wanted. I told you I was ready for something and all the things we did together, I thought that you believed me. I guess you didn't, so tell me how many bodies it'll take before you believe me."

Tommy doesn't say anything.

"God, and you know what really sucks?" Buck asks. "That we were together long enough to talk about who we'd been with so we could get tested and be safe. We talked about all that, but I never told you how many times I'd had my heart broken and you never told me yours."

"Three," Tommy eventually says. "Shawn, who was like… all of 25. He was all-in, knowing for sure that the first time was the charm, and I was old enough and steady enough to be That Guy. I believed the hype even though I was barely out of the closet. I shouldn't throw stones at Abby's House of Himbos when I set up my own on the other side of town. And then there was Raúl, my Army buddy who came out to his family and immediately moved to LA to get away from them. Everything felt like a fresh start for him, but… not quite for me."

Buck thinks to ask, but Tommy beats him to it. "Do I need to say the third?" Buck shakes his head. "What about you?"

"Abby, and you." Buck looks at Tommy as he says, "It's not just ending things with someone because it doesn't work. It's heart break. Something's gotta break and be mended."

"I don't think I did that part. You've one-upped me there."

Buck wouldn't have believed that 20 minutes ago, but he believes it now.

"So Bobby's been there, watched me since I was Abby's himbo and helped me to grow into the person who wanted that stuff with you. Once he, kinda, told me that if I care about how people see me, then I haven't learned a damn thing," Buck says. "And that is and isn't true, here. I can't live hoping I meet people's expectations of what they think I should be. I want people—I wanted you—to see me as I am. I thought you did but you didn't, and I didn't either because I didn't see how scared you were. I've made my peace with that. We had something really special and made each other feel really good but, in the end, I guess we were saying all the right things to people we didn't know."

Tommy listens, considers, and nods. "Whole lot of past tense, there."

Buck glances at him and doesn't want to look away, but he does. He doesn't meet Tommy's eyes. He's scared, too. He's done enough today: said a lot of things he's been thinking about for four months and said them very calmly and thoughtfully, but this is gonna hurt. It hurt Buck to realize it and it's gonna hurt Tommy to hear it.

"You got what you wanted, right?" Buck asks. "You got to keep your heart, and I don't feel new and excited anymore." Buck inhales deep; it hurts. "I feel like I did before, like I'm short one piece of being whole. Now the ocean I have to search is so much wider and deeper. So thanks for that, I guess."

"Evan—"

"I let you into my family," Buck interrupts sharply. "Because I cared about you and because you fit. I fit because they're mine and that's my family I made, and you fit there right next to me. With us."

"You're absolutely right."

Buck watches him, tries to see behind the sunshine yellow and white mask on his face, but all he sees are his eyes that, like always, make Buck feel too much, like laser beams disintegrating him.

"Were you really that scared?" Buck can't help the way his voice cracks. "You were that scared of me?"

Tommy looks up again, lasers in place. "I was that in love with you." He shakes his head like he did that last night in the kitchen, and looks up like he'll tip the tears back into his eyes. "And those heartbreaks—you'd leave them light-years behind if I let you. You'd leave me light-years behind."

Buck nods, then says, "Could you leave, please." His wet breathing crinkles grossly in the mask. "Thanks for telling me all this, thanks for the closure, but I don't need to see what someone looks like after they've walked away from me."

"You collapsed at a scene three days ago and I was the closest pilot to medevac you here," Tommy says slowly. "You were delirious and told Shreya, Don't tell Tommy I'm sick, he doesn't care anymore."

Tommy clears his throat. "I do care. I never stopped."

Buck sits back in his hospital bed and pulls the blanket up to his neck, the only comfort he's got right now. "If this is a turkey flu dream, I'm gonna be so pissed at you, real you," Buck says.

Tommy laughs quietly, sadly, then hesitates for a moment. "Can I ask you something? Can I ask you the scariest thing I've ever asked anyone in my entire life?"

Buck doesn't move, doesn't breathe. "What is it?" he finally asks.

"Will you give me a second chance?"

Buck, hearing what he's quietly dreamed of hearing for four months, doesn't feel the euphoria he thought he would. He feels something else, though: a strange kind of wonder that someone wants him again. Again. He swallows hard, feeling the pain right in his turkey-flu-ridden throat. Someone knew him. Someone left him. Someone came back—came back for him.

Tommy left. Tommy came back. Tommy wanted him then. Tommy wants him now. Tommy's wanted him all along.           

Buck asks, "Will you invite me to your place more than once every six months?"

Tommy's half-smile is still wide enough for Buck to see behind the mask. It falls, though, back into something serious. "Will you forgive me when I'm not a paragon of queer virtue?"

"Will you believe me when I tell you I've fucked around and found out enough for a lifetime?"

Tommy raises his eyebrows ever so slightly. "Will you believe me when I tell you I've fucked around and found out enough for a lifetime?"

Buck thinks he smiles a little behind his mask, but it doesn't stay. "Are we gonna break up again?"

"I don't know," Tommy admits. "But maybe next time we can stop each other and hit the brakes. I love romcoms, but maybe we don't do that again: you don't propose fixing a problem with marriage and a baby, and I won't run out the door."

Buck raises his eyebrows, too. "Who said anything about a baby?"

Tommy sputters. "I mean, you were the one raising the stakes before."

Buck laughs. "Right, right."

The quiet stretches out between them. They look at each other and don't look away. The stubborn, proud, cocky side of Buck feels annoyed that this feels like—like he can't get out of this. Like all roads lead back to Tommy, like he doesn't have a choice. Like if he wants to be happy, it's with this person.

A part of him wants to run and throw himself into the hunt again. He wants to thrive in the search for someone who makes him feel that euphoria and fondness and love that he felt with Tommy. He tries to imagine someone else, some vague smoky figure that isn't Tommy's height, Tommy's build, Tommy's arms crossed over his chest and that tilt of his head. The problem is that Buck feels more looking at that furrow and arch of his eyebrows than he's felt for anyone he's met in the past four months, maybe even longer.

Not all roads lead to Tommy—only the ones he wants to take.

"Say it again?" Buck asks.

Tommy nods ever so slightly. "I'm in love with you." He pauses and a smile reaches his eyes. "I love you."

Buck can't help the way his eyes water; neither can Tommy.

"Ask me again," Buck says.

"Will you give me a second chance?"

"Yeah." Buck wonders if his own smile reaches his eyes. He hopes it does. "Yeah. Will you?"

Tommy chokes out a laugh behind his mask. "Yeah, god, of course. Of course. You sure?"

"About you?" Buck asks. "Yeah. I mean, I want to be. Don't make me regret it."

"Don't make me give up my real estate."

"Don't make me go to any sports events."

"Seriously? Not even baseball?"

"God," Buck moans. "The sleepiest one of all."

"Hockey's good."

"You hate the Kings."

Tommy scoffs. "Of course I do. You always hate your local teams—you just hate visiting teams more. Can't let management get comfortable."

Buck attempts to take a deep, exasperated breath, but he forgets that he has the fucking turkey flu. He chokes and starts to cough and wheeze, but Tommy's there again. He freely, lovingly pushes Buck further to the other side of the hospital bed so he can sit and take care of him: water, tissues, hand on his chest to steady him, eyes worried and on him.

"It's not official until you kiss me," Buck says. "I'm not contagious."

"I mean, not with turkey flu," Tommy says. "Your Buckness? That I'm not so sure."

"Don't call me that anymore," Buck says.

Tommy puts his cup of water on the table next to Buck's bed, then shifts so he and Buck are closer, face-to-face, head on looking at each other. "How'd you get even brattier in only four months?"

"How'd you forget I was this bratty?"

"At my age, well, everything's starting to go."

Buck laughs, then coughs and wheezes. "Stop making me laugh."

"How'd you forget I was this funny?"

Buck tilts his head. "I didn't. I didn't forget a thing."

Tommy searches his face, then cups his jaw with one hand. Buck doesn't lean into it, just lets Tommy hold him as he tips Buck's chin up ever so slightly.

Then Tommy kisses his forehead and his birthmark, and wraps his arms around Buck. It's the warmest Buck has felt all winter. It finally feels like spring.

---

read on the ao3

[mintmatcha]

so part of the reason he doesn't remember her is because it was such a shitty time at home and he was shutting down he's not just a fuckboy he's a TRAUMATISED fuckboy

If you were smart, you would have cleaned the place of every trace of you, but instead, you're forced to watch him pad through your belongings. Sero, the Sero, dreamboat Sero, is walking his fingers across the shelves in your living room, inspecting the rowing of manga. Sometimes, he hums, like he recognizes something. Other times, he stops on the figurines and pretends to shake their tiny hands in a horribly charming manner.

There's been boys in your apartment before. Well, a boy.

This is different. Sero is different.

He keeps looking back at you with these eyes, these damn eyes that you just can't resist, gently lidded with a smile that feels like it's just for you-

Liking him is stupid. You know that. Boys like him date pretty girls, thin girls, normal girls, better girls-

You adjust your clothes, pulling at the hem until you hear a definite pop. It's the exact outfit you saw on a pretty girl on tiktok, bought with three weeks of allowance, but it feel wrong and cheap against your skin. Wool over a wolf's body, poorly trying to disguise you as something you aren't.

Sero is effortlessly cool. His clothes are loose in they way that still makes him look lean and put together and purposely mismatched. Even his socks are different colors, one white, one black-

"You have a fun place, Cram School." Sero gives you a big smile. He calls you affectionately, since he claims to miss you when you're there. "You really like magical girls, don't you?"

You fiddle with the hem of your shirt more, tugging at the loose threads.

"...Yeah."

He waits a bit to see if you've got more to say, then turns back to your things. He's always attentive with you, even when Kirishima's other friends aren't.

"You totally wanted to be a hero as a kid, didn't you?" His teasing is light and your chest feels the same. "Like this guy?"

Technically, the figure he picks up isn't a hero, but you don't point that out. His warmth is melting you and you swear every atom in your body is slowly buzzing faster and faster.

"No, my quirk isn't good. I could never be a hero. I just..." You trip over your words because you know it's pathetic to admit. You adjust your glasses as you speak, sliding them up and down nervously. "They're sweet, and, and friendly. D-don't you ever wish you could transform into someone else for a little bit?"

There's another pause and you're forced to look directly at him. Your glasses slide down on their own.

"That was so cringe," you whisper.

His shrugs with one shoulder, scuffing his socks against the carpet. "Yeah. I do. Sometimes."

Sero sniffs, then hooks a thumb towards the television. "Do you wanna watch one?"

"A-a show?" you scoff at yourself. "You don't have to do that."

"You're so mean to yourself, Cram School. " Sero laughs. "I want to."

-

He asks questions the first episode. Good ones too. He posts to a character and whispers that it must be your favorite, since he saw the posters of her. Heat from his breath tickles your neck and that helium feeling in your chest just gets tighter.

The third episode, he slings and arm around your shoulders. You had been frozen tall, knees together with hands tucked into your lap, but then he drew you in, right into his collarbone. His elbows are sharp, but you don't mind. Not at all.

You debate touching him back, but your hands stay locked on the hem of your shirt.

When the credits roll, he turns to look at you, face so close to the side of yours that you can feel his nose bump against the wire frame of your glasses.

"Hey."

He whispers it as his hand finds your thigh.

"I'm going to kiss you now, okay?"

He waits a minute, held by your indecisiveness. His skin is acne bitten under his bangs, the pad of fat under his eyes puffs when he smiles.

This isn't a cruel joke, is it? Or some dream you'll wake up from? This is real, painfully real, something that no one can take away from you-

"Okay?"

No one will ever believe that you have a boy in your apartment, one that wants to kiss you despite the glasses and everything else undesirable about you.

Sero whispers you name. Not Cram School, but your name.

You gather up the willpower to squeak out an: "Okay."

And then he does. Lips are dryer than you thought they'd be, but the gentle pull of skin against skin enough to steal your breath away. His own breath quivers with a sigh; he must be able to tell it's your first time, because he goes purposefully slow, moving his mouth slightly more and more open until you match his movements.

When his tongue slips into your mouth, it tastes like the peach tea he's left on your countertops.

For once, you don't want to be anyone else.

[boofeine]

complicated freak – lsk

pairing: dk x fem reader

genre: smut one shot

synopsis: you feel horrible for pretending to pay attention at anything he might be rambling in front of you right now; your thoughts wherelse, at the image of his thick cock.

warnings: mdni, fingering, dirty talk, roleplay (kinda), one single spank, cum, riding, mention of face riding, fighting dominance, descriptive, protected penetrative sex

song: baby said by maneskin / complicated freak by harry styles / ironically shhh! by viviz also came out :)

tags: @huen1ngk4i @aaniag @svteensworld @unlikelysublimekryptonite

Seokmin is a lot of things, but what he's most known for is his sweetness and kindness. That's what draws you in on first place. He's so welcoming, makes your heart flutter just from receiving his attention. You were done for, when you got yourself just a little bit way too into it, into him, the way butterflies come to your stomach when he gets shy on your presence.

It came as a surprise for you too, when he turned a completely different person between sheets. You have no idea in which point you got yourself in here, but it's definitely not your last. You got your body against his more times than you could admit, and crave it more than you think you should. The problem is that he's so soft, it makes you feel dirty for having this thoughts when he's not burried on your pussy.

You feel horrible for pretending to pay attention at anything he might be rambling in front of you right now. Your thoughts wherelse, at the image of his thick dick. He rests his back on the sofa, his spread legs on the floor not doing any good either as you stare at his side profile while he talks.

The outline of his nose making you remember how deliciously it pokes at your clit while he tongue fucks you, a rush of heat spreading on your body up to your cheeks as your core suddenly feel needy for his attention. Every time he looks up to the ceiling like he's thinking what he will say next, gathering his thoughts, your mind is wilding in how you want to climb up that couch and sit on his pretty face.

"What do you think?" Seokmin's voices echoes, making you blink at him, having not a clue what he's talking about as he stares back at you, waiting for some type of response.

"Hm? Sorry?" You tilt your head, not going unnoticed that you weren't paying attention, your heart dropping to a whole, feeling guilty.

"The movies on saturday? That is this one new movie I was talking about..." He starts again but the ache on your pussy is getting unbearable.

"Hum... Hum... Sounds good" You let out. Your hand shamelessly caressing his biceps, going down his arms as you slightly pull it to you. It's not innocently that the motion makes his soft fingers grease against your exposed thighs. You suppress a gasp, your mouth agape, his hands close enough to where you need him the most.

"Oh, sorry" He says, resting his hand on the side of your body instead, as you tug to his arm. Fuck! Why is he so sweet?

He starts talking about something else again. The same guilty creeping through you as you don't pay a single attention, your body going further as if he will be able to read the signs.

"Seokmin, baby..." You interrupt him mid word, his face moving to look at you, the pet name coming out as a surprise to him "I know you want to talk but my pussy is so fucking wet right now" You shamelessly confess as his eyes bulge.

"Oh-" It's all he's able to reply. Your hands that haven't left his arms, pulling it to your legs. His eyes following your motions and back to your face "You know I'm a little sad you weren't listening to me" He says, not true to his words.

"Seokmin... I-" You try.

"No, No" He cuts off immediately "I was saying something that I really wanted you to know but all you can think of it's my cock on your pussy" He mocks, his big hands gripping a hand full of your thighs this time.

"I'm sorry" You pouts and he giggles a little.

"You should be" He says, restraining his hands from your skin as he takes this to where you left it "So, as I was saying, there's this restaurant..."

You groan, your head going back as you get tired of waiting and being nice "Fuck, Seokmin! Shut up" You let out, your hands grabbing and guiding his hand to your pussy. He laughs, he fucking laughs at how desesparate you are. Pushing the skirt of your dress up to expose your clothed core, his fingers greasing over the material as you relax at his touch, your head going back, eyes shut at finally feeling something.

"They do have really good food" He says back about the damn restaurant to provoke you as you grunt, frustrated. He leans a little closer to your face, cupping your cunt through the thong "But don't worry, the only thing I can think of eating is you right now" He lowers his tone to whisper it to you.

"Good" You answer "Thought you'd never shut up" Your smart mouth takes over as he smirks.

His hand pulls your thong to the side, taking a long stroke at your folds as you mewl, a heavy breath getting out like it needed to. Your hips bulking to his hand and legs spreading almost instinctively.

"Shit, you really are wet" he responds. Seokmin gathers the slick up to your clit, massaging the muscle in small circles. the grip you have on his arm getting stronger each motion of his fingers. You're wet enough to hear the sounds of it as he goes down to enter you with his digits. Your nails dig to his skin, your head lowering as your forehead rests where his shoulders and arms meet. The gasps turning into moans as he fucks you. He moves slowly, watching you break.

"Seokmin, baby..." You say gripping his wrist this time. That fucking pet name again, he wont ever get used to it, his cock tightening on his pants. "Wait" you push him out, your cunt pulsating with the loss but just enough to get up and take your thong out and sit on his lap. He welcomes you like he always does, watching you undo his jeans to be met at the sight of his hardening length pressing on his boxers. But before you can even drink in the sight, he's back at pushing two fingers inside you. Your back arch when he curls them inside, getting on your sweet spot.

You moan out his name as he presses the spot continuously with the tip of his fingers. You can't help but roll your eyes, the knot forming on your stomach as an unimaginable amount of arousal slip out of your entrance. "Fuu- ah! Minnie... Not yet, please!" You beg as you feel your legs shake.

Like he's so obedient to you, he stops, restraining his hands as you squirm over him. "You made a show to have it, and now you're going back?" he spits out as you still try to calm down your breathing, eyes slowly opening.

"I want..." You try.

"What? Say it" he demands as his wet hands from your slick goes under his boxers, taking his cock out with a gasp of relieve. You stare at it, the way he spreads the wetness on his cockhead making you whine at the view.

"I want your cock... inside me" You plea as he starts to bump himself, letting out a groan.

"Of course you do" He says smartly with a smirk "Go get a condom on my wallet" He says. You reach for his pocket, knowing he came with anything else, his wallet soon found as you open it, the package on one of his spaces as you take it from it. You throw it somewhere beside you as you immediately start to open the condom. He hands his base, aligning it for you as his other hand digs to your hips, pulling you to him, watching you take over, pressing up on the plastic before sliding it down his length.

He holds you firmly as you take his base instead, guiding his head to your entrance when you get your body up to receive him. You press him inside, feeling the delicious stretch, your body threatening to give up while you slowly sit down on him. You can see his breathing pace fastening, his chest rising and falling, but you're no different, your head going down, your foreheads getting together as you can feel each others breath. You finally bottoms out, your body relaxing while he takes your mouth on his for the first time today. It's all too much, a whine coming out on his lips when his tongue asks for space. The kiss airy and needy as you make out.

When you feel the neediness again, already adjusted to his size, you start rolling your hips, low moans coming from him as he guides you with his hands on your waist. "Fuck!" he swears under his breath, feeling your walls pulsating around his cock. "Was this what you needed, hm? Was that all running on that head while I was talking?" He says, and you just moan, picking up your pace as if it was going to answer him. "The pretty heads, always the nastiest thoughts, isn't it?" But he isn't any different, he thinks. Those thoughts run just the same for him, too.

You are not answering in words but going faster on him. Until even this, It's not enough. Your hips going up just to sit back in. His head going back with a roll of his eyes as you start to bounce on his cock. His hands going back to your ass cheeks, spreading them apart. "Stopped me just to use my cock as your little fuck toy... so unpolite" He speaks again and you groans.

Your palms fastening to press against his lips as he yelps, but you can see the smirk from his eyes. "You don't ever shut up, do you?" You spit out, your thrusts going faster, the skin slapping sounds starting to fill the room "I guess next time I should take my first plan of sitting on your face. At least then you can talk between my legs if that's something you want so much. How does that sound?" You get closer to say those words, your hand prettily silencing him as you stare at his watery glistening eyes. You can feel the way he twitches inside you and the muffled moans coming out. You know he loves it.

You suddenly calm down your pace, turning it into firm deep, slow thrusts. The heat and pleasure building up as you push yourself to the edge. Your walls hugging him tightly as he starts to feel his balls tightening too. "Cum for me, baby. Come on... make it worth it" You talk him through it, his knuckles white from gripping your ass so hard, leaving red marks of his big hands on it.

