#i keep doing these drabbles just to keep my mind active

[buckets-and-trees]

EVERY MINUTE OF IT

Characters/Pairings: Alpha!Bucky x Female!Omega!Reader Word Count: 4k Summary: Claimed unequivocally by Alpha Bucky Barnes, leader of the growing HYDRA faction, that's not the end of it. But what exactly is in store for you? What will it mean to be his Omega?

Content/Warnings: omegaverse; reluctant attraction; power dynamics; mild manipulation; threats; dirty talk; explicit smut: spanking, vaginal fingering, biting, rough sex, choking, edging, orgasm denial, slapping, spitting, oral (male and female receiving), unprotected vaginal intercourse and insemination, dacryphilia, overstimulation, erotic picture taking

Author Notes: Part three to what I never planned on being a series - the Alpha Bucky April drabble was only 500 words, the next part hit 1.5k, but this... well, let's just say this Bucky absolutely had his way with both me and my muse. This one will be a make up to tick orgasm delay/denail for MARCH of @buckybarnesevents Build a Bucky Bingo ; and the dialogue, alpha, and pet prompts for the second week of Hot Bucky Summer (thought this was going to be a short little thing I was going to whip out before week two had finished, but alas hahaha).

A/N 2: We've seen only a bit of his rough side up to this pont, but in this part we will truly see mean Alpha Bucky. Don't say I didn't warn you - here and with the actual content warning list.

A/N 3: I tried not to write any plot with this porn, but a minimal amount forced its way in.

He had made good on his threat, using your body for pleasure and for show under the full moon until there was no one left to watch, but you were not sure he had been keeping close track, instead merely taking you over and over until they grey hours of dawn. You had been too exhausted to register anything much after that – being carried away, a car ride, being tucked into a bed.

You had woken up in the afternoon alone.

Alone for the first time in three days.

On hearing you make your way to the bathroom someone had brought in water and left an impressive spread of food that lasted you through the afternoon and evening. You grazed and slept.

Your body and mind had been pushed beyond all previous limits, and so the sleep and rest had been most of those first few days after the full moon and the conqueror’s bonding ritual.

But now, a week on, you are tired, restless, and impatient.

You were in a spacious penthouse, you had been offered many luxuries, well fed by a personal chef, attended to by an assistant, your only restrictions being denied access to a phone or internet and barred from leaving the premises.

Should you have chosen an unplugged retreat or vacation, it would be perfect.

After contemplating and debating internally all morning, at lunch you make your decision. You finish yet another delicious meal, wipe your mouth with the beautiful linen napkin, and then set it down next to the bone china and plated gold utensils. The staff begins to move around you, and your assistant approaches.

Before she can say anything else, you take a deep breath and say, “I need to see him.”

There’s no question of who you mean.

She nods. “I’ll make the request.”

Whether pet or prisoner and left alone for more than seven days, you do not believe your request will be seen as any sort of priority, so when you see the more formal dining table set for two for dinner, your mouth drops open for a moment, and you stop in your tracks.

You turn to your assistant – even though she tries to afford you most of your privacy, she is ever on the edge of your presence. She looks as surprised as you. “I was given no response other than that they’d take the request under consideration.”

You nod, then pace, padding barefoot across the hardwood floor in front of floor-to-ceiling windows, until you finally hear the rustle and then commotion of activity that announces his arrival.

Your heart races, but it’s only a few more moments before the large and imposing alpha, Bucky Barnes, appears in front of you.

“Omega,” he says with a mere nod of his head, no pretense.

Your eyes narrow a fraction, wary of his seemingly easy demeanor. “Alpha.”

“Shall we?” he asks, and motions to the table.

You nod and take a seat as he does.

Within seconds, the meal is brought in by two attendants and the chef, and Bucky thanks and praises them very simply.

He occasionally looks at you, regarding you, but does not speak.

Before long, you huff, and he looks up sharply, pinning you with his steel blue eyes, harsher than at any point since he’d arrived. “What?” he demands.

“What is all of this?” you start, gesturing your hand to indicate the penthouse. “And where have you been?”

He sets down his knife and fork and straightens a little more. “Is it not to suited to your liking? You can change anything you want. This is your place.”

“My place?” you ask.

“Yes, your place. It is not far from the place I’ve taken up residence.”

The revelation is not surprising, but somehow more irritating. “And what? You’ve had me and now you’re discarding me?”

“I should have thought you’d want your own place.”

Maybe you should want your own place, away from him. And yet…

“I should be wherever you are.”

“What?” he scoffs. “So you can be embroiled in my affairs and bring me down? ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?’”

The accusation wounds you, though you know it’s only logical – and you know what you’re thinking and feeling isn’t logical. You have determined to put off thinking about it.

“I’m not your friend,” you state, trying to keep your voice as even as possible. “but I’m not your enemy either.”

“What should I call you then?” he challenges.

You raise your chin a fraction. “I’m your Omega.”

He doesn’t speak or move immediately. Instead, his eyes somehow fix you even more intently. There’s a burning in your chest under his scrutiny, but you remain still.

Finally, he stands and moves toward you, the two of you never taking your eyes off the other.

“You are my Omega.”

He comes to stand behind your chair, and you remain unmoving. He takes your chin in his left hand and tilts your head to expose your neck to him. He leans down and noses along your jaw, inhaling your scent and putting your body on alert. You feel the curling tendrils of want stir in your core, already awakening for him. He tilts your head even more and draws his teeth along the side of your throat, causing a shiver you can’t suppress, and he chuckles darkly and licks at the fresher of the two bonding marks he gave you. His hot tongue, insistently pressing at the bite elicits a small noise from you, and your right hand shoots up to card into his hair. Your full omega side wants him, has started to slicken your pussy for him already, you can feel it. You know your alpha can smell it.

He bites over the mark, but not roughly enough to break the skin, and you arch up for more, but he pushes himself back up, away from you and the crook of your neck.

“So needy,” he remarks, “I like this.”

The first few days you’d spent with him, he’d kept you full of his cock, tortured with pleasure, overwhelmed, exhausted by him and the recipient of a seemingly insatiable lust unleashed on you.

This feels like the predator is going to play with his prey, and you bite your lip. He pushes your head, tilted to the left, to the right to drop into his other hand, clearly testing your compliance. It���s gentle, but it’s dominant. Back to the left, then to the right, and then he dips to nip at your ear, and you gasp.

Bucky releases your head from between his large hands then pulls your chair away from the table. “Up.”

You stand. He puts one hand on your hip and ushers you around the edge of the table and to the side, in the middle, and turns you to face the wide expanse of mahogany and its centerpiece of fresh flowers – white peonies, white roses, white hydrangeas.

“Put your hands on the table,” he instructs.

You press the palms of your hands onto the smooth, dark wood. Your omega side is ready – even eager – to comply, but with your own long game to play, you know you must play out whatever game he desires now.

“Arch your back,” is his next direction.

Keeping your breathing even, you do, hips jutting away from the table, on display for him.

The back of his hand lands at the nape of your neck, and he drags his knuckles slowly down your spine. Your body rocks back, seeking more, as he reaches the small of your back, and he hums in self-satisfaction.

While his vibranium hand plants itself on your hip, he moves the other around to skim slowly over your stomach, then up your rib cage, and to your breast. He gropes the round flesh through your shirt and bra, but the fabric does nothing to quell how the pressure stokes the fire growing in you.

You feel the heat of him press up your back as his hand moves now up your neck, turning your head to kiss him. You push back against him, and he ruts his bulge slightly into your ass. Your lips are hungry in the kiss, but it’s like he only provided his lips for you to kiss him, receiving what your lips want to give. He moves his hand back down to your chest, but this time slipping beneath the neckline and going flesh to flesh to palm your breast. He kneads diligently, almost methodically, and you know all of this is designed to warm you up, tease you, get you burning for him. He’s still largely a stranger to you, but you also know you can’t resist him. He’s spent so much time already playing with your body. He knows where and how to touch you to make you respond to him after those first days and nights spent naked with him.

Bucky moves again, ending the kiss, drawing away from your back and removing the hand from your breast. You whine, but that hand goes to the small of your back again, the vibranium hand squeezing your hip as he forces you spine to resume the curving posture for him once more.

“We’re only getting started, Omega. Be patient.”

You huff, and he laughs.

The fingers of both his hands slip into the top of your waistband. He slowly pulls your pants and underwear down over your hips, and down your legs to mid-thigh. It restricts your bottom extremities, and that plays into the mental game he’s clearly playing with you. His hands move up the back of your naked thighs, and then palms your ass with both hands. He squeezes both cheeks, goes back to palming them again, then withdraws his right hand and slaps that cheek harshly. You jump and yelp, but he merely goes back to palming and squeezing, soothing the smacked flesh. Then another slap, and you hiss at the sting over the first sting. His vibranium hand continues groping your round flesh, but instead of soothing the second smack, his flesh hand dips down to your dripping hole, where he inserts two fingers, then quickly adds a third.

“Alpha,” you moan, and your head falls back, eyes closed both to hold back a couple of tears and to soak in the barrage of sensations.

He doesn’t answer, but his fingers continue dipping in and out, slow and shallow.

He delivers another harsh slap, immediately returns to the maddening fingering until you’re keening and trying to hump his hand.

Abruptly he grips your hips with both hands and turns you around to face him. The cool metal hand grips you by the neck, tilting your face up helplessly to him, and this kiss is messy, demanding, teeth nipping at your lips. You kiss him back as well as you can as he is in full control of your head and holds you where he wants you. Both your hands hold tightly to his forearm, and you squeeze.

His other hand goes to the cut of you again below, but there’s more fervor there this time. He plunders your mouth and plunders your pussy, and you’re losing your breath, but you have no wish for him to relent as you feel the powerful orgasm you crave building and barreling towards you. His fingers curl against the spongy spot on your inner wall, this thumb is demanding against your pulsing clit, and his tongue is licking dominantly into your mouth. You’re trembling and clutching at him, moaning, only when your breath hitches, inches away from bliss, he pulls back.

You cry out as he looms over you. His smirk is cruel, and his eyes spark with fire.

“Alpha!”

He licks his one of his fingers, just one.

“Alpha, please,” you groan.

“My well-mannered Omega,” he coos. “We’ll make a mess of you yet,” he says. You’re unsure whether it’s a threat or a promise, but you have no space or time to think as he moves you again, hoisting and pushing you by the grip on your chin around and away from the table until your back is flush against the wall.

Bucky pushes you down to your knees, pinches your mouth open, then spits on your tongue. "Swallow it."

You don’t think, just swallow as his eyes bore into yours as he towers over you.

He strokes his thumb over your cheek – nearly a caress, and you can’t help leaning ever so slightly into his touch. Then his thumb moves from your cheek to your lips, tracing them before pressing down to open your mouth again. He inserts two of the fingers that had been in your cunt into your mouth, and you close your mouth and begin to suck without him having to say so. The look on his face shows his approval. As you suck, there’s something so soothing about, the weight of his fingers pressing down on your tongue, the stead rhythm, that it that lulls you even further into a state of submission for him. Your eyes begin to droop.

He chuckles and withdraws his fingers, wiping them on your face. “Don’t want that so soon in our evening.”

He begins to unbuckle his belt, and you reach for the button and zipper, but he bats your hands away and slaps your cheek.

You look up sharply at him, reaching to soothe your cheek.

“Ask nicely for your Alpha’s cock, Omega.”

His first nights with you were about physical domination. This is the other half, yielding, submission.

You think best how to ask, before saying, “Please let me put my lips around your cock, Alpha.”

He unbuttons his trousers but keeps his eyes on yours. “Tell me how you want me to use your mouth, Omega,”

“I…” you bite your lip. You aren’t a stranger to sex, but speaking so directly about it isn’t something you’ve done with any of your partners in the past.

Bucky lowers the zipper. He pushes the band of his boxers down far enough to free his cock, and you whimper. He fists his arousal slowly. “You want it, then tell me what you want exactly. You’ve already let me use your body in so many ways, we both know you want more. What are you craving?”

You wait only another beat before answering, “Want you to fuck my throat.”

You are impressed at the evenness of your own tone in that moment, and his lips tick up as well.

Bucky widens his stance, then leans down to wrap his left arm around your head, holding it – almost cradling it – in the crook of his elbow. The he pushes his cock to your lips, you open for him, he pushes in, and starts truly fucking your mouth. The first few thrusts are slow, but insistent. He fills your mouth with more of him with each of those first thrusts. Then the head of his cock hits the back of your throat. He thrusts out and in again, again, again. His other hand strokes your cheek. Then he slaps it, and you groan around his cock.

“Mmmm, fuck you feel good,” he echoes your groan. “Gonna take all of your alpha’s cock down this pretty throat,” he says, and his hand moves down to your neck, feeling himself push in there.

Your eyes are tearing up, and the tears quickly start to spill over as he continues to use your throat, never removing himself completely now that he’s overtaken your mouth. He slaps your cheek twice in quick succession and you sob around his cock as you can manage. It’s hard to breathe, and your chest heaves. You brace yourself against his thighs, and he straightens and pulls out of you.

Bucky moves quickly, taking you by the shoulders and tossing you into the middle of the floor – rough but not violent.

“Clothes off,” he barks, but it’s he didn’t need to employ an alpha command to get you to comply. You barely have enough time to discard your pants and underwear the rest of the way, and only manage to get your shirt over your head in the time it takes him to get naked.

He’s on you the next instant, covering your body with his. With his chest pressed down against yours, you feel how his breathing is just as heavy as your own, glad he’s not as unaffected as he’s tried to play this encounter.

You hitch your thighs up around his torso and squeeze your knees around him.

But he doesn’t give you what you’re most anxious for yet, instead pausing to study your face.

“Such a pretty mess,” he admires.

Heat pulses through your body, his praise undeniable to your omega side.

He dips his head to lap up the salt of some of your tears, tongue dragging slowly up your cheek. When he draws back again, he merely looks at you. His eyes seem to be looking for something, but you don’t know what. You try not to give him anything outside of this moment.

His pelvis is lodged between your hips, so you squirm beneath him, hoping your hot, dripping cunt will call him back to your pressing needs. He groans and drops his forehead to yours, another sign he’s not as cool and detached as he was at the outset.

“Please, please fuck me, Alpha,” you beg.

“Fill you up with my cock? With my seed?”

“Yes, Alpha!”

He draws his hips back and you reach down and help line up his cock with your hole. He spears in with no mercy, and you don’t need or want it. You groan together as he fills you completely.

Your mouths meet again, and it’s a combination of rough messy kisses, nipping and bites, licking, mingled heavy breaths. It’s primal and unhinged, and there’s no thought to it as he continues to fuck you.

The pace at which he thrusts is relentless and just what you need, but also not enough.

You want more and you whimper and beg through kissing for it.

Bucky continues fucking you and pulls away from your lips, but in no way is he done overwhelming you. Leaning heavily onto his vibranium arm planted next to your head, he moves his other arm and presses his inner wrist up and down your neck insistently. The sound that escapes your mouth is broken and needy as the flooding of his scent directly In and around you engulfs your senses. Then he’s also sucking on your original bonding mark until you are a heaving, panting, crying mess, clawing at his back, unable to even put coherent words together to beg for him.

His shifts just enough that his pubic bone grinds down against your clit as he pounds into your pussy. You are practically vibrating with the impending orgasm, and as your alpha can undoubtedly sense that through the bond, he bites down on your mark, and you scream and fly into your release. Your walls clench hard around him, and he growls through two more powerful thrusts before he shouts, and you feel the heat of his seed star to fill you up. He pumps and pumps until he’s left every drop he can inside of you, then collapses on top of you.

He doesn’t move, pressing you down with all his weight as you both recover from the ecstasy you’ve just experienced. You almost move to stroke your fingers up and down his spine, but you quell that impulse. You do allow yourself to keep your hands on his back though – still, but connected to this man, your alpha, who dealt you such rough but undeniable pleasure.

Finally, Bucky pushes up off you, but surprises you when he scoops you up and carries you away bridal style, heading toward your bedroom.

“Alpha?”

“You really want to live under the same roof?” he asks.

 “Yes,” you answer simply.

He glances down at your face, brows furrowed, then looks back ahead as he heads down the hallway.

“Okay then.”

“Yes?”

“Yes,” he affirms, entering your room.

He tosses you onto the bed, and crawls up over you again. He reaches beneath your back to unclasp your bra, and you let him pull it from your shoulders and toss it off to the side. Closing the gap between your bodies, you relish the feeling of his bare chest against yours, his chest hair teasing your nipples. He grips your chin yet again, this time with his vibranium hand, and looks into your eyes with a steely, cold stare.

“If you’re anything other than the good omega I require, I will send you back here, but it won’t be like this last week has been. You will be in absolute exile. Don’t test me – there will be no chances.”

You give a single nod of your head.

He pushes up and leans back then, kneeling above you.

“But you don’t want to jeopardize or risk that, do you?”

“No, Bucky.”

It’s the first time you’ve called him anything other than alpha and he clocks that, you see the flash of acknowledgement in his eyes.

“You want to be with your alpha, you want the limited freedom you know I can give you if I choose to, but you also have your own agenda”

It wasn’t a question, and you know you can’t fool him – you know he is too smart for that, and you know he knows you are intelligent in your own right. He made it clear when he closed in on your people’s territory that’s why your compliance and claiming you as his omega was part of the deal of surrender to spare any more bloodshed.

“Cross me and your future will only be visitations when I require you to service my ruts.”

You don’t doubt his threat.

“Do we have an accord, Omega?”

“Yes, Alpha.”

The words you two exchanged the fateful night of that initial surrender.

He nods.

“It seems fitting to seal it by kiss.”

You sit up and then kneel before him on the bed, he bends his head down to kiss you. It’s fervent, solemn, but he cuts it off before it develops into anything more.

“Stay here,” he orders, sliding off the bed.

That was an alpha command – wholly unnecessary except to remind you of his power.

You scowl at his retreating form, then huff once he’s out of the room.

He’s quick, and when he comes back in the room, he is slowly stroking his cock with one hand, and holds his phone in the other. He steps up to the edge of the bed.

“A kiss here, as well,” he says, pushing his hips forward.

You crawl to him, lower your head, and kiss his cock. He nods at you, indicating he expects more. You take the tip of his semi-hard cock into your mouth, lave your tongue around the tip, and then suck, looking up at him. He takes a few photos, moaning at your ministrations.

“Fuck you couldn’t look more pretty and more ruined,” he whispers. He tosses the phone down, then pushes you off him and back onto the bed, manhandling your hips to get you planted in the center of the mattress with your thighs splayed open obscenely.

“Only fair for me to finish sealing the agreement and kiss these lips as well.”

He dives in like a man starved, despite the rounds you’ve just finished. He pulls your next orgasm quickly from your fluttering pussy. You would be surprised, only you’ve come to accept that he has already acquired a dangerous – and delicious – knowledge of your body.

He looks up at you and grins and then goes in immediately for another.

You try and push him away and close your legs, feeling overstimulated, but he growls and roughly forces your thighs open again.

