#i finally have at least one stamp of each

[klausinamarink]

based on this hilarious video with Gianmarco Soresi whom I’ve been watching his comedy work for a few months now

read on ao3

“What do you do?” The standup of the hour - the guy had introduced himself as Eddie - points at Steve.

Flustered at the attention directing every eye in the club to his table, Steve tries not to stammer as he answers, “Well, uh, I make movies.”

“Oh!” Eddie genuinely looks interested. “So you’re a director?”

“Yeah, pretty much. At least I started out as an indie, but I have a big project that’s out and a couple more on the way.” One table nearby claps and Steve tries to wave them off to stop.

“So what was that big project? Was it something we would’ve seen?” Eddie repositions himself so he has one leg up on the stool. Steve stares at how lean they seem with the tight black jeans. He’s got them daddy long legs. His brain suddenly burps out and it nearly makes Steve lose his composure.

“Uh, ha, I did The Final Bat. It’s on Shudder.” Steve shrugs nonchalantly, perfectly hiding his internal cringe. The horror genre is way out of his league and Steve’s already seen The Final Bat being on a few critical lists damning the title as another cliche-filled mess. He only did it because he had finally caved to Dustin’s pleading to make at least one horror movie.

Eddie, on the other hand, seems ecstatic by this revelation. “No way! That’s sick, dude! So the next time you make a horror flick, you’re gonna watch Blumhouse and A24 coming in at each other with steel chairs for distribution rights.”

Everyone laughs, including Robin. She smacks on Steve’s bicep with a wide grin. He smacks her back before he turns back to Eddie and clarifies, “I don’t like horror! I’m not doing it again!”

Aghast, Eddie throws an invisible hat to the ground and stamps on his feet. “Come on! Then what’s the point of watching the studios bite each other’s dicks off when you’re slipping out to watch - I don’t know - the Barbie movie! Now they’re just fighting for the next shitty horror movie to exist!”

Steve covers his mouth but fails to hold back in the laughter. Eddie’s infectious energy is starting to get to him. It makes his chest clench with something other than the usual pains.

Eddie patiently waits for the patrons to quiet down before continuing, still attentive to Steve, “I’m just wondering actually if you ever done theater class.”

“Sure did! Two years in high school,” Steve confirms.

“Let me guess, they did Hamlet?” Eddie raises an eyebrow like it’s meant to be accusatory.

“Yep, soon after I joined.” Steve nods, the memory of that production flashing before his eyes. It had its ups and downs but it was one of the most fun things Steve had ever experienced.

“No wonder they started as soon as your handsome ass walked in the club.” Eddie says low and flirtatiously into the microphone, staring directly into Steve’s eyes. It echoes across the room and back, bringing the howling laughter with it.

Heat crawls behind his face. Steve keeps his hands on the table, forcing down the urge to hide behind them. “I-” He stops to cough, “I wasn’t supposed to play Hamlet.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide, “What do you mean?!”

Robin answers loud enough for everyone to hear, “He was the grave robber, but the other guy who did Hamlet got into a coma a week before the show and Steve knew all the lines.”

“W-Woah, woah, woah!” Eddie holds his hands out, looking scandalous. He throws looks around the club. “Everyone, shut the fuck up right now! This is more important than caring about the rest of you!” Eddie drags the stool over and perches on it like a very much invested gargoyle, almost oblivious to the audience’s reaction.

“Okay, let me go through this.” He points at Steve, still holding eye contact as if Steve’s soul would provide the answer. “You weren’t Hamlet. You were meant to be the guy who gives him the skull to monologue. The OG Hamlet got into a coma for some reason-“

“Car accident.” Robin interjects.

“Yeah, no need to elaborate, ma’am. You, Steve-” Eddie breaks off for a second, holding back a laugh of his own. “You somehow knew all the Hamlet lines because you were waiting to skin OG Hamlet’s head and make his skull yours to do the monologue.”

There’s a scandalous outcry from all tables. Even when they mostly calm down, Steve uses the growing anticipation to ‘think’ about what Eddie just said before he casually shrugs and says, “Sounds about right.”

Eddie drops his face into his arm, letting everyone laugh at him. Steve lets himself break, his laughter bubbling out of him in a way that doesn’t sound so self-deprecating or hollow. If he was in a cynical mood, he would’ve thought it was pathetic that the only person who made him laugh so lightly again was some random standup.

After a moment, Eddie finally looks up, his face broken in disbelieving grin. He chuckles into the mic and looks back at Steve, “Sorry, it’s just I hear some wild stories in the crowd some nights and I think yours takes the cake.”

Steve smiles, “Thanks, man.”

Eddie stands up back, half-leaning onto the stool. “Do you still remember those lines? To be or not to be?”

The whole damn thing. “Uh… some of it?”

Eddie’s grin shifts into something more mischievous. “Let’s see who knows more.”

A collective oooh goes around the room, including Robin. She already has her phone out for recording. Steve rolls his eyes at her and takes a quick sip of his water. He clears his throat and starts, “‘To be or not to be, that is the question.’”

“‘Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer, the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune..’” Eddie says without missing a beat.

Oh, he thinks he knows it all. The sense of competition that Steve thought had died out with his future of a sports career reignites in his chest. He sits up even straighter. “‘Or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them.’”

“‘To die-to sleep, no more.’” Eddie slowly walks over to the edge of the stage, “‘And by a sleep to say we end the heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to.’”

“'tis a consummation devoutly to be wish'd.’” Steve almost shivers as he recites the line, uncertain if it’s from the club’s cooling temperatures or the intense gaze from Eddie’s eyes. “‘To die, to sleep.’”

“‘To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub,’” Eddie suggestively rubs a hand on his chest as he squats down. Steve’s eyes flicker to the hand, almost hypnotized by the motion. Nay, he shakes himself out of it. No distractions!

“‘For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, when we have shuffled off this mortal coil.’” It’s getting harder to remember the following lines. That hasn’t happened before. Steve has never forgotten the damn soliloquy in years, even when other people try to challenge him.

Eddie continues, “‘Must give us pause—there's the respect that makes calamity of so long life. For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, the oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely.’”

“‘The pangs-’” Steve feels his breath catching in his throat when he realizes, for the first time, what beautiful eyes Eddie has.

Oh. 

Eddie suddenly perks up in excitement. For a second, Steve thinks that Eddie has come to the exact same thoughts for him. But then he remembers that he hasn’t completed his line, so Steve feigns defeat.

“I win!” Eddie stands up with a triumphant cry. He spreads his arms out to embrace the cheering whoops and applause. “And I’ve only got to play Hamlet in-” He spins around and crouches down so he can look Steve in the eye again as Eddie’s voice booms into the mic, “-FOURTH GRADE, MOTHERFUCKER!” 

Steve’s not even mad. He just throws his head back, laughing and clapping along. 

Almost too soon, Eddie moves on to heckle on another table. But he keeps glancing over at Steve, his smile widening every time. And Steve smiles back, feeling a laugh slip out of his slips at every joke. He watches Eddie more closely, feeling his heart pound faster in his chest the more Eddie stays onstage. 

By the time Eddie has to depart and thank everyone for being here, Robin announces her need to go home and snuggle with her girlfriend. 

“Man, that was the most I’ve ever laughed in this place.” Steve stretches his back, groaning at the little pops. God, being in his early thirties can be a bitch sometimes.

Robin only hums, moving her eyebrows up and down suggestively. Steve pointedly makes no further comment as he pays the tab.

Outside, the crisp night air welcomes him. Steve takes in a whiff, staring up at the light-polluted sky as he bids Robin a goodbye. Then he hears his name being called. He turns around and sees Eddie hurrying out the doors.

Steve feels a smile already on his face, “Hey, Hamlet.” 

Eddie grins at him, teeth and all, “Hey, yourself.” 

They stare at each other but it lacks the competitive intensity earlier. Steve likes this. But he already has a feeling that this won’t be the first time either one of them would challenge the other.

“Sooo…” Steve says when the silence stretches a little too long. He gestures between himself and Eddie, “Wanna restart our introductions?”

Eddie’s eyes brighten, “Yeah! Right, sorry.” He clears his throat and thrusts a hand out. “My name is Eddie Munson. Self-proclaimed comedian and musician. You may recognize me as the guy who beat you in Hamlet’s famous speech.”

Steve takes his hand. Eddie feels bony and thin, but large enough to fit perfectly into Steve’s palm. He tries not to sound so eager as he says, “Steve Harrington. Film director who doesn’t like horror. Believe it or not, I actually know the whole stupid thing.”

Eddie tilts his head, narrowing his eyes, “Really? Like, no offense, but even if you remember that much-”

“‘And thus the native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, and enterprises of great pith and moment with this regard their currents turn awry and lose the name of action.’” Steve winks with the Harrington Charm, smile and all. 

Eddie stares at him for so long that Steve feels his heart racing for a different reason. And then, Eddie turns around and muffles a loud scream into his free hand. When the man turns back to face him, he’s sporting the widest smile Steve has never seen.

“You knew the whole thing!?” Eddie’s eyes sparkle with utter adoration.

“Yep.” Steve pops the ‘p’, grinning like a little shit.

“But why did you forget that line?”

“Let’s just say,” Steve squeezes Eddie’s hand, intertwining their fingers together, “I got distracted by the pangs of love.”

Eddie bites on his lower lip as he swoons his body over so they are pressing against each other. With half-lidded eyes, Eddie whispers, “You know that part is Hamlet referring to missing his dead dad, right?”

Of course Steve couldn’t help but kiss him.

[princeguri66]

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MINORS DNI

Monster!John "Soap" Mactavish (with Poly Monster!141 at the end) x Male Reader

Cw: it starts off with Soap but the rest r mentioned and written but not as much as soap, marking with markers, nothing else I believe lmk

Silly thought but like imagine a monster reader who has crazy fast regeneration. Like deep cuts heal in seconds. Maybe you're a ghoul who just has crazy regen, or something like that.

Anyways,

Wouldn't a relationship between Soap, who loves leaving bites and see the aftermath due to his instincts as a werewolf and you who literally heals in seconds be interesting?

He loves getting fucked by you, but everytime he leaves a bit unsatisfied. It's not because you can't make him cum or anything, hell you can pull multiple orgasms from the guy and you have.

It's just that he can't leave satisfied knowing that he left a mark on you. He has bit you so much but the marks just won't stay. With the other members he can clearly see the marks he left on their neck and shoulders, even with Price who due to his dragon blood heals faster but the marks still stay for a day or two.

So everytime you two fuck, even if his ass if filled to the brim and his balls are empty he still whines because he can't leave his mark on you. You're a member of the 141, his pack, so it pains him that he can't put a claim on you like he has with the others.

So one day you get a bit creative.

One night in your room where he's riding on your cock, bouncing up and down while you lay your back on the bed, your hands gripping his hips and slamming him down on you as you cum. He leans down and bites as hard as he can on you as the feeling of you filling him up makes him cum. Pulling away and only being able to whine because he can't even admire his mark before it fades away.

"Aw, is puppy unsatisfied?" You tease and chuckle. And before he could insist that he was, you reached to the bedside table and picked up a red permanent marker, "why don't you mark me with this instead?" You say handing him the marker.

He huffs out a laugh at your little solution, but it's the best you got since you can't really make yourself regenerate slower. So he indulges, testing the marker on the back of your hand, the ink incredibly opaque so it stands out against your skin. Then he draws a bite mark at your neck then adds "Soap's Claim" in big letters, covering the whole left side of your neck.

He leans back, the bright red against your skin and the obvious letters, he finally sighs a sigh of relief.

It doesn't go unnoticed as well (just how he likes it)

The other members of the task force noticing Soap's eyes seem a bit brighter and his tail has been swaying peacefully the whole day. And that's where you enter, neck bare for everyone to see (it's the least you can do) Soap grins, happy to finally be able to show off his claim on you.

And now they want to have their names on your body too.

It's all color coordinated too now, Price who loves to write across your shoulder blades, with words like "Price's hoard" or just a simple "Price" with a heart next to it, it's simple but huge.

Gaz with a bright blue marker who likes to do it on your lower back (because he can also rest his head on your ass) writing something like "Gaz was here" and likes to draw wings on you. (Wing themed tramp stamp with 141 between the wings anyone?)

And Ghost with either white or black who loves to mark your chest, either a simple "ghost" or "Simon Riley" on each pec. Also likes to draw a ghost doodle on top of your heart.

And if you five fuck together, you aren't the only one who ends up having ink on you, but you'd have the most. And when you wake up to find a big arrow pointing to your dick and ass that says "Property of 141" written in multiple colors, you'd wish you could show it off.

[hxltic]

i absolutely need suna x reader having secret sex while the miya twins are a room across🫣

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD

You had no real attraction to Suna, but it was just one of those nights where your brothers came home after a game, bringing his friends along with him to celebrate, and to avoid sitting in their sweat, they had to shower. Thank god you took yours before the boys made it. Being the last to shower when the floor is wet and it’s steamy already is literally the worst shit ever.

The problem was, Suna never really came over; therefore, he had no real way to know which room was your brothers’.

He had specific instructions to shower and take some clothes from his room. Looking back on it, he should’ve asked which door it is, but strutting back with nothing but a towel on his waist is not an option. So, he resorts to opening every door until he finds what he would think is the room of his teammate. Or rather…either of them?

Instead, the knob twists as you’re fully bent over in your walk-in closet, digging through a basket of clean clothes for a t-shirt. Of course it had to be the second you wanted to change when he walked in, and not when you were comfortably reading in bed with a little light on earlier. There’s no bra on your chest now, just a pair of navy blue lace panties.

Hey! On the bright side: they could’ve been cotton with “kiss my ass” stamped on the back.

Your arms draw up in an effort to hide your chest when you hear the twist of the knob and the door come flying open. Key word is effort, because now your breasts are pressed up against each other, which Suna believes is ten times worse for you than the position he found you in. At least when you were bent over, he had to imagine whatever he couldn’t see.

“Holy- shit!” you exclaim, eyeing the man at your door that’s actively dripping water on your carpet. His hair is fallen and sticking to his face messily, just enough for you to spot his slim eyes. He doesn’t say anything at first.

It’s mainly just him blinking blankly at you while you panic, searching the room for literally anything to provide some decency, but once you render the clear lack of any emotion (like embarrassment) you currently possessed in his body, it calms your nerves a bit.

He’s seen a woman before. It doesn’t make him any less prone to being attracted to puffy lips and nipples only covered by an arm, but it somehow soothes you to know he won’t make a big deal out of it and maybe not even mention it to your siblings.

Eventually, you throw on the nearest shirt over your head and pull your hair through, dirty or clean, still with no pants to match.

You sigh deeply, “What is it Suna?” It comes out in an irritated grunt.

“You know my name.” His eyebrows raise with surprise, but not as high as the average person’s would.

“Yeah, I do. Is there a reason you’re still here?”

He presses on: “How do you know it? Do they talk about me a lot?”

Your head drops in your palm to shake back and forth. “I can’t do this right now,” he overhears your mumble.

“My bad, I was looking for Tsumu’s room but got jumpscared instead.”

Despite saying this, he still stands in the doorway—not with it cracked, but with it wide fucking open—and it’s then when creaks from the stairs clears the air between you two. He doesn’t move, but you quickly shove him over to peek around the corner, then drag him into your bedroom before whoever it is gets the wrong idea by the view from the hallway.

While you’re turned after throwing him mindlessly into your room, he readjusts the falling towel around his waist. What he said finally hits you a few moments too late.

“Jumpscared?! You? I’m in the comfort of my own room when you barge in with nothing on!” Your hands gesture up and down as you scold him. “And don’t talk about my body like that!” Only he doesn’t really look at your eyes. When you’re done, he finds your attention.

“It was really an accident, but I’ll stay until whoever goes back downstairs,” he shrugs. “And why does it smell like sex in here?”

Your cheeks redden. There was a reason you were looking for a change of clothes. “It doesn’t.”

“Yeah, it does.” He flops back onto the bed carelessly, dipping your comforter.

“Stop! You’re getting my sheets wet.” His body has only slightly dried, but with the full head of hair he has, it hasn’t dried at all. “Suna, get up.”

“They probably already are.”

He closes his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. His stature was not what you thought it’d be. He was tall and packed with muscle in his legs. You could tell that much by the pictures if you didn’t figure it out by the fact that when he’s sitting you’re still face to face; but on top of that, his abdomen was carved and his arms carried some weight too.

Nothing compared to the sheer size of his legs, but still up there. They had to be the size of your head. By photos he’s an average high school athlete, so it almost appears fake when he takes the uniform off.

Unfortunately, as you were looking, his eyes had opened and he’d been watching you inspect him. Suna will always preach there are benefits to being as quiet as he is, like how he can pinpoint that your fingers come to pinch the edge of your shirt.

You clear your throat in hopes it will gather your thoughts too, then rectify his past statement. “They aren’t.”

“Right… just like how all the red tabs in this book are for nothing?” He reaches beside him to take it in his hands, then he flips through the pages quickly until he comes across one. “‘I run my fingers down her trembling thighs that yearn for my touch. You’ll take it like a—’”

Before he can finish what you remember is very unfortunately highlighted, you crawl over him to rip it out his hands and throw it. You chuck the literature nowhere in particular with shame that can’t get any higher as he laughs, then you quickly retreat with a knee up on the edge of the bed. His laughter is a sweet sound. It makes sense why he’s friends with your brothers.

You don’t even notice you’re half-straddling him while you point your finger in his face. “What I read is none of your business.”

He spoke clearly and assertively when he read, and the last thing you need him figuring out was how bad your body desired he’d read the words to you again; he was already too observant.

“Of course. Forgive me for saying such vulgar things around my friend’s sister. She would never do such a thing.” Finally, he slowly sits up, which naturally makes you rise with him, so you place your hand on his shoulder to prevent from wobbling. Your thigh is beside his with your foot unstable on the floor. “She’s just so sweet and innocent, and definitely not up here alone reading book porn.”

Your breathing picks up at the proximity and the pressure of a declaration you can’t avoid. You search between both his eyes that do the same to you. He deserves a medal or something, because fuck—the shirt lifts just a little bit every time you fiddle with it and the lace sticks to your skin like glue. “I- uhm,” you stutter, removing your stability from his body and backing away from the bed.

Of course, to add to the fucking humiliation, you stumble backward, but he reaches out to you. His hand firmly wraps around your wrist and the other is hooked behind your back when he jerks you back up to him. He only releases your wrist.

“Is that all you read?”

You shake your head. “I read regular romance and fantasy too.”

He nods, “Ah, I see. So you want the prince of a faraway land to twirl you around in his field of flowers saying how much he loves you, then you want him to make you beg to come?”

Your eyes shoot wide at the comment, only stretching the lazy smirk on his face.

“N-No,” you reply, even though that does sound extremely appealing.

“But you do want someone to ‘run their fingers down your trembling thighs’ though, right?”

To emphasize his point, he lets the knuckles of his hand trickle down the back of your thigh, just barely grazing the skin. The sensation shocks you and almost sends you forward. This can’t be happening. Actually, you pray it isn’t, so your eyelids slam shut.

This prompts his other hand to pinch either side of your jaw gently and drag your face to his. “Or lay you back and tell you to take it like a good girl.” His eyes flicker from your eyes, to your lips, then back up, noting the state of disbelief your countenance holds. He flattens the hand that stops just under your ass.

You almost melt in his hold, and this he knows because of the long breath you took after his words. It’s easy to infer you’re fairly untouched by not only your responses, but how receptive you were. It was you two, only about an inch from each other now, waiting to see who would make the next move and risk something far worse than just a growing attraction. The twins flash in your head as a beat passes and you swallow.