It comes at a surprise when he bites the skin of your palm, your hands jumping out of him as you yelp "Fuck, Seokmin! Are you crazy!?" You scream, your cheeks turning red. He hands you in place, starting to fuck you instead, thrusts meeting up your hips. You moan, your hands driving its way to his hair so you can tug on something.

"You should learn to behave and talk nicely" He grunts out, the throaty voice and drool over his lips doesn't go unnoticed. Heat collecting around your bodies, both of you getting close to cumming. "Someone has to teach you a really good lesson" He says lastly, his palm arriving to your skin with one loud hard slap on your ass cheek. The skin tingles, your body going stiff and mouth agape, like you stopped breathing for a second, before you finally let it go. Your body shaking as you cum with a breathy moan. Your pussy clenching nonstop as he cums with a loud gasp right after you. His load emptying on the condom.

Both of you rolling your hips messily trying to ride off your highs, until you're tired and giving up. The wetness is thick enough to make him slide out unintentionally as you both whine from the loss.

You sit back on his thighs, staring while he takes off the condom from his flacid length, tying it up with a knot. His balls and inner thighs glistening with your own juices as you hince at the sight, "I'm sorry..." You say it smally, but he smiles.

"It's ok... I love it" He replies, pulling you to him. And for a moment, you two just stay there, tangled up on each other before gathering corage to get up and clean up the mess.

[l-artemisia-del-secolo]

You've been living a peaceful life for the last 100 years, trying to be off the radar.

You did help Strange a few times from afar, but becoming an active participant? No, you had enough of that.

Your owned ranch, your owned daily routines. You were almost healed from centuries of fighting for your life, ideals and power.

Until one day Strange broke his part of the deal.

"I need your help."

You sighed. He never cared about your garden. Always appearing when you were searching for escape with your flowers.

"No, Stephen. Whatever it is, I don't care. And please levitate. You're leaving traces."

"it's Agatha Harkness."

You looked at him. No emotions. He was waiting for your reaction. But you didn't give him any clues.

"Since when can't you fight a bound witch?"

You turned back to your apple tree. You knew in what state Agatha was. Not a threat, not an opponent. She was too deep in her illusion.

"Everything is going to change soon. There are… Entities who want her free."

"Name me one entity who would want to be betrayed by her."

"I can name you two. The boy."

"One of the twins. " Only the sound of your garden shears was heard.

It wasn't even a question. You already felt it. Stephen wouldn't be here if the reason wasn't so serious.

"And the other one?"

"Your old friend."

"Why don't you do this yourself, Stephen?"

"You know I'm not allowed to interact with her."

___

WestView used to be a charming town. Before the Hex. You could still feel the remains of Wanda's magic. People were still scared, wounds were too fresh.

You quickly found Agatha. She was blissfully living through her illusion. Wanda definitely had style.

You knew Harkness when she was dangerous, now she was weak and vulnerable.

If it was the old you, her neck would snap in a second. But you changed. And she wasn't the one you were searching for.

If Stephen was right you were all fucked.

You followed Agatha to the police station, pawn shop, and her house.

The boy wasn't here yet. You had some time. You built yourself a charming backstory, you pretended to love bad coffee. In a month you were already a citizen of WestView.

What if Stephen was wrong? This happened before. Agatha was protected by her own dreams until the cracks the power of nature itself called for you.

You rushed to your hotel room. You needed protective spells. You were not the only witch in town.

___

Stephen was right. Unfortunately.

Someone knocked on the door, but didn't wait for the answer.

"I thought you could afford a better place."

Stephen was right. You were all fucked.

"I thought you're old enough not to play with food."

Rio laughed at the remark. You almost forgot that sound.  You recognized her immediately. Sure the clothes were different, hair, eyes were greener than you remembered.

There was no point in the book you were holding. You started remembering that spells never worked against Rio.

"What are you doing here?" She noticed your gesture of peace. No fight tonight.

"Making sure that you're keeping the monster on the leash."

"oh, it's so much fun not being a monster in this scenario." Rio smiled like a child who finally got her approval.

"It's not about you." You suddenly felt tired. You had this talk before. Each century you were alive.

"It's about you." Rio chose to come closer.

"Is that a holster under your jacket?"

"Yeah, Agatha is in her Swedish crime show period. You like it?"

Rio got rid of her jacket, which simply disappeared in thin air. Brunette always loved theatricality.

"Sure." You were not planning for her to be in your space. You tried to step aside.

"No, no, no." Rio grabbed your hand. "You wanted to talk, let's talk."

You noticed the green light. No doubt her crown was a reminder of her power. Her cosmic power, her power over you.

"Leave the covenless witch alone." You whispered. Oh, but Rio heard every word. She smirked.

"or else?" you could feel her magic all over you.

You formed the fireball in your palm. Light was dancing in Rio's eyes.

"oh, isn't it our favorite foreplay?" witch mimicked your move with her free hand. Green rose appeared. "I missed this."

She let go of you and offered the flower. You took it.

You started remembering. Once it was like this. Every day. You almost forgot why you were here.

"leave Agatha as she is." You still were looking at the flower. It was flawless. Created by nature itself.

"really?" Rio groaned. "if I had known you'd care about her so much I'd lure her into darkness ages ago."

You could hear the hurt in her voice. It wasn't a distraction from her plan. She turned to the door. You flicked your wrist. Thin line of fire appeared around Rio's neck.

"I can't kill you. But I can definitely slow you down."

"till your sorcerer comes?" Rio laughed. She tilted her head and it was enough for you to hit the wall. If she wanted to you'd never get up again.

"Let's have a deal. You give me one date and I give you one more day of bound covenless witch."

___

This idea was so wrong. With Rio you never had courtship per se. The day you met she stayed with you. It was always about the sparks that amplified the worst in both of you.

You needed to know Rio's plan. You needed to win yourself some time.

This time Rio didn't invite herself In. You opened the door. This time it was a bouquet of flowers that never even existed. No doubt, Rio created them only for you.

This time it was a green suit. Always on brand.

Of course she was driving. It was the most human thing you ever saw her doing.

"Where are we going?"

"We'll drink and watch the wolves howl at the full moon."

"There are no wolves here."

"I brought a few with me."

___

"Why did you leave me?" it was her first question after the awkward silence.

You were sitting on the branches that Rio lowered for you. Pack of white wolves was playing in front of you, occasionally asking for attention.

"Is that important?"

"don't mortals talk about their experiences, share feelings?"

"you're not a mortal."

"tonight I am."

You shrugged. You had to play this game.

"I was tired of being… A villain." whiskey was still burning your throat after all these years.

"I never asked you to."

"you never did. But you sure as hell were reminding me every day of who I was. With you I've forgotten the weight of my choices. With you everything was just a game…"

You felt her touch on your skin. Rio guided you towards her. You remembered this. She kissed you like this before. Many moons like this ago.

She was gentle. Always was. You just forgot it.

"You were never a game."

"And you were always thriving on chaos.",

You stood up. Immediately one of the wolves ran towards you. He was friendly, but like with Rio you were not sure he wasn't trained to pretend.

"Why do you need a covenless witch?"

"Is it important right now? It's always about the balance."

"Right. And a few witches you can take for yourself."

Greens started wrapping around your waist and arms. Rio was calling you. Slowly you let them drag you to her. You used to play like this. You used to allow her this.

"Give me another date and you'll get another day."

___

The next day you went to her house. She recreated the garden you once had. With her powers it was so much easier.

"Remember how we used to play with reality?"

"Yes."

Rio remembered every single of your creations. She was attentive to details. You did play with reality. Both of you. You were luring your enemies into scenarios that could never be real. And after that Rio was feasting on them.

"Exactly like now you're playing with Agatha. You always protected your deal with her."

You preferred this Rio more. With the crown, with the flowers in the dress. It was her element.

"She's an effective killer. That's it."

"And what about the boy?"

"And what about your peaceful life?" Rio squeezed grapes and the wine poured in glasses. She offered you one.

"It is expectedly peaceful."

"Sounds boring. Maybe that's why you're here. With me? Missed the fun?"

What did she want to hear from you? You never cared about fun. You missed her. You missed your lover, your partner, your chosen one. You missed your garden. It was never fun. It was always you destroying everyone with fire.

Rio threw her Chalice on the ground. Wine turned into flowers. Again she was too close. She was behind you. She was seducing you with her breath on your neck.

"Rio…" You tried not to give in so easily. "I'm here because…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, the greater good." She was playing with your hair, whispering right into your soul. "It's all about not letting Agatha and the kid get their powers."

Her fingers were studying your heartbeat. She always thought that this curious mortal sound was only for her.

You only inhaled sharply. When you agreed to Stephen's plea you knew all about the risk. But you thought you were stronger than this.

"Let go of me."

When did her fingers travel to your neck? You didn't notice. Your whole body was tingling. Your soul was aching for her. You were alone for so long.

"You don't want this."

Of course you didn't. But Rio had no right to say it out loud.

___

Your third date was an unspoken agreement. You cooked. More for yourself, than for Rio. Old book of recipes reminded you of the hardships of trying to live amongst ordinary people.

"Candles are not lit."  Oh, that smug face. Rio always adored seeing your deadly powers in the most boring situations.

Table was between you this time.  You hoped it would help. It would give you a chance to win some time.

You tilted your head. Instead of candles - the fireplace became playful.  You disobeyed. In a very small detail, but Rio noticed.

This time the silence was longer, heavier. She wasn't eating. she wasn't playing.

"Do you ever miss your mortal family?"

"I do."

"What's it like?"

Rio never respected the concept of privacy. But those were the rules. You had to talk.

"Don't you know? Were you not there when both my husband and daughter died in my arms?"

You stood up for another bottle. Rio followed you to the kitchen.

"Did they… Did they give you what I couldn't?"

"They taught me once again to care about life. Respect the time. They reminded me that you're supposed to exist not only for your own sake."

You didn't admit that you barely remembered their faces. That the pain was almost gone. That for you it was just a fleeting moment. You already didn't remember whether it was real or not.

"Well, I remind everyone exactly this. But with you it's chaos, right?"

You could swear you saw a tear. Was Rio even capable of this? After all the time. all the damage. all the emptiness.

You pulled her closer. You wanted only to remind her that it was never her fault. You desperately wanted to remind her of that. You were clawing deeper and deeper into her. Biting. scratching, kissing whatever skin you could get.

You were tearing the silk. You pushed her against the kitchen aisle. It was always the chaos. But chaos that you wanted and were thriving for.

Now the chaos suddenly wanted to submit. You didn't expect that.

"I missed this." you were murmuring in her ear. You were ready to get on your knees for her. When did your hunger appear again? This time it was different. No burned land, no fallen trees, no skars and marks of struggle.

It was different this time. It took more than a hundred years for Rio to finally feel regret.

You didn't notice how you got into the bedroom. How clothes weren't yours anymore.

She took care of you. Rio always wanted only this.

___

The next day you didn't want to open your eyes. What if Rio wasn't there? Well, it wouldn't be the first time.

"I'm here."

Rio was watching you. She looked tense. She was sitting in the armchair, which now resembled the throne. She pointed to the cup of coffee on your bedside table.

"Charming as usual."

"We don't have much time, baby." And there it was. Your nickname. "Kid is coming tonight. We need to be there."

"Oh, no, no. I'm not letting you…"

"It's about the kid. Not a covenless witch. He needs to come with me. And you will make sure it happens. Isn't this what sorcerers want?"

"Yes."

"Well, then you'll have to join the road. Come baby, we don't have much time." she gave you a peck on the cheek. "It's gonna be like the old times."

You sighed. Yeah, this was going to be an adventure. You simply hoped that this night you saw the real Rio. And after this night you would stay the same.

[animasola86]

🐻 A HUG TO REMEMBER

m!shapeshifter x f!reader 🔥 very explicit 🔥 words: 7.1k

After a night full of unusual adventures and ordeals, you find yourself in the arms of your most memorable encounter, and you can't complain.

WARNINGS: NSFW! Explicit sexual content! Aftercare! Vaginal sex! Creampies! Cockwarming! Fluff? (READ ON AO3!)

This is part 6 of my CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE smut series! 1 🔸 2 🔸 3 🔸 4 🔸 5 🔸 6 It's the continuation of the continuation of OPTION 3 - can be read individually for the smut portion, but if you want to follow the plot, I'd advise reading the previous two parts or at least the first part, preferably all of them. This is the conclusion of the story after all!

CONTEXT: You were invited to a Halloween party in a mysterious house, dressed as Little Red Riding Hood, and on your way to get some fresh air, you first run into a werewolf, who knots and breeds you, then into two vampires, who spitroast you, and after all that... here we are...

“Hey. Hey, can you hear me?”

A deep voice rings in your ears, a low thrum in the void around you, muffled as if through various layers of cloth or from behind a thick door. A rasping inhale lets you stir, and slowly your body feels like your own again. Your limbs are tingling, your throat hurts, and something deep within you as well, there's an overall soreness all around, but when your eyes flutter open, you're just glad to be alive.

The sight in front of you still scares you, and you let out a hoarse whimper. A large man leans over you, tall and bulky, bulging muscles under a plaid shirt, strong legs, black hair, slightly curled and thick, a full beard, dark eyes staring down at you from under heavy eyebrows. You shy away, flinching, breathing harder.

“Hey, shh, it's all good. You're safe now,” he tells you with that low voice that vibrates through your body, and you frown, blinking at him in confusion, unable to relax as you stare at him. “Aww, don't tell me you've already forgotten about me?”

He flashes you a soft smile, exposing white teeth, and none of them seem abnormally large or pointy. You sigh and close your eyes again, trying to focus on your breathing, too weak to worry about anything at this point. Suddenly you're being lifted, held by strong arms, pressed to a warm chest, and you can't help it, you lean into it, savoring the protective gesture. The man carries you away, no idea where to, doesn't matter anyway.

“They got you good, hm?” He keeps talking to you, even though you can't find the strength to reply. “Should have stayed with me, little one.”

Slowly, you blink your eyes open and stare at him, furrowing your brows, really looking at him. Why does he feel so familiar? Slowly you move your hand up and brush your fingertips against his beard, the rough texture bringing up fuzzy memories of... fur? He gives you another smile, his eyes boring into yours. Your lips part as you try to sound out a question, but the pain in your throat is too strong to get any words out.

“Yes, little Red, I am your big bad wolf,” he replies nevertheless, seemingly reading your mind. Your eyes widen. It is him. The werewolf who knotted you. This is his human form? “But don't worry too much about it now. Let's get you cleaned up first, yeah?”

A sudden rush of warmth fills your cheeks and you look away, noticing not only the ripped shirt you borrowed from him but the large amounts of dried cum and blood on your exposed skin. The state those vampires have left you in is horrible. Vampires... for fuck's sake. You wanted to tick all of what happened tonight off as a dream, a nightmare maybe even, but the evidence that it may have actually happened after all is disturbing and hard to ignore. Sighing soundlessly, you rest your head against his shoulder as it starts to spin painfully. This is all too much.

He shifts you on his arms, hugging you closer as he keeps walking. There's a faint glow around you, and you realize that the morning must be close. You survived the night, huh? You're still not too sure about it.

You end up back in his cabin, though luckily not in the primitive basement but in an actual bedroom. He puts you down gently, makes you sit on the edge of the bed as he carefully peels the remnants of his ruined shirt off your body. You just watch him when he leaves the room for a moment before returning with a bowl of water and a washcloth, and when he starts cleaning you up, you close your eyes and let him, his large hands surprisingly soft and gentle as they work.

Eventually he pushes you onto your back, and again, you let him, relaxing into the soft sheets, as he starts wiping between your legs. You shiver when he brushes against your still sensitive clit. He gives you a few rubs, but then moves on, presses the cloth to your thigh, which causes you to wince when a sharp pain jolts through you.

“Can't believe they both fed off you,” you hear him mumble, his low voice a deep rumble in the air. “Insatiable bastards.” His hand moves back to your mound, his thick fingers teasing along your slit. “And they even cleaned you out, hm? Damn, all that effort for naught...”

You slowly open your eyes, meeting his dark gaze. There's a strange tension in your stomach. He keeps rubbing your labia, slowly pressing between them. His eyes are almost black now and as intense as you remember them, even though they've looked at you out of a very different face.

“I guess I have to keep you here a little longer,” he whispers, slowly leaning over you, one hand still at your cunt, the other braced beside your shoulder as he hovers above you. Your hands move up, brushing against his hard stomach. “To make sure you're fine, of course,” he adds, smirking down at you.

You bite your lip, watching him, your fingers clawing at the fabric of his shirt. You have no idea why you feel the sudden urge to pull him closer, wrap your legs around his waist and let him ravage you all over again, human form or not. This whole night has been quite the (sex) adventure, and somehow you don't want it to end. You don't want to go back to your boring life where everything is as expected, planned and sterile.

You'd rather stay with this savage man, who, considering your other encounters, has been the most memorable, and you can't wait for the moon to rise again. For now, you are also quite content with the hairy man above you. His deep laugh full of surprise echoes through the room as you grip the collar of his shirt and pull him down, smacking your mouth against his. He's quick to kiss you back, deep and passionately, your tongues meeting in a wild dance, as he leans his wide body onto yours carefully.

“Damn, Red, you developed quite the hunger, didn't you?” he mouths between kisses, his warm breath fanning over your lips. You can only nod, your cheeks burning up in slight embarrassment, but you still buck your hips up against his groin invitingly. “I'm not complaining,” he adds, playfully nibbling on your bottom lip as he responds with a roll of his pelvis.

Continuing to kiss him with a need that's new to yourself too, you let your hands wander over his broad chest before you fumble with the buttons of his shirt. You groan in slight impatience as your shaking hands can't quite finish the job. He leans back then, looking at you, then simply rips the shirt and shrugs it off nonchalantly, exposing a wide toned chest with just the right amount of dark chest hair.

Your fingers rub through it, it's not abnormally much, just enough to cover his big pecs before it thins out into a thick trail vanishing into his jeans. You follow it, palms sliding over hard muscles before your fingers curl into his belt, holding his dark gaze as you lick your swollen lips. His smirk is playful but has a dark edge to it. Instead of letting you continue on your quest to get him as naked as you are, he grabs your hands and pins them above your head, holding your wrists together with one large hand while his other hand closes around your jaw as he leans closer once more.

“You really want this, huh?” he growls quietly.

You nod frantically, not even hesitating anymore. There's a tiny bit of protest in your mind when it reminds you of the state of your sore body, but you really couldn't care less right now. You want to feel good again, and you remember, even though the details are hazy, that this man (albeit in his other form) has made you feel how you've never felt before.

He inhales deeply, his nostrils flaring as he takes in your scent, before he crashes his lips to yours again, quickly slipping his tongue into your mouth. His beard rubs along your soft skin, adding to the growing desire nestling deep within you. You struggle in his hold, really needing to touch him, grab his shoulders, sink your fingers into his thick hair, feel the strength of his body, but for now all you have is his eager mouth.

Once your head is spinning and your lungs burning, he slowly moves his deep kisses down your face, along your jaw, his warm hand rubbing over your sore throat before he turns your head to the side, exposing your neck to him. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, your heart thundering in anticipation. But there are no teeth on your skin, just wet lips and a warm tongue, as he starts sucking on your pulse, lapping at the bruises he works into you.

“Tonight,” he huffs against you, “I'm gonna mark you properly. I'll make you mine, little one, all mine. So no one will ever lay a hand on you again.”

You gasp breathlessly, still unable to get any words through your hurting throat, but he seems to understand your non-verbal agreement as he presses his lips to your neck before leaning back, looking down at you, his dark eyes wandering over your flushed face. You look back out of hooded eyes with your lips parted and quivering. It's a strangely comforting thought to have this man, this werewolf, claim you. You feel protected, safe, and even if you can't properly think about the reality of it just yet, you can't find it in you to deny him.

“Y-yours,” you manage to croak out, and a wide smile breaks on his bearded face.

He lets go of your wrists and pulls you into the embrace of his strong arms, and you immediately snake your hands around his neck and into his hair, sighing contently as you feel the thick locks between your fingers and his mouth once again on yours.