“Your one chance of being my good omega is already begun. So, you’re going to let me eat the pussy that belongs to me until you’re a sobbing overstimulated mess and think you can’t possibly take any more, but you will. And since this should be the last night we ever spend in this bed, when I’ve had my fill of lapping at your sweet, dripping cunt, I’m going to see if I can’t fuck you hard and long enough to break the bed.”

You can only hope your gamble to deal with the devil of HYDRA will not be your undoing.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest full Fine Line Collection

Everyone check your pulse, please. Mine is gone.

I'm not saying this is officially a series, but I think we HAVE fallen into a collection territory... Unless y'all are through with this Alpha Bucky...

[champagneher]

DRABBLE

BASED ON | YOUR BOYFRIEND KEEPS ASKING STRANGE EXISTENTIAL -OR WAY TOO DEEP FOR 1AM- QUESTIONS AND YOU JUST WANT TO SLEEP.

PAIRING | NAMJOON X F!READER

WARNINGS | NSFW - +1k words

The dim light of your shared bedroom cast a soft glow over the space, a warm and familiar heaven that usually lured you to sleep with ease. Tonight, however, sleep was elusive, chased away by the gentle but persistent voice of your boyfriend, Namjoon, who lay beside you, his head propped up on one hand as he gazed thoughtfully at the ceiling.

"Do you think the universe is infinite?" he asked suddenly, his voice breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over the room. "And if it is, does that mean there are infinite versions of us, living out every possible scenario?"

You blinked sleepily, rolling over to face him, half-buried in the warmth of your comforter. "Nam," you mumbled, your voice thick with exhaustion, "it's 1 AM. Can we save the existential questions for the morning?"

He chuckled softly, his eyes still fixed on the ceiling. "I can't help it," he said, his tone apologetic but laced with curiosity. "Sometimes I just get caught up thinking about these things."

You sighed, a fond smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite your fatigue. This was a familiar routine—Namjoon’s mind was always active, always questioning, even in the late hours of the night when all you wanted was to drift off to sleep in his arms.

"Okay," you murmured, shifting closer to him, your body pressing against his side. "Let's say the universe is infinite. That would mean there are versions of us where you don't ask deep questions at 1 AM, and I actually get to sleep."

Namjoon laughed, a low, rumbling sound that made your heart flutter. He turned his head to look at you, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement. "But where's the fun in that?" He teased, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

You couldn’t help but smile, your irritation melting away in the warmth of his gaze. Namjoon had a way of making even the most frustrating moments feel like something special. It was one of the many reasons you loved him.

Still, your body craved rest, and you couldn't resist a playful groan as you buried your face in his chest. "You're lucky I love you," you grumbled, your words muffled against his skin.

"I know," he replied softly, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back. "And I love you too, even when you're sleepy and grumpy."

You sighed contentedly, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lull you into a state of drowsy comfort. For a moment, it seemed like you might actually get some rest, but then Namjoon spoke again, his voice a hushed whisper in the quiet room.

"Do you ever wonder if we were meant to find each other?" He asked, his tone contemplative. "Like, out of all the people in the world, how did it end up being us?"

You lifted your head, peering up at him through half-lidded eyes. His expression was serious, his brow slightly furrowed as he stared at you, waiting for an answer. It was hard not to get caught up in the intensity of his gaze, the sincerity in his question.

"Maybe we were," you said softly, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek. "Or maybe it was just luck or coincidence. But either way, I'm glad we found each other."

He smiled, his eyes softening as he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Me too," he murmured, his lips lingering against your skin. "I don't think I could ever imagine my life without you in it."

A warm flush spread through your chest at his words, a mix of affection and desire that stirred something deep within you. You tilted your head up, your lips seeking his in a slow, tender kiss that quickly deepened as Namjoon responded, his hand slipping to the small of your back to pull you closer.

The kiss was unhurried, a slow exploration of familiar territory that left you both breathless. When you finally pulled back, your forehead rested against his, your breaths mingling in the small space between you.

"You're such a sap," you teased, your voice barely above a whisper, though the affection in your tone was unmistakable.

He chuckled, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. "You love it," he said, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine.

"I do," you admitted, your eyes locking with his, the air between you charged with an electric tension that made your skin tingle.

For a moment, neither of you moved, simply soaking in the closeness, the warmth of each other’s bodies. But then Namjoon shifted, rolling you onto your back as he hovered over you, his gaze darkening with desire.

"And I love you," he whispered, his lips ghosting over yours, the promise of more lingering in the air.

Your breath hitched, your hands finding their way to his shoulders as you pulled him down into another kiss, this one more urgent, more insistent. Namjoon responded in kind, his mouth moving against yours with a fervor that left you dizzy.

He kissed you like he couldn’t get enough, his hands wandering over your body, mapping out every curve and dip with a reverence that made your heart race. You arched into his touch, your fingers tangling in his hair as he trailed kisses down your neck, his lips leaving a blazing trail of heat in their wake.

"Namjoon," you breathed, your voice laced with need, your body aching for more of him, more of his touch, his warmth.

He hummed against your skin, the sound vibrating through you as his hands slipped under your shirt, his fingers skimming over your bare skin, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as he slowly inched your shirt up, his lips following the path his hands had taken.

You could feel the weight of his gaze as he looked down at you, his eyes dark with desire, but there was something else there too—something tender, something that made your chest tighten with emotion.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, as if the words were too heavy to speak aloud.

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks, your heart swelling with affection for the man above you. "So are you," you murmured, your hand reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

He smiled, a soft, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat, and then he was kissing you again, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both passionate and tender, a perfect blend of love and desire.

The world around you seemed to fade away as you lost yourself in him, in the feel of his skin against yours, the warmth of his breath on your neck, the way he whispered your name like a prayer.

Your clothes were discarded in a flurry of movement, your bodies pressing together in a way that felt so right, so perfect, that it took your breath away. Namjoon’s hands were everywhere, exploring every inch of your body with a familiarity that only deepened the connection between you.

He moved slowly, deliberately, as if savouring every moment, every touch, every kiss. There was no rush, no urgency—just the two of you, lost in each other, in the warmth and comfort of your love.

When he finally entered you, it was with a tenderness that made tears prick at the corners of your eyes. He moved with a slow, steady rhythm, his lips never straying far from yours, his hands cradling your face as if you were something precious, something to be cherished.

You felt the world tilt on its axis, your senses overwhelmed by the feel of him, the sound of his breath in your ear, the way his body moved against yours with a grace and fluidity that left you gasping for air.

His eyes never leaving yours, his breath caressing your nose and mouth. His right hand caressed your body moving down to your ass, taking a large part of it to keep you even closer.

Your legs closed around his hips, wanting to keep it that way forever. He smiled feeling the pleasure run through his body. Letting out a shaky sigh he brought his hand to your clit where he agreed to take you with him to the end.

And when you finally reached the peak together, it was like nothing you had ever experienced before—a rush of warmth and light that seemed to flood every corner of your being, leaving you both trembling, breathless, and completely spent.

Namjoon collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms as you both lay there, your bodies still entwined, your breaths slowly returning to normal. The room was quiet now, the only sound the gentle hum of the night outside, the warmth of his body seeping into yours as you nestled against him.

"Do you still think about the universe?" You asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper, as you traced lazy circles on his chest.

Namjoon chuckled, the sound of a soft rumble in his chest. "Not right now," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Right now, all I can think about is how much I love you."

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection for the man beside you, the man who always seemed to have a question, always seemed to be searching for answers, even in the quietest moments.

"I love you too," you whispered, your eyes drifting closed as the exhaustion finally caught up with you.

And as you drifted off to sleep in Namjoon’s arms, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, the universe had a way of bringing the right people together at the right time, in the right place.

Maybe, you thought with a smile, you were meant to find each other after all.

[jjenthusee]

Handshakes And Trash Cans

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

a/n: simply, i wrote a lot and i didn’t wanna release it in parts, so i squeezed the entire fic here. I’ve been having fun writing small excerpts and then they turn into full fics. Jason deserves all the love, so i focused on a neighbors to lovers? No mention of vigilante stuff, but tons of domesticity. With some mentions of big brother Dick (i’m a firm believer that he’s the number one supporter of Jason and just wants the best for him), a bit of steaminess if u squint, and a very devoted Jason. leave me any comments if your comfortable sharing because i wanna know what u guys think XD and if you were crying screaming sliding down the wall like i was (also despite me still being in my repenting era, i wanted to release this as an early apology cause i wanna write another angsty drabble so maybe…maybe not look forward to that) ENJOY (link to the work before this one here)

word count: 7.1k

tags: pining, tons of fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, heartfelt confessions, big brother dick shenanigans

When you got your first two-bedroom apartment, you always thought the dream would only be possible with a roommate. You didn’t have much money during college and transitioning into a full-time job didn’t allow you to freely spend outside of necessities and rent.

But you did it. You got two bedrooms and you didn’t initially know what to do with the extra room. A hobby space, a library, a guest room, or an office? There were too many possibilities.

This was your space, so you combined it all. A basket to keep all of your current craft obsessions next to a bean bag, two full shelves of books from your childhood to your university years, and a desk in the corner to write. It was everything you hoped for. A spot to leave work out of, to decompress and remember the things that made you happy.

You were proud you did it on your own. You could enjoy solitude, your hard work and give time to prioritize yourself.

But an unexpected accomplishment came with an unexpected visitor. A handsome visitor no less. Maybe being an adult wasn’t so bad all the time.

…

But meeting new people was bad. Or you were bad at it.

When you were up at two in the morning, doing normal two a.m. activities like trying to turn your entire life around, you believed that dragging yourself to one of the community events at the apartment complex would help you get to know your neighbors. Then you could scope the scene to see if you wanted to hide forever or maybe have a friendly acquaintance you acknowledged in the hallway.

Now you wanted neither as you sat, alone, at a bar stool in the well decorated community balcony. Although you were distancing yourself from the main party, you couldn’t help admiring the string lights they hung up, the pristine décor, and new furniture. They clearly went through a grand renovation before you moved in.

Despite your need to socially decompress from all the small talk, you did feel mellow in the warm lighting, listening to the slow music you quietly hummed to.

The view was great from your table, you got to see from the edge of the balcony into the city view. Gotham City did have its moments and lots of outsiders tend to see all the bad that overruns it, but when the city is calm, it has its own virtue.

As you watched the sky line, a man also decided to join in, admiring the city lights. He stood farther from where you sat, leaning against the glass and steel railing. He was probably distancing himself from the party like you were. You could only see half of his face from your current angle and distance, but he was…charming. Broody and charming.

Gotham did have the best views, but staring was bad. A little bit of hope crept into your mind at the thought of a handsome neighbor living in the same apartment building.

Another pretty man joined him. Wow, you never realized that Gotham had a lot of great views. Maybe you needed to get out more, enjoy the scenery a bit.

The two beautiful men seemed to know each other. One more talkative than the other, but they seemed close. It was amusing watching the way they contrasted one another, a man clearly dragged to be here tonight and the other fueling himself with the night vibe.

As much as you wanted to continue to be nosy, maybe it was time to call it a night, it was late and you got enough of your pretty boy fill for the evening. Which would have been the plan if you didn’t make eye contact with the second model that blessed your eyes.

You nervously observed the charismatic man walking toward you with a bright friendly smile.

“Hello, I just wanted to ask if my brother—the tall very alone one standing over there—could be tall and very alone over here, in this seat.” He dragged the stool out from underneath the glass table you were resting your arms on.

You looked at the empty seat across from you, then glanced at his presumed brother you were staring at earlier. He clearly didn’t agree to this sudden turn of events as he watched the two of you talk and he looked more mortified than you were. It was…cute. It brought a smile to your face.

“Well, your tall and very alone brother looks scared of me.” You glanced back to the man still holding the chair out.

Your comment must have been hysterical at the way the man was almost leaning forward from laughing. His dimples fully visible and his hair falling forward. Everything he did looked stunning.

“I promise he’s friendlier than he looks.” He breathlessly held his stomach still amused at your first impression of his broody brother. “He’s tall, alone, and friendly if it helps.”

You thought for a moment, debating on your options: leave or sit with a handsome man in possibly awkward silence.

“I don’t mind being alone together.” You smiled more, giving into the curiosity of the man leaning against the railing.

You were a simple human and apparently the man in front of you was too when he ushered his brother over. A man much too large for the bar stool, but you got a good look at his full face.

The curls, defined dark eyebrows, a white streak. His face had definition, a particular beauty that differed from his brother. Not less beautiful, but you were more drawn to the rougher look.

You definitely made the right choice.

Before you had any time to say anything, the conspirator left to go mingle with another bunch of attendees. You watched him hop from one conversation to another, you didn’t know whether he knew them or he just met them like you had five seconds ago.

“I think social anxiety is scared of him.” You laughed in disbelief to your new companion.

“Trust me, you have no idea. I’ve seen him wear some of the most horrendous outfits in public, willingly. What’s worse is—I hate to admit it—but he can pull it off, in a horrifying way.” The stranger shook his head, no mortification in his voice, and you almost unconsciously lulled to the sound. “But he means well, uh, sorry he dragged you into whatever he’s planning. I could leave you alone, he tends to unintentionally be pushy.”

Oh? Broody, charming and thoughtful. Was the bar low or were you easily impressed? Maybe the husky voice is blurring the distinction.

“No, it’s okay, he seemed worried about both us being ‘very alone’ as he put it.” You spoke, glancing into the eyes of the man in front of you. Greenish blue. A wave of amusement washed over you and with the most serious expression you could muster, you decided to test the waters. “From one alone person to another, let’s be alone together.” You reached out your hand to introduce yourself.

He coyly smiled at your formal gesture, leaning in to mimic your movement. You were both leaning onto the glass table, close enough to see the slight scaring on his face. Faint enough to see them only if you were close enough, wanting to drag your thumb across them.

His warm hand engulfed yours. Calloused. A firm handshake.

“Jason, alone man, and been alone for twenty-one years.” Jason gave you the most breathtaking smile, never letting go of your hand. “I’m looking forward to this opportunity…alone, of course.”

You laughed, almost giggled from how charming this man was.

“It’s been twenty-three alone years and still counting.” You mischievously smirked, glad he joined in on your antics. “I’m glad to let you join the team. I expect great things from you.”

“And I hope to learn a lot from my superiors, I’ll be in your care.” Jason’s voice was so low at the end of his statement. It caught you off guard that you almost missed the way he held onto your hand just a tiny bit longer than you anticipated. So short that you felt like you imagined it.

The warmth still lingered on your hands after you let go.

You were so engrossed in Jason’s company and Jason only had the eyes to look at you, that neither of you could see the man, who schemed your interaction, was beaming from watching the connection spark.

…

That single handshake and nonchalant agreement that you shared with an unknown neighbor actually kept it’s promise. That evening, you found out that Jason lived on the same floor as you did, that his brother visited him a lot, and he took out the trash on Wednesdays.

He didn’t tell you the last one, but you found out the last bit of information by accident when you bumped into him on your way back from the trash room. You thought the evening you met Jason would be the first and last time you would see him, but your laziness prevented you from taking out the garbage on your designated day and you were graced with seeing his lopsided smile as you passed him in the hallway.

You were so giddy from the surprise and seeing Jason’s captivating smile, you tested your luck and took the trash out on the same day and time the following week.

You listened out in the hallway, trying to hear a door open, it was honestly crazy behavior, but you continued your slow pace, but with no tall alone man in sight and a defeated sigh, you walked to the trash room with no Jason by your side and swung the door open.

Like a beam of light cascading over you, the man in question was standing in front of you, opening the trash shoot. You never thought a man in a trash room would be sexy, but with his shirt tightly straining on his body, a flushed face, and his muscles eye level with you, anything was possible.

May whoever told this gorgeous man to live at this apartment complex eat delicious meals, have working phone chargers, and a lifetime of happiness.

Somewhere off in the far distance, Dick sneezed.

You almost forgot the reason you were in the trash room after you set your eyes on Jason’s post-workout state. He kept the shoot open for you and with unsteady steps you threw your trash bag to disappear to the unknown. You were trying to not trip up with Jason’s defined arm holding the handle open and the close proximity of his chest to your face.

Maybe you need to go on a run. Why were you acting like this right now?

“Hey, neighbor.” Jason casually spoke to you. His voice felt airy, probably winding down from the exercise. “You come around here often?”

You cleared your mind from any thoughts, the trash room was not the place to start flirting, but what were you supposed to do when Jason started it? Or what you assumed to be flirtatious conversation.

“Nah, I’m new to town.” You glanced over to him, leaning your neck back to grasp his full height. Jason hadn’t missed the movement, combing your collarbone with his gaze. “But, I might stay a while.” You melodically spoke.

Before your stare and voice settled in the air, you stepped to the side to add a little distance between the two of you. Pulling away from the tension.

“Just so I can continue my alone things.” You explained trying to smoothen the mood with a playful tone.

Jason stayed quiet like he was contemplating something in his mind. Then he let the trash shoot close and with small steps the both of you walked out into the hallway.

“What alone things do you have planned tomorrow?” Jason nonchalantly asked, so casually you almost thought you heard wrong.

“Uh, work in the morning, but nothing planned for the evening, I wanted to try out a new cookie recipe.”

“Do you wanna come over to my place—I wanted to cook something for dinner, but it just hasn’t worked out yet. Maybe you can bring those cookies?” Jason didn’t look at you, suddenly interested in the pure white walls of the hallway. He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

You were stunned. How was such a beautiful man asking you to come over to his place with the promise of him cooking you dinner and all you had to do was bring your shitty cookies?

“I want to warn you that my cookies aren’t award worthy. I just follow the recipe, they’re nothing special.” You wanted to ensure that Jason was really inviting you over.

“Then I can’t wait to try your ‘nothing special’ cookies.” He reassured.

…

You spent the entire afternoon making sure your measurements were precise, not a lump of flour above the rim of the measuring utensils you haven’t brought out in a while. Usually you winged the ingredients, not really worried about the quality too much since it was just you.

But now you wanted to cry.

How did you properly fold ingredients, were you whisking right, maybe you should’ve got the too expensive butter from the store?

It took three full hours to prep, bake, and try your hand at cutely packaging the cookies. It took four attempts to arrange the cookies in a way that didn’t make you want to cancel the dinner.

But after a few pep talks in the mirror and reassuring yourself that this was a hang out and not a date, then you were able to walk over to his unit number.

You hesitantly knocked on the door, five minutes after seven because you would torture yourself thinking about arriving right on the dot before you fell asleep tonight and every night after.

Your worries left your mind when you saw Jason open the door in an apron.

“You’re just in time, I’m ready to plate everything.” He beamed.

Your heart might not be able to survive tonight. But it was just dinner.

You awkwardly handed Jason your tin of homemade cookies. You tried to limit your snooping around his apartment when he told you to wait for him to get the drinks, but curiosity was coursing through you once you realized that you were being invited into a part of Jason’s life and home.

You were no longer going to be strangers. You didn’t know if this qualified to make you friends, but you knew you were two people about to eat dinner together. A dinner he made and cookies you made as thanks.

Once you were ready to eat, you stared at your plate filled with spices, fresh veggies, a meticulously cooked entrée and a…homemade lemonade? You stared up at Jason, watching you look at his food.