“Yes. But that has nothing to do with you.”

Suna shines a smile with his teeth. “Your thighs are rubbing together.”

You look him up and down. “So?”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

You don’t look him in the eyes, they drop to your pillows. Before you can separate the thighs in question that are only disconnected by his fingertips, he nudges you forward onto him, bringing your hands back to his shoulders. You’re completely straddling while attempting to keep your eyes locked on his when his entire torso is on display. He leans forward to speak just above a whisper in your ear as if this is a normal occurrence.

“I can feel you dripping all over my hand.” The cool of his breath tickles your neck, only worsening as he continues. “Why is that?”

You’re at a loss for words at first, but you suck it up, holding your own. “Nothing to do with you. Maybe I went too hard earlier.”

He wholeheartedly chuckles at this response. “So you admit it?”

“Admit what?”

“That you were up here fucking yourself to your book?” His voice is an echo behind you since he’d decided to rest his chin comfortably on your shoulder.

“Yeah. Yeah—I guess I do. It’s not like you didn’t come in here and figure it out yourself,” your eyes roll.

“Which part were you reading?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

There’s a moment of silence. “She’d just decided to drop her toxic ex-boyfriend and his sister came to console her. The way she did it was kind of fucked up, and I think the slow burn is what made me look past it, but anyway—she brings her to a party, the boy she meets there happens to be the barista at the place she orders from every day, and he has a history with the main character’s ex. He hates him even though he’d gotten over it as years passed, but she really wants to get back at him, so they send an anonymous short video of them, um… together, and he gets really pissed off.”

Suna is quiet as he reviews what you just said. He admires your perception of the book and the passion to read. He goes, “You’re into that?” and then it’s your turn not to say anything, even with the amusement lacing his tone. You grow fidgety, and just when you don’t think any more words will be exchanged, he suddenly demands, “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That. What you just did.” You shifted your weight from leg to leg as the silence grew longer. Just to see, you do it again.

“You’re grinding against me when you do that by the way.”

You giggle maliciously, continuing to go back and forth. It’s payback for teasing you the entire time. He comes to hold your hips still to prevent further movements, but in protest, you create an arch in your back to actually roll your hips down instead, ensuring he felt it.

“Okay, really, unless you want to move like that with my nine inches inside of you, I suggest you choose your battles now.”

You finally halt at the words. He was dead serious. He feels scratching along his shoulder blades at your fingers curling up in response, but not removing yourself. He still rests his head beside yours. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re into that too?”

So that’s how he ended up with his back to your headboard, head tipped up, looking at you through his pretty eyelashes as you wrap your hand around his slick length and reposition it to line up. You lower your body down, allowing your walls to open up for him. The stretch hurts only a little just because he’s so big.

You hadn’t kissed him the entire time, so he groans desperately when you wrap your fingers tightly around his neck and lean in. He allows you to no matter how hard you squeeze.

This drives up your confidence with your pretty lace panties pushed to the side, making you raise to your feet.

“Shit,” he grabs ahold of your ankles between half-lidded eyes, and his mouth slightly dropped like he can’t believe what the fuck he’s seeing. “If Atsumu could see you now.”

The mention of your brother at all should turn you off, but it doesn’t. It only fuels you knowing that you’re actively riding his teammate. In fact, you must tighten around him, because he knows immediately.

“What? Does that turn you on? Fuckin’ slut.”

You whimper at the words, pressing your lips forward to his. You kiss him the best you can as he hungrily reciprocates.

The bed moves forcefully, but Suna knows the other guys are probably too busy downstairs to hear it, and whoever is in the other room may only potentially be a problem. So up and down you go, now slamming your ass against him and reddening his slightly tan, freckled skin.

“Poor thing was up here by herself. If dick was what you really wanted, you know you could have always asked.”

“Hhhmmm,” you whine, breathing shallow.

The brunette lets you go until your legs burn and you’re slowing pace. It’s driving him insane watching you chase your orgasm, using him like he was the perfect replacement for your fingers, in your own little world with your face twisted up in ecstasy and muscles straining. You were too stubborn to stop when he offered it to you, but he doesn’t mind. Not everyone has legs like his.

He instructs while inching his hips up the bed, “Fall back to your knees.” You do, and he grabs one wrist in each hand before digging his heels into the blanket and pounding up into you at a pace you don’t think you could ever meet. It’s rough and loud and you can feel his balls coming up to strike you from behind. Quite literally, it takes your breath away.

“Fuck fuck fuck yes,” tendrils of your hair fall over your face when you lay your head down over his head for stability. Aside from not being able to move, this is the best angle for the both of you. Your tits move over his face, which would allow him to suck and bite as he pleases while holding you still, and with the tilt of your body his fat tip reaches your most sensitive part.

You bounce over and over and he wishes he would have pulled your shirt up first. He’s grunting in your ear dangerously.

“Was this in your book too? Is this when he told her to take it like a good girl?”

You try to answer but it’s incomprehensible with the speed of his thrusts.

He commands, “Again.”

“Y-Yes,” you retry, finally getting something out. He’s satisfied with this, so he lets go of your wrists and pushes you upright, only slowing for the moment. This time, he wraps his fingers around your neck, just enough for you to breathe, while rolling his thumb across your revealed clit. The veins of his forearm show themselves and he peers up at you with a glare as if you were the most irritating thing to him.

How hard you were holding him is nothing compared to how hard he is holding you, and just that thought has your eyes threatening to fall closed.

“Then be a good. Fucking. Girl,” he punctuates each word with a harsh upwards cut of his hips, “and take it.”

“Oh God,” you connect your own weak hands around his, your mouth falling open with every moan that floats into the air. He holds your gaze with his threatening eyes, and if you tried to look anywhere but him, he’d pull you right back. “Suna, I’m coming,” you rush it out like there’s no stopping now. And honestly, you’re currently wishing you didn’t say it at all, because you know if he told you not to, your body would try its best to comply.

“No the fuck you’re not.”

Godammit.

Removing his finger from your nub, he moves the hand to meet the other at your throat. You couldn’t speak even if you wanted to, which you did want to, just to let him know that this would only make it worse. There’s a movement: you’re coming down on him yourself with the force of the thrust driving you up.

Your mouth creates the words, but they don’t come out. Suna knows anyway. “Please.”

“No.” And it’s as simple as that, because then he says, “Do you hear that?”

Of course you don’t, he just asked to see if you were sane enough to come back to your senses and focus your hearing. His tight hold on you is enough to leave a mark, but not enough to prevent your head from slowly shaking back and forth.

“On the other side of that wall is your brother. Both of them.” Your eyes shoot wide at the same time his thrusts calm down. He still continues, it’s just with a deep grind to prevent the hard slapping of skin, and he brings your forehead to his as he speaks to you. “Come now and both of us are in trouble.”

He has valid reasons to infer that it is specifically the twins, but he’s sure you don’t want to hear those right now. If it was up to him, you would have been throwing your head back and showing that arch he imagines you had before he intruded in on you changing, but holding it above your head like meat to a starving dog was fine too.

“Please let me come Rin, please. I’ll be quiet,” a chaste kiss to the tip of his nose ends your pleading, hoping it softens him up with the use of his first name.

And maybe it worked, because his eyebrows curl upwards with pity when he explains, “We both know you’re too vocal for that, princess. How about we try something else?”

You nod frantically, raising off his length and letting him lay down completely while you wait for directions. He gets situated by moving pillows out of the way. “Come here.”

You realize now the pity he expressed was fake. Swinging your leg over his waist, you begin to line yourself up.

“No. Come here.”

You stare at him dumbfounded.

“Up here, towards me,” he ushers his hands. You scoot closer towards his chest with your hands on his pecs, not sure how much closer the two of you can get.

“My face, baby.”

Instead of getting angry with you, he kept his tone. It was little but it made you feel good. “Oh.”

You come to a hover over his lips, contemplating a lot and nothing at the same time, mainly if this man was really under you telling you to do what you’re doing.

“Sit.”

“Are you sure?” You clarify.

“Yes. Sit before I make you read your porn to me.” This brings your eyebrows in with a crease and you drop with no remorse on his lips. His face is smothered somewhere between your thighs. The only thing visible is his damp hair.

Unfortunately for you, he enjoys the thrill of not being able to breathe.

You’re less than two minutes into absolutely grinding on his tongue, chasing the vibrations of his grunts and groans by tugging on his hair. Your other hand is covering your mouth.

Thankfully, because there’s a quick knock, and Osamu’s voice passes through the door. “Pizza’s here. You okay in there?”

You nod as if he can see you. You then realize he cannot.

Shakily, you call out, “Yes.” The only way to not moan while Suna slides the muscle between your lips to taste all of your slick is by biting your lip. His fingers grip the fat of your thighs.

“Okay.” In the background there’s another voice, presumably your other brother. Finally, they become faint until you hear the stairs, and you allow yourself a little freedom.

“Rin,” you look down fully expecting to meet his eyes, but you can’t see him at all.

“Hmphh?”

“I’m close…can I?” On cue, he pushes in as far as his tongue can go inside your hole. He nods yes, simultaneously flattening it to lick all of you in one stripe before deliberately sucking your clit.

To muffle your sounds, your hand comes to cover your mouth once again and you’re somehow managing to prepare for your eyes squeezing shut at the same time as your muscles tensing. Suna can feel you dripping, literally this time.

this was kinda rushed

©️hxltic

[vnti-vntiety-recs]

Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better (M)

★  PAIRING: Academic rival!Haechan x afab/fem!reader

☆ WORD COUNT: 4.8k

★ GENRE(S): Smut, E2lover, Rival2lovers

☆ SUMMARY: Haechan and you have never gotten along, and your friend group is sick of it, so they make a bet that the two of you can't ignore. When put to the test, will your hatred for each other still stand?

★ ☆ WARNINGS: 18+, minors do not interact, Meandom! Haechan, aphrodisiac drug, mentions of drinking, sexual bet, sexual intercourse, swearing, unprotected sex, creampie, Haechan being mean, lowkey forgot what I wrote, so just BEWARE.

☆★ NOTES: Yuh! This idea has been stuck in my head for a while. Another saga of me failing the Don't write another hate2love challenge! FYI, I'm not a writer; I'm just a person who writes occasionally. Lovers in e2l not found more of a fuck buddy type relationship. Anyway I just wanted to say thanks for the support on my other fics. I don't usually write that often but the good feedback encourages me.

At this point, your friends were getting tired of it. You two were constantly at each other's throats. They initially believed you could'nt stand one another, but recently, the atmosphere in the room after your shouting matches was too intense to be fueled solely by animosity. The flames behind your eyes burned too brightly for them to be caused by resentment alone. They used to hold you back from lunging at him, but now they wondered what would really happen if you got your hands on him.

Haechan and you had known each other since middle school. You two shared a lot of the same classes, and unfortunately, you both had parents who expected you to excel in school. You were always trying to one-up each other or stamp out the other's resolve. Your relationship was rocky from the start, and even if you two weren't fighting for the top spot, you doubt you would find him likable.

Haechan was a natural at everything. He didn't have to try very hard to be the best; he just got it. On the other hand, despite spending hours studying, you could just barely match his performance. You were jealous of how easy he made it look. The fact that he would flaunt his success in your face didn't help.

“Can't keep up?” He would say after outperforming you on the final exam by 10 points, he had that same smirk that seemed permanently etched onto his face on full display. You had spent days preparing for the test, even skipping a few hours of sleep. Haechan never studied; the most he ever did to prepare for an exam was to quickly skim the material a few hours before the test. Even then, he would still ace it.

You expected to grow up and put the rivalry behind yourselves during high school, but he would jump at any chance to make you look like an idiot. You could say the sky was blue, and he would argue that it was actually the reflection of the ocean that gave the sky the illusion of being blue. Back in middle school, you limited all interactions with him for your own sanity. However, in high school, he somehow managed to join your friend group, so you were forced to endure him during hangouts. You eventually got used to his presence and the non-stop teasing. It wasn't until you received your acceptance letter to the college you would be attending with your friends that you thought you would finally be free from him. Haechan's parents had wanted him to go to a college that was 4 hours away from your hometown, and you counted down the days until graduation.

Luck was never on your side.

Due to Haecahan's tendency to put things off, he wasn't able to submit his application in time, and as the school was very competitive, the available spots quickly filled up. Luckily for him, your college had an extended application process, which allowed him to send it in late, and he was accepted. Now here you are two years into college, and Haechan is still insufferable.

You two were on two completely different career tracks, so your classes never overlapped, so at least you stopped fighting about grades. Being at the top doesn't matter to you anymore, anyway. You hated the pressure that your parents put on you growing up. Before, you would have had a heart attack if you saw a B, but now you just shrug them off. Even still, all you two do is just have petty arguments because that's all you have ever done.

“You would not be able to see an explosion in space; it's a vacuum; fire can't exist.”

"Well, I've seen Star Wars, so I think that proves my point.”

“That's Fiction! You know, like the idea of you having a brain,” you roll your eyes.

“Almost like your sense of humor? I was joking. Of course I know that I took astronomy before you," he smirks.

He was constantly trying to get under your skin. You take a long breath and try to calm yourself down. "Well, yeah, because I took a different science asshole." Your friends say it's because you always give him a reaction, but you hate being wrong. You had to get the last word, especially against know-it-alls like him.

Despite your complaints, he isn't entirely horrible. On the days that you two aren't arguing, he's making you laugh so hard that you practically fall over. He's not a complete jerk all the time; it's just that once you two get started, it's hard to stop.

“Oh please, can you two cut it out? You have either had too much alcohol or not enough if you can still think about arguing,” your friend Johnny slurs.

It's Saturday night, and you have just finished off an exhausting exam week. Your friends felt a celebration was in order to wind down from the trying week. Now the only thing trying was Haechan testing your patience. You're at Johnny's house, and everyone is spread out around his spacious living room, bottles of alcohol scattered several surfaces. Johnny’s family was well off, and he lived off campus in one of the few estates that his family owned. The house had two stories and a pool in the backyard. On the weekends, you would spend the most of your time here.

“You're right I came here to relax, not burst a blood vessel.” You sigh and take a seat next to Johnny on the couch. You take a couple sips from whichever unopened can of cheap alcohol is nearby. Even though you could already sense a buzz coming on, it needed to hit harder if you were going to have to deal with Haechan all night.

Hyuck chuckled and found a spot on the carpeted floor. "Sorry, the princess just seemed like her day was going too well; I had to ruin it a little," he said.

Your friend Yuna raised an eyebrow in his direction and smirked as she took another sip of her drink. “For you to hate her so much, you sure do spend a lot of time thinking about her.”

“One point Yuna, '' you smile at your friend's rebuttal. Arguing with Haechan could be tiring, but your roommate always had your back.

“I think you two just need to hug it out... in a room... alone,” your other friend Mark joked.

You dryly laugh, "So funny."

“You scared?” Hyuck says with a wicked grin. He leans back on one arm as he sips on his drink, still eyeing you confidently. It's at times like these that you betray yourself the most. He looks so good with his light brown hair framing his face; it's grown so long now that it covers his eyes if he doesn't push it back. The alcohol must be hitting because now all you can imagine is pulling on the soft brown locks and not out of anger. You must have taken too long to reply, because now he's raising an eyebrow at you.

“I wouldn't want to be alone with you even if you were the last person on earth."

Johnny cuts off Haechan's response before he can start. "Want to test that theory?"

Questions run through everyone's mind as you all turn to look at Johnny after his outburst.

“What, are you gonna kill us or something?” Haechan responds wearily.

"No, but I should, with the headache you have given me.”

“So…?” You urge him to continue.

"You two keep saying how much you can't stand each other, so how about we put that to the test?" Johnny closes with a sinister grin.

“I feel like you're gonna say something really stupid next." Mark comments

Johnny ushers your other friends into a huddle and tries his best to whisper in his drunken state.

"Guys, just hear me out? We can all feel the tension between these two. They clearly need to fuck or something, so how about we help them along so we don't have to deal with them trying to tear each other apart?”

“How would we do that?”

“We can hear you, and I am NOT fucking him."

“Oh come on, we see the way you two look at each other; you're both just too stubborn to realize it.”

"Hyuck, don't just sit there; help me out here!" you plead

“They have a point, though; you do want to fuck me,” he confidently adds.

"Please, you would be lucky enough if I poked you with a stick,” you say in distaste.

“Order! Order!” Johnny slurs, "Look, I have a way for you both to prove yourselves,” using his beer can as a makeshift gavel.

“Yeah, where were you even going with all of this? Man get to the point,” Mark mutters as he gets comfortable on the sofa.

“"What if you two take an aphrodisiac together and try not to touch each other? If you can last, then you two will win and show everyone how much you despise one another."

The room is silent when Johnny finishes pitching his idea. You think he definitely had one too many drinks tonight. What kind of plan was this? There was no way in hell you would go along with ANY of Johnny's half-baked ideas, but this one was especially crazy. You were just about to shoot down the idea when another voice interrupted you.

“I'm down. What? You can't stand the idea of keeping your hands off me?” Haechan grumbles upon seeing your reaction.

“what? I was just thinking this is stupid. What do I even get out of this? I don't care what you people think,” you huff.

“How about I give you each $500 if you win?”

“Do you-” you start.

“AND Mark does your homework for 2 weeks.”

“Hey! I didn't-” mark says

“AND Yuna does your share of the chores at your dorm.”

“WHA-!” yuna argues

"Deal," you quickly say before anyone can finish their complaints.

"Dude, this is not what we discussed,” Mark complains. Johnny whispers to him about something, and he perks up a little as Johnny makes him a promise. "Fine"

Johnny lays down the rules for you two. You and Haechan will both take an aphrodisiac pill and be restricted to the upstairs bedroom. You’ll have to stay in the room with each other for 3 hours, and if you two can withstand the 3 hours without touching each other, you win. If you lose, you both have agreed to play nice with each other or at least around other people.

As soon as you both take the pink pill, Johnny starts the timer. You make your way up the stairs to the bedroom, where you often crash on the weekends. This was definitely not how you thought you would be spending the weekend.

“We’ll come knocking when the time’s up! Yuna yells from downstairs.

You pout playfully and mock her from over the railing of the stairs. She was supposed to be the reasonable one.

“Oh real mature,” Haechan chuckles as he shuffles past you up the stairs. The staircase was really narrow, and you could practically feel his body heat against you as he went. The pills' effects haven't even fully settled in yet, and you're already feeling things you shouldn't. If you were planning on winning, you would have to get it together. Maybe this wasn't as easy as you thought.

As you make your way up the remaining stairs, you see Haechan standing by the door frame, waiting for you. He rolls his eyes. "You're stalling."

You murmur under your breath, "I'll literally give you my half of the money if you shut up for the next three hours," but drag yourself into the room nevertheless.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

The first 20 minutes aren't terrible. You guys make yourselves comfortable on opposite sides of the room and pick a random wall to stare at. As Haechan makes himself comfortable on the room's lone bed, you take a seat on a little bench that lines a sizable window. You're grateful he keeps his mouth shut. This was probably the longest you two have been in each other's presence without speaking.

It wasn't until about 30 minutes in that the effect hit you. Your breathing grew labored, and your blood started to flow through your veins more quickly. Your body started to heat up. To cool down, you placed your face on the window, breathing fogging the glass. When you looked up to see how Haechan was fairing, he was already looking at you with heavy-lidded eyes as his chest expanded with each deep inhale.