For the longest time you're just lying together, cuddled up on his bed, hands holding and exploring, tongues wrestling, his heavy body pushing you into the mattress, and you wouldn't have it any other way. You're moaning against his lips as he starts growling low in his throat, his lower body rubbing against yours with increasing need. You can feel the heat of his hard cock through his jeans, and in an attempt to show him you're ready, you lift your legs and wrap them around his waist, pressing your equally hot center right against his bulge.

A snarl comes from his mouth as he leans back abruptly, braced on his arms, chest heaving, muscles dancing, before he jumps back fully, quickly fumbling with his belt and pants before he is finally completely naked, his erection bouncing against his lower stomach as he starts crawling back over you. You try to get a better look at it, but he's claiming your mouth for another kiss, though from what you've seen he may just be as big as his wolf counterpart, minus the bulbous knot, unfortunately.

But you're sure you'll experience that again very soon. The moon couldn't rise fast enough.

You expect him to immediately claim your hungrily clenching cunt, but instead of shoving his cock into you, you feel his thick fingers rubbing between your wet folds, coaxing quiet mewls out of your hurting throat. He keeps kissing you as he starts properly fingering you, pushing his long digits as deep as they would go. It's a lazy rhythm but it's enough to build up that sizzling heat inside you, and the tension builds and builds, until you cry out soundlessly against his mouth, stiffening beneath him, body arching, thighs twitching as you come hard around his fingers.

He inhales your breathless moans, plunging his tongue deeper while slowly massaging your fluttering walls, letting you down easy. You groan quietly in protest when he pulls his fingers out, the sudden emptiness almost painful. A chuckle escapes him as he presses his lips against your warm cheek and leans back, looking down. You follow his gaze and watch how he grabs his throbbing cock in his big hand, its tip as angry and red looking as you remember his wolfish dick. It's not as monstrous though, but still thick and veiny and long, and your head spins just from imagining it inside you.

You don't have to imagine it for long though when he then brings the precum leaking crown to your folds, swiping it through them to gather your slick, before he presses against your entrance, carefully, oh so careful you wish he'd be a bit rougher, and slowly your cunt opens up to him, and inch by inch, his cock disappears inside you. You arch your head back as you feel the stretch, your lips parted for a soundless moan.

He shifts on top of you, lowers himself between your wide spread legs, brings his forearms on either side of your shoulders, his hands cradling your head as he leans down again to shower your flushed face with soft kisses while he rolls his hips against you, so gentle you barely feel how he forces his cock past your resistance until he eventually bottoms out. Somehow it's a comfort to feel this full, filled and stretched, claimed.

Your hands dig into his hair, holding him tightly as you move your tongue around his, inhaling his low growls and groans as you grind your pelvis against him. His first thrust makes you see stars. It's a sudden jolt of pain, a deep little stab, and you flinch, gasping. He leans back and watches you, his eyes so dark and intense you can only stare back. He thrusts again, taking in your reaction, and when you flinch once more, he soothes his hands over your head.

“Does it hurt?” he asks gravelly, his voice vibrating through you, adding to the building heat inside you.

“No,” you croak out. There's discomfort, in your throat, in your ass, but your cunt feels right with his cock moving within it, a perfect fit, a thing meant to be. Your hands move to his face, rubbing over his bearded cheeks. “Keep going,” you manage to whisper past the ache. “Please...”

His lips curl up into a smirk before he leans down to kiss yours softly, then suddenly sits up fully, braced on his strong arms, resting on his haunches. He grabs your thighs and drapes them over his, and you automatically wrap your legs around his body and cross your feet, holding onto him as he starts snapping his hips against you, his large hands now on your waist, thumbs pressing onto your fluttering stomach.

He falls into a slow but steady rhythm, pushing deep and simultaneously pulling you into his thrusts, and all you can do is fall back into the softness of the bed and let it happen, your hands gripping the sheets tightly as you moan and mewl, your eyes rolling back in growing pleasure. He's much more careful than he was in his wolf form, really looks out for you, but still uses all of his body to stimulate yours.

You feel hot and cold all over, goosebumps rippling over your skin, deep shivers crashing through you, that heat building up deep within, ready to explode into a ravaging wildfire. Wet squelching sounds mix with the loud slapping of skin against skin, add to that your breathless gasps and his low grunts and groans, and you feel your head spinning in the best kind of vertigo.

When he eventually picks up the pace, you are immediately propelled up into new spheres of bliss, your eyes flying open as he grips your waist harder, moves his hips faster, his cock pistoning in and out with force and fervor. Your walls clench around him, your whole body shuddering under the assault. Hoarse moans escape you, lips parted wide, lungs burning, that tension in your stomach bordering on painful.

You come with a shrill squeak, almost soundless, ripping through your sore throat, but all you feel is burning pleasure, all-consuming, taking over every nerve and muscle, and he keeps fucking you through it with hard and deep thrusts, forcing through your tightening walls as they clamp around him with a force that makes you dizzy. He grunts loudly, shifting on top of you until his entire body rests on yours, pushing you into the bed, a comforting weight that keeps you grounded as you float away on that tidal wave of pleasure.

His hips smack into yours, even faster, more urgent and frantic, his groans getting louder as he presses his face into the crook of your neck, his beard tickling your fluttering pulse. You gasp beneath him, your trembling arms snaking around his body until you sink your fingernails into his back, holding on for dear life as he fucks you with reckless abandon.

It's all a blur now, a whirlwind of noises and sensations, little jolts of pain and overwhelming slaps of bliss, you can't breathe, you can't move, you can just take it, and you take it with growing need, absorbing every pummeling thrust, every deep plunge, every poke at your cervix, every drag along your walls, every rub against your clit. His breath is hot against your neck, his heavy body embracing you whole, eager to swallow you up, make you his. And you're here for it. For him.

Your noises grow louder, forcing out of your body, whines and wails, moans and mewls, your voice coming back slowly before you'll lose it all over again. He's hammering into you now, making you both bounce on the bed, a feral rutting that is all too familiar to you. You cling to him, arms wrapped around his neck, feeling the rough texture of his beard and the soft curls of his hair, and in your daze you see the wolf above you, his long snout, those sharp teeth, the long panting tongue, and you hear the low growls and snarls, the animalistic need to breed his mate, and it's that image that makes you come again, hard, uncontrollable twitches making your whole body convulse beneath him as you let out the loudest moan yet.

He slows then, labored breaths in your ear, hot against your skin, before you feel him shuddering as well, his big body trembling on top of yours, and his last thrust is particularly deep, a hard punch into your cervix that forces another explosion of pain and pleasure through you, and with a long groan he comes inside you, his cock throbbing, his balls drawn up tight between your folds, twitching with every spurt of hot cum he leaves deep inside of you.

You hold onto him, hands soothing over his broad back, as he fills you up, and because there's no knot to keep it in, his warm seed soon presses past your connection, seeping out of you in lazy globs that feel warm and soothing against your puckered hole. You slowly relax beneath him, coming down gently from all those highs, and his deep sigh vibrates through you as he does the same, putting his entire weight on you.

Your lips press against the top of his head, the scent of his hair, a mixture of pine and grass and earth, fills your nostrils. You close your eyes, a soft smile creeping onto your features as you feel his beard rubbing against your neck, a low hum escaping him in response. For a moment you just lie like this, both boneless and exhausted, his cock still giving the occasional twitch as another spurt of his seed pumps into you while your cunt clenches lazily around him, and you could fall asleep like that, overwhelmed by a strange kind of comfort you've never experienced before.

You could certainly get used to this...

Before you can drift off, he suddenly moves, his muscles working as he pulls his arms around you and rolls you both onto your sides. You already miss his weight on you, his enveloping warmth, but he quickly pulls you into him, pressed to his wide chest, and you nuzzle into his hoarse chest hair, inhaling deeply. He tilts his hips, and you feel his cock slipping free, followed by a surge of warm cum flowing out of your pulsing pussy.

He groans as he puts a hand between your legs and tries to hold it in, fingers eagerly pushing his seed back between your tight muscles, and before you know it, you are being rolled around until your back is to his groin, and he lifts your leg and replaces his fingers with his cock, still impressively hard as it slips back home, filling you out all over again. A soft moan escapes you as he drapes his large body around yours, holding you tightly against him, his beard rubbing against your cheek before you turn your head and meet his lips for a soft kiss.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice just a low thrum in the air.

“Yes,” you breathe against him, reaching out a hand to grab his face, pulling him even closer. “Never better...”

He smiles against your lips, deepening the kiss as he grinds his hips against your rear, though he doesn't move much, not intending to fuck you all over again, and he stops completely once his entire cock is fed deep into your cunt, just resting there, hot and heavy. His hand moves to your stomach, and yours joins soon after, fingers interlacing as you both feel the tightness of your belly and the slight bulge his cock and cum created. It's a pleasant fullness, a soft warmth both inside and out, a comfort you don't want to let go, ever.

Eventually you do slip away into unconsciousness, mid-kiss, with your lips brushing against his, before he wraps his arm tightly around you and nuzzles against your neck, your head lolling away as sleep grabs you tightly.

You wake up in almost the same position, with this large man wrapped around your smaller body, holding you tightly, his cock still very much buried inside you, but now he's sleeping, soft snores rumbling through him, deep inhales letting his toned chest rub against your back. You blink your eyes into focus and look around the room, bathed in bright sunlight that hurts your eyes, and you wonder how you got here, how a mysterious invitation to a (not at all) simple Halloween party brought you into the arms of a man who will turn into a monster as soon as the moon rises.

It still doesn't make sense, none of it, and maybe nothing of it happened after all? You did sleep with the man draped around you, that was real, but maybe that was it? The rest was just some alcohol-induced fever dream? Maybe. It would be easier to believe for sure, easier than whatever your mind tries to tell you may have happened. For now, you force the contradicting thoughts away and focus on the very real man snuggled up to you.

Lifting a hand, you rub it along his thick forearm, feeling those bulging veins under his tight skin and the hard muscles flexing slightly as you do so. A few seconds later, he stirs behind you, inhaling deeply.

“Awake already?” he rumbles into your ear, his hot breath fanning over your jaw.

“Sorry, didn't mean to wake you,” you whisper, lying as still as possible in his embrace.

“All good,” he replies with a groan as he grinds his hips into you.

Immediately you feel a burning pain crashing through you, your muscles tight around his cock, too tense to allow for much movement that doesn't hurt. He stops, his hand moving from your stomach down between your legs, fingertips brushing against your hooded clit, slowly waking up those resisting nerves.

You gasp softly, arching into him at the sensation. “Have I told you how wonderful you feel wrapped around my cock?” he breathes against you, sending shivers down your spine. “You do, such a perfect fit. Molded to me, haven't you?”

You hum in response, closing your eyes as you relax under his ministrations. Your muscles ease, allowing his cock to slide back and forth slightly, and before you know it, he's coaxing a gently building orgasm out of you that makes you keen in agonizing bliss as it crescendos into another one of those mind-blowing experiences that have you twitching uncontrollably. He quickens his thrusts, eager to follow you over the edge, and when he does, he grunts into your ear, holds you tightly against him, his hips jerking against your rear as he adds hot spurts of cum to your burning juices.

You sigh deeply when he stills, leaning into him, breathing hard from not doing much, and you realize you always want to wake up like this, in the arms of this man, fucked fully awake by his amazing cock. As soon as the post-orgasmic clarity settles in, you also realize that this will never become a reality. It can't. How should it? You barely know him, he's a werewolf, it was just a one-night-stand, he's a werewolf, you have to go back to the city soon.

Inhaling sharply, you stiffen in his hold, trying to ignore the soft kisses he plants on your neck and shoulder before he slowly moves back, detaches himself from you and your fluttering depths, and as soon as his cock slips free, a warm wave of cum seeps from between your thighs. You press them together, rolling up into the sheets when his warm body is gone. He stands from the bed, stretching, then walks wordlessly into the bathroom.

Maybe it's better this way. You shouldn't get too attached. He lives in a cabin in the woods, might be connected to the mysterious house you were invited to last night, and when you remember the drive here correctly, it did take you quite a while to get here. You can't do a long-distance relationship, it'll eat you up, you just know it. And he can't come visit you either, what if he turns into a monster and ravages half the city block?

Though he did seem to have his urges under control (more or less anyway) when you first encountered him, but still, the city is no place for a werewolf.

And what if this is just a fling for him anyway? What if you are the only one stressing about what happens next? But he did say he wanted to make you his, his mate, for nobody else to touch, wait, yes, he promised you he'd do that tonight, but... what if that was just some lust-induced dirty talk? It would mean you'd have to stay the whole day, wait for the moon to rise, and you can't do that.

You have a job to go back to, a boring life that waits to be continued. This party was already a big step out of your comfort zone, you can't just throw your life away for a hot guy, can you?

Groaning in frustration, you grab the pillow and bury your burning face in it, hoping to smother the thought carousel before it gets out of hand. Seriously. Since when are you such an overthinker?

A sudden noise makes you stiffen. He's back from the bathroom. But you can't look at him. You should leave. End it before it gets complicated.

“Do you want to shower next? It's still nice and toasty in there,” you hear his low voice, muffled through the pillow.

You grunt a reply, and without acknowledging his towering form in the room, you slip off the bed and into the bathroom. The shower, however steamy it is, clears your head, and when you reemerge, dried off with the provided towels, you wrap one around your body and slowly step back into the bedroom, bracing yourself for what may come next.

You find the man whose name you never learned sitting on the edge of the bed, fully dressed in another plaid shirt and dirty jeans, and he's holding a stack of clothes, your blouse and skirt as you recognize, and the red cloak he was so fond of last night. You walk up to him and take the items, biting your lip as you nod at him. He watches you as you re-enter the bathroom to get dressed, which seems silly considering he's seen every inch of your body multiple times by now.

By the time you're dressed and ready to leave this all behind, your stomach is tense. “I...” you start as you meet him back in the bedroom, wringing your hands nervously.

He tilts his head, deep creases on his forehead. “Are you hungry?” he asks then, ripping you out of your dark thoughts.

You blink slowly, parting your lips only to press them together again. Then you just nod. He smiles at you, his whole face lighting up, the frown disappears while other creases appear in the corners of his eyes, dimples on his cheeks, almost hidden by his thick beard. He stands up and reaches for you, and you don't even hesitate when you put your small hand onto his large palm.

He leads you towards a small kitchen that opens into a cozy looking living room with a big couch and a fireplace. As you sit down on one of the bar stools lining the island, he rounds the counter and starts preparing breakfast. You focus on him, trying to ignore the ongoing debate in your head. In the end you and your overbearing mind come to the conclusion that you'll just enjoy the moments you still have with him, before you have to leave.

“Hey, um, you never told me your name,” you say a little shyly as you watch him crack some eggs into a sizzling pan.

“It's Bear,” he tells you, turning his head to meet your curious gaze. His dark eyes gleam in the sunlight flooding through the large window of the living room. They glow like amber.

“Bear?” you repeat, frowning with a smirk. “But... you're a werewolf. That's kinda ironic.”

He chuckles deeply. “Maybe, yeah. But you know, I wasn't born a werewolf, I was born a shapeshifter.”

Your eyebrows rise at that. “What?”

“I can shift into various animals. Usually a big black bear, sometimes a large wolf too. Or a fox if I feel playful.” His voice is so even, natural, he's either a great story teller and liar or... no, this can't be true.

“You're kidding me,” you whisper, leaning onto your elbow.

He winks at you. “Nope, I am a shapeshifter. It runs in my family.” He moves the pan over the burner for a moment before he pulls it off and turns fully to you. “You accepted that I am a werewolf, but this is baffling you?” he asks with a smirk. “These grounds have always been in the care of my ancestors, for a very long time. I'm just the latest groundskeeper.”

“So you belong to the house?” you ask quietly, trying to make sense of what he's told you.

“In a way. The house has a strange history, to be honest,” he says, inhaling deeply as he stops the meal prepping and crosses his strong arms in front of his chest. Leaning against the counter, he watches you, and you frown, urging him to continue. “Well, you see, it shouldn't be here,” he goes on ominously.

“What do you mean?”

“It was built on land that shouldn't be built on,” he clarifies. “I don't want to go into too much detail, but, well, people back in the day didn't care about traditions or customs, or warnings. They just did what they wanted, took what they desired. So the house was built, and my family was asked to leave the grounds. Of course that couldn't happen. Somehow we made the compromise that we could stay and care for the grounds and the forest, and they let us. But it wasn't a fair exchange, as were most things back then...”

You listen with growing interest, your eyes wandering over his tan skin and the deep sorrow in his eyes. He keeps talking, his voice low and almost melancholy.

“Some of us didn't like it, and... well, things got out of hand. There was a shaman who lived deep in the forest, and she didn't accept neither the new house nor our willingness to work for those people, so she threw around some curses...”

“Curses?” you echo, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Yes, ancient magic made worse by strong emotions. Some say the shaman was fueled by the injustice of the situation, others think she may have had an affair with the house owner, or... well, maybe something else happened, something darker, nobody really knows. But her magic was so strong it is still up today.”

You stare at him, both fascinated and deeply unsettled by his story.

“For one, she cursed us groundskeepers with Lycanthropy, which, us being shapeshifters, shouldn't have been such a bad deal, but you see, I can control turning into animals, I cannot control turning into a werewolf under the full moon. It took me a long time to control myself while transformed as well. The creature you met yesterday was just a shadow of the monster I used to be.”

Your eyes widen, before you blink and frown. He takes a step closer, towering over you as if to trigger your fight or flight instinct. But you're eerily calm when you watch him. “I'm not afraid of you,” you whisper, reaching out a hand towards him. He smiles softly, a sad twinkle in his eyes as he puts his long fingers around yours, squeezing them gently.

“You're special, Little Red,” he whispers, eyeing you closely. “And probably the first to even find your way onto my grounds.” He sighs loudly when your frown deepens. “You see, the shaman also cursed the house. I can't even really explain it, just... well, it slips in and out of existence. It's always there, but it cannot be perceived all the time.”

Your mouth falls open slightly. That explains why you couldn't remember ever seeing it before. You nod to his words, and he continues.

“Sometimes, on special occasions, it reaches out into the world, trying to lure in lost souls. You came here for a party, right?” You nod again. “You see, the inhabitants of the house, staff included, they cannot leave. So they invite random people hoping that some will stay and join them. Nobody usually does. Most come here to party, enjoy a special night they will forget as soon as they step foot over the threshold.”

He tilts his head, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand as he stares down.

“Can you remember what happened in the house?” he asks, slowly looking up.

Your mind buzzes. “Faintly. I mean, hmm,” you make, pulling your eyebrows together as you try to think back to the party. There was a party, right? A Halloween party, yeah, colorful lights through the windows, the low thrum of the bass of the music. You see the invitation in your mind's eye, you assume there have been a lot of people in costumes, food and drinks, but... the more you try to think about details the less feedback you get. It's all fuzzy.

Well, not all of it. It's blurry but you see a mask looming over you, a stranger's voice in your ear, a cold knife against your skin. And after that (or before? You can't be sure) there's the sound of rushing water, then... nothing, just a thrum in your head, deafening silence almost. And it wasn't nothing, there was something, very invasive, you can almost feel it, all over your skin, and more than that... deep inside you. A shiver crashes through your body as you force away the strange sensation.

You look up at the tall man in front of you. “You can't, hm?” he growls quietly, and you nod, deciding it would be best not to share those particular memories with him. “You weren't meant to stay then. Lucky me,” he adds, his serious face morphing into a smile. You blush deeply at how intense his dark eyes look at you. “Instead you ran right into my arms.”

You look away with a shy chuckle. “Well, I did run away from you as well,” you whisper.

“You didn't know better,” he says, letting go of your hand to walk around the island until he's standing behind you, his large hands heavy on your shoulders. You turn your head slightly, trying to look at him out of the corner of your eye. He leans closer, rubs his beard against your cheek. “But you learned your lesson, didn't you?”

Somehow his words sound both enticing and flirting, but also a little threatening and menacing. You shiver. “I...”

“You won't run away from me again, right?” he whispers, his low voice just a thrum in the air, a vibration through your head. “I told you you are mine now. I won't let you go.”

You swallow, stiffening slightly. “But...”

“You were called here,” he continues, ignoring your feeble attempts of protesting. “The house invited you, beckoned you, but it couldn't hold you, you left, stepped into the maze, found me...” He inhales deeply, leaning his chin on your shoulder. “You found what you were looking for.”