“I feel like bringing you cookies isn’t enough.” Although you felt guilty, you took a bite because you didn’t want to look at one more second of Jason’s shining eyes.

You could only sigh, which made Jason worry.

“I think I’m going to name my children after you.”

Jason chuckled at your exaggeration.

“I’d be honored.”

The rest of the meal was relaxing. You didn’t have to force yourself around Jason. Your conversation flowed easily and you were interested in learning about the man you met on the balcony.

…

After many trips to the other side of the apartment building and a couple of deep cleanings of your apartment, you got accustomed to having Jason walk around your kitchen, rummaging the cabinets and organizing your spices the way he likes it.

One shared meal after another. Sometimes several times a week or spaced out further when work got busy. It was nice to look forward to a meal with Jason.

Now you had text messages from him on your phone, a designated mug for him, and a couple of his snacks that he wanted you to try.

You traded recipes. Jason gave you his favorites and you mainly just gave him ones you were curious about, not very fond of your kitchen.

After several failed attempts at convincing him that it was your kitchen that was the problem and not your ability to cook, he came over more to prove you wrong.

Now you sat at your kitchen island to watch him concentrate on mixing an assortment of spices and herbs while you memorized as much of his face and hands as possible. The TV was on, but you had no interest in whatever movie played.

“I have a confession to make.” You sadly looked at Jason.

He glanced over from the pan on the stove to your face. Confusion in his eyes from your sudden change in tone.

“I actually don’t really like cookies.” You threw your hands up in a guilty pose. “Now it’s eating me inside that I had to give those to you when I first came over to your place.”

Jason hummed and tilted his head with one of his eyebrows raised in a teasing manner.

“So, the guilt finally got to you, huh?” He grinned moving his attention back to the food cooking in front of him. His nonchalant voice resonating around you.

“I can’t sleep at night anymore.” You exaggerated, walking a little closer to his side. “Well, once you became my personal chef I realized I had to make it up to you.” You could smell the food better now that you were standing next to Jason.

“I can see the guilt in your eyes.” He flatly said watching you eyeing the food.

“We always eat when we hang out and I can make simple foods, but if I can follow a recipe I was going to suggest if I should cook something, but you are also here to prove me wrong that my kitchen isn’t cursed. Which it is by the way—”

“Your kitchen is not cursed.” He warmly scolded you. “I’ll come over everyday to prove it if I have to.”

You always had to reset your brain when he used that tone with you. It just felt too…sincere. Too intimate.

You wanted him to come over everyday. You took a breath.

“I make more money than when I was still in college, but I don’t think I can afford that many grocery bills.” You teased him. “Why do you think I go over to your place?”

You wanted to evade any serious topics and humor was the best at evading. You were good at avoidance.

“So, I’m a free pantry to you?” His eyebrows rose, questioning you. “I knew you were using me!” He faked a flabbergasted voice like he just heard his life-long partner declare they were cheating on him for months.

He turned off the stove, covering the pan with the lid and turning to face you.

“I didn’t mean to, it just sort of happened.” You gave him your best dejected look. “I promise I’ll pick up more shifts to help restock your fridge, but let me just taste your homemade ravioli one last time.” You begged as he moved closer to you, closing you in with the kitchen island behind your back.

His height and broad shoulders easily caved you in. You gulped watching his face lean down and inch closer.

“If I can’t trust you with my fridge, you don’t deserve my ravioli.” He lowered his voice, gazing down at you with a look that made you breathless. You couldn’t move with the counter behind you and Jason hovering dangerously close to you. “But, you can make it up to me.” He brought his thumb to your chin, barely a wisp of touch.

“How?” You stammered, wondering if the bit was still going.

“Let’s go to the farmer’s market tomorrow.” His hand moved from your face to the edge of the counter, close enough to touch your side and his voice returning to normal, but he didn’t pull away.

“Okay, uh, I’m off tomorrow.” You stared, darting your eyes between Jason’s eyes. Trying to adjust to the tension that was radiating off of him.

“Good, foods ready.” Jason pulled away, moving to the cabinet to grab your glass plates. He was too familiar with the layout of your kitchen.

That night you quickly learned how easy Jason was able to turn the tables. Your racing heart and shallow breathing were the only evidence of it ever happening.

…

The heat beat down on you. Of all days for Gotham to finally clear it’s clouds, it chose today.

Although you weren’t fond of the warm air, you liked watching all the colorful tents, the food on display, and seeing the various local products. Everything looked intricately cared for and it brought a proud feeling to contribute to the locals.

“Bags?” Jason asked, going through his mental checklist.

“Check.” You raised the reusable grocery bags in your hands.

“Hats?”

“Check.” You nudged the baseball cap on your head.

“Money?” Jason smirked.

You grabbed onto Jason’s bicep. Giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Check.” You grinned up at Jason looking at the placement of your hand. “Now let’s go!” You gleefully led him to the first tent with your hand still on him.

You had no idea how you ended up carrying all the bags, but you were trying to ease your mind that this could be considered a date. Jason didn’t call it that and you never asked to clarify, but you couldn’t help it itching at your brain.

You didn’t want to label anything, out of respect for Jason and what he wanted, but you noticed he had started to touch you more and the contact makes you giddy that you had to put all of your focus on making sure you don’t drop his produce.

You stood by Jason, looking at various jars of loose leaf tea. He was smelling all the aromas, helping to move the jars to your nose, so you could smell them too. He insisted on helping you since you refused to give him a bag, but you also didn’t have a free hand to grab the jar.

After a couple more sniff tests, he settled on a jar of prickly pear tea, a lemon-ginger flavor, and he was contemplating on some earl grey cookies. You were watching him, entranced by his concentration. His brows lowered, a small line appearing between his brows. You could see more of his face with a cap on, no messy curls on his forehead and his side profile was really something.

You broke out of your trance when he offered you a piece of the earl-grey cookie, holding it in front of your mouth.

“They’re free samples, try it.” He looked at you, waiting patiently. “I know you don’t like cookies, but these are made with the tea sold here. I saw all the tea you keep in your pantry, so I think you would like it.”

In your lost state at this man in front of you, that could’ve sounded like a proposal to you at that point.

You inched forward, opening your mouth for the cookie. You hesitated at the intimacy, but how could you tell that face ‘no.’ Staring at the small piece of cookie, baked a quarter of the original size they sold, you also saw all the scars that littered Jason’s hands. Many healed over, but you could see the faded lines.

You dangerously wanted to kiss each one.

You grabbed the piece in your mouth, but you didn’t realize that you accidentally touched Jason’s finger with your lip.

You quickly glanced at Jason, but his eyes were glossed over. His attention focused on your mouth.

What a sight.

You chewed and hummed. They were good. Jason cleared his throat at your approval.

“I’ll get a bag and the tea. I’ll be back. You can put the bags down for a bit because there’s a small line.” He quickly turned around, a small tinge of redness left on his ears with his head turned away from you.

You watched his back walk away, then settled the bags down to give your arms a break.

“Excuse me, I just wanted to tell you that you two are adorable.” A honeyed voice spoke trying to grab your attention.

Your head whipped back to the table of teas. An older lady restocking the various collection had a mischievous look in her eye. You hadn’t noticed her there at all.

“The way your boyfriend looks at you, I haven’t seen a look like that since my husband passed many years ago.” The lady gushed.

“Wha, no, I—“ You stammered, trying to clear up the confusion, but your flustered face must’ve amused the woman.

“That made my day, so I wanted to give you this lemon bar we just started selling. Go on, take it and share it with him.” She pressured you to take the free treat. You were too speechless to try to refuse it and insist that you pay before she placed it in your hand herself and she walked off to help another customer wanting a sample.

Your face felt hot and you hoped it cleared before Jason came back, but before you could fan the redness away he appeared next to you with his purchase.

“Hey, you okay? Where’d you get that lemon—”

“Let’s get some lunch!” You grabbed the bags and nudged him to the food trucks lining the edge of the market, trying to hide your face with your hat and leaving the comments from the woman behind.

…

“Wow, this might be the best empanada I’ve ever had.” You chomped at your lunch.

Jason found a waffle place and settled on a berry topping. It was wrapped perfectly to fit in his hands.

You sat across from Jason at an outdoor table with an umbrella to shield you from the sun, sitting away from the rush of people lining up to also eat. The midday lunch rush got to you and you wanted to have a bit of privacy before you went back home.

“How long have you known about this place?” You asked Jason, a slight breeze grazing your face. Watching a kid nudging his dad for a piece of banana bread he found on one of the vendor’s tables.

“Last year? It was recent, but I’ve heard it’s been around for a while. Maybe over five years?” Jason took a bite of his waffle.

“I wish I had found this during my university years. This is a bit out of the way of my walk route, but it would’ve been awesome to browse with my friend.” You saw the boy you were watching earlier smiling wide as he held his dad’s hand and the banana loaf as big as his head. You smiled at the interaction.

“But I probably would’ve sent my friend into shock.” You continued, the boy and his dad disappearing into the crowd. “I wasn’t very social during my university years.” You glanced at Jason, his waffle gone and he was neatly folding the wrapper.

“My friend would joke that I would only meet someone if they magically met me at home. Like that was the only way I could score a date.” You pitifully joked at the old memory. “Sounds absurd doesn’t it, but she wasn’t wrong—“

You saw a shift in Jason’s eyes. He had an oddly serious look, it stopped you from talking and you sat up straighter, wondering what he was thinking about.

You waited, watching him internally fight with whatever he wanted to say.

“That’s not true.” He hesitated. “You’re funny, you’re able to connect with others, you’re a great listener, and you’re honest. You don’t have the heart to be mean to others and your facial expressions are adorable.” His voice rose the longer he defended you. His serious expression further amplified with his furrowed eyebrows. A part of his face obscured by his cap, but you felt the raw emotion emanating from him.

“Anyone would be enamored with you, even if they met you in the hallway or walking down the street.” He puffed, crushing the waffle paper on the table.

You were surprised, glancing over at Jason, watching him get this frustrated. You realized you’ve never seen him this…emotional and he refused to look at you.

The sudden development and his clear thoughts about you stunned you. You joked with Jason how alone you both were, it even brought you together thanks to his brother, but you didn’t really know how alone he truly was. You don’t think he really understood how lonely you were too.

You enjoyed your shared meals, you craved his time and attention.

You got so used to his presence that the days you didn’t see him, you felt like you were dreaming. Waiting to wake up when you heard that familiar knock on your door.

Your heart raced and you hoped he cherished your time together like you did.

You didn’t want to assume his witty personality as being flirtatious, you didn’t want to misunderstand any of his intentions because he was funny, charming, and awkward in ways that you just wanted to grab his face and protect him.

You didn’t particularly need Jason as your person, that felt too selfish, but you also wanted to be somebody to him. Either next to him or from a distance.

A friend, a companion, a lover. The label didn’t really matter to you because you were open to any role. A lover wasn’t more significant than a friend would be. They both had the same foundation, to care for someone unconditionally.

You convinced yourself that you were happy alone, but not until recently you realized you weren’t living. You were asleep in the routine of life.

And when Jason entered your life, you felt like you woke up for the first time.

Like he was the only one who could wake you up.

All you knew was that you wanted to be there. Through his pain, his suffering, his happiest moments, his accomplishments, his anger. To be his person.

To also help him wake up.

Your silent contemplation made Jason panic.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get worked up—“

“I think apartment community events count.” You softly whispered, indecisive of whether you wanted him to hear you or not.

“What—“

“And secret meetings in the trash room too.” Your voice meek.

You were shaking, too tense to look at his reaction to your words.

“Despite what she told me, I still managed to meet you. And I was able to have some of the best meals. I’ve never laughed as hard as I have when we joked. I’m able to try new things.” You raised your head, overwhelmed by your feelings, but you hoped to convey yourself properly to Jason. “I’ve never felt so comfortable and safe with anyone else.”

Jason looked at you wide eyed and speechless, his mouth slightly agape. You took the disbelief as a sign to continue.

“I’m able to be all those things that you said because I’m with you.” Your voice filled with more resolve the more concrete your feelings felt, the more sure you became. You squeezed your eyebrows together, complete sincerity in your gaze, your heart filled with so much emotion.

But your eyebrows relaxed once you saw Jason’s face turn red. His ears a crimson shade. Before you could engrave it in your memory, he tilted his head down, covering his face with the front of his baseball cap.

“Wait, wait, wait—I didn’t expect this.” Jason rubbed a hand down his face, but the redness contrasted the skin of his hand. “You were so shy every time I tried to push the boundaries between us, but now your directly confessing everything at once.”

He stopped rubbing his face and rested his hand on the table. Meeting your gaze, a tint of red still on his skin but not as deep as before.

“I’ve been trying to get closer to you. I’ve been hoping to run into you since we first talked on the balcony. When we met in the trash room, I purposely tried to meet you again. I’ve looked forward to every meal I’ve cooked for you and although I haven’t been clear about my feelings, I didn’t want to pressure or rush you.” Jason took a breath, closing his eyes for a moment.

When they opened again, his eyes were completely focused on you.

“I want us to be more than friends…I want to be able to come over when I miss you, fold laundry together, buy you things when they remind me of you, I want you to call me when you need car maintenance.” He kept his eyes trained on you, but his voice faltered. “I want to hold your hand and to kiss you. I want us to go on dates.”

You raised your hand to the table, placing your hand over Jason’s, but he quickly flipped your hands so he was holding yours a little more firmly.

“I want to know if you snore while you sleep, to have your things at my place, so I see you in every inch of my life. I want you to know how much I’ve fallen for you.”

“I want that too.” Your voice trembled. “I’ve been wanting to hold your hand while we walked today and I want you to come over more often.” You choked as Jason leaned in to caress your face with his hand. A sickening sweet touch that you never knew you would get to feel. You cupped your hand over his.

“I’m so happy. I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while.” Jason whispered to you, his voice so honey sweet.

You looked up to him. A gentle gaze reflecting back.

“I probably look like a mess right now.” You shakily laughed.

“Of course not, you’re breathtaking, sweetheart.” Jason rubbed a thumb on your cheek, completely enamored by you.

“As much as I would love to hear you continue, I’m worried about the stuff you bought and this heat.” You tried to focus, but the smooth touch of Jason was difficult to ignore.

“Yeah, we probably need to make our way back.”

Despite his words, he didn’t move. He lingered on your face a while longer before he looked at all the bags he accumulated this morning.

“Will you let me help you carry some of the bags?” He asked. “I also want to hold your hand on the way back.”

You beamed at him. Reaching for his hand as you stood up.

…

Your walk back was refreshing.

You were exhausted from the intense flux of emotions you released, but Jason’s grip on your hand stabilized you.

You couldn’t stop smiling, the heat no longer bothering you. You swung your interlaced hands to the motion of your steps and Jason let you do what you wanted as long as you still held on.

When you got to the entrance of your apartment building, you were graced with the AC hitting you. Your hair would definitely be messed up from the sweat and your cap.

You waited in front of the elevator doors as it descended from the last person that used it. The lobby was empty, except from the usual leasing office workers inhabiting the space, but it was just you and Jason off to the side.

As you glanced around, making sure the employees were occupied, you used your grip on Jason’s hand to pull him down enough for you to kiss his cheek. A little awkward with your cap in the way, but you were able to surprise Jason.

He stayed hunched forward, shifting his face to look at you closely and digest what you did.

Ding. The elevator doors opened and you pulled Jason in the elevator.

You felt accomplished as you pushed the button to your floor. When you moved back to Jason’s side, you looked up to him, but he grabbed your face.

His hand pushed your cap up, so he could lean in and kiss you. His hat also moving up at the angle he was in.

You closed your eyes, disoriented at the feeling and because Jason completely blocked your view of the elevator, so you only heard the doors close.

Lost in the feeling and the movement of his lips, you dropped the bags in your hand to grab at Jason’s sleeve, wanting to grasp at something.

You’ve never felt so desperate to get Jason even closer and he must have understood or he craved it more because he pushed you back against the elevator wall. You felt the cold metal against your back and you gasped.

Jason devoured the sound, motivating him to hold your waist, but it wasn’t enough for him. He crouched a little lower to grasp you behind your legs to lift you fully off the ground, inching your body up, higher and more level with his face.

The angle changed and you easily wrapped your arms around his neck while simultaneously wrapping your legs around his waist. The moment intensifying as you pulled at his hair below his hat and you swallowed the low groan that left his mouth. You were drawn to the deep sound and the feeling of the hum you felt on your mouth.

You were practically flush against his body and you were down to your last few breaths, but you didn’t want to pull your face away from Jason.

You nipped at his lower lip and he lifted his hands to cup the sides of your face, digging his fingers into your sweaty hair and rubbing the back of your ears. You opened your mouth wanting to feel more of him when you heard someone loudly clear their throat.

You pulled away, shoving Jason by his shoulders as he whipped his head to see where the voice came from. You fell to your feet trying to lean against the wall with the sudden motion, hair a mess with your cap lopsided as you looked past Jason to see Dick standing there with a hand on his waist and the other holding the elevator door open. He didn’t look at the two of you directly, more like a lost look to the side.

You breathlessly adjusted your cap as you frantically smoothed out your shirt.

Jason pulled his cap down as he sighed then redirected his attention to you, gently reaching out to you to smooth out some of your hair and help you stand up straighter. Then he grabbed the bags you both dropped on the floor as he turned around to face his brother.

“I didn’t know you were coming over. You should’ve texted.” Jason walked past his brother, annoyance laced in his voice.

“I did.” Dick replied. He looked at you then followed after Jason. “But it seems you were a little occupied.” Amusement coating his voice and visible in the way he walked.

“I see you’re getting to know your neighbors very well.” Dick teased, a giant grin on his face. “I’m glad.”

What a way to meet Jason’s brother again after all this time. You wanted the floor to open up and swallow you away from the lack of awareness you had to make out with Jason in public.

You couldn’t decide if it was worse that a stranger could’ve saw you or that Dick was the one who did.

“Yeah, yeah, come inside.” Jason unlocked the door to his apartment. You nervously followed after the two.

“No seriously, I’m glad you two continued to see each other.” A genuine comment from Dick. “I’ve never seen you so comfortable with someone, Jaybird.”

A small hum from Jason as he set the bags down onto the counter.

With no indication that he wanted to speak further, you decided to talk.

“I’m sorry we’re meeting again like this. I promise I’m usually a better influence.” Hopefully your lighthearted tone would give off a better impression than the one on the elevator.

“Ha! I know you are because,” Dick moved in closer, lowering his voice. “This is the most behaved I’ve seen Jason in months.”

“Alright, enough, dickwa—Dick,” Jason cleared his throat. “But we just got back and I want to shower. It was too damn hot today.”

“Oh, I bet it was—“

“Thank you! Never come by again. See you. Good Night.” Jason raised his voice, shoving his brother out the door.

“No, please, I swear I’m done!” Dick pleaded as he was trying to hang onto the door frame, but Jason closed the door before he could start to beg.

“Are you sure he’ll be alright?” You questioned Jason.

He didn’t bother to answer your question as he closed the space between you and wrapped his arms around you, resting his forehead on your shoulder and letting his hands intertwine around your waist, falling onto your lower back.

Jason signed into your shirt. The feeling slightly tickling you.