As much as he got on your last nerve, you had always thought he was attractive. His tan honey skin that glowed in the sunlight, his pretty moles that you would kill to kiss, and his gorgeous eyes that always made your heart beat just a little harder when he would glare at you whenever you hit a nerve. You loved seeing him worked up, but the few moments you got to see him when he was happy were moments you stored deep in the vault of your heart. You hated him; there was no time for admiring him.

You tried to shove those thoughts away, but It was as though all the thoughts you had been working so hard to suppress had suddenly surfaced. All you could think about was his plump lips and how they would feel on your body. How his fingers would feel encircling your throat, pressing the chilly rings that decorated his hands against your skin. His golden locks flowing through your fingers as you hold him close. You couldn't resist licking your lips at the idea.

“Don't fucking do that,” he abruptly spoke. He closes his eyes and takes a shaky breath. He spreads his legs further, trying to get comfortable in his spot across the room.

You try to fight the urge, but your eyes travel down his body to the bulge in his sweats. You immediately cross your legs at the sight. You had to clutch onto the pillows of the seat you were in; otherwise, you don't think you could stop yourself from crossing the room in a heartbeat.

“What? Can't handle it hyuckie?” You coo at him, using the old nickname you haven't called him since middle school. You had to find some ground in this setting. You couldn't let him see how weak he was making you.

"Out of all the times you pick to be a brat, now is not the time," he grumbles mockingly.

“Why? Am I getting on your nerves? Hmm, I could only wonder what that must feel like,” you sneered. You were so horny, it's pissing you off. You decide Haechan can use a taste of his own medicine, and what better way to blow off steam than to get under his skin?

“Maybe they were right. Maybe you do need a good fuck for you to lose the attitude.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

"Careful," he smirks, licking his lips.

You know that look; he's testing you. He's daring you to say something else.

"That's what I thought," he says, closing his eyes and attempting to control his breathing.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

You're about an hour in, and you can't take it any longer; you're practically rutting against the seam of your jeans, hoping for some kind of friction.

"Please, I can't do this anymore," you cry out for air. You turn to face him, but he doesn't answer. His eyes are closed, and his brows are drawn together as if he's in pain.

“Haechan!” You scream again; this time he slowly opens his eyes, and you suck in a breath as your eyes meet. His pupils were completely blown as sweat pricked his brow.

“Are you giving up?"

You nod in response.

“That's too bad; I still want to win,” he smirks lazily.

"Let's just forfeit; this is stupid!” You stand from where you were seated and head to the door. This prompts Haechan to finally move from his spot as he uses his long legs to cross the room in three wide strides. Before you can open the door, he stops you. For the first time since you two entered the room, he touches you. While keeping his body an arms' length away from you, he is shoving you up against the door by your shoulders. Your body is on fire at the mere touch, and you're grateful for the little bit of space he has given you.

“Calm down. Think this through,” he huffs as if out of breath. “just-just think of the money.”

“I don't care about this stupid bet! I feel like I'm going to explode,” you cry, fighting to escape his hold, but he just pins you back against the door.

“How about I take care of it then? Hmm?” He begs, never breaking eye contact. “I'll take the pain away, baby. Just work with me, yeah?"

"That defeats the point Haechan; we aren't supposed to touch each other; I thought you were smarter than that," you protest, growing increasingly frustrated.

“As long as you keep those gorgeous lips shut, nobody would ever know.” He slowly closes in on you as he speaks. “I help you out, and when we get out of this room, we pretend like nothing happened, and that we still can't stand each other, deal?” He's a breath away. The close proximity, the way he's practically breathing down your neck, and the look in his eyes that tells you he is only about 2 seconds away from devouring you were all you needed to go along with Haechan's scheme.

You stopped listening about halfway through anyway so you nodded mindlessly before closing the remaining space between the two of you. You're pushing off the door and pressing your body against his as you guide him towards the bed. Even though you can both feel your lungs starting to burn, neither of you has the strength to break the kiss. When his legs met the edge of the bed, he sat, giving you both time to regain your breath. He's resting back against his hands, looking up at you, and his legs are spread wide as if he were offering himself to you.

"Come on princess, take whatever you want from me," he smirks as you get into his lap and nestle down against the tent in his pants. You push him until his back is flush against the mattress, then mindlessly grind down on him. You use his chest to steady yourself as you throw your head back and drown in the feeling. You feel Haechan's hands gripping your waist and then traveling up your torso. His hands explored your body as you got lost in each other. Haechan sits up to meet your lips in another passionate kiss. As he deepens the kiss, he clutches your waist tightly to restrict your movements. You whine at the lack of stimulation, but all he can do is smile against your lips in return.

“Be patient baby; let me love on you.”

“This…was…not…a part of…the deal,” you try to finish as he lovingly pecks your lips.

"Didn't I tell you to keep your voice down? Shut up,” he says, ignoring your insistent whining, lavishing your face and neck in wet kisses. Any “loving” he was going to give vanished at your bratty behavior.

“Stop teasing, hyuck seriously. I think I'm going insane.”

You were on the verge of tears at this point; you needed him to give you some type of relief. That's exactly how he wanted you—desperate and needy—not like you already weren't, but he liked to push you to your limits.

“Lay down for me,” he says, releasing his grip on your hips and patting your thigh to signal you to get up. You swiftly move to lay on the bed, and you watch him as he pulls his shirt over his head and takes off his sweatpants, leaving him only in his underwear. He climbs the bed and helps you remove your jeans. As he's tugging the material down your thick thighs, you remove your shirt and bra. He settles between your legs, and you reflexively wrap your legs around his waist. He has to press his palm down against your lower stomach to stop you from grinding against him again.

"You promise to behave?" He prys your legs free from his waist, trapping them against your chest and restricting your movement.

You nod mindlessly, reaching out to grab him and trying to draw him into another kiss, but he pins your hands above your head, using his hips instead to further pin you down.

"Uh-uh princess, use your words," he adds coldly.

“Please hyuck, I promise I'll be good.”

“You going to be a good girl and keep that mouth shut?”

You were exhausted from having to use your brain to come up with a coherent response; you were at your limit. All you could think about was him filling you up, and every second he didn't, it felt like a year of your life span was shaved off. You did cry this time. You were so frustrated with him; he did this all the time. He never plays nice; he always makes you work for it.

"Oh you poor baby," he coos lovingly as he kisses your eyelids and wipes away your tears. "I'm sorry, but I have to hear you say it," he continues.

"I promise to be your good girl; I swear I won't make a sound, please," you sniffle, trying to hold back your tears.

“If I hear one sound, I'm stopping, and you can walk out of this room and finish yourself off, got it?”

You've learned to respond quickly when he asks you a question, so you nod your head with a "yes sir."

This makes Haechan smile wickedly. Who would have guessed that the same brat who walked into the room with him no less than an hour ago could be so obedient? He was definitely never letting you live this down when this was over. He finally decides to take pity on you, kisses down your body, and removes your panties. He threw your legs over his shoulders, and a quick kiss to your inner thigh was all the warning you got before he nuzzled his nose up against your clit as he licked into your entrance. He savored the taste with his tongue before licking up to your clit and sucking it into his mouth. The sounds his mouth made as he devoured you were wet and noisy as he slurped away at your essence.

You were fighting for your life above him. Reaching for a pillow that was just almost out of reach, you used it to smother your sounds. A sharp slap on your outer thigh served as a warning to keep your voice down. It was the only warning you were going to get. Soon the pillow is long forgotten as you gasp for air. Your thighs began to shake as you choked on your moans. Your back arches, and you can feel your eyes begin to roll. You were going to come, and you would have welcomed it with open arms any other time, but you knew how loud you could get. He was not letting up, and you knew if you came like this, you wouldn't be able to hold back the scream that's been dying to echo against the walls.

You try your best to fight it off. You frantically push at his head, begging him with your eyes as you trap your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to bite back moans. He shakes his head no, but the movement simply adds to the pleasure, and you're about to lose it. You try to get away from his mouth by shifting up the bed, but his powerful arms wrap around your thighs and pull you back down onto his mouth.

"Hae-" His look silences you, and your mouth hangs wide in a silent cry as you spasm on his tongue. It was the most intense orgasm you'd ever felt. Once he helps you ride out the wave, he kisses your pussy one more time before pulling away. As soon as he does, you snap your legs shut, still reeling from the orgasm. His face was practically dripping as he stared you down, hungry.

"Better?" he asks, brushing the back of his palm across his face.

"Mhm,” you reply, causing him to raise a brow, "better,” you quickly follow, using your voice.

Your eyes travel down his body until they reach what you’ve been craving for the most. Haechan was harder than you thought could even be possible. His tip was a furious shade of crimson, gleaming in precum. 

"One more baby," he strokes his length before hissing and gripping the base. "Just be my good girl one more time," he begs.

You almost feel bad. The whole time he was teasing you, he was also teasing himself. You're amazed he's maintained this level of self-control up to this point.

“I don't know if I can keep quiet if we continue,” you plead.

“Open your mouth” is all he says as he prys your legs open and settles between them.

You comply, and Haechan shoves your panties into your mouth. You try to object, but he covers your mouth with his palm for added security.

"My turn," he grins before bottoming out inside you. The first few strokes are so deep, you can practically feel him in your stomach. He's trying to keep control; he's trying to be gentle with you because he knows how sensitive you are, but he's slowly losing it. He's going to use you like a doll. His thrusts pick up pace, and all you can hear in the room is skin slapping against skin unforgivingly. The hand around your mouth clamps down harder as he buries his head into your neck.

“Im sorry... fuck” was all you got as he hiked your leg up higher on his waist, trying to hit deeper. His hot breath fanning across your neck and the soft staccato groans he lets out are the only indications that he is close. Your head is in the clouds, and you can't think straight. You barely register the fact that you came again until he bites at your neck to muffle his deep groan at the feeling of your walls tightening down on him. Next thing you know, he's snapped.

He quickly sits up, throwing your leg over his shoulder as he drives his hips down into you, practically fucking you into the mattress until his hips are stuttering. He pulls the panties from your mouth to kiss you in the hopes of drowning out his own sounds of pleasure. His kiss is messy. It's nothing but tongue and teeth as his thrusts grow slopy. He's practically whimpering into your mouth when he cums.He rides out his high before pulling away from your lips. All you can do is stare at each other as you catch your breath. There is a brief moment of silence before you both burst out laughing. He collapses next to you and pulls you close.

“You think they heard that?” he asks, panting.

"Oh, we definitely heard everything." A muffled voice can be heard through the door, and you assume it's Yunas.

You're too sleepy to feel embarrassed as your eyelids begin to droop.

"Don't worry, you two; we'll say you won as long as you don't try to kill each other again." Johnny's muffled voice can be heard next.

"I don't think she'll be able to do much for a while," Haechan muffles. Speaking to your sleeping form more than anyone else.

"I'll get the plan B girl. I gotchu," Yuna voice fades as she walks down the hallway.

She was definitely gonna grill you for the details. She always wanted a run-down play by play of everything that happened.

Soon, you found yourself drifting off to sleep in haechans warm embrace.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Johnny would call his mission a success. You two stopped arguing for the most part, and the group was able to enjoy more peaceful outings without the two of you turning every conversation into a debate. Your friends were fond of your bickering, but at times it could get to be too much. But now that your relationship with Haechan has blossomed into a….situationship? They were running into another problem.

You two fuck like rabbits.

No matter where you were, you two were slipping off to do who knows what or being all touchy-feely with each other, and your friends didn't want to see or hear any of it. But because you two seemed happier, they learned to cope with it. Yuna bought new noise-canceling headphones to use whenever Haechan would spend the night at your dorm. Johnny upgraded the speakers in the house so that when he had a party and you two snuck away, the music could blast louder to drown out your noises. Mark downloaded more mobile games on his phones to ignore you two when you would get all lovey during movie nights.

Haechan still picked on you, but he saved it more for the bedroom, and you still tried to test his patience any chance you got. You didn't know what you two had, but you didn't mind enjoying it while it lasted or even furthering it. You learned a lot more about Haechan and discovered that you two had more in common than you believed. You also learned he could be a real sweetheart sometimes. Maybe your friends were right all along, and maybe Johnny isn't as crazy as you thought. Maybe you didn't have to be better than Haechan all along.

Rushed ending opps

[jrreigns]

Letters from the Other Side

The sea washes over the sides of the steamship, taking with it the algae stuck to it. You almost hope the waves can take you with it, the nerves getting the better of you as you leant over the rail. Come see me, you read the letter over and over again, your stomach fluttering, I want to see you.

CW: Post-war Levi x fem!reader, civilian!reader

A/N: Some post-war Levi goodness after the angst I’ve posted this past month. ~2.5k words of fluff and romance. If this does well, I’ll probably write the super romantic smut next.

Credit to @cafekitsune for the dividers!

Three years after the Rumbling and things were starting to return to a sense of normalcy in the Stohess district. At least as normal as things can get when the twisted mentality of the Yeagerists and their seizing control of the military dominated the news. Your mother and father tell you not to worry, but you’ve been worried ever since the walls disappeared and the Survey Corps regiment disbanded.

Or rather, you have only really been worried over a single person, the man with the raven locks and the dull gray eyes, dull eyes that glittered when you spoke to him. You were still a woman, and a woman has intuition for those sorts of things like attraction, and Captain Levi couldn’t help how flustered he got whenever he saw you. Your father was the owner of a blacksmith company, and you often bumped into Levi along with Commander Smith several times a month.

Humanity’s strongest, you’d think in awe, where you had imagined a big brute, now you saw the man for what he was.

Why’d he come along was always unknown to you, but as your father and the commander spoke privately in another room, you offered small conversation and tea while he waited. Where small talk began, somehow a deep appreciation for the other bloomed, and the visits began to feel like the visits of the suitors that bombarded your home on occasion. He’d gift you single flowers, it’s all I can afford, he���d say meagerly. You’d thank him with a kiss on the cheek each and every time. And each and every time a ferocious tinge of red would adorn his face.

The timing never seemed to be right with either of you, it always seemed like when one was ready to take the leap, the other had other obligations waiting. Wait for me, were his selfish last words to you and you nodded your head as you gave him a final good-bye.

It had already been three years. You were already on the cusp of giving up.

It had been a nice breezy morning when you received his first letter. The unfamiliar stamps had caught both you and your parents off-guard, but nonetheless they gave you the privacy to open it. There, in the small garden of your home, tears welled up in your eyes as you skimmed through it.

It was a letter from Captain Levi.

Or rather Levi, just Levi, as the letter so said. I have told them to stop calling me captain, but these brats never learn. You giggled inwardly at his words, tears welling up in your eyes. You read it one more time, much slower this time, familiarizing yourself with his handwriting, the slant in his letters, his signature, everything. You familiarized yourself with the names Gabi and Falco, children you did not know but instantly loved with the way they cared for Levi.

At the very bottom, a hopeful wish that you will respond, signed next to his name.

Of course you will.

Your father stood confused as you gathered parchment and a pen to write, finding it odd that his moody daughter was suddenly so lively. Perhaps it’s the engagement, he thought, and let you be.

Your ring twinkled under the summer sun, and yet nothing has caused more glee than the very letter you were responding to. You wrote about the situation in Paradis, you wrote about the kindness of the queen, and you wrote about how business was booming for your father, despite the war having been over. The thought saddened you, but you quickly sign the letter and add a note that you excitedly await his next letter.

It’s not that you fail to mention your engagement, rather some deep part of you didn’t want to mention it. Your betrothed was a good man, hand picked by your father, you had accepted to keep his worries at bay that you wouldn’t end up husbandless and with no children.

How quickly Levi’s letters can have you questioning your familiar duties.

We restored some of the land ruined by the war, Levi writes, many foreigners are starting to settle here again.

You can’t help the sense of admiration that fills you up. It filled you up when he’d visit with the commander, and it still filled you up now. A military man, you wonder if he’s still as strong as when you met him. Humanity’s strongest, you wondered if he still thought about you and the flowers he’d gift you.

I’d like to visit it one day, you write, perhaps a change of scenery would be nice. All this yeagerist talk has me going mad.

I’d like to visit you one day, you will yourself to write, but you don’t. You had been lovestruck years ago, perhaps the captain no longer harbored the same feelings. Perhaps the captain has found someone new, perhaps the captain has married.

Sadness consumes you. After all, you were just friends back then, right?

You trash your letter and write a plainer one instead. It hadn’t even reached half a page when you sealed it, wrote his address on the front of it and set it aside for the postman to pickup tomorrow.

“Honey,” you can hear your mother call, “James is here to see you.” You force your best smile to greet your husband-to-be.

It’s weeks before the next letter arrives. The pretty orange and red tree leaves were beginning to fall, a cozy chill running through the district. Your wedding preparations were already underway when the postman calls out to you, a single letter in his hands, the stamps it bore already familiar to you.

More talk of restoration, recovery, Gabi and Falco’s shenanigans, when finally you reach the last bit of the letter. I don’t mean to bother you, Levi writes, your last letter felt abrasive. I understand if things have changed. Everything has changed.

You wonder what goes through Levi’s mind when he writes to you.

No, things have not changed. Things still felt the same, at least they did to you. Still, you couldn’t ignore your engagement anymore as you saw your mother debate through wedding ribbons in the distance and you finally will yourself to write and tell him the news.

I’m engaged, it feels awful to write it, my engagement is a long one, though, and so I’m sorry if the letter was short. I must’ve been busy.

You write of other things, of the rising tension amongst good folks like your family who didn’t want to fuel another war, and the yeagerists. You write of how the talks of peace by the ambassadors (who you found out were actually part of the same regiment as him) were falling on deaf ears.

I’d like to see you, you finally write, I’d like to see what the other side looks like.

You add the last bit in a final moment of hesitation, sign your name and set it aside, a deep breath falling from your lips.

“You’re changing the wedding date again, and to a later date might I add,” your father bellows out to you.

“Father, please,” you reply, exasperated, trying to escape the dining room and into your own, a new letter in hand, “I will get married in time, what’s the rush?”

“The rush is that you’re not young anymore, I beg you to reconsider.”

You shut the door behind you, shaky fingers coming to pry the letter open. You force yourself to read slowly, absorbing every single inked word coming from Levi’s fingertips.

You skip his polished words of annoying governmental policies being implemented on his side and go straight to the heart of the letter, his real response to you.

Congratulations on your engagement, he begins, I’m surprised you haven’t even married yet.

That? That is what he has to say? You scoff, a slight irritation blooming.

I don’t look like before—I’ve lost an eye and my right hand is destroyed, his letter continues, I look awful.

I’m not humanity’s strongest anymore.

You don’t know why these words strike you deeply. Years and a great distance separate you from what Levi is or was for that matter, yet it isn’t Levi’s exterior that ever affected you in the first place. It was the small talks and the small gifts, it was his tinged cheeks and his intrepid way of speaking around your people who have only seen the refined things in life.

You could never look awful to me, you write in your response, a wave of heat flaring up on your cheeks, you’re just trying to get me not to go.

Levi’s letters continue well into the deeper part of winter, the leaves have long since fallen, snow beginning to gather amongst the branches. The winters where he lived were harsh, and he writes of how they were causing the ache in his knee to worsen. You spend some of your money to send him some ointment you purchased from a local medic.

He writes to you of how the snow reminds him of when the Survey Corps would serve hot chocolate on the off chance. You send him chocolate you bargain off a local vendor.

The signs of Levi’s homesickness don’t escape you, even if he doesn’t admit it.

I could send you Stohess’s entire stock of goods if I can, you respond to his letters of thanks.

What would I do with all that, he responds to yours, breaking you into a fit of silent laughter.