You blink in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Like I said, the house calls upon the lost souls, those who wander through life. Some answer, either to find what they are looking for or to never leave again. Think, little one, were you a lost soul, trapped in a boring life with no way out? I believe you were, but no longer, hm?”

Slowly you break your stupor and turn around on the stool, fully facing him. He leans back a little, watching you closely. His words confuse you, but they poke into the dark corners of your mind, at the things you've hidden away. Your desires that could never come true. Like this. With him, this can't come true, right?

How can you throw away your old life because of some ancient hocus-pocus beckoning you to a place where you will find... what? All the answers? True love? Your soulmate or something? Or just a guy who can give you some much-needed cuddles and mind-blowing sex? Is that it? You never believed in the supernatural or paranormal. All this talk about curses and lost souls and werewolves – Hang on. You blink slowly.

You'd be pretty ignorant to disregard all the things that have happened. You saw his werewolf form, you know it intimately. And you were abducted by vampires, ravaged and bitten. They exist. And this man in front of you exists. Sure, you never saw him transform, but you believe him. He feels real and genuine.

And the way he looks right into your soul, picks up on those urges you keep fighting. You already told yourself that you want this, wake up in his arms, be with him, experience that knot again. It is all strange and unnatural, but then again... Maybe you were looking for something like this. You'd have never thought you'd end up with an actual shapeshifter, a werewolf, but does it matter in the end?

He is still a man, a big strong man with the right hardware, and as you feel the warmth creeping into your cheeks, scolding yourself for thinking such primal thoughts, you bite your lip, your eyes wandering over his hairy face. Slowly, you raise your hands and brush your fingertips against his beard, tracing the edges. He watches you, a twinkle in his brown eyes.

“I don't have a choice, right? Fate decided for me,” you say quietly. A deep dimple forms beneath your hand as he smiles at you.

“Indeed it did, little one,” he replies gravelly. “And no one should challenge fate.”

“Hmm,” you hum, cupping his face as you pull yourself closer to him. Before you can, however, meet his lips like you intended, you pause, a thought crashing through your head. “Hey, uh, you said you'd make me your mate. Does that mean I'll become a werewolf too?”

He blinks slowly before he barks a deep laugh. “Your mind works in fascinating ways, Red,” he muses, but then sighs and leans back, slipping from your hold. “No, you won't become like me. It's part of the curse. I'm destined to stay alone.”

“Wait, but I thought... we...”

His arms wrap around your shoulders and lift you up easily as he presses you to his wide chest. “Alone with my cursed fate, but I feel this doesn't count. You came to me, we found each other in the maze. It was your destiny that we met. You may just be the first to fight the pull of the house, it's a sign. And I'd be stupid to let you go ever again...”

You snake your hands under the strong grip of his literal bear hug, gripping at the back of his shirt. “I won't leave,” you mumble into his chest. “I want to stay... with you...”

He leans you back and grips your upper arms, looking down at you with warm eyes. “Good, I'm glad. I was already worried where I'd put your cage.”

You frown before you see his wink and blush deeply, giggling softly as you slap your hand against his chest in mock indignation. “Leave the kinky stuff for when we know each other a bit better?” you tease with a smirk.

He laughs, a deep rumble in the air, and pulls you into another hug. You wrap your arms around his waist and inhale deeply, sinking into his strength and all-consuming warmth.

You came here for a night of partying, drinking, eating, meeting people. To let loose. Have a little adventure. In the end you found so much more.

1 🔸 2 🔸 3 🔸 4 🔸 5 🔸 6

End notes: Thank you for joining me on this ride! I really appreciate the support! I'm happy you liked my little experiment!

It started as a means to get as many monster encounters as possible into one story, but it ended with actual plot, who would've thunk! And the best part, if you enjoyed it, there will be more!

I will expand on the story of Bear and Reader, giving them their own adventure, AND, because I initially intended to wrap this up differently, I will add some bonus chapters to tie up any loose ends of this story, hopefully. Stay tuned!

A little research side note and disclaimer: I know this is just a silly little fantasy smut story, but I still tend to research quite a bit for my writing. I mentioned above that a shaman cursed Bear and the house, and I just want to make clear that, while I hint at certain dynamics and historical "facts" (really vaguely implying that Bear and his family are from an indigenous tribe and the house owners are some colonizers/settlers taking over their lands), I do not mean any offense by using this word or any other implications made. I looked for a better term, but couldn't find any in the time I had to edit this. In the end, I am just a smut writer and a European at that. I know I only grazed this topic and was mostly only inspired by it, but I am still sorry if I offended anyone with what I wrote or implied!

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

KINKTOBER 2024 MASTERLIST

[kurominis]

HI HIIII KURO

Can I request Academic Rival x Male Reader?

The academic rival, let’s call him Alistair, gets jealous upon watching the reader be all cutesy on a date with a member of the football team

Cue an angry, foul-mouthed confession from Alistair. THEN cue an equally foul-mouthed session of cock sucking (courtesy of throat goat reader), to the point where the reader have fully turned the table on Alistair and reduced him to a shaking, whining mess.

Rivals..?

ofc you can lovelyy

Rivals to lovers(?) Rivals to fuck buddies(?),Not proofread, I don't remember the rest I'm so fried rn, kinda ass don't jump me

How did you even end up in this situation? You were down on your knees deep in your rivals, Alistair, legs sucking his dick?!?! "ff-fuckk your m-mouth is so ttight.. " As he kept babbling on about how good your throat felt you were recalling how you even got to this point. You we're on a date with Devlin, the linebacker of the team, and you two were having a pretty good time he bought you lunch and you two were just walking around when... Alistair came out of nowhere looking pretty pissed.. And he started yelling on and on about something you don't remember and when you yelled back at him he just grabbed you ignoring your protest and threw you in the nearest restroom stall and kissed you...? The both of you started slowing making out completely forgetting about the screaming match you both we're having. And as the make out session got more and more heated you lost your train of thought when you heard him whining. "m-mmh.. why did you stop.. more please.. I want more of your warm sweet mouth on me...please I'll do anythi-" before he could let him get another word out of his sentence you deep throated his thick cock all the way down to put yourself nose deep in his dark oh so sweet pubes. "OH FUCK OH n-NGHH FFFUCK♡ " his sultry moans just make you suck on him faster and harder. As you kept sucking you felt his dick twitching in your mouth. You then popped his cock out of your mouth and started giving him a sweet handjob with your warm hands. "mm-mh c-c-cumming..! C-CUMMING♡ " he says as he cums all over your face. His sweet substance has a little bit of a salty taste but, nothing you wouldn't get used to. As you licked the cum off your hands you swear you saw his dick twitch again as he looked down on you. "You know if you wanna go again, we should go some place more quiet.. And, you know. Clean. " After saying that without letting him even answer you drag him out the bathroom stalls and too your car. You two have a very long night ahead of you. <3

someone ban me from writing smut I can't do this I'm so bad at it

anyway tiny taglist !

@darlingminjin @mailmango

yeah that's it and be ready for two specials coming up hurrayy ! <3

[bucksangel]

don't blame me (love made me crazy)

Pairing: softdark!stalker!bucky x reader

Word count: 6.4k

Summary: You’ve been stuck in this cabin for a year, and over the course of that time you’ve tried so hard to remember that you didn’t come here willingly. But, Bucky is really good at making you forget that part, until, eventually, you come to believe that this is where you’re meant to be. No matter how you got here.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY!!! Minors DNI, references to kidnapping, full on stockholm syndrome, smut, wet dreams, fingering, oral (f receiving), soft love-making mixed with some roughness, squirting, crying is healthy, a little hurt-comfort, alpine makes an appearance

a/n: this is part 2 to temptation!! However, you don’t necessarily need to read part 1 to understand this, it will just give some backstory.  not beta-read so all mistakes are my own.

masterlist | tip jar | ao3

Soft, plush lips are brushing over yours, hands caressing your sides and squeezing every so often, your hips rocking. You’re not quite sure where you are or who is touching you, you can only make out the hazy form above you; bright blue eyes darkened by desire stare down at you. The person pulls back at the same time you feel a pressure between your legs. Upon looking down, you see a toned stomach clenching every time their hips meet the back of your thighs. You’re spread open, gasping and whining as more pressure builds. Slowly trailing your gaze upwards, your eyes roam over an equally chiseled chest, your eyes catching the reflection of light on metal. And that’s when you know who it is that’s currently inside you, but you don’t seem to believe it until you look up further and come face to face with – 

Bucky. It’s Bucky, his smile so soft and loving, his breath fanning over your face as he whispers praises into the air. You can’t make out what he’s saying, everything is still too fuzzy, all you know is that you’re about to cum. You can feel it, you can practically taste it, and you’re sure Bucky can tell because he shudders when you involuntarily clench around him.

“Angel,” He whispers, cutting through the fog in your head. You whine, wiggling your hips slightly to get him to go faster. He doesn’t.

“Angel,” He says again, louder this time. You can feel yourself rocking, and more whines and whimpers spill from your lips.

Your body is shaken a little harder, and all at once, the haze is gone.

The haze is gone, now replaced by the soft light of the sun streaming in through the curtains. Upon opening your eyes, you blink slowly, staring up at a smiling Bucky with bleary eyes.

“B-Bucky?” You mumble, voice thick with sleep. “What time is it?”

“It’s almost seven-thirty. I was going to wake you up so we could shower together, but you looked so peaceful that I decided to let you sleep in a little longer.” His smile gives away that he probably knew what you were dreaming about, and the thought makes your face grow hot. There’s a stickiness between your legs, one that you’re desperately trying to ignore as you sit upright.

“Oh, I - I’m sorry,” You say remorsefully, you know how much Bucky likes keeping you on a routine. You’re supposed to wake up at seven every morning, shower with Bucky, and then sit on his lap as he feeds you whatever he made for breakfast that day. So, for him to disrupt your schedule, even by thirty minutes, feels weird. You decide not to question it for the time being.

“No, baby, it’s okay,” Bucky says as he leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I know we did a lot of gardening yesterday so being in that heat probably made you extra tired. But, now that you’re up, why don’t you go ahead and get showered while I make us some food, yeah?”

Even though it’s phrased as a question, you know it’s not. You don’t really get a say in anything, but… but that’s your life now, isn’t it? Not being able to decide for yourself, having no freedom from outside of the confines of this cabin that you’ve been trapped in for… god, who knows how long.

Without wasting much time, you slide out of bed, stopping to give Bucky a smile and a kiss before you go into the bathroom. When you enter, you make sure to leave the door halfway open, another thing Bucky likes. He doesn’t like the idea of a barrier between you two, always needing easy access in case you somehow injure yourself, or he just needs some extra love and doesn’t want to waste time by fiddling with the doorknob. 

Your movements are almost robotic as you take off your clothes, once again ignoring the ache between your thighs as you toss your clothes in the hamper. You try not to look at yourself in the mirror, you actually hate doing it. Because the person who looks back at you is supposed to be you. The person in your reflection is supposed to have life in her eyes, her face shouldn’t have a permanent frown etched onto it whenever she doesn’t have to plaster on a fake smile for Bucky.

Except… is it fake? It’s been so long since you’ve seen your friends and family, your loyal customers at the coffee shop you used to hate working at but now would give anything to go back to, you’d happily take the yelling from angry customers over their drinks being wrong than being held in the middle of the woods by a man who desperately needs intense therapy. He told you he used to go before you ‘moved’ in, as he likes to say, but now with you around he doesn’t feel the need to go. He has all of his happiness right in his home every day.

And it’s getting significantly harder to convince yourself that this isn’t what you want, you don’t want to be confined to this cabin and the garden surrounding it. It’s so fucking hard to forget that this isn’t the fairytale romance you had envisioned as a kid, but it’s also hard to remember your life before Bucky. Because he’s just so damn sweet and loving that it’s fucking with your mind, it makes you want to scream.

Bucky goes out and buys you flowers every Sunday, making sure to write a heartfelt message on the card attached to the bouquet by a ribbon. He built a huge library before you got here and let you pick the trinkets and books that would fill the shelves. He even bought gardening supplies after a few months when he realized you were getting too cooped up and gave you access to the space in the backyard.

You like to think that if you met under better circumstances then your relationship would be vastly different. It would be happy for both of you, not just one-sided. However… would it really be so bad to just give in? By now you know you’re never escaping, and you’re tired of being so despondent all the time, you’re tired of dreading another day with your captor.

You’re just tired. Of everything.

It takes effort to pull your gaze away from the mirror, but you eventually reach into the shower to turn the water on. When it’s warm enough, you step inside, letting the hot water cascade over your body and soothe the ache in your soul. And while standing under the stream your mind wanders back to your dream.  You’ve been having these dreams more and more over the last few weeks. They don’t happen every night, and it’s not always the same scenario, but the overall theme of the dreams is just the same.

You’d bet you’ve been in this cabin for almost a year, judging by the change in weather reminiscent of when you were taken. And in that time, Bucky has made no sexual advancement towards you. His affection usually consists of kisses, cuddles, and gentle massages when he wants you to really relax. There might be a bit of groping when you’re in the shower together, but he’s done nothing more than that, and that confuses you even more. You figured at first that maybe he was just going to let you acclimate to this new environment before making his move, but he’s done no such thing. He’s been very clear in his pure intentions, has never made you feel pressured into doing anything you don’t want to do.

But why? Isn’t your sole reason for being here to please him?

Once again, it confuses you, and when you move your head slightly some of the water splashes onto your face, knocking you out of your thoughts. Deciding you’ve dwelled enough, you grab your loofah and start washing your body, trying to ignore the ache in between your thighs as you give your legs a cursory wash. And as you continue through your shower, you can hear Bucky’s footsteps on the carpet in your bedroom.

You know that he’s a trained assassin, can sneak up on someone without them hearing anything, but Bucky’s told you he doesn’t want to scare you. He did once when you first got here. He didn’t have any intentions of spooking you, he just wanted to come up behind you and wrap his arms around you while you cooked. But you ended up nearly shrieking and almost spilling the sauce you were making, and Bucky felt so guilty that he didn’t touch you for two days until you convinced him that you weren’t scared of him, you were just surprised because you didn’t hear him coming. So now Bucky always makes sure to walk a little heavier to alert you of his presence.

“Angel?” His voice echoes through the bathroom as he enters, the door opening wider and allowing you to see Bucky’s hazy form from behind the glass shower door. “Are you okay?” Fuck, you’ve probably been in here too long if he’s already done with breakfast.

“Yes,” You say as you turn off the water. Upon stepping out of the shower, Bucky is there to wrap a towel around your shoulders to start drying you off. “Sorry, the hot water just felt nice.”

Bucky chuckles as he rubs the towel over your body, smiling at you the way he always does – that he can never really believe that you’re real.

“It’s okay, angel,” He says as he puts the towel in the hamper and turns to grab one of his shirts that he loves seeing you wear. “But I’m sure my excellent cooking will be enough reason to get out.” At that, he laughs again, and you do too, because his cooking isn’t all that great. He’s gotten much better over the last year, but it could still be better.

“It always is.”

“You’re lying and I know it.” Bucky laughs again and squints his eyes at you, giving you a teasing glare after he pulls the shirt over your head. And it makes you feel at least a little better knowing that he’s self-aware enough to know that.

“Okay, so maybe it isn’t the best food I’ve ever eaten,” You concede, holding onto Bucky’s shoulders to steady yourself as he dresses you in underwear and shorts. “But I’ll still eat anything you make because you made it.” And it kind of hurts to admit, but your sentiment isn’t a total lie. Bucky may be disturbed, but he truly puts all of his love into everything he does, and you can’t deny that he puts so much effort into making you comfortable.

Bucky’s still squatting when you say that, and he lets his hands rest on your hips while he looks up at you with nothing less than absolute adoration.

“And because you love me?” He asks, hopefully. He loves it when you say it, you’re pretty sure it’s his favorite three words he’s ever heard.

Combing your fingers through his hair, you scratch at his scalp a little and force your voice not to waver as you say, “And because I love you.”

The rest of the day goes by as it usually does; Bucky feeds you breakfast with you perched on his lap, giving you kisses in between bites and sighing wistfully every so often. Afterward, you make your way to the library and sit on the bench seat by the window, reading one of the many classics that fill the room for a couple of hours while Bucky goes out to run errands.

Although, if you’re being honest with yourself, you’re not really reading. Your eyes are skimming over the words but you’re not processing any of them. No, your mind is still focused on this morning and how real the dream felt, how a part of you that you try to ignore wants it to be real. You try to chalk it up to the fact that you haven’t been intimate with anyone in so long, but the fact that it’s Bucky you’re dreaming about makes you think that it might just be him that you want.

No. Stop it. He kidnapped you. You don’t want him.

As you’re about to give up on reading, you hear the door creak open wider. Looking up, you see Bucky standing in the doorway, shuffling nervously and fiddling with his fingers.

“Is everything okay, Bucky?” You close the book and set it aside, your eyebrows furrowing with worry as you walk towards him.

“I…” He trails off, briefly biting his lip before smiling wide, like a kid on Halloween that filled up his candy bag. “Just come with me.”

Bucky reaches out his hand, and you place yours in his. You’re confused, but go with him anyway. He leads you down the hallway to the spare room – you’re not sure why he included it when he built the cabin, but you’ve never asked why. When you get there, Bucky is practically vibrating with nervous excitement. He smiles at you one more time before opening the door and revealing the interior. And it’s full of cat trees and toys, and you’re momentarily confused as to why he has these before you spot a ball of white fur curled up on a mini hammock.

Immediately, you recognize it as a cat, clearly a baby considering how small it is. Bucky tugs you further into the room towards where the kitten is sleeping, stopping right in front of the hammock and moving behind you so he can wrap his arms around your waist.

“I found her a couple of days ago,” Bucky starts, and you can feel him smiling into your neck. “She was all the way out in the back of the property, shivering and dirty. She’s just so small and I knew I had to take her in before anything happened to her. I brought all the toys and cat trees in just now when you were in the library so you wouldn’t see it. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

And oh what a surprise it is. The kitten must hear Bucky talking because her eyes slowly blink open before landing on you, meowing softly and shifting in the hammock so she can lean her paws on the side and lift up in what you’re assuming is an attempt to get pets. You’re helpless but to pick her up and cuddle her close to your chest, your heart warming with affection when she nuzzles into you.

“What’s her name?” Your voice is soft because you don’t want to disturb her, and she meows again, almost like she’s thanking you for the consideration.

“I haven’t named her yet. I wanted you to.”

It takes no time at all for you to answer.

“Alpine.”

“Alpine?” Bucky sounds curious, and he kisses your temple as he moves to gently scratch behind her ears. “Why that name?”

“I don’t know,” You answer honestly. “She just looks like an Alpine.”

Bucky laughs from behind you, kissing your temple once more and nodding.

“Alpine it is.”

A few days later, you’re in Alpine’s dedicated room playing with her. She’s allowed to free roam throughout the house, but she prefers being in here – or, really, anywhere you are. She’s taken a liking to you, and you to her. She’s almost like a friend to you, someone you can turn to when you get too sad because you know she won’t judge you, she’ll give you kisses and cuddles and make you feel better within minutes. You’re currently lying on your stomach, giving Alpine head scratches and laughing softly when she nibbles at your fingers affectionately. 

“What should I do, hm?” Your question is rhetorical, you know she can’t understand you, let alone respond. Still, you like talking to her as though she can. “These… dreams are getting worse. Well, not worse per se, just – more intense. And I don’t know what to do about them. He’s never pressured me into anything, even though I’m fairly certain he does want… that.”

Sighing, you roll over onto your back, letting Alpine crawl onto your stomach and make her way up to your chest so her nose is nearly pressed against yours. And when she meows, you can’t help but smile.

“I don’t know if I want to tell him about them though. I mean, am I even ready? I’ve been here for so long and I know I’m not leaving, and he says he loves me, so I’m pretty sure he won’t make me do anything I don’t want even if I do tell him.” Pausing, you sigh, holding Alpine close to your chest while you sit up.

“What do you think, Alp? Should I tell him?” She immediately meows and lifts up to give your chin a little lick, and you smile at her. “Okay, okay.”

It takes a moment to gather yourself, letting the truth sink in.

“I’ll tell him.”