“I wasn’t done earlier.” He whispered against you. “Then that dickhead had to interrupt.”

You laughed, loving the pouty sound of his voice.

You embraced him back, leaning your head against his.

“I think the elevator interrupted you.” You rubbed his back in soothing circles.

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting a silence fall in Jason’s apartment before your curiosity got to you.

“Jaybird?”

“It’s a nickname.”

“It’s cute.”

“Enough about him, we need to put away all the stuff we bought.” Jason lifted his head to sullenly look at the numerous bags.

“That reminds me.” You let go of him to dig around the bags, trying to find your earlier gift. “I was told to share this with you by an older woman who thought my boyfriend was adorable.”

Jason shifted behind you. Closing his hands on the edges of the counter, both of his arms on your sides. Once you found the lemon bar, you turned your body, careful to lean against the counter with Jason’s body still in front of you, around you practically.

“It’s a new product. She said I could have it for making her day, but I have to thank you because we wouldn’t have gotten it without you.”

You opened the wrapper, breaking a piece off to feed to Jason.

“How does it taste?”

Jason lingered. You anticipated what he thought, but he leaned forward to kiss you. You held onto the lemon bar, but lowered it the more heated your kiss became. The tangy taste invading your mouth.

“Amazing.”

[elliesdoll]

pt.2 to my angsty loser!ellie drabble 𝜗𝜚

nsfw! ellie gets caught and that’s literally it. i hate this so bad but it’s whateva

(part 3 will have lesbian gay lesbian boob vagina butt sex i promise. no more ellie masturbating)

find pt.1 here! & pt.3 here :3

daily click! don’t buy tlou free palestine

after ellie’s pathetic masturbation sesh, she vowed to herself to fucking pull it together.

she wasn’t gonna let herself mope over you, because she knew you had an active sex life. she forced herself to be fine with it. to be fine with the people you decided to bring to your bed. she wanted to be near you without feeling this suffocating feeling of yearning and lust filling her insides.

and if that meant tucking her feelings to the deepest pits of hell, then so fucking be it.

a few weeks had passed since that little moment you and ellie had. the one where she had showed up to your house in the middle of you hooking up with someone.

the morning after, she has awoken to a string of texts from you, all apologizing for that awkward moment.

11:34pm

ellie i’m so sorry you had to see me like that. i didn’t mean to come off rude.

i wanted to go after you but i couldn’t really leave her alone in my house lol

els?

i’m really sorry. i hope u don’t think you can’t come to my house ever again ☹️ i actually thought it was sweet you showed up like that.

2:12am

goodnight ellie. i hope things aren’t awkward between us.

god, you made her feel awful. you were too fucking sweet to her. the way you never missed a single night when telling her goodnight, even after something like that. she rubbed her swollen face, mainly from crying, and typed a short message to you.

9:47am

hey, sorry for rushing away like that. idk why i did that lmfao

and things aren’t awkward at all, i shouldn’t have just showed up unnanounced

no els seriously! you should do that more often. tbh i wanted to hang out with you more than that girl… but yk i couldn’t 💔💔

she smiled at your kind text, glad that you two could just put it behind yourselves. her moment of relief was quickly replaced by disgust, when she saw the state of herself and her bed. her inner thighs sticky with dried cum, and her sheets below her still damp with all the extra release.

“gross..” she mumbled to herself, getting up and immediately throwing on some boxers and a tshirt, feeling way too vulnerable being naked like that. she went to the bathroom and cleaned herself up, then threw her sheets in the wash.

since then, you two have been fine. you do your weekly hangout sessions, where you grab food and talk about anything for hours on end. it’s almost as if nothing happened.

until one of your sleepovers.

you always convinced ellie to spend the night at your house, at least every other week. whenever it’d get dark outside and ellie would start to get up, you’d give her that irresistible pout and “ughhh, c’mon els.. just spend the night. it’s too dark out for you to go home.”

and every damn time, she agreed. how could she ever say no to you?

one night, you and ellie are high out of your minds, talking about god knows what. all giggly and soft, you two exchange jokes and stories that really make no sense. but, to you two, it’s the funniest thing in the world. after a laughing fit between the two of you, you wipe your tears and sigh.

“god, i love you.”

you say, still catching your breath from that tummy tensing laugh. the words were just an expression of admiration for her. but to ellie, they were so much more.

“i love you too.”

she says, looking you in the eyes. she’s high, so she’s not thinking too hard about how sincere she sounds. but she really should’ve, because that soft tone of her voice and the glint in her eyes make it sound way too fucking real.

“woah,” you let out a nervous, breathy chuckle. “that was a bit theatrical.”

“wh..what do you mean?”

ellie asks, getting a bit nervous. she’s not her usual, stuttery self though. she keeps it together. thanks to the weed.

“just the way you said i love you. it felt like… deep.”

you move your hands as you talk, and ellie just shrugs. but she knows she’s fucked. before she could stop her feelings from resurfacing, she gets that familiar tingle in her belly and pounding of her heart.

“shut up,” she rolls her eyes, trying to play it off.“you’re dramatic.”

her voice wavered with those last words. fuck, her voice wavered. why did she feel like she was gonna have a breakdown any second now? she had to get the hell away from you.

“gotta piss. be back in a bit.”

ellie says quickly, so quick you don’t even have time to retort to her calling you dramatic. you just sit there, confused. you could’ve sworn you heard some uncertainty in her voice, but you let her go.

meanwhile, ellie made a beeline for your bathroom. she shut the door and leaned her head against the wood. she let out a deep sigh, trying to calm herself. the fact that she felt the most intense feeling that she couldn’t even describe over a mere “i love you” had her cringing.

she just couldn’t get over you. the entire night, she tried her best not to think about how good your tits looked in your pajama top, or how badly she wanted to just shove her face into your ass in those little shorts.

her thinking over these details led to the predicament that she’s in right now. sweatpants around her knees, legs slightly spread as she rubs one out while leaned up against your bathroom sink. her eyes are shut and her head is thrown back, letting out the quietist grunts she could muster.

she knew she shouldn’t be doing this, she promised herself that she would stop. but god, you made it hard. she was so wet, it made her cheeks flush red. the simple thought of you had her literally dripping around her own fingers.

you were still in your room, biting your thumbnail as you wait for ellie. you start to get worried, thinking you made her upset by commenting on how she said ‘i love you’. so, you being the thoughtful friend you are, go to check on her.

you quietly walk to the bathroom, putting your ear against the door. you were going to knock and mutter a little “els? are you okay?”, but the sounds you heard made you lose all the words in your mouth.

soft, sharp inhales and tiny sticky noises is all you can hear through the door. it’s a bit hard to listen to, since the soft buzz of the yellow light in there overpowers it. what the hell is she doing in there?

you knew this was wrong. an invasion of privacy to the max. but your curiosity was getting the better of you, and you were worried. you put your hand on the doorknob and slightly twisted it, not expecting it to open. but it did.

did ellie forget to lock the door?

ellie doesn’t hear the soft click of the door opening, too lost in her own pleasure as she practically humps her own hand. it had been too fucking long since she could touch herself to the thought of you. her only guilty pleasure.

her head was still thrown back, eyes squeezed shut as she rubbed her clit at a shockingly fast pace. and you saw it all. you had opening the door just enough for half of your face to see through the opened crack. your whole body froze at the sight in front of you.

she was so captivating. her face looking all fucked out, her pale thighs that were so tensed up, the shininess of her slick that smeared on the heel of her palm. even the quick glimpses of her gorgeous auburn bush that you could see if her hoodie rode up enough.

your tummy felt weird. first, you felt guilty for eavesdropping on your best friend. second, you were confused why the fuck ellie decided now would be the best time to masturbate. third, you were turned on. disgustingly turned on, at that.

a few seconds of watching ellie made your panties get all sticky and wet, and that burning hot feeling in your lower belly. you couldn’t look away.

“ohh, fuck— please,”

your brain short circuited hearing ellie say that. god, she was so lost in her own pleasure. so lost that she accidentally knocked over your toothbrush and hand soap on the sink, causing her to jolt and snap her eyes open.

she looks down at the bottle of soap and toothbrush that landed in front of the bathroom door. the door that’s cracked. her eyes shoot up, and there’s where she sees a glimpse of you running away. a quick flash, but she knew it was you.

she is so fucked.

I HATE RHISNSO BAD RRRR😡

btw i finished this literally like 3 days ago and didn’t wanna post it hut i did anyway ☺️☺️

[little-diable]

Commands - Draco Malfoy (smut)

A small Drabble I wrote at work lol. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Draco is reader’s step-brother, something he doesn’t seem to care about while asking her to put her mouth to work. Pwp

Warnings: 18+, oral (m), degrading, stepcest, dumbification, slight slapping

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!reader (1.1k words)

“Draco?” Her voice dripped with sleep, eyes burning in exhaustion as she looked at the dark frame. She had been woken by the sound of his feet stepping onto the one spot of the old wooden flooring creaking too loudly. “What are you doing?”

“Quiet!” Her breath instantly hitched in her chest, eyes zoning in on her step brother who stepped closer to her bed. She didn’t dare speak another word, too focused on the man who had always treated her with spite and anger, at least for most parts of the day. At night he behaved differently, as if his demons finally managed to get the upper hand, guiding his lust and longing for his step sister.

“I’m tired, Draco.” (Y/n) sighed her words before plopping back down on the mattress. She was about to cover her barely clothed body with her blanket, but Draco was faster. He ripped the fabric from her fingers, exposing the shirt of his she wore, managing to cover the lacy pair of panties she knew Draco loved.

Perhaps she had hoped for another visit, perhaps she had prayed that he’d find her again. Longings she didn’t dare put into words, at least not out loud.

“Don’t lie to me, we both know you’re a greedy fucking whore for your step brother, aren’t you?” He kneeled on the mattress, forcing her legs apart to settle between them. His cold fingers danced over her arms, moving up to her shoulders before one hand came down on her throat, letting his fingers grasp her. “Answer me.”

“Yes.” She only managed to press a whisper past her clenched teeth, trying not to give in all that easily. Draco had always managed to gain the upper hand, to guide her while she got lost in the waves of pleasure like a raft losing its path in the icy river it was sailing on.

“Good. I need those pretty lips wrapped around me.” He hadn’t been able to find any rest, unable to give in to sleep's quiet call. Draco’s mind had been too active, thinking of the woman sleeping only a few rooms down from his, wondering what she was dreaming of. (Y/n) was haunting his thoughts, had been ever since their parents had gotten married years ago. He had tried to stay away, all until her twenty-first birthday they had celebrated together, a night where he had claimed her for the first of many times.

(Y/n) rose to a sitting position before she put her weight onto her knees. Draco’s hand on her throat pulled her in for a kiss, momentarily distracting her while her hands rested on his chest. Her body was covered in goosebumps as if he was winter itself, embracing the biting cold that left marks on her body, burning straight through her system.

He was the darkness, the bleak midwinter she had eventually found enjoyment in.

Draco leaned back against the headrest of her bed after pulling off his shirt, exposing his abs to her wandering eyes. He watched her free his cock, watched her spit down on the red tip just like he had taught her to months ago. By now she was a natural, knowing what he was aching for, how he needed to feel her to get that push to clear his racing mind.

His ringed fingers found her head almost instantly, forcing her down on his cock with a satisfied groan clawing through him. With his eyes pressed shut, Draco sank into her touch, allowing (y/n) to bob her head fast enough to leave him moaning. Her sounds were almost as loud as his, clawing through her while she worked her mouth on him, a sinful, forbidden mixture both had fallen in love with.

“Atta girl, your mouth’s so perfect for me.” Heat flushed through her, set on gaining as much praise as possible. Draco wasn’t one for complimenting her, wasn’t one for showering her with attention, only in those secret moments where she touched him like that would he give in and tell her how much he adored her – her body at least.

With her eyes set on his features, on his closed eyes, on the teeth nibbling on his lower lip, she kept sucking him off. The corners of her mouth were still hurting from yesterday night, a strange deja-vu she couldn’t shake as she took as much of him as possible. She didn’t care much about her own pleasure, didn’t worry much about her own highs he’d give her either way. All (y/n) was focused on was Draco, his pleasure, his sounds, the praise his body would wordlessly share with her.

He twitched in her mouth, resting heavily on her tongue. (Y/n) knew that he’d cum soon, painting her tongue white with his release – a fulfilling taste she was already aching for. Seeing a man like Draco cum was an experience itself, a moment so raw, so intimate, she sometimes found herself wondering if she was only dreaming it.

“Tell me what you’ll do, tell me the rule.” Draco pulled her off his cock, watching her saliva drip from her chin while her hand kept pumping him. (Y/n) needed a second to collect herself, pondering over his command while her throat begged for a break. She heavily swallowed as his hand came down on her cheek, not hard enough to hurt her, just with enough pressure to refocus her. “Such a dumb slut, all because you have the privilege to suck me off.”

“I’ll swallow, swallow it all!” It seemed to be good enough for Draco. He nodded his head with a smirk tugging on his lips, head tilted back down to his cock to wordlessly guide her. Almost instantly, (y/n) got back to work, lips finding their way back to his tip to suck on the head. Another moan broke through Draco, a moan that slightly trembled as his orgasm started to build.

With excitement laced in her gaze, (y/n) watched him come undone. Sweat was pearling on his forehead, making a few bright strands of his hair stick to his skin, lips parted, cheeks rosy. A moan left him as he came, filling her cheeks with his cum as she kept pumping his cock with her aching fingers.

Draco pulled her off his cock once again, staring down at her as she exposed her empty tongue to him. His thumb wiped along her lower lip, collecting some saliva before bringing his digit up to his mouth. They held eye contact as he sucked his finger clean, gazes wandering over one another’s features.

“I want you on your hands and knees when I return. Don’t you dare move.”

[lizdive]

saw ur inbox is open so i jumped right into the opportunity 🤭 just recently discovered ur blog and AUGH i love your writing!! the lack of platonic stuff is a CRIME.. 💔

could i request something with aventurine being an older (adoptive) brother to teen reader? if you want some extra lore, the ipc basically found the reader and wanted to use their powers for themselves cuz theyre like- crazy op- 😭 (reincarnation of an aeon typa shit) so they placed the reader into aventurine's care bcuz he was the only person they weren't hostile towards-

SORRY THIS GOT A LITTLE LONG ?! you don't need to use the extra lore if you dont want to btw! i just put it there :3

can be either hcs or a oneshot/drabble, u can choose!! >_<

please and thank u!!!! (ゝω・´★)

YOU’RE SO SWEET YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH THIS MEANS TO ME ILUSM ☹️🩷🤍 Aventurine is my everything I love when people send me reqs about him he’s never left my team since I’ve gotten him 😭 ALSO I LOVE THE EXTRA LORE I LOVE UR BRAIN LEMME KISS IT MWAH 💋 tysm for requesting <33 if you’re unsatisfied just tell me and i’ll redo this 🫶

notes 𐙚 gender-neutral reader — "you" + "they/them" used to refer to the reader ,, reader is a teenager but is implied to be ancient ,, reader is implied to be a part of tayzzyronth — aeon of the propagation — and can be up for interpretation, however they do have swarm abilities ,, i did some research on tayzzyronth however there may be things that are not accurate or do not align with canon as tayzzyronth and the swarm is very confusing ,, reader grows a hatred for qlipoth — aeon of the preservation and their followers aka the ipc ,, platonic relationships ,, ipc activities as usual ,, penacony mission at the end ,, i feel like i derived from og request i’m sososo sorry ,, ending is cringe ngl ,, this is not proofread so ignore typos

Bugs, insects, flies — you do not know what these creatures are referred to as. You do not know of their origin, and you do not know if you are one of them taking a different form. They treat you as if you are one of them and protect you like you are their ruler.

The planet you reside on is dark. There is no other being except for these creatures that swarm you like you are their creator and their savior. You rarely move. Your cheek has grown accustomed to the cracked grounds of this wasteland as you slumber for periods of time you know not the length of. It is gray, yet you sometimes spot the colorful liquid that leaves their bodies as they succumb to the eternal slumber you sometimes seek.

There is no coldness and there is no hotness — you are always warm. They blanket you with their wings and speak to you in a language you have learned to understand.

"The followers of Qlipoth are coming!" they would say, and yet you did not know who they spoke of. The concept of beings existing that are not you or the insects that flutter about bringing you sustenance and company is foreign, and your young mind cannot comprehend it without physical proof. You assume they jest as they always do to try and humor you, and so you do not acknowledge their warnings.

"The followers of Qlipoth have come, you must leave!" And yet you chose to remain on the cracked grounds that have filled your sight for the many years you have lived. You chose to remain under their wings which shielded you as they fought against Qlipoth’s devout to keep them away from your form.

They are weak, you convince yourself, as you hear the shrieks of your swarm. They are weak, you convince yourself, as you hear the loud explosions which cause the frail floors to crack more and more. They are weak, you convince yourself, as you hold a baby bug in your arms like a toy to sooth the bubbling feeling of fear which is so foreign to you.

They are not weak, you realize, as you feel their hands pull at you from beneath the pile of dead creatures, doing their best to fight off the hallucinations from their wings.

These people — the followers of Qlipoth — are enemies. They do not deserve what the insects would call 'mercy'. The chains which cling to some of your joints barely hold you back as you scream at them in what sounds to them like gibberish. Your body is weak from the lack of movement, yet what you consider weakness is considered as strength that was once unattainable to them.

"If I didn’t know of the swarm I’d assume they were an abomination of the abundance," a woman speaks, yet her words mean nothing to you for you cannot understand them. You do not know who spoke, and you do not care. They are all enemies, and this 'Qlipoth' that they follow will be struck down by your own hands one day. They follow this being and therefor this being is the one to order them to do such horrendous acts.

You make an attempt to flutter the thin wings that decorate your back but they feel heavy. You look back and find them to be hidden away and chained. You do not feel the pain, but perhaps it is just the adrenaline rushing through you.

"Did you really have to cover them up like that?" "The workers said that they were hallucinating, we couldn’t risk it."

A gloved hand is placed in front of you. There is nothing in it. The golden rings shine under the lighting of the room you are in. The shimmer is new to your eyes and makes you squint from the reflecting light. You are used to the dullness of your 'home' planet, so when you look up to properly face the man who seems innocent enough, you recoil at the brightness off his appearance.

The many layers of clothes he adorns makes you curious. You do not wear much, only enough to properly cover you. The insects would keep you warm. Yet he wears so much — so many layers of attire made from materials you didn’t even know existed.

Your rage and hostility is pacified with curiosity, and that makes his smile a bit more genuine. He brings a hand to your head, and you’re ready to tear him to shreds should he try anything, but he only pets you gently. It reminds you of when the insects would nudge your head whenever they wanted you to wake up.

The sense of familiarity makes your eyes water but you do not shed the tears. You don’t like how they blind your sight and you blink rapidly to make them go away. The man clad in bright colors says something, but you once again can’t understand him.

But when the suffocating chains no longer cling to your tender skin, you understand that he is safe like those that cared for you and he is trying to comfort you. It works.

The man is named Aventurine — he repeated it constantly until you finally said it, albeit with the accent of a toddler. Still, he praised you. When he smiled and pat your head, you felt happy. It was a good thing.