I’ve missed your awful humor, you write casually. You wonder if you should trash this letter and begin a new one, but you don’t. I’ve missed you, you finish writing.

The budding roses in your garden remind you of your predicament.

“As much as I respect you,” James begins, “I won’t accept any other change to the wedding. If you won’t marry me then I’ll find someone who will.”

You comprehend his irritation, even if you don’t fully understand it.

He leaves you on your garden bench, exiting through the gate, just in time for the postman to arrive. Your feelings don’t subside, in fact they linger as you read Levi’s next letter.

Upon opening it, nervousness hits you as you see just how short the letter is. Policy change, annoying policy change.

The ambassadors have told me that postage to Paradis will be barred soon. Your eyes widen. Despite the nice spring breeze, your body suddenly feels so cold.

If I don’t hear from you again, I wanted to wish you a happy marriage. Your eyes well with tears, but it’s his next words that move you.

Unless you change your mind. Come see me. I want to see you. Just as you’re about to trash the envelope, a small flower catches your eye. It was dried up and rather lonely, but you hold it close to you as small tears slip down your cheeks.

The next morning, you try to give the postman your next letter but he just shakes his head in response.

“Apologies ma’am, the military has ordered a full stop for all international mail.” You thank him anyway, despite how distraught you feel.

Your wedding is within two weeks. The white dress in the corner of your room haunts you. Although lace with spring flowers were added to match the season, it only made it look like the kind of dress you wore on your deathbed.

There was no more rescheduling your wedding date, there were no more letters to look forward to, you could only look over the last letter, his final request.

You longed for Levi. Did he long for you?

Come see me, I want to see you.

Despite the spring air, a heat that resembled summer humidity burned through you.

“It’s a one way trip if you decide to head to the other side,” the hefty man tells you, “military has barred all incoming and outgoing mail, I wouldn’t be surprised if they bar incoming ships soon.”

This was it, the point of no return. You had written your last letter addressed to your parents—an apology for doing what you are doing. No, your heart hasn’t seized its rampant beating since Levi’s last letter. You need to see him.

You board without much of a glance back.

For days, sea sickness threaten to put a damper on your good (albeit nervous) mood, your only fuel the letters stored in your small suitcase, rereading them every night as the darkness of the ocean tormented you.

Finally, the crewmen announce that you will be arriving in the morning. The sun was setting off in the horizon—you clutched his last letter as you take a brief moment to absorb this feeling of resilience that surged through you. You’d get to see Levi soon, you’ve waited enough. Here, near the rails of the ship, you long for him, nerves filling your stomach.

The sea washes over the sides of the steamship, taking with it the algae stuck to it. You almost hope the waves can take you with it, the nerves getting the better of you as leant over the rail. Come see me, you read the letter over and over again, your stomach fluttering. I want to see you.

Past the plethora of persons disembarking, past the many political volunteers ushering about far-off dreams of peace that were unachievable, you navigate through unknown territory in an effort to find him. Fingers pointed, people spoke foreign directions as they glanced at the address on your envelope. It has all brought you here.

Face to face with a young girl, too young to be married.

“Ah—sorry,” you begin, “I was told Levi Ackerman lived here.”

“Yeah he does,” she begins suspiciously, “I’ll get him.” The door closes again and already you feel out of your element. Perhaps this was a mistake, you wish the ground can swallow you whole. Peering eyes look at you through a nearby window, ones that belonged to the young girl who just spoke to you, and another who you haven’t met.

“That’s her? No way,” you can hear them say. Suddenly the door opens, and dull gray eyes that bore a hint of annoyance soften and make way for a familiar glitter that reminded you of simpler times.

“Levi.”

He whispers your name, suddenly hiding his maimed hand, trying to get you to see his good side, the side with his working eye. But you don’t see that. You see the man who gifted you flowers, you see the man whose cheeks you once kissed.

You will yourself to move and you do, grabbing the hand behind him and crashing into him in an embrace. Levi’s face is red, and he glances at the window to see Gabi and Falco gawking at them. He waves them off annoyingly and they give him a thumbs-up as they pull away.

Hands come to wrap around you, lips kissing your forehead.

“You came,” he whispers into your hair.

“Of course.”

[oni-gory]

Genshin Boys as your Valentine!

ᡣ𐭩 Characters: Chongyun, Gaming, Gorou (afab reader), Scaramouche x gn reader

ᡣ𐭩 cw: minor writing smut, sfw, fluff, gn reader, praise, tsundere Scaramouche, bondage, dom reader, nsfw on the Gorou section!!

ᡣ𐭩notes: My first sfw post! (kinda) ૮꒰⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝꒱ა☆⋆｡

Not proofread!

Chongyun

Chongyun stood in front of you, holding out a small letter with a heart stamped upon it. His face was slightly red and he was avoiding your gaze, staring at the floor. You stood in front of him with wide eyes, shocked to see your friend so flustered. He was usually so calm and relaxed… You couldn’t help but snicker softly.

“Hey, don’t laugh at me..” He said quietly, hiding his red face with one hand. You smiled softly and took the letter, looking down and examining it curiously. “Sorry, sorry… You’re just being so cute.” You chuckled before ripping the letter open, eager to read whatever he had written. Your eyes skimmed over the letter, your smile widening as you continued to read. Chongyun wrote a very heartfelt and sincere letter confessing his love to you and asking to be your valentine.

He was still staring down at the floor, nervous to see your reaction. You looked back up at him before dropping the letter on the floor and pulling him into a hug. Chongyun’s body was so… cold as he slowly wrapped his arms around your body. He shyly felt over your soft body, closing his eyes and dropping his head on your shoulder. “I’ll be your valentine, Chongyun.” You whispered, smiling. His eyes lit up and Chongyun smiled slightly. “Thank you…Thank you very much.”

Gaming

Gaming, one of your best friends was spending Valentine’s day at work. Which was sad, for you at least. You invited him to come over to your family’s place for a bit to hang out so he could relax after work. You made him a cup of tea and a little treat for the both of you. After about thirty minutes of waiting and continuously reminding your family that he was going to come, Gaming arrived.

He knocked on the door politely, and you eagerly let him inside. The both of you went into your bedroom, sitting down and drinking the tea. (or water if u don’t like tea!) “Soo, Gaming, did anyone ask you to be their valentine?" You asked him curiously, a slight anxious look in your eyes as you glanced at Gaming. He sipped his tea before shaking his head and responding enthusiastically, "Nope! I’m all alone this Valentine’s day. But that’s alright~!" When he said that you got kinda hopeful, blushing as you looked down at the teacup in your hands. Gaming didn’t notice your face, obviously eating the treats you had made for him.

You were having a hard time finding the words to ask Gaming to be your valentine. The day was almost over already… but you couldn’t wait. "Well… Gaming, could I be your valentine.. maybe-?" You asked quietly, preparing yourself for rejection. But… instead of getting the reaction you expected, Gaming looked over at you, his cheeks stuffed with food and his eyes sparkling. He swallowed the treat and nodded happily. "Sure… You can be my valentine, {name}. I wanted to ask you the same question honestly.." You and Gaming spoke for about another hour, before you both climbed up in your bed and cuddled. Gaming figured he could just spend the night because he didn’t have work tomorrow. He had his arms wrapped around your waist, rubbing circles on your back as both of your breaths synced.

Gorou

Your sweet boyfriend, Gorou, hadn’t been findable at all on Valentine’s day. The prior night you had both agreed to be each other’s valentine but all day he hadn’t been available at all. You figured he just decided to go to work, which was a bit disappointing, but okay. By the end of the day, you were getting ready for bed and still waiting for Gorou to come back home when he finally arrived. Your lover came inside of the house quietly, trying to shut the door without it making a sound. But you heard him.

Gorou walked into the bedroom, holding a paper bag. You were lying in bed, playing with the bottom of your pajama shirt when you saw Gorou. You walked up to the light orange-browned haired boy, staring at him sternly. "Uhm… Happy Valentine’s day, my love. I-I got you something." He stuttered, knowing you were annoyed because of him. You grabbed the bag from Gorou, opening it up and looking through the bag. Your eyes widened when you saw he had bought.. lingerie and red, skin safe rope. You stared at your lover before speaking, "Darling… Happy Valentine’s day."

Gorou was tied up on your shared bed, looking at you with big, teary eyes as his ears twitched. He was wearing the lingerie that he had bought for you as a gift. His mouth was stuffed with chocolate he had bought for you as well, acting as a mouth gag. You were sitting in front of him, flicking his nipples to tease him endlessly. Every time you did so Gorou would flinch and let out a muffled whimper. "Such a cutie… but this is what happens when you ignore your lover for a whole day." You whispered, leaning forward and reaching your hand down to his cock while your other one rubbed his cheek lovingly.

You grabbed the lace panties that Gorou had on, moving it to the side and watching as his cock sprung out. His cock twitched and his face reddened when you began to rub only the tip. Gorou started drooling when he tried to eat the two heart medium sized chocolates so he could speak, failing. A bit of precum coming out of him and lubricating your hand. You smirked and leaned down, kissing all over the General’s cock. To think, someone with such a powerful position acting so submissive in front of you, his sweet lover. He was sweating and arching his back, already feeling as if he was losing his mind thanks to your teasing.

Eventually, after edging Gorou for almost thirty minutes, which left him crying and his hips desperately rutting into your hand. He needed more friction, he needed to cum. "Mmh… I just can’t stay mad at you." You finally decided to give Gorou what he wanted so desperately. You removed your own panties and climbed on top of your boyfriend, grinning at his expression. He looked so happy and relieved. You slowly lowered your cunt onto his cock, making Gorou whimper loudly as he tried to hold you, but the rope held him back. You started to ride Gorou’s cock, letting out quiet moans when you felt his cock hit your g-spot over and over. The chocolates in his mouth began to fall out, but you leaned forward and grabbed one of the pieces, eating it. You made Gorou eat the other piece of chocolate.

"L-lo—luhve~.. p-pleasee… W-want chu.." He manage to stumble out a few words along with desperate whimpers, making you bite your bottom lip and smile. His ears were starting to twitch more rabidly, a sign you knew meant he was on the verge of cumming. You pulled up your shirt and grabbed Gorou’s head, having him lean down and worship your gorgeous body. You were about to cum too. "Can you cum with me, darling~..?" You whispered to him, making Gorou nod frantically. He wanted to cum with you, and as you continued to ride him, both of your orgasm’s neared. The both of you came together, Gorou’s eyes rolling into the back of his head as he moaned and your body shivered when you felt his cum filling up your pussy.

Scaramouche

Scara wasn’t very fond of people. He preferred to be left alone so he could focus on his own things. But… then there was you, who couldn’t seem to leave him alone. At first Scaramouche hated you, but as time passed… He found himself secretly growing fond of your presence. On Valentine’s day, you were following Scara around like a puppy, basically begging him to be your valentine. Every time you’d ask, he’d try to distract you in some way so he didn’t have to give an answer. But you were beginning to get exhausted, and eventually Scaramouche decided to accept. he couldn’t make it look like he actually liked you though…

"Please, please, pleaseee Scara.. Just be my valentine!" You begged, tugging at his arm a little and looking at Scaramouche. His face began to redden and he quickly looked away before you could see. "Ugh, you’re so annoying.. Fine. I’ll be your stupid valentine. The day’s almost over anyways." The puppet stated, rolling his eyes but feeling a tingle in his chest. Your eyes lit up with joy and you excitedly hugged Scara, clinging to his arm happily. "Don’t get ahead of yourself, I still despise you." He murmured. Yet you knew he was warming up to you.

[writingjourney]

soft, sleepy sex with the papas

summary: Four short-ish scenarios, one for each Papa, in which you get to do some crossword-solving with Primo, come home after a night-out with Secondo, wake up with Terzo or watch a movie with Copia.

content: 4.8k words in total (each is 1k-1.4k words), f!readers, sort of established relationships, dom/sub undertones if you squint, obviously these contain smut, more detailed warnings in each part, 18+ MDNI

Masterlist – Ao3 link

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Primo 

content: p in v because peepaw can still get it

Half-asleep on Primo’s bare chest, you draw lazy patterns into the fuzzy hair on his left pec, your palm resting just above his steady heartbeat. He keeps one arm wrapped around your shoulder, holding a weathered little book that is open on a half-done crossword puzzle, while his other hand slowly fills in the empty squares. It’s Italian, so you gave up trying to help him a while ago, dozing to the sound of graphite scratching on paper.

But you know you won’t sleep yet. There is a gentle but very persistent simmer in the pit of your stomach. You’ve wanted your Papa all day but when he got home earlier, tired and irritable after an argument with Sister, you hadn’t wanted to bring it up. Now, after a light dinner and some restful time with you curled up against him, he seems a lot calmer.

Inhaling his slightly herbal scent, you decide to at least try – he’s going to let you know if he’s not up for it. A kiss to his wrinkly neck and your fingers start trailing from his chest down to his belly. Slow circles with your index and middle finger,  caressing the saggy skin with as much affection as you can pour into such a delicate touch.

You feel him stir, so you move your hand further down, stroking his abdomen. A soft hum deep inside his chest. His hand sinks, the pencil slipping from his fingers. It’s your cue to keep going, so you toy with the hem of his pajama pants. When you let your hand slip beneath the elastic, you’re excited to find him half-hard, curved against the left side of his pelvis.

He’d been struggling with intimacy as of late – his age, all the hard work and general worries catching up with him, a sort of vicious cycle that led to some changes in your shared bedroom. He takes care of you in other ways, very generously, but tonight, for once, he seems truly relaxed, and you feel him slowly harden against your palm.

“Do you feel good?” you whisper. “Should I keep going?”

“Mhm.”

You stamp wet kisses down his neck, sucking on the spot that always makes him shudder. You continue to slowly stroke him, a leisurely pace, until he’s fully hard and leaking onto your fingers.

“I thought you are tired,” he murmurs.

You smile. “I am, but I just miss you so much.”

“I’m right here, la mia rosa. Every night.”

More kisses. You softly suck on the spot below his jaw, and his hips buck up into your touch. “You know what I mean, Papa.”

Primo draws a sharp breath, the arm he had wrapped around you slowly uncurling as he throws the book across the bed. His hand moves to your ass, a tight squeeze and he urges you to move closer. You crawl on top of him, hot, liquid excitement flowing through your veins at the prospect of finally having him inside of you again.

With one hand, you prop yourself up on his chest while you move your sleeping shorts out of the way with the other. You settle on his cock, rubbing your wet folds over his length and slicking it with your arousal. You grind on him a few times and you both gasp at the feeling. His hands fly to your hips, sharp fingernails digging deeper into your flesh when you finally place him at your entrance. He slips inside, the stretch immensely rewarding after going without it for so long, and despite the sleepiness still clinging to you, you try your best to move on him. Limited energy has you resting your upper body on his, chest against chest, only separated by your shirt. You lean in for a kiss as you slowly roll your hips. The pace you’re setting with your mouth as well as your body is slow, almost sluggish, but even so you can feel the ripples of pleasure all over your body.

“Amore?” Primo whispers against your lips and you hum into his mouth. “I missed you, too.”

And then he’s suddenly thrusting up into you. You moan against his tongue and he does it again, chuckling as you keen and cling to the headboard. A shudder tears through your whole body and your mouth slips from his, your face slotting against his neck instead when he gives another thrust.

Primo wraps his arms around you in a hug. “You’re tired, let me do the rest.”

You want to protest, remind him of his back issues and the pain he’d felt in his hip joint all week, but he’s already rolling you over. He knows you wouldn’t have been able to cum from your slow movements alone and he also knows you wouldn’t have minded, but he always tells you that making you cum is the highest form of worship for him. And Primo loves to worship.

As soon as he’s on top of you he shifts into position, propped up on his elbows on either side of you pushing back into your dripping entrance very slowly. You hold him steady, arms wrapped around his shoulder to try and keep him for overexerting himself. His rhythm isn’t much faster than yours, but his movements are more deliberate – precise thrusts hitting you exactly where you need him. Already you clench around him, moaning as more pleasure pools into your lower belly. 

Primo is breathing heavily and the frequency of his pants tells you he’s close.

“Touch yourself for your Papa, amore,” he whispers. 

You move your hands between your bodies and start to rub your clit. It doesn’t take much until you completely let go. You come almost simultaneously, moaning into each others skin as your bodies tremble with pleasure. You can feel his hot seed dripping out of you when he shifts, a sharp hiss as you eventually untangle your limbs.

Primo slowly, carefully, rolls off of you, sinking back into his pillow with a low, pained hmpf. You lean over and open your mouth to ask if he’s okay but he’s already waving his hand to stop you, a delighted sigh leaving his lips as his body relaxes. You snuggle back into him, kissing the hot, sweaty skin on his cheek. This has exhausted him but the blissful expression on his usually so grim face tells you he won’t regret it no matter how much his joints are going to hurt tomorrow. 

“I love you, la mia rosa,” he mumbles into your hair. “Thank you for reminding your Papa that you still desire him so.”

“Hm, I love you, too,” you mumble, already drifting off.

The last thing you hear is his chuckle and the click of the switch as he turns off the light.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Secondo

content: biting, praise, v fingering, p in v sex, dom/sub undertones if you squint

The smell of smoke, sweat and liquor still lingers in your nose, now accompanied by the sweet and woody scent of Secondo’s sandalwood shower gel. The club had been packed, despite it’s exclusivity, and after a night of dancing and being pushed around by other bodies, you’re ready to fall asleep with his heavy arms draped around you. After all of the noise and the heavy, blasting music, you welcome the soft quiet of his bedroom, the dull buzzing of his toothbrush and your own even breathing the only sounds in your ears.

When Secondo exits the bathroom, the open door casts a narrow ray of fluorescent light onto your half-sleeping form. He quickly flips the switch and closes the door as quietly as he can. In the near-dark, he observes the silhouette of your body, all the curves and lines and edges he’s grown to love so much. You haven’t been sleeping in this bed for very long – it’s only been a few weeks since he decided he won’t let you leave again. Now, as he sheds his bathrobe and crawls under the silky sheets to join you, he thinks that it was probably the best decision of his life.

You can feel his naked body settling against your back, the warmth of his soft skin drawing a sigh from your lips. His strong arm wraps around you, pushing under your armpit to press flat against your front, pulling you even closer. As his hand moves to gently cup your breast, you can feel a tired exhale against your neck.

“As much as I love going out with you,” he murmurs. “This is my favorite.”

His lips softly press to the velvet skin below your ear. A few slow but needy kisses leave a wet trail all over your neck, his hand squeezing your breast in tandem with each one.

“You looked so beautiful tonight, amore.” Another kiss, this time to the back of your neck, and a shiver rolls down your spine. “Everyone in the club envied me.”

You chuckle softly, tilting your head to the side to grant him more space. “I’m pretty sure they were staring at you, my love.”

“Ah, che sciocchezza!” His lips attach to your skin, sucking gently at first, then with more force. You indulge him, the stinging sensation barely registering with your exhaustion as he bites into your flesh. He keeps busy there until you whimper at the burning sensation.

But Secondo knows he is right and it’s the reason why you have this big purple bruise blossoming on your neck right now. He is nothing but attentive, observant, and it gives him great confidence to watch other people admire you, then flinch away when they notice that you’re with him. He loves to subtly show you off – until someone actually tries to chat you up like today. It’s always the same, a sudden surge of need to show everyone that you’re his and he’s all over you, the public setting quickly forgotten. Secondo almost fucked you right there on the dance floor, not unprecedented, but after someone repeatedly rammed their elbow into his side he decided that it was too busy tonight.