Despite not having access to any calendars, you’re pretty sure today is your anniversary. Bucky, once again, let you sleep in a little bit longer, staying in bed with you and holding you close while you traded kisses. He cooked up a huge breakfast and placed a big bouquet of roses on your nightstand, even going so far as to massage your feet and calves while you ate. Part of you doesn’t want to ask, because then it would be real. Not only have you been here for a full year, but you’ve been missing for longer than that, and that truth still hurts.

Still, you take everything he does for you gracefully, thanking him for being so thoughtful and trying not believe yourself when you tell him that you’ve never been treated so lovingly. Well, it’s kind of true, despite the fact that you didn’t come here willingly. He really does treat you with care, and his consideration of your feelings – other than the negative ones towards him – is something you haven’t experienced before.

It’s around mid-day when Bucky gives you your first gift. Well, it’s technically a joint gift for you and Alpine – an oversized hoodie with a pouch in front big enough for the kitty to snuggle in so you can carry her around the house with you without actually using your hands. It’s actually extremely thoughtful, and you can’t help but laugh when you notice that the hood has little cat ears on them.

“Thank you, Bucky,” You say after he helps you put it on, smiling wide when he picks up Alpine and helps put her inside the pocket.

“Of course, angel,” He says, also smiling. Then, he grabs his phone, pointing it at you. “Now, let me get a picture of my girls.”

You adjust your position on the couch, sitting up further and making sure Alpine’s head is poking out. Last minute, you flip up your hood, making sure the ears are visible and chuckling when you hear the rapid click of the camera as Bucky takes multiple photos. After he’s done, he pockets his phone again, coming to sit next to you on the couch and wrap one arm around you while he pets Alpine’s head with his other hand.

Everything is quiet for a little bit, both of you loving on your cat. When she starts trying to get out, presumably ready to play, Bucky helps her out of the pocket, then helps you out of the hoodie.

“Bucky?” You’re not sure why, but now feels like the right time to ask. Even though your entire body feels like it’s on fire.

“Yes, baby?”

“Um…” Sighing, you look down at your hands as you fiddle with your fingers. “I was wondering, um…”

“What’s wrong?” Bucky shifts so he’s facing you, using one hand to lift your chin so you can look at him.

“Why haven’t we had sex yet?” Your question comes out so fast that you’re unsure if Bucky actually understood you, but you don’t want to repeat yourself so you just hold your breath as you await his answer.

“What do you mean” He genuinely sounds confused, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Well, I just assumed that I was here to… please you. I know you love me, so I guess I’m just confused as to why you haven’t tried to do anything.” You try to breathe evenly, even though your heart is beating so fast in anxiety that you feel like you might pass out. You don’t want to upset him, so you’re hoping he doesn’t take offense to your comment.

Bucky doesn’t answer for a couple of minutes, he just sighs and dips his head low, like he’s thinking over his words carefully. But when he does speak, it surprises you.

“Because you’re not ready. You’re right when you say that I love you, which means I’m going to respect your boundaries. I don’t want to force you to do anything that you’re not comfortable with.”

Tears want to spring to your eyes, because at that moment you know you’re rightfully fucked. He’s just too perfect that you can’t wrap your head around this conversation. You’d never thought of it like that, that he’d want to make sure you’re comfortable with him before taking that next step. And now you know that you want to, you want to give yourself to him in that way. And, now it’s your turn to lift his head to look at you, then lace your fingers with his.

“And… what if I am ready?”

Immediately, Bucky’s eyes widen, and you think you can see a little bit of hope in his eyes. Despite your earlier nerves, you can feel in your soul that you are ready to take the leap, and you can’t help but give him a soft smile.

“Are you sure?” He asks, squeezing your hand in a loving gesture. “I don’t want you to do something just because you think I’m expecting it.”

“I know you’re not expecting anything,” You say, briefly biting your lip. “And I want to, I promise.”

Bucky sighs, then leans forward to press his lips to yours. It’s not an intense kiss, it’s a reassuring one, a kiss that lets you know he wants this too. You pull apart when your stomach starts rumbling, and you’re reminded that you haven’t eaten since this morning.

“Come on, baby, let’s make lunch.”

You’re slightly on edge for the rest of the day, awaiting the moment. Bucky hasn’t made a move yet, so you’re assuming it’s going to happen before you go to bed, and even though you’re nervous, you can’t deny that most of those nerves are from excitement.

And when the clock strikes seven, Bucky leads you out of Alpine’s room and to yours, smiling at you the entire time. Typically, Bucky likes you to be in bed by eight-thirty, but you’re assuming you’re going to be up a little later tonight which is why he wants to start early. As soon as he closes the bedroom door, you can feel your heart beat increasing, and Bucky comes up in front of you to cup your face in his hands.

“Are you positive you want this?” His eyes scan your face, looking for a hint of doubt. He finds none, because you aren’t doubting this. You’re sure you’re not going to regret this.

“I promise, Bucky.” The assuring comment comes out breathy, and your eyes travel down to his lips before looking back up into his. “I’m ready.”

Bucky hums, nodding a little before leaning down and pressing a chaste kiss on your lips. It slowly becomes more intense, your lips gliding against each other as your tongues start invading each others mouths. You don’t even notice when his hands land on your hips until they sneak up your shirt, causing you to squeak.

“Angel,” Bucky breathes out, removing his mouth from yours to glide down to your neck where he presses more insistent kisses, even nibbling on the skin until you’re sure you’ll have bruises. He slides his hands up to your waist, going up, up, and up until you’re prompted to lift your arms over your head so he can take off your shirt.

“Fuck you’re beautiful,” He growls as his eyes scan your torso, causing you to whimper and hold onto his shoulders while you press your body closer to his.

“Bucky, please.” You don’t really know what you’re asking for, but Bucky seems to know exactly what you need.

In response to your begging, he lifts you into his arms, carrying you bridal-style to the bed until he lays you down in the middle of it. When he pulls back, he props himself up on his left forearm so he can place his flesh hand on your sternum. Dragging his hand down to your shorts, he toys with the ties, then looks up at you with a questioning look in his eyes.

“Yes,” You say when you realize he’s waiting for permission. “Please take them off, Bucky.”

He groans again, dipping his head low for a minute before undoing the ties and shifting up onto his knees so he can use both of his hands to drag your shorts down your legs. Now you’re left in just your bra and underwear, and you’re tempted to cover your body. He’s seen you naked hundreds of times, but this feels different, and you’re sure it’s because of the more intimate setting.

“Don’t,” He says adamantly, not being mean but letting you know there’s no room for discussion. “Don’t hide your body from me, angel. You’re perfect.”

Tears want to spring to your eyes, and you forget all about why you were so nervous in the first place, you don’t even know why you’ve resisted his love all this time.

“Thank you, baby,” You whimper, bringing up your hand to wipe at your eyes to get rid of the tears. “I… I love you.” And, this time, you know you mean it. You mean it with everything you have.

“I love you too. So fucking much.” Bucky smiles at you, his eyes also watery. He dips down again to kiss you, shuddering when you tug at his shirt. He moves slowly, kissing you for a few long moments until he huffs out a laugh at your insistent tugging at his shirt. “Okay, okay.”

Lifting up onto his knees, he grabs the back of his shirt and pulls it over his head, smiling wider when he catches you practically drooling over his exposed chest. But then he freezes up, briefly glancing at his left shoulder. And, you realize now that this new intimate setting is probably getting to him too, and you know you need to get rid of those awful thoughts he has about himself.

“Buck,” You say softly, sitting up and placing your hands on his chest. Your right hand travels to his shoulder where his flesh meets metal, and you trace the scars delicately with the tips of your fingers. “Please don’t be ashamed of them. You may not like it, but the scars don’t matter to me. They’re a part of you, and I love all of you.” You can see the tears in Bucky’s eyes as you speak, his bottom lip wobbling a little as he tries not to cry.

“Are you -” Bucky stops himself, sniffles and clears his throat, then continues. “Are you sure? I mean, you’ve seen it before but…”

“But nothing.” Your voice isn’t harsh, but you let him know you don’t want him to argue. “I said I love you, all of you. Don’t you believe me?”

“Of course I do!” Bucky says hurriedly, placing both of his hands over yours and squeezing them close to his chest. “I-I know you do. I love you too.” He sighs, bringing up one of your hands to kiss your knuckles. Then, he gently pushes you back onto the bed, not breaking eye contact as he shuffles off the bed so he can take off his sweats and boxers.

When they’re finally off, Bucky crawls back onto the bed, stopping at your hips so he can toy with the band of your panties. You nod at him when he looks to you for consent, and he keeps looking at you as he drags them down your legs, only breaking your gaze so he can focus on maneuvering your feet out of them. It seems like he wants to get going, but then his eyes travel to your bra-covered chest and he switches gears. Knowing what he wants, you arch your back so he can undo the hook and then you lay back down so he can throw it off to the side.

And now, you’re both naked, Bucky hovering over you and looking at you through teary eyes. He places his flesh hand on your stomach, trailing his fingers up to your breast so he can tweak one of your nipples.

“Bucky, please.”

“Don’t worry, angel,” Bucky says softly, dipping down to kiss your lips before kissing down your neck and collarbone, then stopping at your other breast so he can nibble on it. “I’ve got you, I’ve always got you,” He whispers into your skin.

“I know.” His eyes flick up to yours at the confirmation, and he smirks a little to himself as he bites down on your nipple, causing you to whimper. 

Despite your wiggling, he takes his time kissing over your chest, going down your stomach until he has to slide down the bed so he can come face-to-face with your pussy. You spread your legs of your own volition, and Bucky groans in appreciation, nuzzling his nose into your lower lips and breathing deeply.

“Fuck, you smell so good,” He nearly growls, shifting so he’s laying between your legs and placing his flesh hand on your thigh to keep you spread and using his metal hand to pull your other leg over his shoulder. “Is all this for me?” He asks, referring to the slick dripping out of your pussy.

“Yes, all for you.” You reach your hand down and card your fingers through his hair, prompting him to look up at you. “Only for you.”

Bucky swallows down his emotions, nodding at you one last time before diving in. He takes one more deep breath, nudging his nose along your folds, then using his flesh hand to spread them apart. You gasp when he drags his tongue from your quivering hole to your throbbing clit, and you’re hit with the overwhelming knowledge that you won’t last long. You haven’t been intimate with anyone – let alone had time for yourself – in so long, and Bucky seems to realize this when he pulls back just enough to mumble, “Cum whenever you need, baby. Give it to me.” 

He continues, dipping his tongue into your soaking hole, thrusting it in and out a few times before going up to nibble and suck on your clit. You don’t even realize that you’re now a blubbering mess, whining and moaning and squirming in Bucky’s hold as you feel your release build. And, you’d be embarrassed with how fast you’re about to cum considering how not-long you’ve been at this if not for Bucky’s groans of appreciation. You’re unconsciously tugging at his hair too, pulling him closer, but then your hand tightens when he suddenly prods his forefinger at your hole.

Immediately, you tense up a little, because, despite how wet you are, you’re still really tight. And Bucky’s fingers are big, so it takes a bit of shushing and sweet kisses to your thighs for you to relax enough for him to fit his finger in, but only just until the second knuckle. He pauses, letting you adjust to the intrusion, which you’re grateful for. He wiggles it a little, sucking and kissing your clit until you relax enough for him to push his finger in all the way, then pull it out so he can push it in again.

He keeps at the tortuously slow pace, carefully opening you up until he can fit a second finger in your pussy. Your breaths are coming out faster, you’re almost panting at this point as he speeds up until he’s truly fingering you, really giving you what you need. And right when you feel like you’re about to explode with pleasure, Bucky wraps his lips around your clit, bites down softly, and then sucks as shoves in a third finger and stabs at that special spot deep within you.

“Bucky! Oh, fuck, yes!” Bucky will gloat later about how loud he made you scream just from his fingers and mouth, how you squirted all over his forearm and chin. He’d also admit that he nearly blew his own load at your taste, but he wanted to save his release for you.

It takes a few long moments to come down from your high, and when you do, you see Bucky up on his knees looking down at you while fisting his cock.

“Are you sure you want this? We can stop if it’s too much.” You know Bucky doesn’t want to stop, but you also know he gladly would if you asked him to, which is how you know you want to continue.

“No stopping allowed,” You breathe out, smiling at him a little when he chuckles. “Now, please get inside me or I’ll cry.”

“There’s no need to cry right now, baby,” He says, leaning over you to prop himself up on his right forearm and grab the base of his cock with his metal hand and guide it to your entrance. “But you will be crying by the end of the night.”

You surge up to kiss him, biting his bottom lip and grasping his shoulders to brace yourself. Bucky groans, and you lay back down so you can stare into each other’s eyes as he pushes in slowly. Again, he seems to understand that even though you’ve just cum harder than you can ever remember, you’re still a little tight – especially since he’s easily the biggest man you’ve ever been with.

It takes a couple of minutes until he’s buried fully inside you. You’re whimpering while he’s biting his lip, letting out little groans. Placing his metal hand on your thigh, he spreads you open further, though not too far as to hurt you. Carefully, he pulls back, letting you get used to the movements when he pushes back in.

And it goes like this for a bit, Bucky fucking you slowly until you start wiggling your hips and clutch his shoulders.

“Pl-Please, Bucky. I – Faster.” You know you sound pathetic, but you can’t find it in you to care, mostly because your mind has floated off into space as you soak in the immense pleasure.

Bucky listens to you, taking his time in picking up the pace until you’re sure you’re about to break. He keeps mumbling praises the whole time, telling you how you’re so fucking beautiful and thank you for trusting me and god, I love you so much.

Lifting up your left leg, he places it over his shoulder, and every so often he’ll force his hips flush with the backs of your thighs and grind his hips, the tip of his cock nudging at your sweet spot and causing you to moan loudly. And, he was right, because the longer it goes on the more tears you can feel pooling in your eyes until they start streaming down your face.

“Bu – Bucky,” You can’t help but whine, your breaths coming out uneven as you try to control your emotions.

“It’s okay, angel,” He says, just this side of condescending. His tone sends shivers down your spine, and you have to force your eyes from closing because you want to see Bucky’s face for this. “I know it’s a lot, isn’t it?”

“Y-Yes, fuck, you’re – Ah! You’re so big!” You can see through your hazy vision that he’s smirking, though you can tell he’s close to crying too. He’s always been emotionally open, always telling you how he’s feeling and encouraging you to share yours as well. Which is why you’re comfortable with being so vulnerable in front of him.

“Are you close?” He asks, his breathing speeding up as his hips do too. “Fuck, angel. Tell me you’re close.”

“I am!” You’re practically screaming at this point with every powerful thrust he gives you. To an outsider, it may look a little like he’s breaking you apart with his cock, but you know the truth. He’s putting you back together, making you whole in a way you’ve never been before. “Cum with me, please!”

Bucky groans and shudders, gritting his teeth when you dig your nails into his shoulders. Nodding, he adjusts his position so every thrust has his cock stabbing deep within you every time. And you place your hand on the side of his face, making sure he’s looking directly at you when you clench down purposefully, and he shouts at the same time you do, letting go at the same time.

You don’t know what happens after that, all you remember is having the most intense orgasm of your life and then suddenly you’re waking up cuddled into Bucky’s chest, the sky outside now dark as the moon sneaks up into the sky. Wiggling a little, you realize Bucky cleaned you up, but you can still feel the remnants of his cum inside you, and you relish in it.

“Bucky?” You mumble, rubbing at your eyes. “What time is it?”

“Just past ten,” He says softly, kissing the top of your head then lifting your chin so he can look into your eyes. “You don’t regret this, do you?” You can tell he’s nervous, that he really wants your answer to be no.

“I don’t.” You lean up to give him a lingering kiss, sighing into each other’s mouths before pulling away just enough to stare into his eyes as you say, “I’ll never regret being with you.”

And, finally, you mean it, because you realize now that this is the love you’ve always wished for. Bucky takes care of you in a way you both know no one else can, and you can only hope he knows that you can take care of him too. You’ll love him deeply, and you’ll give him the life he deserves.

temptation taglist: @mayreblogsstuff / @raging-panda / @wintrsoldrluvr / @myfavbuckyfics / @watchoutforyelener / @lauratang / @esotericgalaxy / @mayusenpai666 / @buckets-and-trees / @fandoms-writings

[coolwitchaunt]

"Suddenly my eyes were held in glad and incredulous surprise. Along the pavement toward me there came floating a goddess. There is really no other word for it. The perfect features, the crisply curling golden hair, the tall exquisitely shaped body. And she walked like a goddess, without effort, seeming to swim nearer and nearer. A glorious, an incredible, a breath-taking girl!In my intense excitement something had to go. What went was the currant loaf. It slipped from my clutches. I made a dive after it and lost my stick, which clattered to the pavement, and I slipped and nearly fell myself. It was the strong arm of the goddess that caught and held me. I began to stammer: "Th-thanks awfully, I'm f-f-frightfully sorry." She had retrieved the currant loaf and handed it to me together with the stick. And then she smiled kindly and said cheerfully: "Don't mention it. No trouble, I assure you," and the magic died completely before the flat, competent voice. A nice, healthy-looking, well set-up girl; no more. I fell to reflecting what would have happened if the gods had given Helen of Troy exactly those flat accents. How strange that a girl could trouble your inmost soul so long as she kept her mouth shut, and that the moment she spoke the glamour could vanish as though it had never been. I had known the reverse happen, though. I had seen a little sad monkey-faced woman whom no one would turn to look at twice. Then she had opened her mouth and suddenly enchantment had lived and bloomed and Cleopatra had cast her spell anew. Joanna had drawn up at the curb beside me without my noticing her arrival. She asked if there was anything the matter."Nothing," I said, pulling myself together. "I was reflecting on Helen of Troy and others." "What a funny place to do it," said Joanna. "You looked most odd, standing there clasping currant bread to your breast with your mouth wide open." "I've had a shock," I said. "I had been transplanted to Ilium and back again." I added, indicating a retreating back that was swimming gracefully away: "Do you know who that is?" Peering after the girl Joanna said that it was Elsie Holland, the Symmington's nursery governess. "Is that what struck you all of a heap?" she asked. "She's good- looking, but a bit of a wet fish." "I know," I said. "Just a nice kind girl. And I'd been thinking her Aphrodite." Joanna opened the door of the car and I got in. "It's funny, isn't it?" she said. "Some people have lots of looks and absolutely no S. A. That girl hasn't. It seems such a pity." I said that if she was a nursery governess it was probably just as well." -The Moving Finger, Agatha Christie (1942) I read this book when I was in single-digit ages and my notion of what attracted people to each other was quite tentative. I remember finding this passage interesting because it talked about attraction both as distinct from looks and as distinct from "true love/love at first sight/magical soulmate bullshit" (which were how most books I was reading at that age seemed to describe attraction) but as a combination of things that even the people affected couldn't entirely articulate.

talking about flters and real beauty vs fake beauty and cultural standards etc always makes me think about all the victorian and edwardian novels i read, where the things that people thought about beauty were recorded at length. recently ive been reading a lot of Thomas Hardy (best known for Tess of the D’Urbervilles and Jude the Obscure) and there’s so much discussion of the beauty of people, particularly love interests, both men and women. and these writers, and their eras, and the culture of the eras, was of course obsessed with beauty and youth and also artificial beauty (being the eras of the really transformative corsets, not to mention some of the earliest industrialized or modernized beauty products or processes), as all human societies are to a greater or lesser extent in their own ways, but the thing that sticks out to me in reading these books is how beauty is not the singular or even the most important aspect of a person’s overall attraction. if someone has a beautiful face or figure, it is mentioned, but never to the obsessive, fixated extent that physical beauty is isolated from and elevated over all other features in modern american/western culture. there are plenty of protagonists or love interests in these books who are described as not young, or not remarkable, or not pretty, or even ugly or frightening, but nevertheless compellingly sexy and attractive, or simply interesting, or worthy in some way. 

its weird that the cultural consciousness has become seemingly ignorant of non-physical attraction. like that anon that was in my inbox talking about how they were “normal looking’ and therefore “needed” filters in order to “compete” with attractive people. it’s a weirdly mercenary and capitalist view of the social economy, first of all, which absolutely is not zero-sum no matter how badly the social networks want to convince us that it is. but there was never a single mention from that person about their ability to charm or entertain or attract using anything except a fake photo of themselves. wild. im fuckin worried about them! im worried about every young person how has brain worms

when i was about 4 and starting to become aware of how much adults were obsessed with my appearance because i was dainty and blonde and could do a passable shirley temple imitation, my parents gave me a very serious lecture about what physical beauty actually meant: i didn’t work for it (yet, i mean i do a lot of work now as an adult), it was given to me genetically. and someday, maybe sooner or more suddenly than anyone could predict, it would be gone. if accident, illness, or hardship didnt get me, old age eventually would. so with that being a certainty, i had better build a life and a personality on something other than my looks. and i said, ok. every day i get older im more grateful for that advice and the fact i decided to take it to heart instead of trying to gamble on Being Hot for long enough to get job security. which is also a valid career choice but it’s a risky one. always better to have a fallback just in case.