You follow Aventurine around. He is the only one you have familiarized yourself with. He gets frightened by the swarm that follows you, so you scold them whenever they show themselves unannounced. You do not want him to leave you — you’ve noticed it happens a lot as you are exposed to human beings. He tells you he won’t leave you, how you’re his responsibility now.

You only understand a little bit of what he speaks, but you want to learn more to get more head pats and praise. The language they use is very foreign and requires much more effort to sound out the words as well as memorizing the symbols they write with. It is a lot of effort, but Aventurine is very encouraging.

Aventurine is nice. He is patient. He is understanding. He is helpful. You have been told that the one who has given you your strength was born from loneliness, but if that was the case, them shouldn’t your abilities be gone by now? Because with Aventurine, you do not feel lonely.

You want to tell him this, and one day you will. But for now, you’ll sit in his office, dressed in the nice clothing he has bought for you, and continue to practice your speech and writing.

You do not like leaving his office, because Qlipoth’s devout will then try to talk to you. You have tried many times to send your swarm after them, and you have succeeded many times, but Aventurine always scolds you. You do not like it when he scolds you. It’s a bad thing.

He tries to get you accustomed to human society. It is hard, especially because the human society he tries to make you interact with is filled with Qlipoth’s followers, but for him, you will try.

For him, you will listen to them as they order you to send your swarm to terrorize planets littered with precious material. For him, you will listen to them as blood stains your hands — blood which is not yours. For him, you will allow others to call you a monster which he reassures you that you aren’t.

For him, you will let yourself become the tool Qlipoth’s devout want you to become.

Something you have noticed and have been taught about human society is the concept that is family. You have heard the term many times, especially on this planet called Penacony. The main heads of this big hotel are called The Family. The head of The Family is the brother of his sister. You make sure to remember that.

Aventurine tells you to keep your features hidden as well as your little swarm bug which you brought with you, and you do not protest. The hotel is big, perfect for your insect friend to flutter about freely. Your hand clings to Aventurine’s coat, a habit you have picked up on. When you cling to him, people talk to him first. You don’t know why, but you do not care because it has yet to fail you.

You do not pay attention to the woman at the front desk. She speaks too fast for you to properly comprehend her words, anyways. You take note of the people around. There is nobody adorning the familiar uniform of Qlipoth’s followers, much to your relief. You tug on Aventurine’s coat, looking at him.

He hums, and looks at you while the woman looks the both of you up to check for the reservation. "Finish?" You ask quietly. "Almost. You can sit if you want," he replies, pinching your cheek playfully. You frown and shake your head.

"Alright, It seems you both have reservations. Here are the keys for your rooms. We hope you and your younger sibling enjoy your stay in penacony." The woman smiles and slides the cards on the counter. Aventurine thanks her and motions for you to follow, which you do without hesitance.

The walk is silent, and once the two of you are in the elevator, you decide to speak once more. "We are like Sunday and Robin."

Aventurine blinks at your declaration and turns so his body is facing you, leaning on the support bars of the elevator. "Is that a statement or a question?" He asks, but you don’t directly answer his question, only explaining your words.

"I am younger sibling, you are older sibling." It is then that Aventurine realizes you had paid attention to the woman’s words, or at least her send off ones. He didn’t think much of it, it wasn’t the first time people had assumed you both as siblings. Then again, you had yet to learn the concept of family and the various titles during those encounters.

Still, Aventurine smiles, chuckling lightly as the fuzzy feeling in his chest grows. "Yeah.. You’re the younger sibling, I’m older sibling." The elevator grows silent once more as you both wait for the doors to open.

He’ll need to finish those custody papers once this mission is over.

[ollimus-prime]

HAIIII OLLIE !!!!1!1!!!!!!1!!!!!◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜ ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜ ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜ IM LOWKEY SOOOOOO EXCITED THAT YOURE WRITING FOR TRANSFORMERS ON A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT BLOG ENTIRELY MADE FOR IT!!!!1! + you already KNOW who it is — ITS YOUR BOY 😼😼 /ref

i’ve been tweaking so hard over tfone b-127 bumblebae boy bc he’s so auuuhhh — 😭😭 got me on my knees bc my type in men is so golden retriever boyfriends, BUT SPEAKING OF GOLDEN RETRIEVER BOYFRIENDS!!

i hope you don’t mind me requesting b-127 with a fem cybertronian reader who’s just his female counterpart drabble or hcs? like it’s giving yapper x yapper and golden retriever x golden retriever, no freaking doubt both fell for eachother the moment they introduced themselves and started to yap together. OK I TALK TOO MUCH, PLS TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF OLLIE!!! DRINK UP, EAT UP, SLEEP WELL AND TAKE BREAKSSSS!! Loves ya much :)

Yapper Adoration

A/N, not important: Hope you like it, Frankie. I tried my best. Also, it's Gender Neutral, not fem. Sorry! Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: N/A(unless y'all see smth I need to add)

Words: 554

Summary: B-127 finally has someone to talk to

B-127 was first introduced to you via Elita-1. She had met you during her time in waste management, your bubbly and eager-to-please personality strikingly similar to B’s own. Elita-1, knowing she had two loud and boisterous bots that needed constant attention, stuck you together in hopes that you would both get along and stop bothering everyone else. To Elita-1’s delight and slight horror, the two of you stuck together like magnets.

B-127 finally had someone who not only was willing to listen to him, but someone who actively engaged in what he said. Not to mention you had worked similar jobs, causing a bond to form from the toil of sorting garbage and the dream of doing more. You were just as positive and rambunctious as him, causing B-127 to immediately latch onto you as his new best friend.

Not that you minded, of course. You had your fair share of bots who’ve been annoyed by your endless chatter, and finding someone who was similar to you in personality and mannerism was just as freeing to you as it was to B. Neither of you were much willing to separate after your first meeting. Despite Elita’s chiding of you both moving too fast, you had started dating the kind and energetic bot.

You’re also one of the only bots B-127’s met that didn’t immediately think he was insane. Sure, you’ve joked about his ‘friends’ that he made down in sub level 50 before, but he didn’t sense a hostility in your tone like most others seem to have. You encouraged his interests and helped him find new friends, showing support he’s never truly received before.

There’s never silence when either of you are around, both of you capable of listening to the other’s prattling just as much as you converse back and forth. Having someone willing to listen to your interests and engage with them is something neither of you really realized you needed. While you were definitely more socially aware than B was, you weren’t much better at keeping friends around.

You comfort him a lot after D-16’s departure, allowing him to express his feelings in a healthy way while dealing with his quick gain and loss of friends. He leans on your positive attitude to keep his intact as well, and he’s incredibly grateful to have you. He wants to have all of his friends back, but having you to lean on after losing one so quickly makes it easier to manage.

Neither of you ever stop bragging about landing each other, the both of you getting into basic lovers quarrels over who loves the other more. Whenever you’re seen together, you’re almost always touching in some way. Whether it’s holding hands, hugging, or leaning against each other, there’s not much that can make either of you stray far enough to not be glued to the other. It’s mostly for B’s sake, as being alone for so long really had to put a strain on his mental health. Being able to hang onto you is a good reminder you’re not only real, but that you’re not going anywhere.

He’s your best friend through and through, and feels super safe with you. He wants you to know you’re his favorite person and reminds you like, every few minutes. You’re everything he’s ever wanted.

[boba-beom]

₊ ⊹꩜ backrow theatre | CHOI BEOMGYU, KANG TAEHYUN

⟢ sub!beomgyu x switch fem!reader x dom!taehyun

⟢ drabble; smut, little fluff

⟢ going on a date with beomgyu in an empty cinema was a plan from the beginning. what you didn't know was that you were being monitored the whole time, and turns out it wasn't just you and beomgyu wanting to have some fun.

⟢ wc: 1.1k (drabbles never drabble)

⟢ a/n: beomgyu and taehyun. the back row of an empty movie theater. smut. @junniieesbby's req for my event! MDNI. I decided I'll slowly release these drabble reqs from my event during the week days too, I feel like it'd be a lot to post during the weekend :') I received more reqs than I thought! but I am extremely thankful nonetheless! feedback would be appreciated as always ᡣ𐭩

warnings under cut

⟢ petnames;(baby, pretty girl, good boy, etc), sir kink, threesome duh, oral (m. receiving), degradation;(slut), deep throating, exhibitionism, dirty talk, somewhat voyeurism, there's some mxm moments (if you don't like that don't send hate, just don't read), unprotected sex, hair pulling, soft choking, pervy taehyun, spit kink and cum eating. lmk if I missed anything!

giving beomgyu head in the back row of an empty cinema was not part of the agenda your a first date, but you weren't mad about it. and neither was the man moaning like nobody's business. you two were the only ones in the cinema room after all.

"ugh, shit, baby. your mouth feels so good." beomgyu sighs, placing both of his hands on either side of your temples, resisting how fast you're sliding his dick down your throat.

the dim lights only made the view of you on your knees even hotter for your date. your fingers fondle his balls while you try and take him in deeper every now and then, and he loved it indicated by his throaty moan.

in the cinema, each room is under surveillance by a member of staff; monitoring any forbidden activities such as filming the screen or in this instance, someone receiving head at the back row of an empty cinema.

the movie wasn't much of an appeal to most but it was also the first day of the viewing—at the latest time too. the member of staff huffs, adjusting his half-hard dick in under his slacks while watching the way your head bobs up and down between the legs of a man slumping in his seat. but he better do his job.

you kneel back on your legs, fisting beomgyu's cock with both hands painfully slow, twisting your fists as he leans forward to kiss you, moaning into your mouth.

light shines on the both of you, along with a stern voice interrupting.

"excuse me, what do you think you're doing? I'm going to have to kick you guys out-"

"please don't kick us out," you squint to read his name tag, "taehyun."

blinded by his torch shining on the lewd scene of your slick hands over beomgyu's pulsing dick, you manage to see the corner of his lips curve upward.

"why shouldn't I? this is unacceptable and it's public indecency." he retorts, but his growing erection feels otherwise.

"if I let you fuck me will you let us finish and not tell anyone, sir?" you look up at him with your doe eyes, almost whining from the title rolling off of your tongue.

your boldness was good enough to keep you going, beomgyu's cock back in the warmth of your mouth and taehyun's pounding you from behind, also kneeling. the grip of two pairs of hands on your body—your head and your hips—essentially had your mind reeling, another thing added that wasn't on your agenda.

taehyun's thrusts didn't falter, fucking you hard enough until your legs are shaking, him having to hold you up.

"fucking cum, slut." taehyun grunts between clenched teeth.

your moans over beomgyu's cock doesn't help him from hold back his noises, whining your name as he feels his length throbbing against your tongue. that is, until taehyun pushes your head down, taking more of beomgyu until his tip was lodged down your throat and gargling, then pulling at your hair, stopping just when beomgyu's tip remains in your mouth.

the male above you starts grabbing on the arms of the seat, throwing his head back and mouth agape while you're moaning around his tip until he unloads his thick cum in your mouth.

"don't swallow yet, pretty girl." taehyun pants behind you, snapping his hips as he pistons into your throbbing cunt. "c'mere."

you shuffle on your knees, knowing they're bruised but the pain is nonexistent in a situation like this. taehyun sits beside beomgyu and fists his shaft, waiting for you to position yourself between his legs.

you open your mouth slowly, careful not to spill beomgyu's cum from the corners of your lips. after a couple more strokes, taehyun hunches forward, letting out his strangled groans after each pump of his white ribbons spurting out his tip and into your full mouth.

"good girl." he sighs, chest heaving while he caresses your cheek once you close your mouth. but you don't swallow. letting the bitter cum of both men mix over and under your tongue.

taehyun turns to beomgyu, a thought brewing in his head and hoping you'd be quick to catch on. he grabs your date's jaw, delicately squeezing his cheeks.

"open." is all he says, and beomgyu was quick to oblige, opening his mouth and sticking his tongue out flat against his bottom lip.

taehyun looks at you, smirking and nodding his head in beomgyu's direction, a subtle smile playing on your lips. you genuinely wouldn't have taken him to be such a freak but he's so hot, and the lust in his eyes while he waits for you to move was enough to realise he was just as freaky.

getting up on your feet, your knees almost buckle as you move to hover over beomgyu, crawling over his lap as your slicked cunt makes contact with his half-hard dick. you look at him below you, whiny and bringing his hands over a loose hold around taehyun's wrist.

leaning over beomgyu's face, you part your lips, slowly letting the mixed substances fall out your mouth and into the male's beneath you. when you felt nothing left in your mouth you press your lips against beomgyu's roughly kissing him and still tasting the cum on against your tongues.

another higher pitched whine rumbles in his chest when he felt the liquids sliding down his tongue and to the back of his throat.

"that's my good boy. now swallow, baby." you coo in his ear and you feel beomgyu's cock jump beneath you, taehyun, too, found that extremely hot.

you didn't take beomgyu to be someone who would eat his own cum, let alone a stranger's, but you'd by lying to yourself if you said that it didn't turn you on.

when beomgyu swallowed the last drop of cum he opened his mouth to show you, tongue sticking out again and taehyun's hand slides down to beomgyu's throat, applying light pressure as he raises off of the seat and spits into the other male's mouth, then nods. beomgyu swallows that too, no hesitancy in sight.

"god, you take anything we give you, don't you?" taehyun chuckles, thumb rubbing beomgyu's bobbing adam's apple.

the movie was coming to an end, the credits just about to appear and the lights gradually brightens up the room while the three of you sort out your clothes and wiping down the collective mess on the seats.

you grab your jacket from your seat, looking around to find taehyun making his way to the exit of the theatre room.

"taehyun!" you call after him, also making your way down the steps to catch up to him.

he turns around, brows cocking up and his hands in his pockets.

"I was wondering," you start sweetly, "could I get your number and we can fuck again?"

he chuckles at your straightforwardness, taking his phone out for you to put your number in his contacts.

"pretty thing, I'd love to. just, not in the theatre again. you're lucky it was just me who saw." he responds firmly, but he has that stupid smirk crawling on his lips again. "and beomgyu?"

you give him a sweet smile.

"you two are hot so.." you trail, "this arrangement good?"

taehyun looks up to where beomgyu was, walking up behind you with his flushed cheeks.

"yeah, this could work." he nods, retrieving his phone from you. "see you around miss."

"see you around, sir."

© BOBA-BEOM ; all rights reserved. do not repost, copy, alter or translate in any way or platform.

taglist:  @bb-eilish @ericyjun @luvsoobs @yeonyeonyeonjun @junniieesbby @kyrkitten @day6andetcetera @dainsleif-when-playable @txt-yaomi @soobinsman @ahnneyong @wccycc @lizdevorak @fairybin @laylasbunbunny @acaiasahi @itaehynz @cha0thicpisces @fairybinie @yunkiwii @prodsh00ky @https-yeonjun @lovejoshua @aprilisque @ja4hyvn @smutnoullitheorem @seolis-world @jak-ey @my313 (send an ask to be part of the taglist! here's the spreadsheet for reference!)

[lunarw0rks]

Hello! I just found your blog and I just started reading everything I saw 😅. Can I request 141 + König + Alejandro with a pregnant reader? They don't know yet and when the reader will break the news they are really stressed with work and end up taking it out on the reader, they end up getting into an argument and saying they hate the reader and that their life would be so much better without the reader in it (😈). The reader takes this seriously and leaves when they are asleep... Months later they meet again when the reader is on her way to the hospital to give birth (😈). Angst to fluff pls. If you don't feel good about writing or it's too big, that's fine. Have a nice day and thank you so much for all the time you spend writing to us.

The Things We Say // 141 Drabble

Summary: You're expecting, but it's not good news. To him, at least. Your relationship takes a hit, but once he meets your child, he's swallowed with regret for how he treated you.

Warning(s): angst to fluff, hurt/comfort, pregnancy, childbirth, mentions of premature birth/complications, mild injury/blood, strong language, established relationship, fem!Reader, no use of y/n

A/N: I was hurting my own feelings---but, there's fluff after the angst, so don't get too upset besties<3 Hope you don't mind anon, I took some creative liberty because I didn't want them all to have the same plotline. | Word Count: 5.9k

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ 141 MASTERLIST // have a request? ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ ao3 ver.

SYNOPSIS; he had been in the thick of it lately, sometimes more overwrought when at home with you than in active combat, it seemed. Conversations were either abrupt, crude, or nonexistent—often just building on top of the tension building between the two of you. Relationships were supposed to be fifty-fifty, but you felt you were carrying the burden of the whole percentage. That’s why the news couldn’t have come at a worse time—you, staring at the two lines instead of one. No matter how long you stared, double-checked the diagram, the answer was the same. Pregnant. So, now you knew two things for certain, you were expecting, and most heartbreaking—the other one responsible was at his worst. To break the news to him, it took every fiber of your being.

⋘ » ☆ « ⋙

AFTERMATH; nine months of hell. That’s how you would answer if someone asked. Few people did though, even at work or out on the street. There was the occasional boy or girl, how are you feeling. But they were being polite, or taking pity on the pregnant woman without a ring on her finger. The pregnant woman with bags under her eyes, the one who winces with each step because she’s ready to pop. None of it meant anything to you, because the other half of this responsibility had been left in the dark, and not for much longer. You weren’t raising this child alone, no matter how irate he was going to be when you contacted him.

Price

One of John’s many talents; stewing on his feelings, keeping them suppressed for an unnatural amount of time.

Often so long that he forgot about the source of his anger once he had time to catch up to them. That is… Until his work was involved. Then he was an entirely different man, often spending his time deep in a bottle and with a nose deep in paperwork, with little regard for anyone else around him.

His control, it was typically so consistent, that he knew not to bring his professional problems home. But lately? It’s been anything but typical. He wasn’t what you would call mean, but there was definitely a negative word to describe it. Cold? Apathetic? Perhaps even unwelcoming?

The bickering, if you could call it that, had droned on for several minutes now. Though, it was mostly you venting your frustrations to an uninterested Price. ❝I know it’s not good timing, John. Why the fuck do you think I’m in here trying to reason with you? Are we just supposed to ignore this until we can’t anymore?❞ You hissed, tempted to rip the paperwork from his grip to get him to pay attention.

He always wanted children, but not right now. Naturally, that’s when it happened. He felt like he was drowning, at first only professionally, but now personally too. The funds weren’t a problem, the kid had two parents, but… you and him—nothing was working.

❝Sweetheart, I’m in the thick of it right now. Please.❞ He didn’t need to raise his voice for you to see how irritated he was. Perhaps at the baby, you, himself, or all the above. ❝I have a meeting.❞ He stood up from his workspace, steaming coffee in hand.

John walked away from you like you were a pestering soldier, not the mother of his child. Enough was enough.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

He thought he was slick, only giving you physical checks to see your face, to ensure that you were indeed alright. It was often the coffee shop within equal walking distance of your two separate homes. John would always slide the amount you needed across the table, a look of remorse on his face. Each monthly meeting, your stomach would grow in size, as did your drained expression.

But you wouldn’t talk to him. You would only text him the amount, nod when he asked questions. It was the worst torture you could put a man like John through—one that needed the approval of his loved ones. It just couldn’t happen, not yet. The wounds of how he treated you, they were too fresh, even after nine months of this routine.