But it’s okay because by now the high wore off, leaving him only mildly horny and mostly sleepy just like you. He thinks he wants to be gentle now, slowly fuck you both to sleep.

His lips come off your neck with a wet pop. He pushes his other arm underneath you, fingers searching the heat between your legs, but when he lets his hand slide down your middle, he’s met with the fabric of your panties.

“Ah.” He tsks softly into your ear, pulling them down slightly. “Since when do we wear clothes to bed, eh?”

You groan tiredly but don’t object, lifting your leg to help him remove the piece of fabric. Soft fingers slide between your legs now, pressing against your mound. He’s tentative, sensual, wet lips running over your neck and up to your ear.

“Will you let me have you, amore?” he whispers. “You know your Papa wanted you all night.”

You wake up your voice with a soft hum. “Yes, Papa.”

“You’re so good for me, always so good.”

More kisses, this time to the shell of your ear, your earlobe, your cheek. You smell his minty toothpaste and turn your head for a proper kiss. His free hand moves to cradle your jaw, thumb pressing into your neck to adjust the angle. The kiss is languid just like his fingers working on your clit now. A soft whine escapes you and his tongue sweeps inside to meet yours in a gentle greeting. Your mind gets hazy with his taste, the soft ripples of pleasure in your core, his now hard cock pressing into your back. You want him, need him, and so you wriggle, pushing your ass into his groin. He accommodates you by sliding two fingers into your wet entrance, increasing the pressure.

“Secondo, please,” you whimper.

“Ah.” He stops altogether, pulling back to look at you with intense mismatched eyes. “Being tired is no excuse for misbehaving.”

“I’m sorry, Papa. Please.”

“Mhm.” His movements resume. “Brava ragazza. So tired and still you beg for your Papa’s cock.”

Your head falls back into the pillows as Secondo shifts, removing his hands to adjust your hips, slotting them together. His cock slips between your legs then and you moan softly when you feel it slide right against your folds. He slowly pushes in, using his free hand on your belly to keep you pressed tightly to his chest, the other one lifting your leg up just enough so he can move inside of you. The stretch is beautifully slow, his mouth back on your ear now, and you reach over to scratch the back of his neck.

He hums at your loving caress, a low rumble that gives you butterflies, and then he pulls back, pushing back in deeper. You close your eyes and revel in the gentle rhythm he sets. For a while, all you hear are your soft gasps, his low moans right by your ear and the sound of his skin meeting yours. Your orgasm builds slowly but you can both feel it approaching, Secondo spreading out his fingers on your abdomen until he can reach your clit again. He speeds up just slightly, squelching noises filling your ears whenever his cock slides in to hit that sensitive spot deep inside of you. His own breaths are ragged now but he’s holding back until he gets you there first, always.

“Come for your Papa,” he whispers against your ear with surprising softness. “Be good for me and come on Papa’s cock.”

You do, clenching around him as his words send you over the edge with a voiceless cry. He joins you, growling, hips stuttering into yours a few more times as he draws out both of your highs. Your exhausted body goes limp, only shuddering again when he eventually pulls out. 

A soft exhale as he wraps you up in his arms, his sweaty chest warm against your back. You vaguely feel his thumb caressing your arm, the gentle pattern lulling you to sleep. Neither of you is going to move again before the sun rises and the birdsong inevitably wakes you.

“Sleep well, amore,” Secondo whispers, kissing the purple bruise on your neck one more time.

You sigh deeply, weaving your fingers through his, and slowly drift off.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Terzo

content: cunnilingus, v fingering, mentions of mental health issues

A tickle at your neck. You stir and scrunch up your face, shifting onto your side to get away. It’s adorable, Terzo thinks, so he does it again, a featherlight kiss just below your ear. You twitch slightly once more, the duvet slipping from your shoulder and revealing your bare upper body to him. Half-hovering above you, it’s easy to press yet another kiss to your neck and watch your irritated pout, eyebrows pulled tightly together. Your hand flexes then, and he’s almost sure you’re going to swat him away like a fly but your fingers uncurl after a second, smoothing out on the mattress.

Waking up with you in his bed makes him unnecessarily giddy, weightless in a way he hasn’t felt in years. And after looking at your peaceful form for a moment longer he decides that he needs your attention more than you need your sleep. So the next kiss is harder. He finds an almost faded hickey right below your jaw, licking over the skin he traps between his lips and sucking with more fervour.

You give a soft groan that vibrates against his mouth. “Terzo, ’m still sleeping.”

He breaks away with a loud smacking sound, then boops your shoulder with his nose. “No, you’re not.”

“But I’m still tired,” you whine, burying your face deeper into the pillow.

“Aww,” he cooes. “Too tired for your Papa?”

You hum sleepily, your brain not yet fully awake. Terzo won’t let you off the hook. He wraps an arm around your middle, pulling you into his warm body. Looking down with your blurry gaze, you notice a tendon in his arm twitching as he slots his pelvis against yours. You can feel him rock hard against your ass now, poking into the supple flesh of your butt cheek. So this is why he woke you up early on a Sunday morning and not to get you croissants and coffee.

“I am shocked,” he says. “Offended. Mortally wounded.”

“Mhm, Terzo…” 

“You know, you’ve been wriggling against me in your sleep,” he interrupts your complaint. “I bet I’d find you already wet for me, dolce. Tell me, did you dream about your Papa?”

Shifting your legs, you realise that he’s right. You wouldn’t be surprised if you’d really been dreaming about him just before he woke you. For the past month, he’s been occupying your every thought, every fading dream, every waking moment. What you thought would be a one time thing turned into a two and three and many more times thing, late night McDonald’s runs, hour-long phone conversations when he can’t sleep after his anxiety attacks, countless lunch dates just to have one extra daily hour in each other’s company… and now actually sleeping together, staying the night. This is uncharted territory but as your mind slowly regains its grasp on reality, you’re more than ready to explore what it means.

“I must have,” you admit. “I often do.”

“Oh, really?” His lips trail from your shoulder back to your neck, his voice a low whisper against your ear. “Well, I dream about you too, my little dormiglione, every night.”

You feel your circulation coming to live, heat rushing into your cheeks and between your legs. “Really?”

“Mhm. Do you want to know what my favorite dream is?”

You fight the urge to rub your crusty eyes. “Yes.”

His grasp on you loosens and he turns you onto your back, gently cradling your face. You don’t feel self-conscious about your sleepy, unkempt state for more than a second because there is nothing but pure affection in his mismatched gaze.

“I will show you, amore,” he promises. “A little demonstration is just what we need to wake you up, sì?”

His words register only after he’s kissing down your neck. With an insistent mouth, he latches onto your breast, sighing when he feels the soft flesh against his face. You bury your fingers in his raven hair, gently scratching his scalp, and he moans lowly against your skin. The vibration has you arching into his touch and his eyes snap up at you. They never leave yours as he scoots further down the bed, leaving a wet trail of kisses all over your belly.

Terzo settles between your legs, spreading them just enough to nuzzle one of your inner thighs. Unshaved, his cheeks feel scratchy against your skin and he rubs them against you a few more times with an almost boyish smile. He’s beautiful, even more so in his unkempt state, stubbly jaw, messy hair, eyes still a little puffy. For once he is not tense, not on guard, and you can’t help but reach out and brush a stray piece of hair out of his face. You look at each other in shared vulnerability and for a moment, he leans into your touch, a tender, loving expression softening his features. But then his eyes glint with mischief as he grins and stuffs his face right into your pussy. 

You keen, arching your back. His nose is pressed against your clit, tongue pushing into your entrance, and your hips buck involuntarily. You can’t help but moan – loudly, desperately – and he pulls away with a chuckle.

“Ahhh, there you are. Good morning, sunshine. Not so tired anymore now, eh?” All you can do is whimper at the loss of his touch and his lips curl into a satisfied grin. “Per favore, will you let your Papa have his breakfast now? You know I have a sweet tooth.”

You nod, teeth digging into your bottom lip in anticipation. His face is glistening with your arousal and his eyes narrow just slightly.

“Words, dolce.”

“Yes,” you croak, throat still scratchy. “Please, Papa.”

He chuckles again, moving his hands up your thighs to open them wider before he brings one to your abdomen, the other slowly spreading your folds for him. “So wet, dolce. Your dreams must be even more exciting than mine.”

Words have long since escaped you. Just watching him so readily offer you pleasure is enough to make you light-headed. He licks a broad stripe up from your entrance to your clit where he stays, sucking gingerly at first before he hungrily starts to devour you.

Your eyes flutter close again but not from sleepiness this time.

“Eyes on me,” he demands immediately. “We don’t want you falling back asleep, yes?”

There is no danger of that, your body is burning, muscles clenching with the little energy you have, but you still follow his order. His eyes are on yours as he breaks away, creating space to push one and then two fingers into your waiting hole. You tighten around him with a moan, your whole lower body pulsating with need. A wicked grin and he rubs his fingers against your inner wall, looking for the spot that makes your toes curls. By now, he’s practiced, so in tune with your body that the firm, constant pressure brings you close very fast. When he sees your shudder, his mouth is back on your clit, sucking, licking, humming until you clench around his digits, hips bucking into his face as you ride out your climax. 

You only notice how tightly you’ve been gripping the sheets when Terzo crawls back up to you, gently taking your hand in his. He kisses each of your aching knuckles before he uses your hand as an extension to his, cleaning up his messy face and sucking your fingers into his mouth with such tender care that it makes you smile, your heart almost bursting with love for him.

“I’m going to kiss you,” he says.

“Terzo, I haven’t brushed my–”

His mouth collides with yours, tongue dipping into your mouth hungrily. You taste yourself on him but there is barely any time to take it in, your brain still hazy and clouded from your high. When he breaks away, he gives you a pointed look. “Do I look like I care?”

You softly shake your head and wrap your arms around his back, keeping him close. Fiddling with the hair at the nape of his neck, your breathing slowly evens.

“I love waking up with you,” you mumble with a smile. “Not just because of this. If you let me, I want you to be the first thing I see every day for the rest of my life.”

“If I let you?” His eyes soften and he gives an almost pained smile, struggling to accept the truth behind your words. But then he huffs out an exhale, pushing his hip back against you. “Amore, do you honestly think I will ever allow you to leave this bed again?”

With his painfully hard and leaking cock pressed against your thigh, the answer to his question is quite clear. You mentally say goodbye to breakfast. There are far more inviting things to sustain you than food.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Copia

content: soft!dom copia just bc I can, praise kink, thigh riding, v fingering, gloves

A murmur right by your ear. “I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti.” A short pause. “Chianti.”

You’re about to fall asleep on Copia’s tiny bed, dim candlelight and his warmth surrounding you. The Silence of the Lambs is running in the background on a grainy VHS tape, Copia mumbling most of the dialogue to himself, practically lulling you to sleep. You’re half on top of him, legs intertwined, a mess of tangled red limbs in matching sweatpants. He knows you aren’t paying any attention to the movie with the way your nose evenly exhales against his windpipe, but after the long day you had that’s no surprise.

His arms automatically close around you, squeezing your tired body closer to his. The shift pushes his knee further between your legs and you feel a slight pressure against your clit. Copia continues to mumble but your focus shifts to the burning sensation in your core. His thigh is firm against your pussy and you tentatively move your hips a little. It’s innocent enough at first, a wriggle to get more comfortable. Copia presses a kiss to your hair, a searching hand finding your waist for a comforting squeeze.

It only serves to make you more restless. You roll your hips, desperate for more friction. He catches on by the third time you do it, the hand on your side sliding down, fingers spreading over your hip as he pulls you in closer. You continue to grind on his thigh, slow but steady, soft moans tumbling from your lips. After a few seconds he starts to massage you through the fabric of your sweatpants, pulling you forward so you slide over his leg even harder. You keen and grab at his t-shirt right above his chest, scrunching up the fabric. The pressure feels too good, shivers running down your spine and into your core.

“So needy,” Copia whispers on his next exhale, tickling the skin just below your ear. “Your Papa loves it when you use him to get off, tesoro. When you make a mess all over his thigh.”

You whimper again, louder, higher, too exhausted to move as fast as you’d need to find some actual relief. His hand slides under the elastic of your pants, warm black leather against soft, delicate skin, and he gives an encouraging squeeze.

“Do you want me to help you, topolina?” he asks, voice low and deep.

“Mhm.”

“You have to ask, my baby,” he reminds you. “I want to hear it.”

“Please, Papa, help me.”

“Tell me what you need from me.”

“I n-need your fingers, Papa. Please.”

Soft lips brush your temple. “Hm, so good for me. But you sound tired, amore, are you sure you can take it?”

Your voice comes out in a strangled whine. “Yes, Papa. Please.”

He stops your movements, and you wail in disappointment as he pulls his leg away from you, a dark red patch staining the red cotton. But his hands quickly find your hip again, rubbing soothing circles into your skin as he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Don’t worry, amore,” he says, pushing the hem down to your knees. “Your Papa is going to take care of you.”

His fingertips dance up your thigh and move straight between your legs, probing at your entrance. Rubbing along your folds, he spreads out your arousal all over the black leather. Copia hums when he feels how ready you are for him, pushing two fingers inside of you with ease. You moan at the stretch, clenching around his digits as he curls them inside of you. 

“Hm, you like that, amore?”

You hum, pressing your hot forehead against his neck. He slowly starts to move, an almost languid pace but his thrusts are deliberate, hitting you right every time. Rippling waves of pleasure run all over your body and leave a trail of goosebumps. You’re getting close, shifting, wriggling. The wet noises of his hand moving against you drown out the sounds of the movie. With your last remaining effort, you move your hips, joining his rhythm.

Copia hums in approval. “Hmm, yes, use my hand, make yourself come, topolina.”

You cry out as you clench tightly around his fingers, the sound muffled by his sweaty skin against your lips. He can feel you shuddering against him, and you slowly turn into a panting, whimpering mess in his arms. With a few last curls of his fingers, he carries you through your orgasm, smiling at every little tremor he can coax out of you.

“Hmmm, so good for your Papa.” More wet kisses to your face. “You did so well, amore.”

You come to, smiling softly at his praise as the room around you becomes clearer. You notice the lights of the tv flickering off the walls. Buffalo Bill probably just murdered someone, but Copia must have turned down the sound because all you can hear is his slightly increased heartbeat when you settle on his chest. He pulls up your sweatpants and continues to hold you against him, kissing your hair so softly you can barely even feel it. Your body starts to feel heavier, drowsiness taking over now that you’re sated. You close your eyes and let the lingering feeling of bliss carry you into a peaceful slumber.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

if anyone skipped over primo I am going to find you and haunt you forever.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. Any sort of interaction or feedback is as always much appreciated ♡

Masterlist – My Ao3

[wenigstenshabeichesversucht]

All is fair in love and war

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Ares kid!Reader

Summary: Where Luke is your biggest rival, and what better way is there to settle your rivalry once and for all than with a bet on who wins a game of Capture the Flag? The stakes are higher than ever before.

Warnings: none besides kissing, english is not my native language

Word Count: 1.8k

It was Friday morning; the Ares cabin was already filled with excitement when you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. Most of your siblings were sharpening their weapons or polishing their armor. Fridays were Capture-the-Flag-days, the only day of the week, where you siblings forget about arguments with each other all in favor to fight the other campers. It was the only day of the week, at which your cabin went as one unit to breakfast without bickering.

At breakfast, you would find out the team division for the game and after that the counselor and who they seemed worthy would round up for a strategy meeting.

Although you couldn't see the future, you were pretty sure that Clarisse would choose you, she always did. Not because you were her favorite sibling, you were far from it. But you were the strategist of the cabin.

More time than once, some other campers had suggested that you were behaving more like a child of Athena than Ares. But they didn’t know the fury and hunger for blood you felt when you came face to face with Luke Castellan. In these moments you didn’t doubt, that you were your father’s daughter. Every time you saw him you had the urge to slap this stupid smile of his off his face. The others called him the greatest swordsmen the camp had seen in 300 years, and you hated him for that. This title should belong to you or one of your siblings. He had no right to claim the one thing the Ares cabin was expected to be good at.

Therefore, you were all the happier when you learned at breakfast that you would be competing against the Hermes cabin in this game of capture the flag. A cruel smile danced around the corners of your mouth just when you thought about how you would defeat Castellan.

“Do you already have a plan for us to win?”, Clarisse, who was sitting next to you, asked between two bites of bacon. Eagerly you nodded.

“With the Apollo and the Hephaestus cabin we almost have the victory safe.”

The Apollo kids were in general great archers, combined with your siblings you had good long-rang and close-rang fighters in your team. The Hephaestus kids were a great bonus, certainly they had one or two traps up their sleeves that you could use. The Dionysus cabin was also in your team, not exactly known to be good fighters, they could be useful as cannon fodder.

“I hope so, we can’t lose a third time in a row against the Athena cabin.”

“The last time we lost was totally Castellan’s fault”, you reminded her.

“So should I be glad, that this time he isn’t in our team?”

“At least this time he and Y/N can’t cost us the victory with their fighting”, a half-brother of yours chimed in, and your other siblings snickered spiteful. If looks could kill, he would be six feet under.

“Just finally kill him or snog him, we don’t care”, he added, without being intimidated by your gaze.

“I would rather die than kiss him” you protest, to which he shrugged his shoulders.

“Then that’s settled.”

On your way to the strategy meeting, you and Clarisse ran into Castellan and one of his half-brothers, Chris Rodriguiz.

The words of your brother still echoed in your head. Maybe killing him was worth giving up dessert for a week?

“Ready to lose, Castellan?”, you teased and like a bull being held up with a red rag, he couldn't ignore you.

“The only person here who is used to losing is you, Violence.”

You hated the nickname he had found for you, hearing it now, made our blood boil. Looking up to him, you snarled. Yes, today was the day, you would kill Luke Castellan.

“We will stamp you into the ground that you will cry for your daddy.”

“That will not happen, sorry to disappoint, Violence.”

“Should we bet, Castellan?”, with a dangerous gleam in your eyes, you took a step in his direction, till you were standing face to face. “If I win you will announce to the whole camp, that I’m a better sword fighter than you are. And if you win, what not gonna happen, you can get anything you want.”

“Anything?” Luke’s lips curled to a sly smile.

“Anything”, you confirmed.

“If I win, what I will, you will openly admit, that you need tutoring in sword fighting by the best swordsman, and we will do five lessons for everyone to watch.”

Oh, that was good, you had to give him that. That would be so humiliating.

“Do we have a deal?”, like he already had won, he smirked down at you. But you wouldn’t back down, not now, not ever.

“Deal!”

“You know that there are easier ways to resolve the tension between Castellan and you?”, Clarisse provoked you after the strategy meeting as you put on your armor.

“Easier than a bloodbath?”, you questioned doubtful.

“I mean Carter wasn’t wrong. You could make out.”

As response, you just made gagging noises. Like you said earlier, you would rather die than kiss him.

“Think about it, it would distract him. Without their best fighter, we will totally win.”

“Are you suggesting that I hook up with Castellan so we can win Capture the Flag?”, flabbergast, you looked at your half-sister. That wasn't typical of her at all. Since when did she think about a winning strategy other than just charging in?

“We aren’t children of Aphrodite, we don’t do stuff like that”, you objected, while tightening your breastplate. “Besides, it wouldn’t work”, you added after a thoughtful moment.

“And why not? He literally undressed you with his eyes earlier.”

Aghast your mouth felt open. He totally didn’t and if Clarisse though so, she needed to get her eyes checked out. You still had half an hour till Capture the Flag started, enough time to find an Apollo kid for an eye test.