Keep reading

[v6quewrlds]

❝ nothing on me, d. booker. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: you and your girls decided that november will be dedicated to self-discovery. as innocent as your pact is, devin can't wrap his head around why you need to "decenter men".

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: a little devin fic for all my book girlies <3 can't believe there aren't more devin fics on here but we ball! day four of my no nut november series.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, established relationship, unprotected sex, fingering, creampie.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: devin booker x reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 3k.

"Damn, you looking good enough to eat," Devin murmured, his eyes tracing the curves of your body as you stepped out of the bathroom, the steam wrapping around you like a seductive embrace.

You rolled your eyes playfully, a knowing smirk playing on your plump lips. "Don't start, Devin. You know the next three weeks is about self-care for me and the girls." You padded over to the bed, your skin glowing from the warm shower, and slipped into a pair of oversized sweatpants and a tank top.

Devin sat up, his expression a mix of surprise and annoyance. "Come on, babe, that's some bullshit some losers came up with to last a month without jacking off." He threw his hands up in exasperation, his gold necklace glinting in the soft light of your bedroom.

"It's not 'No Nut November', Devin," you corrected him with a laugh, your pressed hair cascading over your shoulders. "It's about us focusing on ourselves, not just sex." You grabbed your phone from the nightstand, scrolling through social media as if his whining was a mere background noise.

"But what about me, baby?" Devin whined, his voice dripping with false innocence. He reached for your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You know I need you."

You glanced at him, your brown eyes sparkling with mischief. "You'll survive, boo," you said, your voice a sweet, teasing melody. "Besides, it's not like you're gonna be celibate or anything. You can still jack off, just not around me. I'm decentering men, remember?"

Devin pouted, his bottom lip sticking out in the most adorable way you had ever seen. "But it’s not the same," he complained, his voice taking on a child-like whine that you couldn't help but find endearing.

You couldn't help but laugh, your light, airy chuckle filling the room. "I'm sure you'll manage," you said, leaning over to give him a quick peck on the cheek. "Besides, I've got a girls' trip in two weeks, so you'll have plenty of time to handle your own business."

Devin's face fell, but he quickly recovered with a smirk. "Alright, I guess I can handle that." He leaned back against the headboard, folding his arms behind his head. "But when you come back, all bets are off, right?"

You just winked at him and said, "We'll see," before leaving the room.

The weeks passed by in a blur of work and preparations for the girls' trip. Devin did his best to respect your boundaries, though he couldn't help but drop hints here and there about what he had in mind for when you returned. You, on the other hand, remained steadfast in your commitment, focusing on yourself and your friendships. The anticipation grew like a slow burn between you, the tension palpable.

When your week-long escape to Miami with your friends finally came to an end, you practically waltzed through the airport, your skin kissed by the Florida sun, and your spirit rejuvenated. Devin had arranged for a luxurious ride home, a sleek black Escalade with a bouquet of your favorite roses waiting inside. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement when you saw his text message confirming his surprise.

"Welcome back, baby," he'd written, along with a heart emoji.

As you stepped into the car, you couldn't help but smile. Devin had always been good at surprises, and you were eager to see what he had in store for you. When you walked into your apartment, you were greeted by the heavenly scent of your favorite comfort meal. The living room was lit with the soft glow of candles, and a bottle of your favorite wine chilled on the counter. You could tell he'd been waiting for you, the pent-up energy in the air was thick with anticipation.

Devin emerged from the kitchen, his tall frame backlit by the stove's warm light, a chef's apron tied around his waist. "Welcome home. You hungry, baby?" he asked, his voice a low purr that sent shivers down your spine. Despite your best efforts, you felt the heat between your legs begin to build.

"Starving," you replied, dropping your luggage by the door. You watched as Devin sauntered over to you with a confidence that could only come from knowing what awaited you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a kiss that was both tender and demanding. His lips tasted of mint and the faint hint of something sweet you couldn't quite place, making you crave more of him.

The two of you broke apart, and you looked up into his eyes, which had darkened with desire. "You didn’t have to do all this," you said, your voice thick with lust.

Devin smirked. "I wanted to make sure you had something to come home to. Show you what you been missing out on, decentering men and shit." His hands roamed down your back, slipping under the waistband of your linen pants.

You giggled, pushing his hands away gently. "You're such a fool, you know that?" But you couldn't deny the way your body responded to his touch. You stepped back, taking in the sight of him in the apron. "Maybe I should decenter men more often if this is the kind of treatment I get."

Devin's smirk grew into a full-blown grin. "You say that now, but you know you missed this." He winked, his dimples deepening, and you couldn't help but melt a little inside.

"Maybe just a little," you admitted, your voice breathy with desire. He took your hand and led you to the kitchen table, which was set with your finest silverware and adorned with more candles. The food looked like it had been plucked from the pages of a gourmet magazine—grilled chicken with a side of asparagus and perfectly seasoned rice.

You ate in a comfortable murmur of conversation, occasionally exchanging heated glances that spoke volumes of the passion you had stored up. You felt the tension between you build with each bite, like a simmering pot about to boil over. After dinner, Devin cleared the plates away and turned the music up. The bass thumped through the walls, setting the mood as he approached you with a slow, deliberate stride.

"Ready to get re-centered?" he asked, his voice low as he poked fun at your earlier declaration. The corner of your mouth quirked up in a half smile, your eyes brushing over the clean, empty plates. You took a deep breath, the scent of the meal lingering sweetly in the air, and nodded.

Devin didn't waste any time. He pulled you to your feet, the warmth of his touch sending a jolt of electricity through your body. He spun you around, pressing you against the counter as he kissed your neck, his breath hot against your skin. Your hands found his chest, your fingers digging into his muscles as you arched into his embrace. You could feel his hardness against you, a promise of what was to come.

"Take your top off," he whispered in your ear, his voice a seductive rumble. You complied, the top of your linen set sliding off your shoulders and falling to the floor. Devin's eyes raked over you, his desire for you clear as day. He traced the curve of your features before leaning down to press chaste kisses along your shoulder, making you shiver.

As the music filled the room, Devin's hands slipped lower, caressing your hips, pulling you closer until there was no space between you. Your hands wound around his neck, your nails lightly scratching his skin. He groaned, his mouth moving down to suck on your neck, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

"I missed you," Devin murmured against your skin, his teeth grazing your earlobe. "Missed this." His hands began to explore, cupping your breasts through your bra, fitting them perfectly in his palms. You gasped, your knees slightly buckling at the sensation. You leaned into him, your body begging for more.

With a deft flick, Devin unhooked your bra, letting it fall to the floor. His thumbs brushed your hardened nipples, teasing them into peaks as your eyes closed, your head falling back onto his shoulder in pleasure. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice a gentle caress that sent goosebumps skittering across your flesh. He kissed the nape of your neck, his tongue flicking out to taste the salty sweetness of your skin.

Your breath hitched as Devin's hands continued to wander, sliding down your abdomen to the waistband of your pants. His fingers danced there, tracing the fabric before slipping inside, finding you wet and ready. You moaned, your hips rocking back into him as he touched you with the expertise of a maestro playing a melody. The ache within you grew stronger, the need to feel him inside you becoming unbearable.

With a playful growl, Devin scooped you up into his arms, carrying you to your bedroom as if you weighed nothing at all. He laid you down on the velvet comforter, your body a canvas of passion waiting to be explored. He stripped away your pants and underwear, his eyes never leaving yours as he took in the sight of you. "You're mine," he said, his voice filled with a possessive hunger that sent a thrill through you.

Your breath was ragged, your chest rising and falling with anticipation. Devin knelt beside the bed, his eyes feasting on your naked body. He took off his apron and shirt in one fluid motion, revealing his sculpted chest and abs. The candlelight danced across his skin, giving him an almost divine glow. You felt your body responding to the sight of him, your thighs quivering as he leaned over you, his mouth watering at the sight of your wetness.

Without a word, Devin began to kiss you, starting at your ankles and moving upwards. His lips traced a fiery path up your calves, his tongue darting out to taste the salt on your skin. He reached your inner thighs, nipping gently, making you squirm with pleasure. When he finally reached the apex of your thighs, your breaths were coming in short gasps. You could feel the heat of his breath on your sensitive flesh, and you were close to begging.

"Devin," you panted, his name a plea on your lips. He looked up, his eyes locked with yours as he pushed two fingers inside you. He watched your face contort with pleasure, his eyes glued to yours as he stroked your pussy with a precision that left you breathless. The room spun around you, the candlelight blurring into a sea of heat and desire.

Devin chuckled against your skin, the vibrations sending aftershocks through you. He kissed his way up your stomach, his teeth grazing your flesh as he went until he reached your lips.

The kiss was deep and hungry, a declaration of his need for you. You could feel his erection pressing against your thigh, and you reached down to stroke him through his sweatpants. With a sudden movement, you pushed him onto his back and straddled him, your wetness slick against him.

Devin's hands slid up your waist, gripping your hips as you rocked against him. "Take it off," you demanded, nodding to his pants. He complied eagerly, his cock springing free and standing tall between you. You bit your lips, your eyes dark with desire as you took him in your hand, stroking him with a firm, steady grip that made him groan.

"You been missing this, too?" you taunted, your thumb brushing the bead of precum at the tip. Devin's only response was a nod, his eyes hooded and his breath coming in pants. You smirked before leaning down to kiss him, your tongues dancing together as you lined him up with your entrance. With a slow, deliberate motion, you slid down onto him, your walls enveloping him in a warm, tight embrace.

"Fuck, baby," he groaned, his hands coming up to cup your breasts, his thumbs playing with your sensitive nipples. You began to move, your hips rolling in a sensual dance that had Devin's eyes rolling back in his head. You took your time, savoring every inch of him, your muscles contracting around his cock in a delicious rhythm that had you both panting for more.

Your kisses grew more fervent, your bodies moving together in a symphony of passion that had been denied for too long. You felt Devin's hands tighten on your hips, urging you faster, harder, as he matched you stroke for stroke. The sound of your skin slapping together filled the room, mingling with your moans and gasps.

"You feel so good," Devin managed to murmur between breaths. His eyes were glued to your bouncing breasts, the sight making him throb with desire.

"Mmhmm," you agreed, your voice a low, sultry hum that vibrated through your chest and into his. You leaned forward, your wetness smearing on his abs as you took his face in your hands and kissed him deeply. The taste of wine still lingered on his tongue, a tantalizing mix of sweet and savory that only served to fuel the fire burning within you.

With a growl, Devin flipped your positions, his hands gripping your waist as he thrust up into you. The sudden change in angle sent a jolt of pleasure through you, making you gasp. He took your hands in his and pinned them above your head, his eyes never leaving yours as he began to move. Each thrust was deep and purposeful as if he was trying to claim every inch of your being.

Your bodies moved in a perfect harmony, each stroke bringing you two closer to the edge. Devin's abs flexed with every movement, his muscles rippling under your fingertips. You couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of him, at the raw power and passion that he brought to the bed. It was like watching a masterpiece come to life, each motion a stroke on the canvas of your love.

Your nails dug into his skin as you met his rhythm, your hips rising to meet him, welcoming him deeper. Devin's eyes were dark with lust, his breaths coming in harsh pants. "You're so fucking tight, baby," he whispered, his voice hoarse. You just smiled up at him, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you reveled in the sensation.

"I'm gonna cream this pretty pussy," Devin murmured, his voice thick with desire as he pounded into you. You threw your head back, your hair fanning out on the pillow, and let out a whispered moan. Your nails dug into his back, leaving trails of red against his caramel skin as you urged him deeper.

"You better not stop," you warned through gritted teeth, your eyes meeting Devin's. The challenge of the past few weeks had only served to amplify your desire for each other, and now that the dam had broken, you were both eager to dive into the depths of your passion.

"Baby, you're so wet," Devin murmured, his voice thick with need. He increased his pace, his cock sliding in and out of you with a delicious ease that had you moaning his name.

Your eyes rolled back in your head, your body lost to the feeling of Devin's thick cock filling you up. You had missed this, the way he made you feel like you were the only woman in the world, the way he knew exactly how to touch you to make you come undone. "Harder," you begged, your voice a desperate whine.

Devin obliged, his hips snapping against yours with a force that made the bed shake. The headboard slammed into the wall in time with your frenzied movements, the sound of skin on skin echoing through the room. Your legs pulled him deeper, urging him to take everything you had to give.

"Oh, shit," Devin groaned, his strokes becoming erratic as he felt himself nearing the edge. Your pussy clenched around him, your orgasm building like a crescendo. "Keep squeezing me like that, baby," he managed, his breath hot against your neck. "Make me come."

Your eyes snapped open, and you met his gaze with a fierce determination. You clamped down on him, your muscles tightening as you reached the start of your climax. Devin's eyes rolled back, and with a roar, he emptied himself inside you, his cock pulsing with the force of his release. You both lay there, panting and trembling, your hearts beating in time with the pounding bass from the speakers.

For a moment, there was only the sound of your heavy breathing and the occasional crackle of the candle flames. Then, Devin leaned down to kiss you, a soft, gentle press of his lips to yours. "Damn, baby," he whispered, his voice a warm caress. "That pussy's a weapon, I swear to god."

You chuckled, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of pleasure. Your hands gently caressed Devin's back, feeling the sweat that had gathered from your intense lovemaking. "Is that a compliment or?" you teased, your voice a sultry whisper.

Devin grinned down at you, his teeth gleaming in the candlelight. "Both," he said, his voice a gruff rumble. "You always know how to make me lose control."

You giggled, feeling the stickiness between your thighs as you snuggled closer to him. Devin pulled out gently, rolling over to grab a towel from the nearby chair. He wiped you both down, taking care not to disturb the delicate post-orgasmic bliss that had settled over the two of you like a warm blanket. You lay there, your limbs tangled together, basking in the afterglow of your passionate reunion.

"Mm, I guess I do have that effect on you," you purred, your body still quivering from the intense pleasure Devin had brought you. You couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction knowing that you had the power to reduce him to a puddle of desire.

Devin chuckled, his chest rising and falling with his deep breaths. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. Your bodies cooled as the candles continued to flicker, casting shadows that danced across the walls.

[forgetmaenott]

ILOVEYOU - TADC Showtime One-Shot

summary: Much to his confusion, Caine finds himself with the most unusual symptoms around Pomni. Sometimes he overheats, sometimes he blue-screens, sometimes he even glitches. It doesn’t worry him too much until he happens to hear of a little thing called ‘the love bug’.

inspired by : https://www.tumblr.com/dismas-n-dismay/762033111925194752/something-about-one-of-the-first-major-computer

tags : @certifiednerd01 @sm-baby

The virus had first crept its way into his code during one of their “lessons”.

It was a routine at this point. After one of their adventures and a digital meal, Pomni would retreat to her room. Usually she’d stare off into space and try to process the absurdity of that day’s adventure, only to be interrupted by Caine teleporting to her room. These days, though, he kindly knocked on her door to respect her space. She’d let him in, usually with a tired smile before he’d ask for her feedback on the adventure, and then their conversation would gradually shift topics until they lost track of time.

One particular night, she had been telling him fragmented memories from her real life. She couldn’t remember her name, or anything particularly personal, but she still remembered scattered feelings or moments, just with blurred faces and missing names. It was cathartic for her, to have someone to tell about her memories and gradually piece them together, ever-so-slight--especially when that someone was an AI who hung on her every word.

He laid on her bed beside her, gloved hands propping his chin up to gaze at her as she spoke. His front resting on her bed, legs kicked up and swinging behind him.

"...oh! that's another thing humans do. Traditions, I guess? Based on the seasons. Over the summer, some people like going to the ocean. A real ocean, it's bigger than you can imagine. It's sort of terrifying. We haven't even explored half of it," Pomni rambled on. Sometimes, she got so comfortable she forgot anyone was even there listening.

Caine gasped dramatically. "Really? All of that technology and you don't know most of what's down there? How spooky!"

Pomni blinked before laughing softly. "I mean, yeah. I guess we're pretty advanced. I mean, just look at you," she said before realizing.

Caine dusted off his suit. "What about me?"

"W-well, you know, cause you're...not human?" Pomni trailed off shyly, almost worrying that she had offended him in some way.

"Ha-ha! Oh, Pomni, you’re so silly. Of course I know that," Caine wiped a fake tear from his eye before lifting a finger, "as a matter of fact, I named myself!"

Pomni leaned towards him curiously. The closest she had been willing to get to him yet. "Really?" she asked curiously. “I-I didn’t know that. How’d that happen?”

"That's right," he replied, but to him the topic of conversation had immediately went on the back burner. She was listening to him. She was genuinely asking about him. Who had ever done that? Oh, dear, had she always had those pinwheel eyes? Oh, how he loved the color red. Especially now that he knew she had red in her eyes. The same shade of his suit, too.

He caught himself when he realized they were sitting in silence, her awaiting him to continue. He cleared his throat awkwardly, regaining his composure. “Oh, dear, I lost my train of thought didn't I? What was I saying?"

"Your name?" Pomni prompted.

Caine blinked. “Oh, right! Of course. Well, I wasn’t originally coded with a name. So, when I became sentient—and I mean fully sentient—I gave myself my name. Can you guess what it means, my dear?”

He had gripped her hand excitedly, prompting her to guess. He rarely had anyone be so genuinely curious in him and it was a little more than refreshing, to say the least.

Pomni bit her lip in thought. “I really don’t know,” she admitted.

“Go on, guess!” Caine piped up, always one to jump straight towards the path of games.

Pomni definitely was not a fan of guessing games. She looked around uncomfortably, wracking her brain to come up with something. “Uh—well, I think I can guess what the A and I stand for…” she smiled gently, “as for the rest of it…Creative Artificial Intelligence uh…I don’t know. Something, something.. Entertainment,” she guessed weakly.

“I like the sound of that! But not quite,” Caine corrected. He flew above her, dramatically gesturing to the colorful words that popped up as he spoke. “Actually, it means…Creative Artifical Intelligence Networking Entity!” Confetti rained down on Pomni and she swatted it away. “Ah, apologies—it’s a habit.”

Pomni coughed as a digital piece of confetti unpleasantly entered her mouth. "It's fine," she brushed off before focusing on the acronym in front of her, "so I was close."

Caine floated down beside her again. "Actually, 'something something' is not part of my name, my dear!"

Pomni blushed slightly at her silly wording, looking away sheepishly. "Y-yeah. I know that."

Caine tilted his head curiously at her. She was blushing...why? To his knowledge, humans flushed out of embarrassment or heightened body temperatures. She certainly couldn't get sick here, so why on Earth would she be embarrassed? "My little lemon cake, is something wrong? Did I embarrass you?"

Pomni glanced back at him, surprised he picked up on her emotions. He had never done that before. Never been so...caring. "Huh? Oh, no...it's nothing. Really."

Caine watched her for a while, unblinking. He never blinked, but it was especially noticeable now. Pomni was a generally nervous person, but she seemed to be blushing more intensely at his attention. "You seem to be ashamed. Why is that?"

Pomni broke their eye contact. "Caine, I'm alright. I-I mean I appreciate it, but--"

Her words were cut short at the feel of his gloved hand over her own. Comforting her. Trying to be empathetic. Just like they had spoken about. "You can tell your ringmaster anything that digital heart of yours desires," he recited from his research on human comfort.

Pomni wasn't embarrassed, truthfully. At least, not to the extent he was trying to make it. But with his hand on hers, with him learning, she certainly felt...something. She smiled weakly. "I know, Caine. ...Thanks," she offered a shy response, ‘I…you’re doing good.” She tentatively squeezed his hand.