To be truthful, you debated on even calling him when you went into labor. You could do it alone, right? With just the support of the delivery nurses, and most of all your baby girl as the reward? Perhaps you could wait until after, give him the respect to at least meet his daughter. For someone not carrying a child, he looked just as beat; sunken eyes, less tidy facial hair than usual, and somehow even more tobacco on his breath.

John was clawing himself from the inside out, begging for something other than a “yes” or “no” from your lips.

—

❝I can’t do this,❞ you repeated it about fifty times, tears streaming down your cheeks from both the pain and the distraught feelings. That plan you had to not call him, it was falling through quite quickly. This level of agony? You needed someone other than a doctor. You needed the father, as much as it pained you to admit.

❝Yes, you can dear, women have babies everyday.❞ Bless the nurse, she was trying her best to keep you calm, but it didn’t work.

What if something went wrong? If somehow you didn’t make it but your baby girl did, she would be alone until he got here… That couldn’t, no—wouldn’t happen. He needed to be there, right beside this bed to hold her in case you couldn’t.

In between your pained grunts, you finally spit out what you’d been trying to tell her, finding a split second of sensibility during all this distress. ❝Call… John. Please, call him!❞

—

The doors swung open faster than any of the personnel, his gaze softening when he saw you breathing in a patterned fashion. The nurse beside you gave him a nod, freeing your hand for him to take her place. John wasn’t going to miss this, and frankly, he was irked that he almost did. But he wasn’t irked at you; he was irked at himself for taking this for granted.

His soothing voice talks you through each contraction, a soothing hand dabbing away the sweat and tears streaming down your face.

❝I got you, sweetheart. You’re almost done pushing.❞ Though he looked gruff on the outside, inside he was distraught. You had maintained the cold shoulder throughout the pregnancy, but you still called him here? You were more than he deserved in his eyes.

The last round of pushing, and they were close together now. You had about thirty seconds to say this, before you were screaming again.❝I’m glad you’re here.❞ Despite all the pain you were in, you gave his hand a squeeze, staring at him with a glossy expression.

His eyes nearly watered; the first sentence you had uttered to him in months, and it was clear you meant every bit of it. You needed him and so did your daughter, right here right now. He pressed a kiss to your temple, a soothing massaging your shoulder.

John kept his tone firm on purpose, to emphasize how deeply he cared for you right now. ❝I’ll always be here for you, love. Always.❞ 

Simon

Simon loved deep; hated even deeper.

It was one of the features that drew you to him in the first place, how blunt he could be, how his broodiness contrasted your personality in more ways than one. His cynical behavior could be humorous, could be reassuring, but most of all—bitter. To add stress to the equation, to bring it home? He was an explosive disaster waiting to happen.

❝Simon,❞ you approached from behind, holding the test in your hands, because you knew the first question he would ask when you told him; is if you took one. Well, if he wasn’t actively cursing under his breath, he would’ve.

Instead, he merely flicked his eyes over for a brief moment, as if you were a stranger on the street that said excuse me. ❝Simon.❞ Your tone grew firmer, clutching the stick with more apprehension.

❝Bloody Christ, what?❞ He shifted in his seat, bloodshot and hooded eyes that only twisted the knife further. You couldn’t tell him now, not with the pressure of being on the spot. The right words just wouldn’t come out, prompting you to put the stick behind your back. ❝Goddamn nuisance.❞ He muttered under his breath as if it was only supposed to be an internal thought. 

Though, he didn’t look all that remorseful about it—at least on the outside.

He had never said anything like that before, at least not to your face. It seemed, all the weeks of tension and cold shoulder, it was enough. You were done and out the door the second he’d dozed.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Simon made a few futile attempts to reach out, but his own stubbornness prevented him from ever being face-to-face. He beat himself up so badly, and from his side of things—he’d only lost one person, not two.

It pained you to ask the delivery nurse to call him. You wanted to shove the crowning newborn right back inside and hold off, to go find him yourself and smack sense into him for putting you through this agony. But you couldn’t. Quite literally couldn’t get up, and didn’t want to. Resulting in pettiness and venom would make you worse than him because you would be using this child as a pawn.

He said nothing, but his eyes said enough. The nurses put a sterile drape over his shoulders, but he paid them no mind. His amber eyes remained on you; a bulging belly and an expression of pure agony. Had he missed something, a crucial chapter of your new life post-breakup? Most of all, why did you call him?

❝Hold my hand.❞ Simon found the side of your bed, allowing you to dig your fingernails into his forearm until there were imprints. He had few words, but the countenance of concern and guilt said it all. If this wasn’t his… you would’ve done this alone, or the father would be here. Then it dawned on him; it was his.

—

Hours passed, and he still hadn’t mentioned the obvious. Nine months without his support—financial or moral. You needed rest, as did the baby girl—so you were getting it, first and foremost. The adult matters would be better talked about when you weren’t still freshly recovering.

Simon tapped his foot against the tile, sitting in the chair beside the bed. He was unsure of who to keep an eye on more; the newborn swaddled in her own crib, or you, exhaustedly sleeping in your hospital bed. Though he’d held the girl, it felt forbidden, like he was only a placeholder until your body recovered enough to do it yourself. It was shock preventing him from feeling, not cruelty.

You stirred awake, a sigh of contempt when you laid eyes on him. The labor was a blur your mind had already shut out, and you truly didn’t recall the nurses contacting him. Your eyes were glossy with dark circles underneath them. ❝I’m…❞ It was like the night you tried to tell him but couldn’t, the words wouldn’t come out.

Simon saw that look in your eyes; the fear that he would explode, or storm out and leave you with the child forever—but he wasn’t. All the years of trying to not relieve the same mistakes his own father made, it would be useless if he did that. And he couldn’t, seeing that look of desperation on your face, how you looked as if you were going to burst into tears at the sight of him. That look, it was the same one that gnawed at him during those months apart, how he found you and your belongings gone.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. ❝Shh… Don’t apologize. Ever.❞ He was hovering now, a kiss pressed to your forehead. Whatever you decided when you were healed enough, he would take it like a man, because he had the audacity to speak to you like a man who wronged him.

Soap

Soap was… a complicated man to say the least. Usually, he was sweet, charming, with the right amount of cockiness. His ability to make you laugh drew you into him in the first place. But it was dwindling—at least during the past few weeks. Now, all that remained was smugness and bitter mutters under the breath.

❝Don’t be a child about this, we’ll figure it out,❞ He says, slamming his car door behind you. The first time you two had been out to dinner together in weeks, spoiled because you finally broke the news to him. You teared up in the restaurant because his reaction was anything but accepting, and frankly, he found it embarrassing.

He hadn’t meant it that way—that’s just how it came out.

He truly did want to figure this baby thing out, but it was the worst possible timing; an all-time high of stress at work, bickering with you constantly. And now, a third added to the dynamic with only months to prepare? It was too much. ❝Oh, I’m acting like a child?❞ You walked into the house, taking off the jewelry you had on to look nice for him.

The bickering that ensued—it was nothing nice, nothing you’d care to remember.

❝I don’t want you to go, lass. Don’t do this.❞ You had already made up your mind. Perhaps it was your emotions clouding your judgment, that instinct you felt being a few weeks along… It didn’t matter, you couldn’t be here. Not with him, not right now.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

You were about to pop, literally any day now. You knew that meant you would have to talk to the father, and interact with him for about eighteen years—at least be civil. But the rationality of it, how you would have to co-parent with him, didn’t ease your anxieties. Of course, he was adamant about checking up on you and being more of a parasite than the fetus taking half your energy.

You closed the car door with your hip, a slow waddle up the pavement. Where the hell your keys were, that was another story—something you would deal with once you rolled yourself up to the door.

❝What the hell are you doin’?❞ The voice nearly made you drop all the grocery bags in your grasp, a jumpy shriek coming out. When you whipped around, it was Soap, a look of upset on his very expressive face.

Once you started to recover from the scare of a lifetime, an unintentional one at that, a scowl formed on your face. It was like he had a sense of the absolute worst time to show up and annoy you, especially now that you were swollen and extra agitated. ❝A phone call would’ve worked, Johnny. Or, I don’t know, maybe a ‘hey I’m right behind you, lady’!❞ You attempted to mock his accent out of pure frustration, but he didn’t find the humor in it, at least not right away.

He yanked the bags out of your grip, stomping up the steps of your porch. ❝You shouldn’t be carryin’ these.❞ You really should not be doing that, he was right, but the thought of him being your grocery boy—showing up even more? ❝Keys.❞ He held out his free hand, the other one swimming in bags. It was ridiculous, apparently, you weren’t allowed to twist a key now, either.

You shove past him once he’s turned the key, squeezing past and joining him in the kitchen. Without a word, he starts putting away anything and everything you bought. Some are nutritious, others purely to feed your cravings. ❝Don’t start.❞ You pointed a finger at him when he picked up a family-sized bag of candy, a smart-ass comment daring to escape his lips.

❝God, I can’t believe you, Johnny. Sneaking up on me like that, I could’ve fallen.❞ You put an instinctive hand on your stomach, still irked by his presence.

❝No, you would’ve fallen carrying all those bags yourself. I have a right to be worried, it’s my bloody kid too.❞ He retorts, a hand on his hip. He’s done all he’s obligated to now; carrying and putting away your groceries.

You tighten your lips into a line, fighting the urge to start a full-blown argument. ❝Yeah, you remind me every day, so thanks for tha— Shit.❞ It seemed, raising your voice counted as exerting yourself because there was a sudden cramp in your stomach, a trickle down your pant leg.

Soap’s eyes widened, seeing you go from scolding him to hunched over and holding your stomach. You had forced yourself into labor, now standing on knees about to buckle. ❝I’ve got you, now get going woman, before I put you over my shoulder.❞ He felt he had never moved faster, a tight fist around your forearm to keep you standing as he led you through the door you had just walked in.

—

It seemed there was little time between being admitted to actively pushing. This kid wanted out, and right this second. You let out a shriek as the back of your head slammed against the pillow, sweat trickling down your brow as you cursed and wailed. ❝I know it hurts, love, but you got this.❞ He allowed you to clamp down on his hand, to dig your fingertips until they drew blood.

❝Oh, you know do you?!❞ You snapped at him, finding it hard to be nice when you felt like you were being ripped in half.

❝If I wasn’t,❞ you grunted in between words, face scrunched and labored breathing, ❝stuck in this damn bed, I would so… hurt you right now, Johnny.❞ He fought the urge to snicker just a little bit, masking it with his concern for you. Seeing you in agony, even when you were actively snapping at him, it didn’t please him one bit.

Well, you were arguing with him, so he knew you weren’t actively dying.

If you used enough of that anger, it would help you literally push through the pain, just like how it caused the kid to want to come out right this second. For once, his pestering and sarcasm were actually helping.

With one final wave of it, your back arched off the bed and finally, the loud cry of an infant filled the white-walled room. Soap nearly fainted, if he was being honest—he was awfully squeamish for someone who dealt with blood daily. But it was your blood and… fluids, things that made him shiver when he pictured how painful that could’ve been.

The doctors were speedy, cleaning off and checking vitals. All he could do was stare at the newborn—his baby boy. And then he looked at you, choked up and stared in awe at the baby set on your chest. ❝Jesus…❞ he leaned down, placing a gentle hand on yours as it held the child’s head.

All the fighting, all the bickering, even the late-night candy runs—they were well worth it. He had a second chance now, to make things right with you, and to be a decent father.

Gaz

Gaz could be hotheaded, sometimes downright blunt, especially when he’s passionate about something to do with his work. The night you were going to break the news, nothing was going right. He came home in a huff, not bothering to take off his boots before plopping on the sofa. Kyle had a right to be stressed; look at what he does all day. But he didn’t have a right to be cruel to you because of it.

You took a seat beside him and set the positive test down on his thigh. A silence followed by a scowl, and then he finally spoke. ❝You can’t be serious.❞ It nearly gutted you right then and there. His leg began to bounce anxiously the longer he glanced at the life-changing test results. 

❝Kyle, I—❞ you weren’t even sure what you were trying to say either, not that he gave you a chance. ❝I don’t have time for this, babe. I really can’t do this right now.❞ He put his head in his hands, a flustered groan escaping his lips.

❝Are you saying you don’t want this? That we shouldn’t have done this?❞ You were suddenly standing, eyes wide and watering. You felt like you had just been dumped on the street, despite his unclear tone.

He peered up, lips in a blunt line. ❝Maybe we shouldn’t have.❞ You could’ve crawled into a hole and died right then and there, but you merely nodded. Nodded and then left the room, leaving him to his moodiness. No, it wasn’t the best timing, but that didn’t give him the right to brush you off, to treat you like a distasteful afterthought.

It wasn’t just you anymore, it was you and the baby.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

It was one of his few days off—though he wasn’t feeling much relaxation. You were still hot and cold with him, now about halfway through your third trimester; thirty-two weeks to be exact. It was nearing that point, where he had prepared a spare room for the baby, began coordinating plans for labor, etc… 

But he still didn’t feel ready, or like he deserved you after how cruel he was that night. Kyle was only helping you to help you and the baby.

His phone buzzed, right when he had begun relaxing for the evening. 10:32 PM; and it was your number. The second he heard the voice of a nurse on the other line, not yours, his feet were halfway out the front door.

—

❝I’m fine, Kyle. I’m fine…❞ It seemed no matter how many times you repeated it, he didn’t seem to believe it. From the minute he entered your hospital room to now, he had at least one hand on you, a thumb grazing the cuts and bruises on your body. You had been in a car accident—mild for you, life-threatening for a preemie. ❝You’re not fine.❞ he said firmly, eyes darting towards your clothes bagged in the corner—bloodied and with windshield pieces still embedded.

Kyle was more worried about you at first, but you were solely concerned about your baby—left alone in the NICU being poked and prodded by personnel. You had to be induced, otherwise he wouldn’t have made it past the front doors. Now, he was too weak to be visited, too small and vulnerable to be held by his own mother yet. It was gut-wrenching; hours without a solid answer, because his chances depended solely on him making it through the night.

Now, there was nothing to do but wait, perhaps see your baby through a glass box if you got lucky.

—

❝He’s perfect,❞ Kyle peered down at the preemie in his hands, a baggy blue cap on his head. There were small babies, and he was somehow smaller. What once was the scare of a lifetime, it was now a passing memory to remind Gaz of what he could’ve lost. He would never make the mistake of talking to you like that again, even if the two events didn’t correlate.

What if the night you left, you got into an accident then, and it was much worse? He wouldn’t be able to live with himself, plain and simple. ❝It’s cheesy but, he does have your eyes.❞ You whispered from the nursing chair you were sitting in, still healing and fatigued from the ordeal. The picture in front of you; Kyle looking at your son with such love—it was irreplaceable and forever stuck in your memories.

❝Correct. But he has your scowl, babe.❞ Gaz flicked his eyes upwards, feeling you gently nudge his shin at the sound of the comment.

It didn’t matter the things he said months ago, as long as he cherished this new life with you as much as you planned to.

Alejandro

Alejandro always had passion for the things he cherished; you and his work, nothing else mattered more. Passion led to intense feelings, intense feelings turned into misplaced bitterness. It wasn’t your fault that you were expecting, no more than it was his, at least. He knew that and had he just taken a breath and thought more carefully about his phrasing, this whole mess could’ve been avoided.

❝Do you think I wanted to interrupt you, Alejandro?❞ You hissed, standing in the doorway of his office with the positive test in your hands. He had just looked at you with such distaste as if you were the root cause of his stress and not his work.

What better way to stir the pot, than to match his wrath? Well, it certainly did that, though seeing him rage was the last sight you wanted to see. Alejandro always had trouble with his anger, often finding himself with all these feelings he had no clue how to control.

❝You always do what you want!❞ There it was, him blowing his fuse. He’d thrown his hands in the air, face tightened into a scowl. He couldn’t leave it at that, either, not when his rage came in such intense waves. ❝You’ll do what you always do—bleed me dry!❞

You couldn’t speak, despite how vicious you felt only seconds before. It seemed too truthful for your liking like he had been waiting for an excuse to spill his guts. ❝As long as you have enough to amuse yourself, I’m nothing to you, right?❞ He wasn’t yelling anymore, but his mocking tone was enough to tear at your heartstrings.

Had he seriously played that card with you—the man always insistent on taking care of you, financially, physically, emotionally? Now, of all times? The argument ended with you slamming the front door behind you, something he would’ve done.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

You spent weeks ignoring him, and throughout the pregnancy, it was dry texts or brief calls. His only sign that you were even alive was the notification that you had used his account to purchase necessities. The irony of it made Alejandro nauseous, how awful he made it sound that you were doing what he told you to; to let him take care of you. The fact that you didn’t drain the funds, only bought what you needed, spoke volumes.

❝I’m not upset at you, amor—I wasn’t upset with you.❞

Alejandro reached a hand across the picnic table, a firm but loving grip on your forearm. You looked beat; hair a different length than before, exhausted eyes that were brimming with tears, and most of all a growing stomach. It was all his fault; the reason you didn’t want to face him like this, in fear that he would cut you and the baby off for good. Only, he was there to see your face, not for confrontation or another spat.

It didn’t matter what you said, if you screamed at him right now, or said nothing. Alejandro had made up his mind the night you left. ❝I’ll come to every appointment, parenting class, anything.❞

—

Of all the nights for you to be in labor, it had to be during a wicked storm. You had gone over to his house to make civil conversation over dinner, to at least attempt at repairing things. He had slaved over the stove, cooking his favorite for you. For most of the meal, things were… surprisingly tranquil; even romantic.

You were heavily pregnant, were you supposed to refuse a warm meal? Not a chance. You were too full, too swollen to get up out of the dining chair once the meal finished. And looking out the window? There was no way in hell Alejandro was going to let you drive home in this; droplets whipped down, trees and waste bins flew away from the force of it, and the rain was icy. Well, you were exhausted, and he had a bed he was willing to give up. Your back and feet practically sighed in relief when you laid back in his bed, the one you two once shared. It was a nice feeling, being there again and knowing Alejandro was trying his hardest to plead forgiveness.

About an hour into your much needed-slumber, you felt a pool in the sheets. Instinctually, you figured it was the fetus pressing on your bladder—a downright embarrassing thing you’d have to wake up and explain to him. But… it was clear it wasn’t that. You were in labor and stuck here.

The shriek you let out when you got a violent contraction; Alejandro dashed quicker than he ever did when dodging bullets. His fumbling fingers dialed 911, yanking the comforter off the bed to get a better view of your dilation. Fortunately, he was trained on how to deliver a baby when stranded, or in a country without medical support. But this was his baby and your life was in his hands. If he didn’t do this correctly, if something went wrong, he would never forgive himself.

The ambulance wouldn’t be there for an hour—you didn’t have an hour to spare, this baby was coming now. ❝You can do this, amor, we’re doing this together.❞ One hand clenched yours, the other kept an eye on the crowning baby. Just how you hadn’t woken up sooner, neither of you knew. Perhaps you had gotten so used to cramps and pains, that you thought it was just another sleepless night courtesy of the little one.