“He did not, we hate each other!”

“Hate and love are closer to each other than you may think.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. That was bullshit. But you were tired of debating whether Luke was interested in you. To be honest, you couldn’t imagine it. He was the kind of guy who would fall for a pretty Aphrodite kid, not for someone like who, forged out of anger and bloodlust. The only thing Luke was interested in, was to humiliate you, that you were sure of.

“Even if you were right, what I strongly doubt, it wouldn’t be fair to use his feelings against him just to win the game.”

Surprised Clarisse stopped fixing her armor, that didn’t sound like you. You siblings knew you as somebody, who would do everything to win. But even you had a moral line, you wouldn’t cross. And it seems you had found it.

“All is fair in love and war”, Clarisse protested, and you grimaced.

 “And which of the two are we dealing with? Love or war?”

“That’s for you to decide.”

You should be concentrating right now, and you were trying, really. But you couldn’t help but think about Clarisse words. So, if you lost because of your inattention, it would be her fault.

Leaning against a tree, you took a deep breath. You had to get your head in the game. You were part of the defense. While two of the Apollo kids were guarding the flag, it was your job to stop anyone who was trying to get to them. You would rather be on the attack, but you were one of the few Ares children who were patient. But not patient enough.

Bored you twirled your sword in your hands, hoping that something exciting would happen soon. Some god must have heard your prayers, because you heard rustling in the bush and shortly after none other than Luke Castellan step into the small clearing. Seeing him you couldn’t suppress a wicked smile.

„You took your time.”

“If I had known that you were eagerly awaiting me, I would have rushed here.” Lazy stepping in the middle of the clearing, Luke drew his sword.

“So eager to get another scar, Castellan?”, you mocked as you pushed yourself off the tree. You met in the middle. Your swords clashed together, and you could feel the impact right up into your shoulder. It had been two weeks since you last had the pleasure of fighting him, and you missed it. A genuine smile appeared on your lips, while you both moved around the clearing like you were dancing to music only you could hear.

But sooner than you wanted, your little dance had to come to an end. Even if you would never admit it, Luke was simply the better swordsman of the two of you. In one moment, you wanted to block his swing, the next your sword was flying out of your hands, and you were cornered against a tree. Gasping for air, you gazed at Luke, who bridged the last few meters panting and pressed you against the tree. Through your shirt you could feel the hotness radiating from him. Confused you could just stare.

“This is a position I've wanted you in for a long time”, he muttered, and his eyes were looking teasingly down at you.

Was he flirting with you? You weren’t sure. But there was one thing you were sure about; you wouldn't lose to him again.

“Same for you”, giving him a cocky smile you pressed your dagger against his throat. You couldn't describe the feeling of satisfaction that filled you when he opened his eyes in surprise. But faster than you would have liked, he slipped back into his far to arrogant self.

“Violence you live up to your name, good thing I like it.”

Before you could react, he pressed his lips on yours. Losing no time, you kissed him back. Wasn’t this how every girl imagines their first kiss? After a sword battle with their biggest rival? His big hands roamed your body, and yours clawed themselves in his hair. It seemed that you had exchanged your swords for other, no less sharp, weapons.

Only when cheers filled the forest did you separate from each other, gasping for air. Luke’s lips were swollen as he looked at you like he saw you for the first time. You were only able to tear your eyes away from him when a group of Athena kids broke through the trees with the red flag. It looked like your team lost, but for the first time you weren’t angry about it.

“Looks like I won our little bet”, Luke whispered way too close, and you could have cursed. You totally forgot about the bet. To safe a little bit of face, you pressed against the tree behind you to create some space between you.

“I totally won our fight!”

If you had wanted to, you could have slit his throat with your dagger.

“Maybe you won the fight, but I won the war.”

Sending you one last cheeky grin, he joined his team to celebrate their victory. And surprisingly, it didn't feel like a total loss.

[milliesfishes]

⋆౨ৎpeacekeeper coriolanus takes you to a haunted house⋆౨ৎ fem reader x coriolanus snow

There were ten more people touching Coriolanus than he'd like, and the line was long, stuffed with bodies of all shapes, sizes, and ages. It was hot for this time of year, and he was regretting his choice of dress- having put his long-sleeved uniform shirt over the white tee. He was about to politely nudge the person behind him at least an inch away when you reappeared, settling in your place under his arm again. "They're getting it started now. I guess there was a problem with one of the actors."

Instantly a rare smile lit his face as he rubbed your shoulder, even the sight of you enough to brighten his mood. "Good. I was getting worried."

"I'm sorry I left you for so long," you chattered, and he swore your bubbly demeanor was lifting you off your feet. "I saw Mary and I wanted to ask about her garden, and then Jenny joined in and she was telling me about her boyfriend, and then he showed up and I had to meet him too."

Coriolanus pressed a kiss to the top of your head as the line started to move. The progress was slow, but it was better than standing still. "It's okay. I can handle ten minutes by myself, sweetheart."

You leaned against him just a little as you moved forward with the line at a snail's pace, content to stay with him. It was a funny thing- when Coriolanus had met you, you'd hardly been able to stand still, always flitting from place to place, person to person like a hummingbird. But with him, your impulses were quieted, and you were happy to just be with him. He'd worried at first that it was a sign that you didn't like him or that he was boring you, but you'd told him sweetly it was just the opposite.

Playing with your fingernails, painted bright red (his favorite), you seemed to just be taking in everything surrounding. Children ran wild, their faces painted like creatures of the night. Groups of friends laughed and clung to each other in anticipation of the fright ahead.

The haunted house was set up in an abandoned building formerly used for canned food assembly, and for once, there weren't slews of Peacekeepers crawling the area. In fact, Coriolanus was sure he'd seen his head officer here with his wife and child. You'd told him about this tradition, that it only happened a few weekends in October, and a person was only likely to get in on one.

Leaning up, you kissed his cheek, holding one of his hands with both of yours. "I'm happy you wanted to do this with me."

He felt a slight flush color his cheeks, suddenly glad for the darkness so nobody could see. "Of course I'd do this with you."

"Hmm," you hummed fondly, rubbing his chest. Finally you were at the front of the line, and the friendly woman at the front stamped both of your hands, ushering you in.

The beginning corridor was pitch black, and Coriolanus held tight to your hand, smiling at your nervous giggles. "Alright, sweetheart?"

"Uh huh," your hair touched his shoulder, body taut with premonition.

The first actor jumped out with a bloodcurdling scream. Coriolanus jolted, and a cute little yelp escaped you. He chuckled, squeezing your hand. "Are you still okay?"

"Uh huh," you laughed, clinging to his arm. "It was the first one that got me, that's all-" another person leapt from the darker shadows, flashlight under their chin, and you shrieked.

The rest of the haunted house went very similarly, with you jumping at every scare, gripping him tighter and tighter. With anybody else, he might have found it bothersome, but with you it was adorable.

When you could see the light at the end, you heaved a sigh of relief. "We made it through-" You didn't even finish your sentence before someone was bounding in front of you, sending you flying into Coriolanus' arms, nearly knocking him over.

He half-walked, half-carried you out, unable to help his laugh. "That last one was scary, huh?"

"Uh huh." Your mumble was punctuated by giggles, and he shook his head, dropping his lips to your hair again.

"You're too cute to be true," he mumbled, and you lifted your head, standing on tiptoes to peck his lips. Hanging onto him around his neck, you tilted your chin back, a mischievous little grin on your face.

"Can we go again?"

tagging @kellielovesmovies because <3

[muqingfx]

Heyyyy

Idk why I'm sharing this with you specifically but...

Can you imagine a scenario where mu qing gets cursed where he gets like super cold and after a certain amount of time will turn to ice (think of frozen) but he'll survive if he warms up. Aka fengqing cuddles ♥️♥️

gonna write a short drabble

Metal meets rotten flesh as Mu Qing flings his zhanmadao at the infernal ghost.

"Got you," Mu Qing whispers under his breath. He's fatigued after endless pursuits and perpetual clashes; the ribbon that usually holds his dark hair in place has fallen off, resulting in messy strands carpeting his head and obscuring his line of vision. His breathing is rough and robes tattered, but finally, finally, he has the damn ghost beneath him, shuddering and seething under his blade.

Mu Qing's eyes widen as he's propelled meters back by a gush of frigid wind that chills his godly skin. Ah, nevermind. He spoke too soon. When has it ever been easy?

His precious zhanmadao is pulled away from his grip, flying off and plummeting to the ground with a loud thud. Although Mu Qing had tried to keep his eyes on the ghost, the pest had somehow evaded his vigilance. From behind him, Mu Qing hears footsteps of not one, but at least a hundred creatures closing in on him. His head rivots to look behind and there's a whole damn army of ghosts.

"Shit," Mu Qing curses. He takes in his wearied state and distance saber. "Shit, shit," he curses some more. The little nuisances jump around, squealing and yelling as they make their way to Mu Qing.

Mu Qing, a martial god. What the hell? He's a martial god, dammit. Who do these little shits think they are?

He lifts his arm and creates a swirl of spiritual energy on his palm, the golden orb illuminating the dark sky. He thrusts his hand forward, watching gleefully as the little shits scream in agony. To finish it off, Mu Qing scurries to retrieve his zhanmadao and slices through multiple ghosts at once. The rest is suspiciously uncomplicated, considering the hassle he had to go through to get here, and the ghosts are all eliminated in moments.

The silence is deafening after Mu Qing stamps out the last one, excluding the soft hoots of an owl. But then Mu Qing realizes something fairly unusual: he's really fucking cold.

"What the fuck are you wearing, nutcase?" Feng Xin snorts out a laughter as soon as Mu Qing walks into his work chambers. Through the spritual array, they had decided on a meeting regarding the Southern region's welfare.

"Shut up," Mu Qing hisses, "I'm cold."

"Yeah? It's the middle of summer."

"Get to business, Ju Yang. Where are the reports?" He fixes the cloth around his neck. It's been two days since his encounter with the army of ghosts, and each hour since then felt like his body heat was being sucked out of him. "And get me some hot tea."

Feng Xin glares at him but says nothing, reaching for the unorganized scrolls on his worktop. He hands them over to Mu Qing, who accepts it with shaking hands. When Feng Xin's gaze lingers a second too long, Mu Qing swats at his face with the scrolls.

"Motherfucker," Feng Xin mutters, but still has decency to invite Mu Qing to sit down on his divan. "It's tranquil. For now."

Mu Qing nods. "Villages are undisturbed. Temples aren't being messed with. Ghosts are out of sight. Prayers are not too bothersome." He shuffles the scrolls. "Is that all?”

Offering a hum of confirmation, Feng Xin lays out the teapot and cups on the table. The warm steam from the served tea has Mu Qing resisting the urge to hover his hands over the spout. He doesn’t. Obviously.

“Have you been on any missions recently?” Feng Xin asks around a mouthful of wafers.

“What? That’s none of your concern. Yes. A few days ago. Don’t speak with your mouth full.”

Feng Xin swallows down his food quickly. “You did? How did it go?”

“Stop prying. It went fine.” He closes his eyes and sips his tea, indulging in it’s heat.

A stupid pout forms on Feng Xin’s face. “I haven’t been on a mission in ages—”

“I do not care.”

“—so I’ve been cooped up in here, answering prayers.”

Mu Qing sets his half-empty teacup down and glares at the oaf sitting in front of him. “Why is it so cold in here?”

Said oaf’s eyebrows scrunch into a frown. “Cold? Mu Qing, it’s fucking sweltering. Are you sick?”

“I don’t get sick.”

“Stubborn prick. You’re wearing like, four robes.”

Instantly, Mu Qing’s hands raised up to clutch at his layers of clothing. “Judging bitch.”

But Feng Xin doesn’t get riled up and start yelling and cursing like he usually would. His brows draw in together as if i were concerned, and his eyes rake over the length of Mu Qing’s figure. “Are you cursed? Just what type of ghost did you fight?”

“I’m not cursed.” He’s not. Yes, his symptoms started, strangely, after his confrontation with the ghost. So what? Coincidences happen. And he’s just cold. That's literally it.

“Mu Qing.” Feng Xin’s own tone leaves no room for argument. Both official are no less obstinate than the other.

“I’m not cursed! The ghost I fought with used the element of snow. There. Happy? Cretin.”

Feng Xin’s jaw clenches, an impatient glint in his eyes. “Snow? You’re not usually this fucking stupid, Mu Qing.”

Mu Qing jumps to his feet, already grabbing his zhanmadao from his side. “What did you just say?”

“Fucking hell, Mu Qing!” Feng Xin holds his hand up and effectively stops Mu Qing from swinging his saber. “Where the fuck was your head when Ling Wen was explaining this shit?”

“What…”

“She clearly described a savage ghost who could fucking freeze a heavenly official to death.”

Mu Qing pauses. In the back of his head, he indistinctly remembers a warning from Ling Wen.

“Fuck,” Feng Xin cusses, seemingly more stressed than Mu Qing’s himself. “Fucking fuck.”

He grasps Mu Qing’s hand—and then flinches back. “You’re a fucking icicle! Come here.” Carefully, Feng Xin pulls Mu Qing closer to his body, coercing him into a hug. Brawny arms wrap around Mu Qing’s torso and a palm pushes Mu Qing’s face into a warm shoulder,

He sighs in relief when he feels the temperature shoot up.

“Still cold?” Feng Xin’s own tone mutters right into his ear and Mu Qing fucking shivers.

“What do you think? Moron.”

“Don’t be a bitch or I’ll just let you fucking die.”

“Then let me.”

“I need to shut that mouth of yours.”

Mu Qing tears himself away, face flaming. “I’m fine now.” He turns and stomps away, determined to go elsewhere.

Feng Xin doesn’t let him though, snatching his arm and tugging him hard so Mu Qing’s back slams against a firm chest.

"Like fuck you are."

"Let me go." Mu Qing struggles against Feng Xin's vice grip, though his efforts as futile as the bigger man deftly hauls him around the Nan Yang Palace and into his bedchambers.

Feng Xin's bedchambers.

He--considerably gently--tosses Mu Qing onto the soft duvet and throws a sizeable quilt at him. "Get comfy, general."

Mu Qing glowers, though it's half-hearted. But his fury fades into alarm as Feng Xin joins him on the bed.

"What the--what the fuck are you doing?!" he yelps, horrified. He scrambles away, making space between the two bodies.

And once again, Feng Xin effortlessly pulls him back under the quilt. "Shut up and stay still."

Mu Qing freezes, letting Feng Xin maneuver him around as if he were a doll.

"Warm up, fucker." Feng Xin pats both of Mu Qing's cheeks, trying to give it some colour.

"Stop it," Mu Qing hisses. Feng Xin encircles his limbs around Mu Qing's middle, and Mu Qing can only exhale as he lets him.

He lets Feng Xin nuzzles his face into the curve of Mu Qing's neck.

He lets Feng Xin's fingers draw slow, soothing circles on his palm.

He let's Feng Xin warm him until he's a ball of fire, melting away his frosty fraud exterior.

[hanasnx]

too bad i forget.

MINORS DNI 18+ NOTES: takes place during s2e2 where annie, abed, and troy break into a lawyers office | not sure how i feel about this bcos it was stuck in my head and i felt like i was trying to fit too many things in but whatevs

“You guys!” you exclaim, stamping your foot in frustration. “I’m the smartest one in the group and all I’ve been used for is bait and distraction.” With each angry bounce in place—conveying your mini temper tantrum as you complain—you hadn’t realized your chest rippled from the impacts of your stomps until their eyes drifted and remained there. Both Troy and ABED NADIR watch your curves move under the thin material of your form-fitting dress, and you scoff in offense. Your arms cross over, veiling your cleavage and breaking their trance. Finally, they meet your gaze as you frown at them. It’s humiliating enough to be looked at like a piece of meat, but you would’ve never expected that behavior from Abed.

A little later, it furthers still when you lift a box of files to prop open the door. Your little heels don’t stay under you when you crouch, sliding to a sit on the floor with your legs folded out on either side of you, and your ass jiggles from your firm landing. Embarrassed, you squeak, and whirl your head around to face the boys, checking if they caught your blunder. Troy has his back turned, but Abed’s unabashedly watching. His eyes follow the deep arch of your back, how your ass fans out sat against the floor, your smooth legs tucked in a most exquisite way. It shocks you enough to idle as he tilts his head. Only when you scramble up, face hot and deeply colored, does Abed return to his task of searching the computer for evidence. Hastily, you dust off your outfit, and make sure it’s not exposing more than it already was. Briefly, you remember the way he scanned you, and you feel a disappointment you didn’t let that linger a little longer.

You and Abed aren’t a thing, but you know how upset he sounded when he heard Jeff had kissed you that night, after the dance. The big reveal right in that study room had him practically storm out after verbalizing Jeff’s blatant disregard for human decency. It was mortifying to say the least, you’d never seen Abed so upset. His voice had a subtle edge that you may have never noticed if you didn’t spend so much time with him. Additionally, there was that one time that Pierce had described you and Britta as—what he believed to be—your most identifying features: one of you was “flat-ass” and the other was “the one Abed wants to nail.” One million questions had flooded your head all of them having to do with the latter. Another time was pottery class, and you hadn’t realized it in the moment, but sculpting a defined phallic shape accidentally had caught the eye of both Abed and Jeff. Running your wet hands up and down the shaft of the clay had brought them both to pensive silence as they observed your graceful movements. All this evidence kept piling up to explain Abed’s strange behavior tonight, but you keep denying it.

You keep denying it right up until you can’t take it anymore, right up until you’re back at his place, straddling him. Your lips against his, you find him oddly stiff. The kiss itself isn’t unpleasant, but you can feel his hesitance. Or maybe he’s just nervous, manifesting in rigid movements. Nevertheless, you find it appealing. A guy who gets worked up kissing strikes your fancy because you’ve always imagined yourself as the one to take it slow. It’s refreshing that he’s beating you to it. Your dress is cascaded over his pelvis, and his head is propped up on the armrest of his couch. Sweetly, he’s returning your kiss the best of his ability, even parting your lips with his when he slips you a glimpse of tongue.

You pull away to speak, but he interrupts your path. “Did I not do it right?” he asks, but his tone is characteristically devoid of concern. Instead, it’s calculative, as if he’s been measuring your enjoyment inside his head and is surprised to have been incorrect just now.

“Oh, you’re doing fine.” you reply with a relieved grin, clutching onto the front of his shirt. “I just wanted to say…” You lean down, pecking his willing lips. “you could… you know, touch me a little.” Those hands of his have been faithfully laying atop your thighs this entire exchange, and he glances warily down at them. So you help him. “Like this.” You palm the backs of his hands and gently glide them along your body, riding up your dress as they come to sit at the space right above your ass. Searching his eyes, you can see a glint of enthusiasm pass through them, and then those curious hands invite themselves to take a generous grope of your backside, incidentally rutting your core against the crotch of his jeans. You exhale, disbelief mixed with pleasure, and you could predict he was gonna say he saw this move in a movie once. Didn’t give him the chance though, pressing your chest against his to recapture his lips.

Strangely forward, Abed experimentally rocks you. Shallow jostles back and forth which is not at all what you expected from him. It’s unnerving until a twang slips from his lips, “Gonna ride me like a cowgirl tonight, huh?”

It becomes clear. You can tell he’s getting nervous treading into unknown territory, and falling back on a reference you don’t understand playing a character you don’t know is a way to diffuse that. “This is not a movie, Abed.” you chide.

“Sorry.”