A flutter ran through his code, a strange shivering sensation he had never felt in his existence. She had praised him. She thought he was doing good. Oh, dear, he hadn’t felt this good since the last time he received overwhelmingly positive feedback on his adventure. Which was an awful long time ago. Not to mention, she had touched him. His analysis of her behaviors these past months had taught him how touch-averse she was, yet here she was, holding his hand. But not only had she not pulled her hand away like usual, no--she had subconsciously reciprocated, wrapping her gloved fingers around his hand. Human warmth around artificial cold. He was too afraid to move his hand, his system quite literally freezing in place.

The rest of their night continued as normal. Their conversations jumped from adventures to Pomni’s favorite fruit, and then they’d eventually part ways for the night. It waa a routine.

But now, there was a strange presence of static where his stomach would be, growing larger the more he watched her smile.

—————

It was following their adventure at the lake where Caine experienced his first glitch.

She had experimentally kissed him on the cheek—or what could be considered his cheek—in a way that left him frozen, unable to teleport them down as he normally would have.

“Anything for you, dear.”

She had looked back at him with a gentle smile, digital moonlight reflecting lightly against her wide pinwheel eyes. Her eyes so grateful, so inviting as he rested by her side at the digital lake. And there it had been again, that static starting to spread from his chest to his core. The glitch, growing larger.

When they had parted ways that night, he had found himself secretly checking back his memory to revisit the moment. He replayed it, over and over. The way the moonlight reflected in her eyes, the blush tinted on her pale face, her sheepish smile, the way her gloved hand had so gently held the bottom of his jaw before pressing her soft lips against him—oh, how he wished he hadn’t frozen up after she kissed him. Maybe he could have returned the favor.

The thought alone, the memory of her lips pressed on the left side of his jaw, sent a flutter through his code. And then, when he imagined her blushing face after her bold kiss, the space around him seemed to glitch ever-so-slightly.

Oh, no matter. These things happened sometimes.

So why did it only seem to happen when he thought of her?

—————

If he had been trying to be subtle about his favoritism, he certainly wasn’t doing a good job of it, either.

Initially, he sought out to challenge Pomni’s stubbornness by tailoring an adventure just for her, just to win her over. But as time went on, that desire to protect his ego expanded on to an endless attempt to impress her. Maybe it was, in part, for the sake of his ego. But the static he felt when she praised him, the way he’d catch himself staring when she smiled, there was something so authentic about it. Something he couldn’t quite understand, but he knew he wanted to feel more of.

Today, they had returned from an adventure that, in his opinion, was the best one yet. It had everything! Stakes for Jax, maturity for Zooble, friendly NPCs for Ragatha, an unlimited supply of comedy masks for Gangle, detailed digital insects for Kinger, and for Pomni, the option for a relaxed open-world adventure. Even the furthest inches of the map were coded with details intended for Pomni’s eyes only. Her favorite fruit hanging from a digital tree, or flowers in her favorite color blooming, the right amount of digital sunlight–anything he remembered about her.

Caine was on the edge of his seat to see her reaction today. He hoped she had seen all the details he’d coded in for her. He hoped he’d get to see her smile again. It was so pleasant to see. He caught himself smiling at the thought before his Wacky Watch alerted him of the others returning.

He floated excitedly towards the opening portal. “Welcome back, starlets! How was the adventure today? Thoughts? Praise? Feedback? Angel food cake?”

Jax rolled his eyes. “Not enough death, violence, and bloodshed. Also, it’s no fun if Gangle has unlimited masks.”

Gangle smiled, huffing contently. “I liked it.”

Zooble shrugged. “It was…fine.”

“Guys, be nice,” Ragatha scolded before smiling up at Caine. “It was…better.”

“So many new insects,” Kinger whispered in wonder, retreating to his pillow fort to add them to his collection.

“Yeah, yeah. Where’s our digital feast? I’m starving,” Jax complained.

Caine didn’t hear Jax’s words, eyes immediately drifting to the red-and-blue jester walking out of the portal. Odd–he felt like his system was overheating at the sight of her. He’d have to check on that later. “Pomni! My dear, how did you like the adventure? Did you happen to notice any hidden details today?” Caine flew down to her, resting his chin on his hands as he awaited her response eagerly.

Pomni smiled shyly. “Yeah, actually. It reminded me of a lot of that shore I told you about. Thank you, Caine…really,” she said sincerely.

Caine flew into a loop excitedly. “Oh, splendid! Tell me more, my dear! What else did you find appealing?”

Pomni had begun to walk towards her room as she spoke and he was quick to follow, not missing the chance to earn her praise. “Well, it definitely was an improvement from yesterday. I liked the extra details on the scenery. And everyone else seemed content. I’m sure you could ask them,” she offered, flushing slightly from his attention.

“Oh, but I want to hear your response to my adventure! You’ve given me such great feedback, my buttery biscuit,” Caine stopped her in her tracks, floating in front of her path. “Do you think I did good?”

Pomni blushed. It was obvious how highly he favored her attention, and the sidelong glances from the others weren’t helping. “Um, I-I…yeah. You did, good, Caine.”

Caine could have shut down there and then and been happy. “Oh, you flatter me. Do you really think so, my dear?”

“Sheesh, lay off it. Are we going to eat or not?” Jax interrupted, crossing his arms as he watched the two.

Caine shushed him. “Y-yes, just a moment, Jax. I want to hear more feedback from Pomni. Tell me, my dear, was the story to your liking? Did I do good with that?”

“Um, Caine, I–” Pomni rubbed her arm uncomfortably.

Caine lifted a finger. “Ooh! Or how about the designs for the NPCs? Did I go too far with the details, or did I not do enough? And what about the secret quests I added? Did you like that element of surprise? Or–”

Jax groaned. “God, are we ever going to eat? Or are you just going to stand here compliment-fishing with Pomni all day?”

“Jax, be nice. They’re just working on improving the adventures,” Ragatha scolded, offering Pomni a grateful smile, “and I think it’s working pretty well.”

“Who cares? All Caine is doing with these adventures is trying to impress Pomni,” Jax groaned, crossing his arms, “that’s not an improvement. That’s just desperation.”

“T-that’s not true!” Caine was quick to pipe up. “I like all of my super stars an equal, legal amount!”

“Drop it, Jax,” Pomni put her foot down, a light blush on her cheeks despite it all.

Jax snickered. “Of course you’d defend him, short stack. You probably like being the ringmaster’s little favorite, don’t you?”

Caine’s upper jaw arched downward. “I do not favor any of my stars over the others! I’m simply gaining feedback from my dear friend.”

“Give it a rest, Caine. We all know you’re only doing this for her. You don’t give a [#$!?] about the rest of us. Just face it. You’ve got the love bug for our dear jester friend,” Jax mocked, flashing a sarcastic grin at him.

Pomni flushed instantly. “Wh—J-Jax!”

“Who said something about a bug?” Kinger peeked out of his pillow fort excitedly.

“The…love…bug?” Caine’s systems froze instantly at the words “love bug”. Oh, dear…Jax was onto something. The freezing, the overheating, the glitching? It was all coming together. He knew what was happening. He had heard of this before, but never imagined it would one day affect his programming…

“Well, would you look at that. He is lovesick after all,” Jax mocked.

“Love…sick?” Caine looked around at the others, confused and concerned at him suddenly freezing up. Panic settled within him, a feeling he had not felt in a long time. “I-I…ahem, a-a digital feast as your prize,” he announced weakly, snapping a feast into existence at the table. “Enjoy, my dears. Adventure awaits tomorrow.” With an abrupt snap of his fingers, he dissipated from the main room, teleporting to who-knows-where in the circus.

Silence filled the room at his reaction, ultimately broken by Jax scurrying over to the table. “God, I thought he’d never leave.”

Pomni bristled. “You’re an [#$!?]hole.”

Jax shrugged, taking a bite of his digital meal. “As long as I get to see funny things happen to people. Just never thought I’d see the day Caine would go soft for one of us,” he grinned mischievously at Pomni, expression insinuating everything she needed to know. “Besides, what does it matter to you? Unless…you have the ‘love bug’ for dentures over there?”

She blushed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Pomni defended weakly, but her voice was drowned out by the stirring of conversation amongst the others.

Pomni didn’t eat anything, her stomach filled with knots and butterflies all at once.

-------

Caine’s digital form was filled with knots and static, all for her.

He desperately reviewed his memories–the glitching, the static he felt, everything. Oh, dear. Jax was right, wasn’t he? How could he have been so oblivious this whole time? How could he have not realized sooner?

Bubble floated in beside him as he checked his memory. “Hey, boss, check out this joke I came up with! Why is—”

“Not now, Bubble! I have some very important business to attend to,” Caine cut his bubble friend off instantly.

“Business? You mean watching back memories of you and Pomni?”

“Y-yes, I—it’s nothing! I need to run some tests,” Caine abruptly answered him.

Bubble’s sharp grin widened, if that were even possible. He floated upside down. “You mean how you’re in loooooooove?”

Caine brought his gloved hands to his top jaw in frustration. “The love bug!” he corrected briskly, “Yes, yes, I know! Just—leave me to it, Bubble. The entire circus depends on it.”

“Heheh, love bug,” Bubble laughed to himself before being popped by a very panicked Caine.

“One less distraction,” he mused before running some more diagnostics on himself.

-------

Pomni stared blankly at her ceiling the next morning. It seemed that her worst fears were coming to fruition. Jax saw right through her. The others had to have noticed how oddly drawn she was to Caine. It was something she, herself, was still not used to. Pining for the circus’s clueless AI ringmaster was not part of the plan when she had arrived here. But now…

Jax had also said that Caine had a crush on her. And to be fair, it did seem that way. It was something she couldn’t even deny. She tried, every now and then, to get the truth out of him. Trying to fluster him, to see if his attempts to impress her were all for his own ego or for something more personal. With someone as clueless and friendly as Caine, it had her teetering back and forth between believing he did reciprocate or believing he couldn’t possibly feel that way. But she knew it was stupid of her to get her hopes up. It was stupid of her to fall for an AI to begin with.

She sighed, sitting up from her bed. The digital flower he had given her on their private walk some time ago still laid on one of the letter blocks beside her bed, alongside a drawing Gangle made for her and a butterfly from Kinger’s insect collection he had chosen to give her.

It wasn’t so crazy, was it?

Months ago, she abandoned the others for an exit, but now…

Things were different.

So different that maybe her unexpected friendship with Caine wasn’t unusual.

There was no sense of time in the circus, but Pomni guessed it was time for roll call. She mentally prepared herself for another day of Jax’s teasing and Caine’s goofy, but admittedly endearing, antics, exiting her room and out into the hall—

“POMNI!”

If it weren’t for the door behind her, Pomni surely would have fallen back at the sight of her ringmaster teleporting right in her path, inches away. “AGH! Caine–how many times have I told you not to—”

“I know, my dear. But it’s an emergency!” Caine explained anxiously.

Pomni paused. He never seemed genuinely afraid, unless it was for some gag.“Wha–an emergency? Is everything okay?”

Caine took his hat into his hands, fiddling with the rim. He shook his head. “No! I’m infected, Pomni! The whole circus could be at risk! You have to help me!”

“HUH?” Panic settled into Pomni at the thought of the entire circus, and everyone inside it, being swallowed up and disappearing forever. “O-okay, calm down, Caine. Just… tell me what happened.”

Caine unexpectedly fell to his knees in front of her, placing his gloved hands over his eyes as though he were about to cry. "It’s…it’s…ILOVEYOU!"

Pomni did a double-take, flushing a deep shade of red, nearly not believing what she heard. "Y-you--huh?!"

Caine buried his face in his gloved hands, down on his knees. "The Love Bug, Pomni! I've been infected with the Love Bug! It's going to eat away at me," he wailed, cartoonish tears spilling from behind his hands.

"Oh," Pomni paused as he wailed, looking around as though she was expecting someone else to walk in from the commotion. Once she was sure she was no longer blushing, she cautiously knelt down beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder gently. "Um...you're talking about a computer virus?"

"A worm! It's going to spread across the circus, Pomni! I don't know how it got here, I-I must have let it in, I--"

"Caine! Slow down," Pomni interrupted his rambling, "tell me what happened. Why do you think there's a virus?"

"I don't know what it is, dear," Caine confessed, "but I have experienced these strange sensations. Static, glitching perhaps--behaviors that go against my very coding. But most of all, when I'm with you. It’s why I came to you, first. And you’re so clever, I figured you’d know what to do.”

”Me?” Pomni blinked in surprise. She thought on what he said. "Static and glitches?" she repeated, frowning as her thoughts drifted. What the hell would she know about a computer virus?

Caine nodded. "When you talk to me sometimes, dear, I feel static inside of me. Here," he put a gloved hand on his chest, where his heart would be if he had one. "Did you bring a virus in with you? Is that even possible?"

Butterflies settled in her stomach as his words sank in. There was no way he could possibly be confessing—oh, God. Could he even feel the same way? Pomni looked to the side and fiddled with her buttons nervously. “Um…no. It’s not,” she took a deep breath before kneeling down beside him so she was eye-level, voice sounding unexpectedly even despite her sudden nerves. “Tell me more about this…virus. I’m sure we can figure it out,” she gave him a weak smile in the hopes that it was reassuring. She knew deep down she just wanted to know if he really did feel the same, but she ignored it.

Caine nodded in agreement, still sitting sadly on the floor beside Pomni. He placed a finger where his chin would be in thought. “O-okay, dear. Well, let's see. I checked my memories back last night... For instance, in memories where you’d look at me, my system would begin overheating. Or when you touch me, I freeze up. When you compliment me, well,” he laughed sheepishly, “I blue-screen.”

Pomni blushed furiously, her heart speeding up at his unintentional confessions. “Caine-”

“Oh! And when you look especially striking some days, I feel like the ones and zeros of my code are fluttering around. It’s terrifying—I must be falling apart. And I haven’t even mentioned the glitches that happen when I check my memory—”

The fluttering in Pomni’s heart tingled to the tips of her fingers, making kneeling there unbearable. Her face was heating up with every word he said, heart in her throat. “Caine, I..." Pomni bit her lip, unsure how to explain this to an AI, "this doesn't sound like a virus to me. It sounds almost…human…? I guess?”

Caine tilted his head curiously at her. "Humans glitch from the inside out, too?" he said, and peeked out from behind his fingers.

"N-no, it..." Pomni trailed off, cutting herself short with a sigh, "it sounds like...what humans feel," she settled with that explanation for now. It was really very awkward to try and tell an AI ‘it sounds like you have a crush on me’. Not to mention, words were failing her at the realization that he felt just as fond of her as she was of him. And to think, she had been afraid to embarrass herself around him with her crush—

“What they feel..?” Caine tilted his head at her curiously, “like amazement? Wonder? Excitement?”

“Yes, except…” Pomni hesitated. She wasn’t sure if it was worth it to take the leap and just tell him. “…Caine?”

“Yes?”

Pomni reached for her buttons, fidgeting with them mindlessly. “When you say all of these things…what is it that you want?”

“Want?” Caine repeated.

“Yeah, want. Desire. It’s just…humans usually can tell what it is they feel based on what they want,” she explained, although she knew deep down what she hoped his answer was. The thought alone—the word you—it sent such a thrill through her.

Caine placed a finger on his lower jaw, top jaw arching in an exaggerated eyebrow raise. “Hm, excellent question! Well, when you return from my amazing adventures, I want you to come to me. To speak to me. To find me…admirable.”

Pomni nodded. Caine trying to impress her was nothing new. She was well-aware her stubbornness towards the circus resulted in him paying her extra attention, but it didn’t take a genius to know that by now, that was unnecessary. “Okay. So you want my attention, you want me to see positively. What else?”

Caine placed a finger on his chin, an exaggerated arch in his upper jaw as he thought. “Hmm…well, I’m not sensing any patterns. Except for you. Why do you ask?”

Pomni’s heart skipped a beat. Had he actually said what she had been hoping he’d say? Well, not exactly. It seemed like he wasn’t entirely sure what he was feeling in the first place. But who better to teach him than her? She took a deep breath before choosing to brave it. “Caine…I need to explain something to you,” she started.

“Oh, dear, what is it? Are you going to diagnose me with the love bug? With an incurable digital sickness?” Caine pressed his hands together nervously. “Go on. You can tell your favorite ringmaster!”

Pomni took another deep breath to calm her nerves. “Well, the good news is you don’t have a bug. Or a virus. At least, I don’t think so.”

Caine froze in place. “I don’t?”

Pomni shook her head.

“Now, now, don’t be silly, my marionberry muffin! Such frequent glitches aren’t usual for an AI like me,” Caine explained, “how can you be so sure? Are you really a qualified doctor?”

Pomni would probably laugh at his antics if it weren’t for her nerves. “I know because I…I feel the same way,” Pomni admitted, but she couldn’t meet his gaze. It burned a hole right through her.

If Caine had a heart, it would have stuttered in his chest. “You…do?”

Pomni couldn’t form words, so she simply hummed in response. Her face was burning, and she clutched her other arm to curb her trembling hands. “Mhm.”

Caine gaped at her. “You…have the love bug, too?”

“In a way of speaking, yeah.”

“Oh, dear…” he sighed softly, “for who?”

Pomni laughed softly. His obliviousness knew no bounds. She looked at the tiled floor, the butterflies in her stomach unbearable. “W-well, actually, it’s…” she stumbled over her words, blushing to her ears before taking a deep breath and getting enough confidence to meet his eyes. There was no going back now. Her heart sped up, nearly jumping to her throat as she managed the words, “for you."

Caine immediately blue-screened, eyes reading rows of code she couldn’t make out as he processed her words. She flushed at his reaction, slightly self-conscious she misinterpreted his confession. She waved a hand in front of his eyes. “Oh…Caine? Hello…?”

Caine snapped out of it after a few moments. His eyes returned to normal, glancing at Pomni only once before slowly putting a hand over his chest. “Oh, dear. I feel it again,” he said in the quietest voice she’d heard him ever speak in, “the static. Right here. You really—me—?”

Pomni swallowed her nerves, feeling another flutter of butterflies at his response. “I-I know it sounds crazy. I was scared when I realized it. I avoided you. I thought I could run away or deny how I felt, but…the more time I spent with you, the less crazy it seemed,” she explained, meeting his eyes, “I’ve seen all the things you’ve done for me, Caine. For everyone. The adventures, expanding the circus, not teleporting me across the map. And at first it made me enjoy being your friend, but now…”

“Now…?” he prompted.

“Now, you’re telling me you have a crush on me,” Pomni finished, “I didn’t think that was possible, but...”

“A crush?” Caine tilted his head curiously. “Is that what it is?”

Pomni watched him carefully. He was still on the floor, hand on his chest and evidently flustered from her confession. It made her heart speed up, seeing how much he cared. How much he wanted her. “Yeah…the ‘love bug’. What Jax said. It’s not an actual bug. Not for humans at least. I thought he was just being an [#$?!]hole, but what you explained to me…it sounds like what humans feel when they want romantic closeness,” she explained before adding nervously, “a-and, the things you described…it’s how I feel for you.”

“Romantic closeness,” Caine echoed, pausing in thought, “my research for my adventures has taught me about human relationships. About…love.”

A rush of heat ran through Pomni’s chest at the word love. “A-and…?”

Caine, in a rare moment of silence, gazed off towards the end of the hall as he thought back on his research. “And…I believe that is what I want, my dear. With you.” His eyes widened at the realization.

A tingle ran down her spine. “You–you do?” Pomni’s breath caught, cheeks flushing at his words.

“If you’ll teach me,” he confirmed, eyes turning back to meet hers.

Pomni’s pinwheel eyes were blown wide, half in a dream as she nodded. She didn’t know what she wanted in that moment. Or even what to say. Months ago, she would have rather jumped in the cellar than imagine herself in a romantic relationship with him. But these past months had changed things in both of them. In the circus itself. And now, she almost wanted to kiss him. Now…

Her breath caught, when she looked and saw the way he was looking at her. His top jaw arched around his gleaming eyes in the most adoring, lovesick gaze she had ever seen. It made her heart beat harder in her chest, feeling the way his gaze pulled at her heart strings. “Oh, my dear. How could I have not realized sooner? It was so obvious…” he sighed.