—

The moment your wails went silent as his baby girl finally came, Alejandro felt his heart drop. He had to make the worst decision; focusing on the newborn first. He wrapped her in one of his shirts, wiping the fluid and blood from her small face. As he cradled her, a quick hand fingered for a pulse, a loud sigh escaping his lips when he felt one. You had only passed out from the pain—probably doing you a service, considering he didn’t have the proper medication to numb your pain.

Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of the wailing child, still with gritted teeth. But your baby was there—and her lungs were very clearly working. Alejandro set her down on your chest, allowing you to hold your daughter for the first time. ❝You did so well, cariño. Look at her.❞ He was merely distracting you with the baby on your chest, to not divert your attention towards the state your body was in as he cleaned you up.

Somehow, he had pulled this off with both his girls safe, soon to be checked out properly at a hospital. When you first broke the news, he thought he knew the meaning of being so suddenly thrust into fatherhood, but that took on a whole new meaning after tonight.

König

There had once been a line he didn’t cross, but he did that night. König never yelled at you. He saved that stern side of him for his work because it was acceptable there. But in the weeks that his work had bled onto you, spoiling the relationship, his values seemed to loosen. Though he was a complicated man, a man uncertain of himself and his appearance, he maintained a hardness about him. Ruthless in the field and immensely protective of anyone that had come to love him. 

You approached him as he worked, placing the test on the desk he was sitting at. ❝König, I need to tell you something.❞

With his head facing the paperwork, he merely shrugged at you. Until he saw what you’d placed there, his eyes going wide. But it wasn’t shock or excitement; it was disdain for the fact that this baby was just another interruption—you were just another interruption. ❝I have no time for this, Schatz, you know that.❞

He didn’t need to raise his voice for his words to sting, his bitter tone was more than enough. But he surely hadn’t meant it like that, right? He’d meant he didn’t have time for this right now… right?

❝Why don’t you go rest, then?❞ He asks, picking up the folder that he was reading previously. It wasn’t a request made out of concern, König was patronizing you. His glare was typically enough to make a soldier scramble, but you just stood there for a few seconds, biting back the urge to choke.

How you left that night, it wasn’t dramatic or emotional, it was dry. König tells you to think clearly about this, to sleep on it. But you couldn’t—and you weren’t going to be a verbal punching bag.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

König only called you weekly for appointment updates, or to let you know he had sent you a check. Other than that, words dripped with tension and the urge to say so much more. But you were too stubborn for your own good, and so was he. You were more concerned with hosting life than playing games with a father who treated you like a wimp.

He’d only seen you once, during the second trimester when he showed up at your apartment. You protested, but he showed up anyway, saying he needed “proof” that you and the fetus were safe. The voice on the phone wasn’t enough, in his eyes.

Of course, when you needed him most, screaming and keeling over in the kitchen, he wasn’t there. It was a neighbor that called an ambulance for you because they knew they had a pregnant tenant next door. In fact, it was such a close call, you nearly didn’t make it to the delivery room before the newborn came out wailing.

The only plus side? While the paramedics were deterring you from pushing, you’d sent a text—probably unintelligible—but a text, nonetheless. He knew your due date, how today was only a few days off, and he was in his car before he could grasp the severity of this new life stage.

—

❝I’m here, schätzchen. I’m not going to hurt you again, or him.❞ He hunched over the bed, eyes in a perpetual state of disbelief as he watched you soothe the whining newborn. Clarity hit him like a truck when he heard your screams during delivery, and then he was all in. Not that he had a choice, this was his doing too.

He had given you the financial support to get proper nutrition for you and the baby, to pay for the appointments, but that wasn’t enough—not in König’s eyes. He needed to snap out of his self-pity and be a support system. Whether you wanted to co-parent or work on repairing the relationship, you were not under any circumstances taking care of this newborn alone, at your apartment.

He placed a hand in your hair, threading his fingers through the strands. ❝We can clear out the spare room, hm? There’s more than enough room for the two of you.❞ He was already picturing it, how he was going to pull an all-nighter and get to work on the room, going to your apartment and moving the baby supplies from yours to his.

König didn’t need to state the obvious, that you weren’t bound to any type of relationship besides the one concerning the child. Whether you wanted to move out once the baby hit a certain age or not, he was going to keep an eye on the two of you.

Two of you, not just the newborn you were rocking. It was either both of you, or neither, and he was intent on it being the first option.

If you made it this far - THANK YOU!

[eupheme]

Hi, yes, hello, if possible I would love if you could play around with the idea of reader potentially being a runaway mutant which Logan and Wade are actively trying to pursue. I had an idea for someone who can break down their molecular structure and turn into mist. Enemies to lovers. Potentially a juicy fight where those two are varying levels stumped and aggravated because how tf do you fight against fog??

hi hi friend! 💖 this is such a cool idea for a character - I have a little mid/post-fight drabble for you below! thanks so much for sending this in, I hope you like it!

mist by a mile | 250 words

logan howlett x gn!reader x wade wilson

“Fuck!” Wade yelps - fingers closing around nothing, as his shoulder slams hard against the tree, “This is like trying to catch goddamn water.”

“Mist.” Logan grunts. Eyes still fixed on where you disappeared - your molecules rearranging just as Wade had trapped you.

His partner’s eyes roll, as he braces against the tree, “Yeah, super appreciate you pointing that out.”

“No, fuckface. They turn into mist, “ He sighs, You said water.”

“God, what an ending,” Wade hums, “You know, I almost got kicked out of book club for saying the movie was better? Talk about bleak.”

They’re wasting time. Logan’s nostrils flare, trying to catch your scent.

A week has passed since they were ordered to track you down. Chasing you through the small city, and then deep into the forest. So many near catches, as you slipped right through their fingers.

It was maddening, the way you escaped each time. The way you had worked your way into their minds, taking up space.

“Can you focus?” He snaps, “It’s like you didn’t even read the goddamn brief.”

“Did you?” Wade’s hands brace on his hips, as he shivers, “Garamond makes my dick feel weird.”

Logan’s head shakes, but it’s just the move he needs - catching the sweet, unmistakable aroma that follows in the wake of your disappearance. Taunting him - winding through the trees, towards an outcropping of rock.

“Come on,” His head tilts, “Can’t keep it up for too long.”

He knows he’ll track you down.

There’s more than one reason they’d like to get their hands on you, after all.

thank again for sending this in! 💖

[sunkendreams]

Idk exactly what to ask for, but I have an ✨idea✨

Dwayne who seemingly has a penchant for choking his SO. He just loves the little whimpers and moans they make, and the way they squirm.

Really basic, ik 💀. You can take this and run, or simply enjoy this thought with me, but I wanted to share 🥰

moving in stereo.

( dwayne x fem!reader. )

➾ pairing ; dwayne x fem!reader.

format: one-shot — requested.

word count: 5.9K.

warnings: SMUT (mdni), making out, dirty talk, cunnilingus, oral sex (f!receiving), bloodplay (he’s a vampire), breast-play, biting, hair-pulling, scratching, breeding kink, scent kink, p in v sex, missionary position, rough sex, begging, unprotected sex, mating press (a little bit), choking, bruising/marking, dwayne is hot

author’s note: i am so obsessed with him, it’s not even funny ngl :’) also, I have a couple of other fics/drabbles that I’ll probably post tonight too, I’m definitely feeling very inspired! If you haven’t voted on my poll, please do so! thank you guys sm for your continued love & support !! ❤️

Beads of blood filled your mouth as you absentmindedly chewed at the skin of your cheek, flesh taut between your back molars — you hadn’t intended to bite down as hard as you did. A singular glance at Dwayne’s hands had contorted into shameless ogling, smitten hues discreetly flickering over the veins and smudges of grayish grease coating his fingers.

He had a way with machinery that transcended you — he often claimed that it was simply natural instinct, but your running theory was something buried in his past life. Dwayne was known for his stoicism and quiet demeanor, neglecting to educate you on his background.

It must’ve been a life of hard work — otherwise, his hands wouldn’t have appeared so rough and calloused. They weren’t smooth and spindly like Marko’s, or pretty like Paul’s. They were taut and thick, dexterous and built for destruction, if he let it.

Hands that had held you many times before, touched you in ways that you longed to feel again. A shudder rolled down your spine as you daydreamed, mind floating into a fantastical haze of lascivious thoughts. If it weren’t for the presence of the other boys, a tendril of drool might’ve leaked from the corner of your mouth.

“It’s fucked, isn’t it?”

Paul’s agitated groan reverberated throughout the cavern as he crouched beside his boombox, slapping a palm against the top of the speaker, as if that would cure all ailments. His brows furrowed together, lip curled in annoyance as he knocked his hand against the machine a second time — for good measure.

“You’ll ruin it if you keep it up.” Dwayne’s monotonous remark echoed from the opposite side of the lobby. He was entrenched in repairing his motorcycle after it had gotten vandalized by a Surf-Nazi who didn’t live to tell the tale. Paul’s beloved stereo was the least of his concerns.

“How are we gonna listen to Alice?” A begrudging sigh escaped Paul, whose theatrics weren’t out of the ordinary. He huffed, falling in a dramatic heap along the edge of the dilapidated fountain. “Can’t you fix it, Dwayne?” He asked, peering toward his brother, who seemed entirely uninterested.

Silence filled the chasm between them, prompting you to stifle a smile. Dwayne didn’t enjoy being bothered whenever he was working on a project — he was always one to see it through until the very end.

David and Marko emerged from their abysmal resting place. Once the sun disappeared behind the ocean and dusk consumed dawn, the boys became wildly active. “Paul,” David’s voice carried, always domineering without even trying. “Let’s go.”

Disappointed in the lack of closure for his treasured boombox, Paul relented, rolling off of the stone bannister with an exaggerated sigh. He ruffled your hair in passing, and smacked Dwayne on the way out, who didn’t flinch or move a muscle. He simply exhaled — you could sense the twinge of irritation in his sigh alone.

Paul snickered, hopping up the ledge alongside David and Marko. “See you later, bud.” He sneered, waving at you as he departed with his brothers. Once the trio slunk away into the moonlight, it left you and Dwayne by yourselves in the cave.

You could’ve watched Dwayne work for hours, captivated by the way he dismantled the machinery, handling the finer pieces with nimble digits. He was wrist-deep in the grease-laden guts of his motorcycle, surrounded by a myriad of scrap and parts. His dark brows were furrowed together in stark concentration.

Intrigued, you abandoned your perch — a rickety, velvet-cushioned chair that had come with the hotel’s ancient wreckage. Paul’s stereo was sitting along the ledge, awaiting a tune-up that you knew Dwayne would inevitably provide. You sat down, inspecting it for any damage — it looked unharmed, on the outside.

“Do you think it was a user error sort of thing?” A burst of laughter escaped you as you opened up the hatch for the cassette tapes, noticing a rather banged-up copy of Alice Cooper’s Constrictor from ‘86. It was a good choice — you had to commend Paul’s taste in music.

Dwayne’s soft, bemused huff was all you needed to hear, prompting you to smile. You never mistook his tranquil, halcyon demeanor as indifference — he was a man of very few words. Even his temper wasn’t violent or tempestuous, like that of Marko or David. His placidity in most things was what drew you to him in the first place.

Being a human amongst a den of rancorous vampires wasn’t your intention, but you were happy — happiest with Dwayne, above all. He was the best boyfriend you’d ever had, not that it was a lengthy list. You idly fiddled with some of the switches on the boombox, removing and reinserting the cassette before closing it up.

Much to your chagrin, the stereo didn’t work — maybe it wasn’t Paul’s imagination after all. You gently nudged it back along the ledge, abandoning it for now. “How come you didn’t go with the others?” You inquired, folding one leg over the other, tapping the heel of your boot against the dusty stone.

There was a slight shift in his body language — a mere shrug of his broad shoulders, accompanied by the noises of metal clanging, gears twisting, and then he grunted. “I’m not looking for dinner.” Dwayne replied, matter-of-factly. He was in the midst of replacing the engine on his bike, placing the damaged part aside, hands stained in dark ichor.

With a soft hum, you pushed yourself off of the ledge, wandering over toward Dwayne’s scrapyard — a rather cluttered corner of the cave that acted as a makeshift garage. You sat along one of the flat outcroppings of rock, opting to watch him fix up his motorcycle. It would intrigue you more than messing with the boombox ever would.

His pearlescent teeth clenched around a wrench, clutched between his maw as he focused on putting the new engine back in. There was a quiet appreciation that he held for you — you were always respectful of his hobbies, if this even counted as one. Dark eyes flickered toward you, sitting there in your billowing sundress like some statuesque angel.

Dwayne appraised you in his usual silence, eyes carefully raking along your physique, as if he were undressing you through gaze alone. His jaw tensed, a fire beginning to spark within his chest, threatening to spread like an encroaching wildfire the longer he ogled you.

Sundresses were a hot commodity — and they never lasted, either. Dwayne made sure of it, and once he got his hands on you, that pretty fabric shielding you from him would cease to exist. He made it up to you with the gift of another, but rest assured, it would be shortlived.

It was a mutual feeling, the silent staring. His keen hues settled along the supple curves hiding just beneath that thin veil of fabric while you were captivated by the visual feast of strong, capable hands and taut forearms. You folded your hands within your lap, beginning to absentmindedly chew at your inner cheek again.

Your scent wafted throughout the short distance between the both of you, heavy with hints of your favorite perfume, a saccharine concoction that Dwayne had grown accustomed to. He loved your smell — it was unique to you, invading his senses as he continued his work.

Those strong, muscled hands of his were buried in the underbelly of the motorcycle, carefully placing the new engine back inside. He began to fasten it all into place, removing the wrench from his mouth, quickly fixing it all up with a series of bolts, screws, and metallic plates.

“I’ll teach you sometime.” Dwayne was, oddly enough, the one to shatter the comfortable silence between the both of you. He prided himself on playing mechanic — his ability to handle such equipment and repair it was rather renowned. Once he was satisfied with the job, he sat back, peering toward you.

Warmth oozed from those earthen-brown hues of his, coupled with a subtle adoration that only he possessed for you. Your smile only served to further it, the only thing to make his dead heart pump to life again.

“I’d like that,” You mused, canting your head to one side. “I think you should fix Paul’s stereo, too.” Even if Dwayne had brushed him off before, he would fix it and have it ready for him whenever he came back. It was the right thing to do, anyway.

Dwayne huffed, lips twitching into a threadbare smile, wrought with traces of amusement. He didn’t say anything — he didn’t need to. He wiped his hands off along the crimson cloth he carried in his back pocket, ridding his hands of engine grease and oil.

He stood, filling in his full height as he bent down to give you a kiss, hand carding through the back of your skull. It never failed to make you shudder, haplessly squeezing your thighs together as you reached for his forearm. Powerful, taut muscle flexed underneath your fingertips, and his kiss briefly intensified before he withdrew.

That familiar aching sensation flickered to life between your legs, a dull arousal pooling within your stomach. You wanted nothing more than to cling to him, beg for another kiss, but Dwayne was already over to the stereo, inspecting it for any damage it might’ve had.

For Dwayne, your mind was exceptionally loud — he could read your thoughts, hear them screaming from afar, which he happened to smile at from where he stood. The feeling was mutual, but he wanted to make you stew in it for a little while — it heightened the experience.

As he dismantled the stereo, you decided to go elsewhere — to Paul’s nest, which wasn’t the brightest idea, but he had an impressive collection of cassette tapes. You began climbing toward the rocky slope that led off into alcoves, using some of the ropes hanging about to pull yourself up.

“Where are you going?” Dwayne asked, seemingly finding the source of the boombox’s disarray — there were pieces of tape stuck in the machine.

“To see what Paul has to listen to,” You mused, nose wrinkling in amusement. “It’s the least that he can do for you since you fixed it. We should go listen to music.” Truthfully, Dwayne owned that stupid stereo just as much as Paul did — joint custody, you’d called it.

Hawkish, dark hues drank you in from afar, and Dwayne decided that he’d indulge himself in your wishes, picking up the boombox by the bottom. The handle had been broken off long ago — courtesy of Paul, once again. He simply trailed behind you, briefly pressing his hand against the small of your back when you made it up the incline, keeping you steady.

Paul’s nest was notoriously cluttered — in a very fascinating and macabre manner. It was littered in trinkets, things he’d taken from people he fed from, bones and all, or general thievary. The boys were all like this, but not to Paul’s level.

Posters of hair-bands and metal groups hung all around the rock, illuminated by flickering candlelight. It smelled faintly of marijuana, decorated by a patchwork array of tapestries, clothes, and stolen jackets. The guitar he’d lifted off of a traveling rock group sat on his bed — he always talked about starting a band.

A mountain of cassette tapes lay in a semi-organized heap, many of them taken from Videomax or anywhere he could find them. Dwayne simply stood at the fringes of Paul’s nest, watching as you picked through his extensive collection. You smiled at the handful you’d grabbed, rejoining Dwayne as the two of you made for his nest.

In an amusing juxtaposition, Dwayne’s nest was noticeably simplistic — yet, his personality was scrawled all over it. He liked to read, keeping a trunk of books, tools he’d taken from garages, and some trinkets stashed away in a large piece of a drawer.

He hadn’t bothered to invest in a bed for several decades — not until he got entangled with you. When Marko had mentioned it to you in-passing, it was rather intriguing, but you never asked Dwayne about it.

With the stereo now placed at the foot of his makeshift bed, placed atop a rather rickety wooden trunk, you ejected Alice Cooper from the hatch and put in The Cars, instead. Dwayne happened to regard this choice with curiosity, sitting along the edge of the mattress.

Moving in Stereo began to drift through the alcove, and you promptly fell back against the plush surface, tucking your hands atop your chest. “This song reminds me of you.” You murmured, gazing at the cavernous ceiling, focused on the jagged edges and outcroppings of rock.

Dwayne seemed curious, twisting slightly to face you. Even when sitting, he towered over you, indomitable and immovable, a wall of sheer strength and muscle. “Why does it remind you of me?” He wanted to hear your answer, eyes flickering toward your exposed stomach.

You smiled, somewhat embarrassed, but you decided to answer him anyway. “I don’t know,” You began, rolling over onto your side, propping yourself up with one hand. “Just a bit of a mystery, but alluring. It’s pretty magnetizing.” With a soft exhale, you began to pick at a stray string on one of the blankets that covered the mattress.

“Magnetizing,” Dwayne echoed, withholding the urge to smirk. Instead, he joined you, laying on his side as he mirrored your position, face mere centimeters away from yours. “You got a way with words, girl.” His chest shook with a brief huff before he leaned in to kiss you.

If a kiss could have destroyed you, this was it — Dwayne’s mouth consumed you, intensified by your seemingly innocuous words. He tasted good, like spiced smoke and the faint bite of copper.

You were eternally grateful to The Cars — Dwayne was careening into you, broad chest flush against yours, veined hand grasping at the base of your skull. Thick digits massaged at the nape of your neck, coaxing you close until there was no space left between you, lips voraciously tangling with yours.

He ripped all wisps of air from your lungs, as cold as ice as he shrugged off his jacket. Arousal reactivated inside of you, no longer dormant as your warm hands reached for his chest, feeling broad muscle underneath your palms. He felt like a god — chiseled, forever perfect — you were sometimes in-awe of his beauty.