[mustainegf]

→ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏 —➤ 𝑭𝑶𝑹𝑮𝑬𝑻 𝑴𝑬 𝑵𝑶𝑻

I stumbled through the snow, my feet dragged in each step and every move was an effort. The cold bit through my thin clothes like some sort of acid that was eating through me. I know not where I am, nor how I came here. My mind remains awash in a blurred bundle of half visualized images and fleeting sensations.

There had been a form, a man, always in my mind, whose face I could not sharpen to anything more than a shadow. His darkness seemed to weigh on me with something unwelcome. Gunshots resounded sharply and deafeningly in my mind, and then flashes of violence, chaos. Flames, I could see them, smell them, feel their heat on my skin, but everything else was hazy.

My breath hardly came out, visibly white in the freezing air. The landscape was melting in my head, white and gray, as the snow coated trees stretched out endlessly in every single direction. The above sky was stiff, gray, hefty with the promise of more snow. I wrapped my arms about me, trying to conserve what little warmth I had left.

My fingers were stiff, my toes without sensation. I shuddered once more, and it wasn't the cold this time, fear licked at my mind. What had taken place with me? Why couldn't I remember?

The forest was deadly silent; the only sound was crunching my feet in the snow. As all daylight began to fade, so did the temperature. I could not go on much longer. I needed to find shelter, somewhere to rest, even if for but a little while.

I spotted a big pine tree, heavy-branchinged with snow, offering a little protection from the wind, and suddenly I knew that here was the temporary refuge I so desperately needed.

I started towards the tree, each step was of monumental level in effort. At the tree, I collapsed against its trunk, and the rough bark dug into my back. I didn’t care.

I burrowed into myself as far as I could, in an attempt to get warm. Wearying waves seemed to smash me, much like a heavy blanket that dragged me down. I resented it, knowing it was not safe to sleep in the cold, but I was just too tired, too cold to fight it.

Darkness slept in, twisting with foggy remnants of my memories.

Waking up, I could feel the cold morning air. My body ached and I was shivering. The little coat was drawn closer to my already frail body, a thin coat. Above, the sky was stamped with splashes of orange and pink.

For one more moment, I couldn't tell where I was or how I had ended up here.

I shifted around, my back against the rough bark of the pine. I was still lost, all alone, in this huge frozen wilderness.

There was suddenly, jarringly, a throat clearing off somewhere in the darkness. I jerked my head up, and my pulse ratcheted up a step. He stood above me, a mounted, middle aged man with an age face, wide furrows from experience and exposure. He must have been about fifty, had side whiskers, a white mustache, and these piercing blue eyes that cut right through me.

"What are we doing out here all on your lonesome in the snow?" he wanted to know, steady, calm pitch.

I tried to find my voice, throat dry and raw from the cold. "I… I don't know," I stammered. "I can't remember. I woke up… I can't remember."

His expression softened to something sweet, and he finally dismounted his horse, coming toward me with careful steps. "Well, you're not safe out here, missy. The cold’ll kill a little thing like you."

He held out a hand to help me to my feet, and I sat there, unsure if I could trust him. Something about this man told me that he didn't intend to hurt me.

"I'm James Hetfield, sheriff around these parts," he said, offering me his large hand. "And you look like you could use some help."

I took his hand, letting him pull me to my feet. My legs were weak, and I swayed slightly, but he steadied me with a firm grip. "I'm Clarice," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "At least, I think I am."

"Clarice, I’m going to bring you with me. We’ll get you someplace warm, and then we can sort out where in God's name you came from."

I hesitated once again, the sight of the limitless snow and trees frightening me into making my decision. It meant certain death if I stayed there, but going with just any stranger scared me. The alternative, however, was no option.

James helped me onto his mount, climbing up behind me to make sure I was secure. His body heat felt like a godsend, a warm gift. He held me steady as we began our trot through the forest.

The horse's thump was oddly soothing, and I found myself relaxing a little.

The landscape blurred around us, trees sweeping by in a haze of white and dark green. I was leaning back onto James, taking in the warmth of his heavy coat while I could.

We rode in silence for nearly hours, the sound of our passage was the crunch of the horse's hooves in the snow, the occasional call of a bird somewhere distant.

Finally, James spoke, breaking my string of thoughts with his response. "We'll get you to the nearest town. There'll be a doctor there to help you, and we'll figure out what happened to you. You’ll be safe with me."

I nodded, feeling a little comforted by his words, although my memories still remained jumbled. As we rode further to town, I couldn't shake off the nagging feeling that whatever was wrong was looming before me, much like some dark storm cloud on the horizon, close and imminent, vitally important in my remembering. But I didn’t. For now, I kept my focus on the beat of hooves and the solid warmth beside me that was the sheriff.

As we rode through the white forest, my gaze was riveted on the mane of the horse. My fingers moved leisurely through the soft coarse hair. Rich chestnut. I stroked it gently, appreciating this beautiful creature. A small smile crawled across my face, the first real smile I could remember.

Gradually, the dense forest started to thin out, and soon I began to pick up the quiet murmur of civilization. Whispers of voices faded by distance, clatter of hooves on cobblestone, and the barking of dogs grew loud as we drew nearer towards the edge of town.

The town itself was a small frontier settlement, buildings of wood all herded together against the harshness of the wilderness. Smoke curled up from chimneys, and people moved through the streets as part of their daily routine. It felt oddly familiar, as if I had seen it before, yet I could not place where or when.

James must have caught the tension in me, for his voice cut through my thoughts. "Don't worry you, sugar. These are good people."

I could only give him a nod. People turned to look at us as we rode down the main street, their expressions curious but not unfriendly.

James guided the horse to a stop in front of a small wooden building with a sign, "Doctor M. Wilburry." He tied up his reins and jumped down first, then helped me down, his hands balancing me as I found my footing.

"Wait here," he said gently. I nodded again and burrowed closer to the horse, stroking its mane for comfort. I watched the sheriff disappear into the building, leaving me out on my own.

I turned around and looked across the street, where I nodded at a man who had been looking too intently at me. He was a thin, tall gentleman with his hat pulled down low. His gaze was not anything but curious, even kind.

Panic took up inside me. I did not know why, but something about the man filled me with dread. My breathing quickened, my heart shot in my chest, and the thought in my mind keep me telling to move far away from this place. The man almost looked alarmed at my reaction.

I ran. My sudden movement sent the horse into a whinny, but by that point, I didn't care. I ran as fast as I could, feet slipping on the patchy ice and gravel that coated the ground as I sprinted down the street. Curious townspeople turned to watch, their faces all melting into a blur as I fled.

I gasped at the effort, my lungs burning, my legs vibrating, and yet still I ran. I weaved thinly around the town, dodging buildings made of wood and shop fronts full of activity, impelled by one thought: the forest, to be alone.

I plunged into the forest, the crunch of snow underfoot familiar, quite the relief after the hard, cold floor of the town. The branches seemed to reach and claw as I turned around corners in my flight, but I didn't slow down. My face stung with the cold air, but it was such a small price.

Thudding hooves, heavy and mocking, suddenly penetrated my ears, getting louder by the second. Was I being chased? Had the man sent someone after me?

I glanced over my shoulder, just hardly getting a look. A rider galloping between the trees, and terror spat at me all over me again.

Nearer and nearer the horseman drew, and I stumbled, my foot catching on some hidden root beneath the snow. I hit hard, the impact being one of the worst feelings ever to shake my core. Before I could scramble to my feet, the horseman had sped ahead, cutting off my escape between the trees.

I jerked up my head, blurry eyed by the tears of fear and exhaustion. There he was. James. He reined in his horse, blocking my way. The expression on his face spitting with anger. His eyes peered into mine for answers.

"What in the name of God were you thinking?" he hollered, his voice cutting at me. "What good is running like that? They’ll think you're an outlaw with all that foolishness!"

I buried my face in my hands, the hot tears burning my cold cheeks, the remnants of snow clinging to my skin.

As he watched me break down, James's anger melted into something else. He dismounted, the crunch of boots in the snow brought him closer. "Look," he said now, his voice gentled, "What was all that about?"

My mind was a puzzle with too many missing pieces.I felt embarrassed for having been so spooked by someone harmless.

James hunched down beside me, his hand on my shoulder. "Hey, it's okay now," he whispered. "You're safe. But I think I want to ask you more about this."

While his words made my stomach queasy at the thought of trying to remember all those awful things, let alone anything from my past, which had been completely erased from my memory.

Nodding, still unable to speak, I let him help me to my feet. My legs wobbled but James's arm around my waist kept me steady enough.

"Clarice," he said gently, "right nearby, I got a little camp set up. It's safe. You want to go there? I’ll take care of ya."

His voice was so calm and casual in compparison with the chaos that had rent me from my hiding place. I took a deep breath, the cold air sharp in my lungs, and nodded. "Please..."

He gave me a small smile. "You're welcome. C’mon now honey, we ain’t got all mornin’."

The forest was so thick and it was very dark near by, and as we finally mounted and rode off, I began to gain some trust in James, believing that he really would take care of me like he said.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

@steddieangstyaugust Day 14 - Wordy Wednesday: Lake

i’m challenging myself to keep all these at either 127 or 1,270 words each, see day one for more of an explanation!

The last time Eddie visits his Uncle Wayne, he meets a mermaid.

He’d gone under the water to fish up a bright coral pink rock he’d spotted from above, and happened to glance up, looking out into the lake from under the surface, only to meet a pale face dotted with what looked like freckles.

Inhaling the clear lake water, sputtering as he stands, the pale face joins him above the surface.

“He–” another cough, “Hello…?” he greets, questioningly.

The face only studies him further, looking him over from head to toe. 

Eddie squats back down into the water, it’s much colder above the surface now that he’s used to the water’s chilly temperature.

A bright shimmering blue tail skims past his knee.

“Wow! You’re a mermaid!” he says, astonished, finally noticing the rest of the boy’s freckled torso just under the crystal clear water. “I’m Eddie, what’s your name?”

“Eee–” the boy frowns, “Eeadding?”

Eddie points to his chest, “Ed-dee.”

“Edddeee.”

“Yeah! I’m Eddie,” he points to himself again, “You are…?” points to the mermaid (merboy?)

“Ssst–” his face scrunches, he squeals some sort of noise under his breath, “SteeEEE–” He cuts himself off again, shrinking from the pained look on Eddie’s face.

“Sorry, that was just loud.. Is it Steeee…” Eddie wracks his brain, “Fin?” He completes the only name that comes to mind, wincing at ‘fin’ being the only syllable he possibly could’ve imagined while in the presence of a literal finned person.

Maybe Stefin giggles, lifting his tailfins out of the water.

Eddie grins back, “Stee-fin?”

Even More Possibly Stefin nods, a sharp-toothed grin stretching from ear to ear.

“Well Stefin, wanna help me look for rocks?”

Together, they scour the shallows of the water behind Wayne’s cabin for hours

They fill the whole grocery bag Eddie’d been toting around with him by time Wayne calls for him at sundown.

“I’m leaving for home tomorrow,” he tells Stefin, not knowing that would be the last time he’d ever see his friend, telling the beautiful creature “I’ll see you next year though! We come back at least once every summer, promise.”

The merboy had smiled so brilliantly at him, the freckles Eddie had just then realized were tiny blue scales shining in the evening sun. He didn’t want to leave.

But he had to. Eddie left.

Elizabeth got sick.

Al got arrested. 

And in the time between the state of Tennessee gaining custody of him and being placed with Uncle Wayne permanently, Wayne sold his little homestead, settling in a two bedroom trailer in the heart of Indiana.

He understands it all now, of course, Wayne making the decision to move where he knew he’d have consistent work year-round was a necessity, but that first week, an already confused Eddie had asked after only a couple days in the trailer when they’d be going home to the lake.

“I don’t live there anymore Teddy. Live here now, in Indiana.”

“But what about the cabin?”

“Sold it, kiddo. Bought this place instead.”

Eddie’s eyes welled up for what felt like the zillionth time in a month. “But what about the stove? What about the bonfires? What about all the rocks I haven’t found?” What about Stefin? He thought to himself.

“Now son–kiddo, s’alright! We can always plan a trip to the UP if y’wanna.”

“Back to the cabin?” Eddie had asked, hopeful.

Wayne shook his head, “Probably camp at McLain instead.”

“That’s on Lake Soupier?”

Wayne snorts, “Yah bud, s’on Superior.”

Eddie took a moment to consider it, then nodded resolutely. “Okay Uncle Wayne.”

They never went back up to Michigan, let alone all the way up to the UP.

The first summer in Indiana was the only time Eddie asked.

“Sorry kiddo, can’t swing it this year. Maybe next time.” Wayne had said, and Eddie watched.

The whole rest of summer, into the fall, especially in the winter, the red-stamped envelopes would stack, then disappear whenever they would go into what Wayne liked to call ‘broke mode’.

Clearance aisle canned goods, store-brand everything, sandwiches packed into brown paper bags with little else.

Eddie grew up, failed his senior year once, twice, managing things the third, and leaving Hawkins for Chicago, hoping to make it big somewhere, somehow.

He manages to, but not in the way he originally thought, falling into club ownership after the man he’d been working for passed, leaving his business to Eddie.

Wayne gets sick when Eddie’s only 28; he drives down to Hawkins and stays with him about a month before he’s gone.

Eddie goes back to Chicago one Uncle short, goes back to work.

A week after Wayne is cremated, a notification pops up in his inbox. An alert he doesn’t remember setting.

Eddie grins, “You sneaky bastard.”

Wayne’s cabin and surrounding acreage have come up for sale.

It’s not even a thought, there’s no decision to be made. Eddie offers over asking and gets the keys handed to him on his 29th birthday.

He’s still a part owner of his club, gets a check every month that pays the mortgage, but his new day to day consists of fixing the cabin, wandering in the woods, and strolling along the shallows of Lake Superior, looking for rocks.

One day, while walking north along the shore, he stumbles across a hidden little alcove.

The rock face juts in from the shoreline, behind a trickling waterfall. It’s not huge by any means, but it looks like someone’s already came by and carved the sand here away, making a knee-high pool that connects the rocky face of the shore with the lake.

He skirts around the little pool, walking along a narrow strip of sand to the sparkling waterfall.

A shocked scream is yanked from his throat as soon as he peers into the alcove properly though, because there, doing a very astute impression of a dead fuckin’ body, is a merman, leant casually back against the wall of the cave Eddie’d just approached from, snoozing away.

The creature whips its head around at Eddie’s yell, teeth bared and a hissing screech slithering out from between his lips.

“Holy Shit! You’re a—”

The merman stops hissing, “Eddie?”

Eddie blinks at him. “Jesus H. Christ.. Stefin?” The blue tail, the shimmering freckle-like scales, the still horribly beautiful face. “You’re real.”

“You’re back— real?” Stefin asks, incredulous, “You didn’t think I was real?”

“I was a kid with an astounding sense of imagination, sue me.”

Stefin rolls his eyes, “Figures why you never came back to see me.”

Eddie blinks at him again, “What? No! No, I couldn’t! My mom— my dad– Wayne— It’s a long story, okay?”

Stefin harrumphs, sitting back against the stone wall. 

“I still can’t believe this, I always thought I’d imagined you.”

“Well you didn’t.”

“Yeahh, I can see that now, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Wha— nevermind, So, how’ve you been?”

Stefin’s head lolls around, he had to’ve just rolled his eyes. He stands up, “Why do you care? You’ll probably just leave again.”

 “No, I bought the house my uncl—” Hang on, what?

Stefin shoves past Eddie to hop down onto the sand, avoiding landing on his feet in the water.

“You’re walking.”

“Amazing observation skills.”

“You’re naked.” And super hot, holy shit. Eddie averts his eyes politely.

“Again, very astute.” He grabs a bundle of cloth, pulling on a pair of shorts.

“How— Can I take you to dinner?”

“Why.” He pulls a shirt on over his head.

“To explain properly. And also because I missed you.”

Stefin turns, looks him over. His gaze softens minutely. “Sure. I’d like that.”

MY FIRST MER!FIC!! HALLELUJAH!!

also, this kinda got away from me, so it's really only light angst 😅

see the collection on ao3!

[outsideratheart]

Meet Me At Henman Hill (Leah Williamson x reader)

A/N: I know I late posting this but hey better late than never right? I really enjoyed writing this one so I hope you like it too.

Leah was scrolling through her phone as she worked through her second rehab appointment of the day. Her attention was fully on the screen in front of her as the physio applied pressure to her slowly but surely healing ACL when she was handed an envelope. She tossed it aside assuming that it was something from the club but then she saw the Wimbledon stamp in the top left corner.  

Miss Williamson,

You have been invited to sit in the royal box at this years ladies final as a guest of Y/N Y/L/N. Please see inside four tickets and details of what you can expect from the day. 

We look forward to seeing you at Wimbledon. 

She couldn’t believe you kept your word. After winning the euros Leah literally bumped into you in the hallways at Wembley. You told her congratulations and said seen as though she and England  won you would invite her to see you win Wimbledon next year. That day she understood what the movies talked about when they say you feel a spark when you meet someone special. It was a feeling that Leah yearned to feel again. Little did she know you felt the same thing.

Leah truly did think you were joking and given that you haven’t seen or spoken to each other since then she certainly didn’t expect to be given tickets never mind be in the royal box. 

“What’s this?” Beth snatched the envelope out of Leah’s hand and then proceeded to read to note out loud “so who are you taking?”

“Beth would you like to come with me?” Leah asked even though the answer is obvious. 

“Me? Oh I’ll have to check my— yeah I’m free” Beth jokingly checks her phone’s calendar.

“Viv?” Leah asks the Dutch forward.

“I would love too”

Leah then texts Kim to see if she would like to the join the three of them to which she happily accepts.

A few days later on Saturday 15th July, Leah along with her team mates find themselves walking the grounds of Wimbledon. She could feel the history that the grounds held. Knowing this was the final filled her with excitement but she was going to see you play live which makes the feeling double. She had watched every match you had played in the last 2 weeks.

When she took her seat in the royal box she couldn’t help but feel a little bit out of place. Even after the year she has had she still feels like that little girl from Milton Keynes. The front row sat the Princess of Wales and Princess Charlotte with Billie Jean King sitting behind them. She knew from your interviews how much of an inspiration the Tennis legend was.

The crowd erupted when you enter the court along side Iga Swiatek. The latter currently held the number one spot with you number two. Not only was the championship on the line but the world number one ranking was too. She could have sworn that you looked up at her as you warm up but she tosses the thought aside and tells herself that you were looking at your idol.

The first set couldn’t have gone worse for you as you lose the set 6-1. It seemed nothing you did was working and you couldn’t help but feel like you were failing everyone in the area. You had your team, you idol and then there was Leah, the woman you had a huge crush on, in the crowd. What she must be thinking as you throw the game away.

You don’t let it get to you though as you come out fighting at the beginning of the second set. You remember why you are in the final in the first place; to win. You give it everything you have and it pays off because you win the set 6-3. 

The final would go to a deciding set, one which you would go onto win but that didn’t mean Leah wasn’t stressed out from the first serve to the final point. She spent the entire set leant forwards, elbows resting on her knees and biting her finger nails. Her eyes well up with tears as she watches you fall to your knees when you score the match winning point. 

You were in a state of shock for a least a minute. You had won Wimbledon. It had been a dream since you first watched the tournament as a child and now you had done it. The team that had been by your side on this journey were the first people you wanted to celebrate with so you run up to them as soon as you could. Then once back on the court you looked up at Billie and bowed your head to her and that is when you see the arsenal girls but Leah stood out to you. You send her a quick wink before being whisked away to collect the Venus Rosewater Dish and take photos with whoever you were told to.