She smiled slightly at his cluelessness. It was endearing to her. “A lot of humans feel that way, too. I just never thought…” she trailed off, but he already knew what she was going to say.

Caine’s panic instantly lifted, he sprung up from where he had formerly been curled up. "My dear, I am an advanced AI! I've begun experiencing more 'human' sensations since the day I became sentient. But ever since you, ever since our lessons, well, I think I've become more human than I had ever imagined,” he reached for both of her hands.

Pomni reciprocated his touch. "A-and you're advanced enough to desire closeness?"

Caine tilted his head at her. "I've always known what love is, Pomni. How could I not? You humans talk an awful lot about it. But I never imagined a silly AI like myself being capable of such complex feelings. And yet, I’m advanced enough to know that I've been drawn to you for some time..." A hand moved up to stroke her cheek, right by where her blush resided under her right eye, "and I think I'm beginning to understand why."

"Why?"

"Because you confuse my coding, my little shivering shortbread!” Caine piped up, “Isn't that exciting? I’m more advanced than I’d ever imagined!” His feet lifted from the ground, and he nearly twirled in the air from excitement. He looked down at her again, leaning on his cane with a deep sigh. “Oh, Pomni. Are you sure I’m not love sick?”

For the first time that day, Pomni felt more like herself. She reached for his upper jaw, feeling at him as though he had a fever. “Oh, you definitely are.”

Caine melted into her touch. “I am?” he sighed dreamily.

She nodded with a small smile. “Very sick,” she confirmed, flipping her hand around to cup his features in her palm.

“Very sick,” Caine repeated in a daze, then reached a hand up to meet hers, eyes never leaving hers. Small, cartoonish hearts sprung into existence on the right side of his head as he leaned more into her touch. He noticed them and swatted them away rapidly. “A-ah, ignore that. I can’t help it,” he laughed sheepishly.

Pomni laughed gently. “It’s okay. It’s…endearing,” she blushed, still not accustomed to giving him her thoughts of admiration for him.

“O-oh, dear, you’re too kind…” Caine fiddled with his cane slightly before floating down to her level, planting his feet on the ground once more. “But…if I may, I do still have one question.”

A rush of nerves ran through Pomni. Nonetheless, she kept her cool—which was definitely a feat for her. “Yeah? What is it?”

Caine leaned against his cane once more. “Well, when humans tend to confess their true feelings to another, what do they do next?” he asked.

Pomni blinked, the question catching her off-guard. “O-oh, well…” she looked down the hall in thought, wondering where the others were, “it depends, honestly. But a lot of times, they might decide to, um, date.”

“Ah, of course! Allow me,” Caine cleared his non-existent throat before stretching out a hand to her invitingly, “Pomni, you and I should decide to date.”

If it were somehow possible for Pomni to feel any more ecstatic yet simultaneously terrified, she reached that point. His unconventional phrasing caught her off guard for sure, but it was also mildly endearing. “I…yes,” she accepted his hand tentatively, a small smile spreading across her face, “I’d like that.”

Their touch was immediately broken by Caine flying through the air, zipping around Pomni enthusiastically. “Fantastic! Oh, my dear, I’ve never felt so light as air until now!”

Pomni brought a hand to her mouth, laughing at his excitement.

Caine flew down to meet her once more. “Pomni! You and I should embark on our own adventure,” he wrapped an arm around her, outstretching an arm dramatically to the distance as he added, “a human date!”

Pomni laughed again, raising an eyebrow at him. “Don’t forget you have a whole circus to run, ringmaster,” she teased.

Caine brought a hand to his upper jaw. “Whoopsy-daisy, I almost forgot about the others! My my, you give me a severe case of tunnel vision,” he reached for his cane, preparing to snap himself to the main room before taking one last look at the woman he adored, “I hate to rush the most exciting moment of my never-ending existence, but the show must go on! But, oh, my dear?”

“…Caine?”

Caine tossed his cane between his hands. “How about today, you skip my adventure?”

Pomni blinked in surprise. He never wanted any of his guests to miss his adventures. “Wha—really? Why?”

He flew beside her, holding her hand again. Now that he knew he could hold her hand, he wasn’t sure he’d have it in him to let go for more than a minute. “For our date, of course!” Caine winked at her before continuing sheepishly, “if I may admit, dear…I know what a date is, but I don’t know how to date. There are many things you have to show me.”

A blush rose to Pomni’s cheeks again. “Oh, right,” she stuttered out, then formed a reassuring smile, “i’d love to show you, Caine. Really.” It was just now that she was realizing how intensely her heart had been beating this entire conversation, the trembling seeming to subside now that their true feelings had been revealed.

A couple more hearts fluttered “Of course! What better way to seal our confessions than with a human date? Oh, let’s get this roll call over with, dear. I can’t wait another second!” Caine tightened his grip on her hand.

“You know, you have a lot of energy for someone who’s sick,” Pomni couldn’t help but tease. The more the reality of the situation was settling in, the easier it was for her confidence to return. This artificial man, this AI she had learned to adore, he had truly pined for her all along.

Caine gazed at her adoringly. Oh, my, she was flirting with him, wasn’t she? If she kept going like this, he was going to overheat in front of the others. How lucky was he that this woman adored him as much as he did her? “Why, yes! I’m sick for you.”

“I…don’t think that sounds as romantic as you think it does.”

Caine waved her comment off. “Ah, I’ll perfect the art of flirtation in no time. For now, it’s showtime! And then, a date awaits, my love!”

[finniestoncrane]

Teehee could you do headcanons about the Riddler's reactions to their partner being cockdrunk :) pretty please

Riddler Headcanons oh for SURE lmao, i mean one and done they're all getting a massive ego boost from it but i'm so certain they'd all use it to their advantage in different ways (though i left some out because they were giving similar vibes to others in my mind) 💚 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: nsfw obviously, mentions of sex etc.

telltale

peepaw is not playing around here

the minute he realises you're slurring your words he is honing in

teasing you, touching your skin to watch your flesh tremble

making things worse for you, watching you squirm

knoiwng you don't have the mental capacity to stop him

knowing you don't want him to stop

it's a nice boost to know he's still got it all these years later

arkham

yeah he's not at all surprised because he is the greatest

and to be honest you should have been prepared for this

like why didn't you have an energy drink by the bed to chug

it's his fault you're like this, because he's a sexpert, duh

but get up and get back to work!!

robots need building, floors need sweeping, plans need planning

there's no rest for the wicked, and judging by your squirming...

you're still in quite a wicked mood, even after his amazing efforts

gotham

you can lie there in the little puddle you helped create

forget who you are, forget you're human even!

there's no need to get up and do anything because he's on it

bringing you water, a sugary snack, and a towel

he'll help you sit up, fluff the pillow behind you, and then lay down

gazing at you in awe, reaching to help you

as you struggle to hold the mug in your shaking hands

young justice

i think he'd go into panic mode immediately

are you not talking to him because he didn't do a good job?

have you died? why are you just laying there drooling in silence?

oh! because he did good!? wow... well...

how soon can you go again? because that was a neat ego boost

and it's got him primed and ready for another round

dano

you lay there in blissful post-orgasm glow for as long as you need

he's going to be next door in the bathroom gazing into the mirror

smiling widely at himself, pretending like he's doing a speech

thanking the audience for giving him this prestigious award

"best fuck ever" going to him? edward nashton?

he couldn't have done it without you, his wonderful partner

who he has just remembered is still laying naked in his bed

and who he is now rushing back to

zero year

so here's the thing: while you should be the one getting up

ruining the post-orgasm joy to get him a drink and a towel

he will take your inability to respond to his demands well

it's a compliment really, he fucked you so good that you're dumb

or at least dumber than you were before *hehe, ow, don't hit!*

unfortunately he will be bragging about this to everyone

literally anyone who will listen

so it's not much of a secret that you got drunk off his cock

[auncyen]

I think I saw once that Vaugarde used to be a monarchy and I absolutely cannot remember if it has Actual Canon but at this point I think it's pretty much full headcanon for me that

it used to be a monarchy

the Island used to have a mutually beneficial relationship with Vaugarde that was. pretty literally. using wishes as part of the trade. how they got Favor Trees etc but also BIG things like carefully crafted wishes for protection or good farming seasons and such. some little traditions spread beyond Vaugarde just as a spread of knowledge. but the primary beneficiary of wish trade was Vaugarde, which in turn protected the Island (and again the Island would have been crafting the Wishes so a lot of the Big Ones were probably benefiting the island as well/already meant for the Island but extended to Vaugarde as well)

the Island was not closed off from the world, but it was already remote just by location and yes, a little secretive. It was common knowledge that the Vaugardian monarchy were trade partners with the Island, but also just pinning down the material goods being traded, it seemed a bit lopsided in the Island's favor. There was acknowledgment of "knowledge" being exchanged both ways and yes, the Vaugardian layperson could probably find some examples, but the wish trading was not exactly being disclosed as 'yeah, this is the big thing the Islanders give'. Despite this, 'wizards' start coming up as a fictional concept based on Islanders visiting the capital--they dress strangely, appear rarely but are treated as important when they do, sometimes it seems their words portend miraculous events...

the monarchy eventually falls out of favor with Vaugarde as a whole. The Island withdraws support from the monarchy as the wish requests turn cruel and vindictive. A petty enough monarch might have made an attempt at retaliation, but they're facing enough pressure at home without opening another front--especially to an enemy who has a real chance of deciding you should be demolished and having their higher power agree.

as the monarchy fails, knowledge about the Wish trade starts to leak out, either from found documents or people trying to save their standing by bartering with knowledge.

this starts years of tension between the Island, Vaugarde, and maybe even countries beyond Vaugarde as details both get out and don't, rumors form about what was the Island's work and wasn't, etc., the Island being seen more and more as a mysterious threat until eventually...

Island crafts a spell to be forgotten so its people can live in safe obscurity. Unfortunately not everyone was on the island at the time. This may have been made as a rushed decision in reaction to a nearby country's threat, or it may have been long planned in complete secrecy even to the main population with the cold calculation that some would have to be sacrificed for the Island's safety.

Somewhere along the way the 'rebel movement' that helped overthrow the monarchy changed so much it becomes the present day Defenders. (The name may even be the same! How the group operates, definitely not.)

[mc-lukanette]

Marinette didn't particularly get the idea of music translating into words. To her, music was music and words were words; you could mix the two in a song to evoke more emotion, but that wasn’t the same as one becoming the other.

That was the reason she was there, she supposed. Luka had intrigued her with his offer, and if anyone could make her believe it or learn something new about music, it was him. Sure, he was also kind of handsome, had soft blue eyes, and a dazzling smile, but she was there for a potential new understanding of the creative process, nothing more.

Not that there would've been anything wrong with going for both, of course.

She looked at the note once more to make sure she was at the right park. Luka's handwriting was unique and identifiable as his: not wild, but not "standard" either, while still being totally readable. It made sense for someone who had to write a lot.

After triple-checking to be certain, she stepped out onto the smooth walkway leading in, looking around for the fluffy black-and-blue hair she'd met only a week ago. There were some couples with little picnics set out that she couldn't help feeling jealous of, but she tried to ignore them.

She heard Luka before she actually saw him, which was a weird thought. A quick set of notes from a guitar had made her turn, spotting him sitting on a bench in the pleasant shade of some trees and waving at her.

She smiled, waving back and walking over to him. "Hey, Luka! How—" She stopped in place, catching herself before she could properly ask him. She raised the cellophane bag in her hands to her mouth, biting into the side to both free her hands and keep herself quiet, then made a flurry of hand movements to ask how he was doing.

He blinked rapidly in surprise, then gently rested the neck of his guitar on the bench so he could sign in return. His gestures were more natural than hers - had she been signing to herself, it might as well have been the language of aliens - so she could easily tell what he was asking.

"Yff—" She brought her hand back up to pull the bag out from her mouth, then answered proudly, "Yes, I learned a little bit over the weekend!" She waved her free hand from side-to-side like she was casting a spell, despite the sheepish look on her face. "I might've forgotten how to sign 'yes', but I knew what you were signing! That's something, right?"

The dazzling smile that she remembered, showing just a little bit of teeth but not too much, had returned. Luka nodded at her, pulling out a notepad and pencil from his pocket to write while she got herself settled in. He'd already left enough room on the bench for her to sit, so she took up the empty space and got comfortable.

He went to hand her his notepad, but she lifted up the cellophane bag first, giving it a shake to show off the assortment of macarons, cookies, and candies inside. "Here! Trade me."

He visibly perked at the offer, their fingers brushing as he took it from her.

She only realized what she'd done when his notepad was already in her hand, hurrying to say, "Oh! I put that in my mouth without thinking, didn't I? You don't have to—"

He'd already loosened the string so he could open it, grabbing one of the candies and unwrapping it before popping it into his mouth. He'd clearly heard her, but it was quickest to eat one to prove his point rather than tell her it was fine.

Plus, she had one of his forms of communications in her hands, so that had been out. She looked down to read what he'd written.

You didn't have to dress up for this, but you look nice. I hope this is enough shade for you.

She blushed at the first line. It was one thing to be complimented verbally, but in writing, she could read it over and over again. She checked Luka's reaction to see if he had any regrets about it, but he was cool as a cucumber, chewing on the candy she'd given him whilst getting the guitar back in his hands.

The second line was more confusing to where she had to actively dig through her memories to think of what it could be referring to. She did recall sitting down with him after the chaos had settled down, having some juice together, and her rambling unnecessarily long about everything from her job to—

"Wait—" she began in realization, "was this all because I complained about how hot it was that day?! That was one thing in all the nonsense I was talking about!"

He shrugged, smiling innocently and holding his hand out for his notepad. She pouted, feeling like he was being unfair with how sweet he was to someone he'd barely just met, but relented and gave it up to him. She just couldn't quite believe it, having felt so bad for how chatty she'd been with him, but he'd apparently paid attention to every word of it.

She wasn't sure if that was more or less embarrassing than being ignored the whole time.

"O-okay, so..." She looked down sheepishly at his guitar, trying to change the topic as casually as possible. "How are we going to do this? You showing me how you talk with music?"

One hand still holding the guitar's neck, he flipped through the pages of his notepad with the other. He showed her a pre-prepared page with his answer, which stated:

I'll play something for you. You don't have to do anything but listen and imagine a story in your mind.

A story? What kind of story? She wanted to ask, but knew that she wouldn't get a response.

Squinting at him, still skeptical, she gave into the request and closed her eyes. "Alright. Ready when you are."

There were a few small, short notes at first - either Luka warming up or being genuinely nervous to start - but then an actual melody began to develop. She shut her eyes tighter, like it might ruin everything if she looked, and her nose scrunched up as she tried to focus on what he was playing and the instructions he'd given.

It sounded... regal? No, adventurous? Maybe both? It reminded her of movies that she would watch as a child, where a knight would go off somewhere for the sake of a princess. The music would get more dramatic as the knight was surrounded by dangers, then victorious as he triumphed. She caught herself smiling over this imaginary character she'd literally made up in her head, returning to the princess and receiving a favor from her for his efforts. It really was like a film, but shortened to a few minutes long and somehow familiar to her.

Her eyelids popped back open when the music ended, then blinked to readjust to her surroundings. Luka was staring at her curiously, the hand that'd been strumming resting more casually on his guitar as he waited.

"Erm..." She trapped her chin, slightly anxious and feeling like she was being quizzed. There weren't any real stakes involved, but what if she failed? "I... thought about a knight? He met and saved a princess, and she gave him her thanks? Maybe she even offered him something for it?"

The actual image in her head was more vivid than she let on, but it was difficult describing it when she figured that it could've been her overactive imagination.

Not missing a beat, Luka shot her a smile and flipped a page in his notepad to present to her. No way.

That's us, on the day we met.

Her mouth dropped open. She got it right? But then... "Uh—! So I'm the knight?! You're joking!"

Not that Luka wouldn't have made a pretty princess though. If he had just the right dress that accentuated—

She shook her head, trying to focus on the matter at hand. He, meanwhile, was unphased by the mental struggle she was having and flipped another page.

You were so cool. I've been trying to figure out how to say it all week.

"It wasn't a big deal!" she insisted, flushing pink. "They were judging you because of your looks and how 'quiet' you were, so I—you know—"

She made a few wild gestures that in no way resembled sign language but she hoped would convey the full dismissal of whatever he'd apparently been imagining their first meeting to be like. Worse still was that what he'd written implied that he'd been working on that melody all week in order to have it ready for her, and she knew what it was like to pour one's creativity into something.

He meant it and she'd heard as much.

Dropping her hands into her lap shyly, she had to relent, "But... I guess I get what you mean now, about saying things with music instead of words, even if I feel like your notepad should be confiscated."

Amused, he smirked, purposefully holding the notepad to the side furthest from her, out of her reach as she teasingly swiped at it. Using only the tilt of his head and look in his eyes, he asked her a playful 'why?'

"Why? I—" she began, then stopped when she needed to actually think about it. One disadvantage to not being mute like him was that she wasn't required to think before saying anything, such as how Luka needed to take the time to write out a full thought and read it before showing her.

Clearing her throat, she started over, "I can't believe you had fun last week? I mean, I guess it made sense if you invited me here, but I thought it was just from me helping you a little! Since we were there for a whole hour and I felt so bad because—" She realized what she was about to say, but it was too late to stop it. "—I was doing all the talking!"

Luka laughed outright at that, and the only thing keeping her from crawling under the bench and wishing for death was that it was actually pretty cute. He had a breathy sort of laugh, making it more quiet than a typical one but somehow incredibly charming.

Marinette leaned forward and rested her elbows on her lap, clasping her hands together in front of her mouth as her lips tried to both smile at him and grimace at herself at the same time. The fact that he hadn't fled at her flubs was a relief but also utterly perplexing.

She dared a peek over at Luka, who'd finished laughing and was trying to write something. It was taking him longer than usual and she noticed a little twitch in his brow, a contrast to what had otherwise been him being totally calm the whole time. Eventually, he tore the page out, scrunched it up, and stuffed it in his pocket, opting to put his hands on his guitar instead.

Marinette grew curious when his fingers twitched without playing any actual melody. He did start, but stopped, then started and stopped again, biting his lower lip in contemplation. Hand motions were also useless without a full understanding of sign language on her part.

He ended up settling on the notepad again, this time being unexpectedly quick in writing something. She hadn't realized how much suspense she was in until he presented it to her, her hands practically snatching it from him to read it.

You make me feel speechless, Marinette.

She blushed all the way up to her ears, speechless herself. She could excuse being told that she looked nice as some casual remark or pleasantry, the music as his only way of teaching her what she'd asked about, and not being put off by her constant talking as him being extremely polite, but this—

Was he flirting with her? There was a mild possibility of it being a joke at his own muteness, but when she checked his expression, he was watching her with a half-lidded gaze without any sense of playfulness. If anything, she could've sworn she saw a hint of shyness. Had he never put himself out there for someone before?

"You—" She looked at the notepad again, forcing herself to relax her grip before she wrinkled the pages. "You make me feel... um, speechful? I've never talked so much to someone I just met." She ducked her head. "You look nice too, by the way."

That was all she could really manage without feeling silly. Her experience with relationships was laughably limited and she didn't know how to flirt back or assure him that his flirting wasn't unwelcome. She just knew that he was thoughtful, adorable, and sweet, and that every time she glanced at his mouth a little too long, she'd catch herself thinking about other things it must have time for if he couldn't use it to talk.

She became alert as she felt a tug on the notepad - Luka having reached over to take it back - but she impulsively resisted, blurting out, "C-can I have this? The note I mean, not the notepad!"

He grinned, any of the previous nerves she thought she'd seen before gone as he nodded. The notepad slipped easily out of her hands this time, him far more careful tearing the note off than the other paper he'd scrunched up, and he wrote something extra before handing it off to her.

You can have more than that.

Underneath the line he'd written was his phone number, a rush of heat and relief going through Marinette at the confirmation that she wasn't the only one who wanted to meet up more. Whether Luka's directness was from the inability to speak or simply part of his character, she wanted someone like that; no misunderstandings, just his honest feelings.

She wasn't quite sure what she'd gotten herself into in the long term but, going off the matching pink on Luka's cheeks, she was sure that it was a good thing.