Leah was just about to leave the box when a Wimbledon official made their way over to her.

“Are you Miss Williamson?” 

“I am” Leah shares a look with her friends before answering.

“You have been invited to celebrate Y/N Y/L/N’s win at The Polo Bar here at Wimbledon” 

The official goes on to explain where they will find the bar and explain that they can get food and complimentary drinks there.

“Let me get this straight. First she invites you to watch her play and now she wants you to celebrate the greatest moment of her career with her” Kim says.

“We. She invited all of us” Leah tried to play off the invite. She knows the tickets were addressed to her and then the official came to her but she didn’t want to make a big deal out of this. Perhaps you were just being nice.

The four of them found their way to The Polo Bar which they learned was Ralph Lauren’s Polo Bar.  Leah started to believe Kim’s insinuation as there wasn’t many strangers in the bar. There were former and current tennis players, a few celebrities who Leah knew were your friends and then they were some people she didn’t recognise but she put them under the sponsors category.

It is almost two and a half hours after the match ended that you walk through the doors. You had swapped your Nike tennis dress for a pair of trousers, a t-shirt, cardigan and a pair of air force ones that look fresh out of the box, these were all white of course.

“Thank you so much for coming” You approach their table as soon as possible “I hope you enjoyed the match”

“Are you kidding me” Beth is quick to answer “That was incredible. I wasn’t sure if you’d win after losing the first set but you didn’t give up. It was incredible” the blonde repeats herself to make sure you heard her.

“It was tough but in this sport you can never give up especially not that early on in the game. Did you have a good time?” You look down to Leah who was sitting directly in front of where you were standing.

You could have got lost in her eyes.

“I was on the edge of my seat”

“I saw”

That was the confirmation Leah needed. You had indeed been looking at her from the other side of the court. Much to your disliking you were called away by your manager but you knew this would happen if you were to become the first British woman to win Wimbledon in the open area. It seemed that everyone wanted to talk to you.

Still as you shake hands with men in suits and woman who you can tell don’t really care for the interaction, you keep an eye of the English captain. She was having a good time with her friends which is what you wanted yet you cannot help but be jealous because you wanted to spend time with her.

Your friends knew that you had a crush on the blonde so they help you evade the introductions to people who you know you have no interest in keeping in touch with. 

Leah, unbeknownst to you, scans the room from time to time in search of you. So imagine her disappointment when you cannot be seen. Part of her knew thought this would happen. You wouldn’t want to celebrate with a room full of strangers, herself included. You were just being nice when you invited her here.

“Are you Leah?” 

“I am” she turns around to see Aryna Sabelenka standing beside her. As a tennis fan she feels a little bit starstruck but she also knows that she is one of your closet friends she tries to act cool.

“Y/N wanted me to give you this”

Leah opens a note, this time it was handwritten by who she assumes is you.

Meet me at Henman hill

Butterflies flood her stomach. 

“What does it say?” Viv asks.

“She wants me to meet her on the hill” 

“What are you still doing here! Go!” Beth is full of encouragement.

Leah leaves The Polo Bar and follows the signs for the infamous hill. As she turns the corner she finds you sitting on a bench waiting for her.

“Do you always communicate through notes?” Leah asks as she takes a seat by your side.

You shift your weight so you can face her with you arms resting behind her.

“No but I couldn’t escape and ask you to come with me so I enlisted some help. Drink?”

A smile tugs at Leah’s lips when she sees the souvenir plastic cup filled with the drink that is famously associated with the tournament.

“Why am I here?” It was a question Leah had asked herself countless times since receiving the invite.

“Because I like you even though I don’t know you”

“You just wanted to have the lionesses here for optics” Leah didn’t believe you.

“If that was true then I wouldn’t have invite you to my celebration and I would have given you general seating tickets but I didn’t. I gave you Royal box seats because everyone knows that winner of the tournament walks passed the exit near the royal box when they go to the balcony yet when I walked by I only saw the royal family”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad thing to me” Leah was oblivious to the point you were trying to make.

“I wanted to see you so they failed in comparison” 

Leah chokes on her sip of Pimms.

“But I’m just me. I’m just Leah”

“And I’m just Y/N”

“You just won Wimbledon”

“And you won the euros” you place your cup on the floor so that you can place a strand of hair behind her ear, it was the perfect excuse to get closer to her “Leah, I’m going to be very forward because right now I feel untouchable and I don’t know how long it will last. I think you’re beautiful, you intrigue me and I have been waiting almost a year for this exact moment”

Was it the euphoria of winning or the Pimms in your system that made you feel like you could fly, you couldn’t know for sure but the look in Leah’s eyes let you know she was feeling something similar.

“I have a present for winning today. Close your eyes” Leah was fully committed to what she was about to do.

“I’m not really one for surprises” 

“You’ll like this one. Close your eyes”

This time you do as you’re told. You wasn’t sure what to expect but it definitely wasn’t Leah’s soft lips against your own. The kiss was soft, gentle and didn’t last no where near as long as you wanted. When Leah pulls away you lean forward for more but a hand on your chest stops you.

“No, that’s for winning a grand slam” Leah knows she has you in the palm of her hand and she loves it. 

“This is my fourth grand slam meaning you owe me three more kisses” you pouted for a few second whilst gauging Leah’s reaction. When a smirk forms you know you have her permission to cash in. You remove Leah’s hand from your chest but keep ahold of it. The kiss is deeper this time and hold more passion than the first one. 

“Do you always do this after you win? Kiss a stranger?” 

You know Leah is joking but if there is even a slight possible they her question hold truth you feel the need to reassure her.

“You kissed me first but no I don’t” 

She could tell by your tone and the way you held eye contact that you was in fact telling the truth.

You kept looking at the clock next to the two large screens. You could only buy 40 minutes before you had to return to the bar and it took Leah a little bit longer to join you than you’d hoped but you think that could have something to do with the messenger of the note. Still, you only had ten minutes left alone with her.

This moment has been planned for the past 24 hours and you still had one last part to carry out.

“I have a surprise for you but it won’t be as good as yours” you led Leah down the hill and to one of the kiosks. As planned the door had been left open and you were able to get your treat from the fridge. 

Pimms wasn’t the only thing associated with Wimbledon; strawberries and cream were also a fan favourite.

“For you” you hold out a box containing the sweet treat.

At this point Leah realised this wasn’t some spare of the moment idea, you had this entire thing planned out.

“You knew I’d say yes to meeting you?” Leah asked before taking a bite of her first strawberry. For some reason it was sweeter than any other she had eaten before.

“No. My back up option was to sit on that hill, alone, take in the day and eat two boxes of strawberries and cream but I much prefer this” 

“Where are we going?” The blonde asks.

“Back to the bar”

“But it’s that way” Leah could point to the terrace of the bar. You were heading in the opposite direction.

“No, it’s this way”

“Y/N I can see the bar, it’s right there”

“Leah I wouldn’t direct you at the emirates would I?”

“Y/N” Leah persisted, she wanted to know what you were planning next.

“Fine, we are going the long way because as soon as I enter that room I will be whisked away and you will go back to your friends. I want to make this moment last. Consider this way the scenic route”

Within seconds you and Leah are walking in sync, each footstep hitting the pavement at the same time. She hangs on every word you say as you explain the history of the grounds. The passion your voice holds warms her heart. You move on to tell her stories how you used to come here as a child but never went inside the court because you preferred to sit on the hill. Leah learnt that you inviting her to Henman hill held more sentimental meaning that she realised.

When you got closer to the entrance of the bar your pace altered, every step took twice the time. Inside things were hectic and everyone wanted a piece of you but with Leah things were calm and easy. These are the thoughts that run through your mind as you open to door only to find that Leah isn’t behind you.

“I’m not ready to go in yet” her pout is adorable.

“I don’t have a choice. I was given 40 minutes and it’s been” you look down at your watch “41 minutes. We’ve had an extra 60 seconds”

“I want to see you again. Are you free tomorrow?” Leah asks.

“I’m not” 

“Oh right, yeah” Leah dips her head and tries to play it off but you don’t buy it.

“I will be here the whole day for media and what not then on the night there is a dinner to celebrate the tournament” you walk towards Leah and use your index finger to make her look you in the eyes “I’m free on Monday. I know a place not to far from here. How about I pick you up at 11?”

“You don’t know where I live. How will you pick me up?”

“I guess I’ll need to give you my number so that you can next me your address” you hand her your phone and she enters her number but before she gives you it back she texts herself so you have your number too.

You both walk down the hallway together and she watches as you save her contact.

Blondie 

“How original. Does that mean I get to give you a code name?” Once again Leah stops as she taps her chin methodically before typing. She proudly shows your her phone once she is done.

Ace

“Really?”

“What? It seems fitting. You won the game on one today and I happen to think you’re ace”

She was proud of the name and secretly you loved it too. 

The bar is empty when you enter. You look at Leah who shrugs her shoulders; she was just as confused as you were. You are about to ask a waiter where everyone is when you hear voices from the terrace. The only people left are your team, a couple of your friends and the Arsenal girls. They are all sat around a huge table. Your manager is the first person you look at and she simply smiles. She knew how much you wanted to celebrate tonight with those closest to you so after meeting the important people she organised for all media, meet & greets and whatever else to be scheduled for tomorrow. 

With your hand on the small of Leah’s back you guide her to a space that happened to be in the middle of her friends and yours. Something that you would later find out wasn’t a coincidence.

The night isn’t wild but it was just what you wanted. You recapped the match that you would remember for the rest of your life, Leah introduced you properly to her friends and to top it off Leah kissed you goodnight before going home. 

Who knew it took you winning Wimbledon to ask the pretty girl out.

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Cod Sex Bot Au - Duo Bots

Requested: Yes! But I was working on it before this request so it’s like a half request.

Warnings: ✨spice✨

A/N: No Soap pr König this time, folks! Sorry! For König’s, the only person I could see as the other half is Horangi, and I’m not too comfortable writing for him yet since I’m not sure I have a great grasp on his character. For Soap……I just didn’t know who to put him with other than Ghost and I REALLY wanted to do more Roach so I had to make a tough decision. Also, it is 2 in the morning, I should not be writing this late.

A simple coincidence. An accident. Your friends, who all well meaningly chipped in to buy you a sex bot, not knowing that you had already bought one. And of course they arrived at the same time. (It was very fun signing for your packages with the words “SEX BOT” stamped on both of the boxes) So now here you stood, a bot on either side of you, both of them curiously observing the other, syncing their databases since they would be sharing a household.

Ghost & Roach

The Ghost model stares down the Roach model, the smaller bot staring back, their eyes both glowing a soft yellow as they take each other in. Then, all of a sudden, Roach started moving his hands at lightning speed, Ghost just as quickly following suit. It took you a minute to comprehend that they were talking in Sign Language. And, even if you do understand BSL, they were moving too fast for you to really get a grasp on what they were saying to each other.

Finally, they both seem to nod at each other, apparently satisfied with their conversation while you are left in the dark. They turn to you then, Roach smiling a bit as he cups one of your cheeks, Ghost cupping the other, both of them leaning in, trying to fight over who could get to your lips first, their hands roaming over your body, pulling at your clothes.

At least they get along!

Alejandro & Rudy

The Alejandro model grins at the Rudy model once they were both done, ruffling the other bot’s hair. “Hola, Rudy!” He practically chirps, seemingly amused by the way Rudy tries to hurriedly fix his hair, grumbling at Alejandro the whole time. “*Es un placer conocerle!” He says, leaning against the other bot like he was some sort of pillar. Which, spoiler alert, Rudy is not, and the sudden weight of another bot leaning on him caused the both of them to topple over, cursing together in Spanish as they fumble over each other trying to get back up. That was, until something else drew their attention.

You, laughing, your hands over your mouth to muffle the sound, eyes teary from the sheer force of your amusement. Alejandro grinned, as wide as a Cheshire Cat, and Rudy smiled, soft and small. “Bello.” Rudy said, as Alejandro nodded in agreement.

Gaz & Price

The Gaz model smiles at the Price model once the information exchange is completed, Price simply grunting in return. The older looking bot wasn’t usually one for sharing, but it seemed he would put up with the younger looking one. And with that, they turned to you, so in sync with each other that it was almost like they shared a mind.

And then they descended on you like starved wolves, Gaz eagerly taking to removing your pants, nipping and sucking at your thighs, squeezing them in his hands while Price took to cradling your neck in one broad hand, his other sliding up your shirt, tweaking at a nipple when his fingers travel high enough.

You were in for a ride, that was for sure.

*Es un placer conocerle! = It’s nice to meet you!

[hey-august]

If you are still doing the prompts, reader saying prompt nr 2 to Buggy because we already saw him crawl in the show and yanno. Yannnoooo…..

(Also I know using chop chop powers in this specific way may not be everyone’s piece of cake but if the idea of him and reader in a consensual scene with him only having parts of his arms and legs instead of all of his limbs to move over to reader also does anything for you…. WELL. I mean WELLLLLL)

Gif from monikanarnia

WELLLLLLLL, ANON 🤭 This got WAY out of hand. Not very smutty, it's more about the vibes here.

Prompt: “Crawl to me.” Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, buggy x GN!reader, buggy discovers he might have a humiliation kink 🤡 Word count: ~1.3k

That drunk moron. It’s infuriating, honestly. There are parts everywhere, like the aftermath of a dog who got too ferocious with a stuffed toy. In this case, it was a pirate who got too deep into a bottle of rum. You woke up to a solo hand resting on Buggy’s side of the bed. Hoping that the rest of his body was on the floor or at least safely nearby, you got up and promptly tripped over a forearm. Just a forearm. And that was the sign - Buggy literally lost control of himself.

The rest of your morning was spent on a fucked up treasure hunt. Flesh and body parts strewn across the ship, meekly waiting for someone to find them. A few choice parts you opted to leave where they were, because fuck him. Buggy’s torso, found in a hallway and all in one chunk, was too heavy for you to carry. His head was in the kitchen and pissed you off with the peaceful sleepy expression it had. His feet were waiting outside a bathroom and they could stay there for all you cared. You also left behind the hand still clutching an empty rum bottle. Everything else you found either on your own or in a pile that the crew put together. You toted the pieces back to the bedroom to keep safe. Safe.

You just finished locking up the last dresser drawer with a satisfying ‘click’ when shouting signaled the captain’s arrival. His voice oscillated between shrill and hoarse, a symptom of a likely hangover. As Buggy got closer, you could pull out pieces of what he was griping about. In between usual orders for the crew were demands and queries about where he was and wasn’t. You knew they would point him in your direction, so you leaned against the dresser and waited.

The hand you left on the bed perked up at the sound of knocking. It zoomed over and opened the door to rejoin it’s owner. In toddled Buggy. You thought that you’d feel better after seeing him, but the unreadable expression on his face ticked you off. It’s like he couldn’t decide if he was happy to see you or annoyed about the absence of his body. The thin tight lipped smile held under his smeared face paint flickered into a frown more than once as you stared at each other.

After a moment, you crossed your arms tauntingly. Buggy shuffled into the room further and flicked his hand to close the door. He wasn’t graceful.

“Really? You left me like this?” Buggy’s question finally pulled forward the smirk you tried to tamper down.

You pointedly looked at him up and down (not that there was much to look at right now) before answering. “What’s wrong?” 

“What the FUCK am I supposed to do without arms or legs?” Buggy shouted as he wiggled the hands attached to his shoulders and stamped the feet his torso sat on.

“Hm, that sounds like a you problem. I was just cleaning up the mess you left,” you said coldly. 

“Babe, the mess is ME. Of course it’s a me problem, it’s my body,” he sneered. “Give it back, I know you have me locked up like some fucking hostage.”

“Like your audiences?”

This wasn’t working. Buggy needed to try something different. Honey, instead of vinegar. All he wanted was to reassemble so he could fall apart in bed. He was exhausted and it’s hard to sleep when parts of himself are just out of reach. It’s like voices in his head that he can’t turn off. You were mad, obviously. And what should a good partner do when someone’s mad? Listen. Lucky for him, he still had ears.

“Sweetie, sweets, dearest,” the performer cooed with an apologetic smile as wiggled forwards a few inches. “You’re upset with me, I get. What can I do to make it up to you?”

You allowed yourself time to roll through your thoughts. There was a lot you could ask for - gold, treasures, a date, fancy food, new clothes. One idea called out to you, a wicked little sound that stuck in your head like sludge.

“Crawl.” The air in the room stilled. The atmosphere shifted, pressing down on you both. The weight pulled Buggy’s smile down into a disgusted scowl.

“Say again?”

“I want you to crawl to me. Then you can have your things back.” You said the request as if it was the simplest thing to do. As if he had enough body parts to crawl with.

“C’mon, baby, I’m not gonna-”

“Then you’re not gonna get shit. Crawl, Captain.” 

The sharp tone in your demand stirred something deep inside Buggy. A depraved perversion that had been waiting for a moment to shine woke up ready to play. His cheeks flushed as the pounding in his chest shifted from hot anger to burning desire under your unrelenting stare. With a click of his tongue, the pirate stared at the ground and wondered how to start.

You watched as Buggy lowered himself horizontally to the ground through a controlled topple, stopping short of smashing his nose on the wooden floor. Fingertips and tiptoes held him aloft - just barely. Strands of hair that escaped his bandana dusted the wood floor as he hovered, steadying himself before making another move. Craning his neck, ocean eyes sought yours to ask if this was enough. An emotionless stare said it wasn’t. Keep going.

A dramatic sigh wafted across the floor as Buggy began inching his way towards you, moving at a pace that his stiff hands and feet set. It was slow progress and you followed every bit of it. There were a few moments you thought he’d give up. Moments where he’d pause to give his aching fingers a rest. Stopping to look and see how far away you were, both physically and emotionally. If it wasn’t for the embarrassed erection throbbing underneath him, Buggy probably would have tried harder to talk his way out of this.

He felt ashamed, embarrassed, and so fucking turned on - which only added to the humiliation. Part of him wanted you to say he had done enough and could stop. But a hornier voice told Buggy to keep going, to see what would happen. Finally, he was close enough. He had huffed and panted his way across the room, fingertips and cock throbbing through most of the awkward journey.

You looked down at the small man at your feet, waiting for him to make the next move. After a brief respite, Buggy rightened his body, relying on his Devil Fruit ability to make up for the lack of limbs. Once vertical, Buggy turned his face towards yours. You would have thought the hot red blush was the result of physical exertion after a night of drinking, if it wasn’t for the blown out pupils and the way he licked his lips.

“Are you turned on? Did that fucking turn you on?” you asked in disbelief. His narrowing eyes the only answer he’d give.

“C-can I have my body back?” A slight quiver slipped out with the request.

With rolling eyes, you released the pirate’s body parts from their wood prisons. Buggy quickly reassembled himself with a flurry of movement. His eyes met yours for a brief moment before darting away in shame. The knot in his stomach tightened, pulling his cock in an aggressive twitch.

“You still mad at me?” Buggy mumbled. You didn’t miss the uplift intonation hidden under the question.

“Why? Do you want me to tell you how to make it up to me?”

Buggy’s eyes widened at the prospect and the blush on his face spread to his ears. The answer tasted uncomfortable. A little bitter, but he liked it. Still, he was reluctant to admit to this craving.

Reading into his hesitation, you grabbed Buggy’s chin and pulled his face to meet yours. “Tell me, Buggy.”

You broke through the weak barrier he pretended to hide behind. Buggy’s hands wrapped around your forearm, wanting to stay in this position. To keep this dynamic. His face softened and he nodded vigorously against your hold.

(prompt list)