In awe — Dwayne smirked against your mouth, unable to help himself when it came to your overactive imagination and racing thoughts. He pushed his hand underneath your shirt, fingers tracing along your curves as he began to feel a familiar tightening in his jeans.

Your scent thoroughly intoxicated him — your natural musk, the cling of perfume, the arousal coalescing between your thighs — it was a perfect amalgamation. Dwayne exhaled, sitting up and taking you with him, hands hooking into the hem of your shirt as he peeled it off of you.

His lips were on your flesh again, hands tearing your thin brassiere apart with ease, reveling in your warmth. Dwayne pressed a string of kisses along your neck, feeling the thrum of your pulse point pound against his mouth. The shorts you wore still clung to your frame, but they wouldn’t be for much longer.

“Dwayne,” You sighed, The Cars becoming nothing more than atmospheric background noise. Liquid heat pooled between your legs, a shiver rolling down your spine as he laid you down against the mattress, covering you with his body. Your eyes locked together as he stared down at you, gaze boring right through you. “I need you.”

Dwayne kissed your neck, sucking enough to create a hickey before he traveled to the base of your throat, peppering kisses across your collarbone. “Where do you need me, sweet girl?” His husky, warm baritone made you shiver in delight. Those eyes raked over you in rapture, full of reverence.

“Everywhere,” You whimpered, goosebumps coalescing along your spine. Dwayne’s huff of laughter made you smile, and you quickly urged him closer for another kiss. His mouth crashed against yours, passionate and blistering, full of an unrestrained want. “I’m yours.” A sweet moan tore past your lips.

A wave of possessiveness swelled up inside of him, coupled with that innate desire to keep you all to himself. Dwayne didn’t have an issue sharing with his brothers, but you? No — you belonged to him, and him alone. A growl rippled across his broad chest as he tore his lips away, returning to your sternum.

There was a prowess to him that the others didn’t possess — Dwayne was emotionally intelligent, just as vicious in the same breath. He was an enigma of so many things, drawing you in with his arcadian charm. Your fingers reached for his dark tresses, perusing through as he kissed your chest.

“You’re beautiful,” Dwayne’s affectionate baritone rumbled across your flesh as he continued his slow, deliberate string of kisses, making his way to your breasts. He trapped one nipple between his lips, gently suckling on the sensitive mound, the other hand tugging at your shorts. “Perfect.” He uttered.

You sighed, fingers tangling within his mane of black tresses, pulling and carding through. It felt silky between your digits, like velvet. Those veined, calloused hands gripped along the meat of your hips, strong and unwavering as he lifted you to discard your shorts.

Arousal pooled between your legs, honey-thick as it toyed with Dwayne’s senses. He wanted nothing more than to drown himself between your thighs, devour you until you were a trembling, mewling mess. Your thoughts shamelessly echoed that sentiment, prompting him to reach toward the apex of your thighs, hand breaking past the waistline of your panties.

Dexterous fingers languidly slipped along your slick cunt, making a line right for your clit. Your body responded in a near-violent fashion, hips jolting up into him, hands curling within his hair. “D—Dwayne!” You whimpered, chasing after the friction his hand provided. Those dark hues hadn’t left you, transfixed on your smitten countenance as he kissed your stomach.

He looked big when his body was spread over yours, but when he began to slink toward your thighs, he was hulking, a massive wall of muscle. Dwayne’s kisses continued, littered all across your pelvis and thighs, fingers still winding you up as he pushed in between your legs with those broad, bronze shoulders.

His visage was rugged with a fine layer of dark stubble, tangible as it scratched against your inner thighs. He curled his hands into your panties, and instead of removing them, Dwayne simply tore them asunder, leaving remnants of fabric behind. The alcove reverberated with the sounds of material being ripped apart.

A thin sheen of arousal painted your cunt, scent stinging his nose in the most pleasant way possible. The velveteen flesh of your inner thighs were layered in faint bite marks — his own, from the past. He looked to you for approval, thumb lazily circling around your clit.

“Please.” You huffed, head bobbing up and down in an idle nod as he moved his lips toward a patch of flesh, unmarred by any bites. Dwayne was always very sensual, and even when he fed from you, it felt so lascivious. Your body jolted, hips writhing closer as he began to bite down.

Dark, earthy-brown hues melted away into pools of a golden-red, unnaturally vibrant. The initial sting of his bite made you wince, but he was always gentle with you when it came to feeding. As sharp teeth drew blood, a low growl reverberated throughout his chest, causing you to shiver. Your fingers continued to trace through his mane of black hair, a myriad of moans escaping you.

Restraining himself from taking this further, he had his fill, kissing over your now-healing bite. Dwayne licked his lips, effortlessly tossing both of your legs over his broad shoulders as he tugged you closer. You were somewhat folded at the hips, but you didn’t care.

Dwayne’s gaze was incendiary, intense — he stared you down from his perch between your thighs. You were visibly flustered, staring right back, nearly shrinking away altogether. He kissed your thighs, mouth dangerously close to your aching cunt. “You ready, girl?” He asked, inhaling another gust of your scent.

You nodded, feeling every fiber of your being scream with desire, and you wanted him terribly. “Yes,” You whimpered, hands having splayed out at your sides instead, no longer buried within his hair. “Dwayne, please,” His deliberation made it worse. “I want you so bad.” Your hips wriggled again, desperate for his mouth.

A warm, hearty chuckle emerged from his lips, making his herculean form shake between your legs. “Just relax,” He soothed, noticing how coiled and poised you were. Those strong, veined hands wrapped around your thighs, keeping you spread apart. The flat of his tongue lapped across your slit in one long stroke. “Relax, Mama.” His voice made your head swim.

Relaxation wasn’t exactly your forte — you were too wound-up, too drunk with desire to simply sit still and melt into the mattress. Dwayne’s tongue began to lap you up, greedily consuming every drop of your sweet arousal, working along your cunt. His fingers clamped hard, enough to leave behind the inklings of bruises, etched into your flesh like his personal brand.

Your thighs threatened to squeeze at his head, but he kept your legs firmly planted on his shoulders, pinning you down and rendering you immobile. Your taste saturated his tongue, and he only chased after it, dutifully lapping at your slit as his nose absentmindedly grazed against your clit.

Dwayne was relatively silent — and you didn’t mind in the slightest. The only ambiance happened to be The Cars, your delighted moans, and your boyfriend’s deep, rumbling grunts. His tongue worked wonders on your aching slit, cunt clenching pathetically around nothing as he lapped you up, gaze flickering towards you.

Your countenance was a vision of beauty, all contorted into an expression of complete and utter bliss. Your hips writhed, with very little room to go considering that Dwayne had you locked down, arms bracketed on your thighs, keeping you caged in against him.

A heavy fire burned bright within the pit of your stomach, demanding to be extinguished. Throaty, noisy moans escaped you in droves, vocalizing your delight as Dwayne vigorously lapped at your cunt. He alternated patterns, between soft and exploratory and recklessly needy. His mouth occasionally brushed over your clit, causing you to shiver.

Each time he ate you out, it was almost like the first time all over again — blissful, filled with a lust-infused passion that threatened to swallow you whole. Dwayne was beyond attentive, savoring you as if you were the most delicious meal he’d ever had.

He lowered himself toward the mattress, musculature flat and poised between your thighs. Those strong, thick arms kept you held in-place, keeping you locked in as he continued to lap at your core. His hips rocked forward, harshly grinding against the bed to relieve some of the friction.

Much to your surprise, Dwayne got off on pleasuring you above all else. There was something intimately carnal about it, knowing that you only made those sounds for him, only let him touch you. Your hips jolted forward, met with a barrage of an eager tongue and mouth as he lapped at your cunt.

Dwayne grunted, lips opting to purse around your clit, instead. Your reaction was visceral, moans ascending to an excitable crescendo as your hands flew toward his hair. He grunted again, attempting to vocalize his own satisfaction of you pulling and tugging on his dark tresses as if they were reins.

A burnished-gold coloration had swallowed brown irises whole, flickering down towards your blissed-out visage. Your body had a mind of its own, twitching and writhing as his mouth relentlessly assaulted your aching cunt. Pleasure licked acros your frame, burning along your sensitive nerves. He was vigorous and attentive, throat itching with a dull, familiar ache.

Hunger could wait — Dwayne merely placed that feeling into the recesses of his mind. His tongue continued to cascade across your slit, lapping at your arousal before he returned his attention to your clit, suckling on that bundle of nerves. He steered you towards your orgasm, mind swimming with a thick haze of lust, overwhelmed by your heady scent.

“Dwayne!” Your voice carried above the nest, echoing throughout your cavernous surroundings. Fortunately, you were alone — you had little desire to mask how you felt about him. Needy digits gripped at his tresses again, hips bucking into his mouth until you were simply a pile of mush, unable to respond.

You were lost to the white-hot heat of your release, an explosive sensation that caused you to quiver and spasm in delight. A glittering perspiration danced across your hot flesh, sparkling from the glow of the candlelight. “Dwayne,” You huffed, a whimper emerging from the back of your throat as he dutifully cleaned you up.

He released your hips from his ironclad hold, crawling along your body until his broad frame nestled between your thighs. That taut, muscled hand rest against the base of your throat, digits gingerly squeezing on either side of your windpipe. You initiate a rather tantalizing kiss, able to taste yourself upon his tongue.

A clattering sound resonates in your vicinity, Dwayne wrestling his belt off of his hips as his jeans sag upon his frame. He’s swift, wrangling his pants aside with one hand, the other clutching onto your pretty throat like a vice, evoking a string of sinful noises from your mouth. You kiss him with a desperation that he matches tenfold.

His hips brush against yours, and the distance is nonexistent, closed by your stoic paramour, whose normally-cold gaze reflects with a semblance of warmth. Your hands clamor for his broad shoulders, sinking into the expanse of bronze skin, nails clamping down when he drags the head of his cock against your cunt.

“Speak up, sweet girl.” Dwayne grunts, lips ghosting above the shell of your ear. He thoroughly enjoyed your begging on occasion, with this happening to be one of those occurrences. His lips briefly press against the side of your face, stubble grazing across your silken complexion.

With an agonizing pace, he continued to toy with you, pushing his cock against your entrance, but declining to go any further. A pained whine escaped you as you tilted yourself closer. The hand around your throat squeezes, effectively commanding your attention.

“Please,” You sputter, squirming in delight whenever those veined digits tense around the slender expanse of your jugular. “Dwayne, please,” Your simpering pleas are met with a hiss as he sluggishly sinks into you, inch by inch. He lets out another shallow rumble when your fingers brazenly dig into his shoulder. “Please move!”

Cold-blooded and dangerous — but not to you, not now. The icy temperature of his flesh swallows the warmth wafting from you as he invades your space, musculature eclipsing any light. His shadow falls across you, visage awash with his own carnal delight. You’re tight around him, aided by your arousal.

Another satisfactory snarl rips forth from his mouth, echoing next to your ear. You wrap your legs around his broad hips, gasping when he began to move. His cock hit new depths, pulling halfway out before Dwayne pushed himself back in again. His pace was rhythmic and passionate — not sloppy or too rough.

The pad of his thumb draws circles along the curve of your jawline, the rest of his hand tight around your windpipe. You moan, legs locked like a vice as he continues to roll his hips forward, cock battering its way into your cunt with a domineering force. Dwayne was taking it easy on you — if he lost control, it wouldn’t be very pretty for either of you.

His lips find yours, kissing you fervently as you reciprocate in a flurry of passion. Heat bled from you, arousal seeping from your core as Dwayne continued to rut into you, one hand splayed beside your head. The sparkling sheen of his ring glints in the lower light, mouth relentlessly assaulting yours in a barrage of kisses.

Dwayne grunts into your mouth, but the entanglement is shortlived as he moves to cover parts of your neck in kisses — whatever parts aren’t covered by his hand. You feel the sudden scrape of razor-sharp fangs drifting over your flesh, testing your resolve. You shudder, eyes fluttering shut as you grip and pull on his hair.

Sometimes you simply forgot that he was a specter of the night, a fanged creature who had the capability to rip you apart at any moment. His fangs continue to hover across your neck before they retracted, lips replacing them as he kissed your pulse point. There was an added element of thrill and exhilaration as you whimpered, his name spilling from your mouth over and over again.

You nearly see stars when he pistons himself into you again, slow and savoring you, enjoying the sluggishness of it all as Dwayne continues to drag out his thrusts. Your cunt clenches pathetically around his length, prompting you to whimper and moan, goosebumps coalescing along your spine.

“More,” It was incoherent, a string of needy babbles that escaped you in droves. “Dwayne, please,” You whimpered, chewing at your lower lip. In the midst of his own pleasure, Dwayne’s calculating stare flickered toward you — it wasn’t a good idea. “Please, please fuck me.” You begged, hearing the growl that echoed deep from within his chest.

“You sure?” Dwayne didn’t want to hurt you, but he was inclined to obey your needy command. Another grunt escaped him as he steadily rutted away into your tight cunt, deliberating in the midst of it all. “Won’t be gentle.” His stark warning was concrete, you knew this — you knew exactly what you were getting yourself into.

Swallowing the growing lump within your throat, you nodded several times over, digits gently curling around his wrist. “Yeah.” You panted, chest fluttering with a tight sensation as he gave you a hasty, passionate kiss, a parting gift as he squeezed at your jugular. That steady rhythm began to pick up instantaneously.

Dwayne made sure to watch you closely, gaze hawkishly trained upon your body as he began to fuck you. The intensity and the heat rose like a tidal wave, consuming the both of you as he pounded away at your poor cunt. Your legs rattled like leaves, attempting to stay locked around his waist.

The taut muscles of his shoulders and abdomen worked in-tandem, body effortlessly exerting strength. For him, it was nothing — for you, it was a different experience entirely. He was rough, manhandling you with one hand as he grabbed at your hips, enough to leave behind faint impressions in the form of bruises.

Moving in Stereo still swallowed any background noise, encompassing the whole of Dwayne’s nest. You were a complete and utter mess, devolving into a puddle of sweet moans and needy whimpers, especially whenever he applied pressure around your throat. He squeezed whenever he thrust into you, force akin to that of a barely-restrained battering ram.

Even in his self-proclaimed roughness, Dwayne was still executing some measure of restraint. “Mine,” His thunderous voice swarmed you from all sides as he fucked you into submission, gritting pearlescent teeth together as he approached his climax. You kept nodding, back arching into his touch.

“Dwayne,” Dwayne — it feels like the only word you’re capable of saying, rolling from your tongue with a wanton moan. You tug on his tresses with an urgency, feeling his hips grind against yours, flesh kissing flesh with unyielding thrusts. His cock continues to bury itself deep inside of your needy slit until it can go no further. “S—Shit! Right there!” You cry.

He huffs, musculature flat against you, chest to chest as you coax him in for another kiss. You whimper into his mouth when his tongue tangles with yours like a heat-seeking missile, teeth breaking the thin skin of your lower lip. Pearls of crimson trickle onto his tongue, fusing lust with hunger — all for you.

Dwayne didn’t stop, showing no signs of stopping as he fucked the both of you through an orgasm, painting your cunt in hot ropes of seed. He doesn’t pull out, a sensation that the two of you feed off of. If it weren’t for his vampirism, you’d be round with his children — the fantasy would continue to linger on for as long as he pleased.

“Shit, Mama,” Dwayne’s strained baritone sends shivers throughout your body. He rarely talks during sex, and this felt like a treat as he continued to thrust into you, feeling your nails dig angry crescents into his shoulder. He groans, savoring the feeling of your constant tugging on his mane of dark tresses. “You’re perfect.” His voice tapered off into a possessive growl.

You want to scream, a raging fire surging throughout your body before it finally comes to an end, extinguished by Dwayne’s rough rutting. He could’ve kept it up, continued all night long with his cock stuffed inside of you, but humanity was both a blessing and a curse. Your thighs shook underneath his grasp, and he began to slow, pressing kisses along your collarbone.

His hand left behind a searing brand around your throat — whether or not the imprints are visible, it’s the sensation that refuses to leave. Your windpipe feels a little sore, but it’s a pleasant burn as he comes to a crawl, nestling his forehead against yours.

The excitement and blissful thrill of the moment steadily begins to fade, composure replacing a very heavy lust. Your heart thrums beneath your breast, beginning to crawl to a more uniform beat as you nudge forward, kissing Dwayne again. Your lips are swollen, split down the middle with a patch of dried cruor.

Dwayne’s exhale of relaxation comes after, and the tension within his body unfurls. He kept himself inside of you still, feeling your poor cunt clench around his cock when he adjusted his position. His kiss is astoundingly tender this time around, able to taste the pang of copper upon your lip, accompanied by your natural sweetness.

A sense of euphoria overwhelms you, body feeling wonderfully heavy as Dwayne peppered kisses all along your jaw and collarbone. “You alright?” He murmured, making sure that he hadn’t pushed the limit with you. It was easy to become lost in the moment, forget about your humanity.

You nodded, wincing slightly when he pulled out of you, resting his head against your stomach, arms encircling themselves around you. “Better than alright,” You mused, tracing your fingers throughout his hair. “You think Paul will mind that we borrowed his stereo?” Laughter burst forth from your mouth.

A bemused huff escaped Dwayne as he reached over with one muscled arm, hitting the ‘NEXT’ track on the boombox. He pulled you close, nose wrinkling in disdain as Drive by The Cars came on — it wasn’t exactly his taste in music.

“Like you said,” He rumbled, peering up at you with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. His arms effortlessly tugged you down to his level, lips twitching into a faint smirk, rare for Dwayne yet mesmerizing all the same. His mouth brushed above yours. “Joint custody.”

[paradiseprincesss]

ok ok hear me out jonathan crane x batgirl fic? Omggg

moonlight - jonathan crane x batgirl!reader

masterlist

notes: yeah so jonathan x batgirl reader is always made to be dark and i wanted to bring a new perspective to this trope. working hard every day for my pookies so i can feed u new fics all the time

summary: you and your secret lover have little rendezvous throughout gotham, but you both grow tired of the secret keeping and leading a double life. why not just run away together and leave your alter egos behind in the city of gotham?

word count: 3.1k (sigh, this was meant to be a drabble...)

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, p in v, oral (f!receiving), kissing, secret & established relationship, reader and jon are both whipped af lol, FLUFF like...lots of it

you sighed as you leant against the ledge of a terrace that peered out onto gotham city. it was nearly midnight, and here you were, stood alone on the highest floor of a parkade. well, not totally alone.

"thought i might find you here," a voice calls from behind you, "you look rather sad, darling."

turning around, you see jonathan in his usual suit and tie, along with the burlap scarecrow mask covering his face. he makes his way over to you, towering over you by a long shot with his tall height. he peers down at you, his strikingly blue eyes watching you through the little holes in his mask.

"i hate this city," you say solemnly, "everything is corrupt, and everyone has lost all their morals."

"that's gotham for you, sweetheart." he says matter-of-factly, now looking out onto the cityscape with you.

as the warm, summer breeze blows past both of you, neither of you speak. you stay silent at his remark, and he picks up on how your feeling. he knows you - he knows you very well. jonathan sighs, and for a minute, it was like just the two of you existed in this very moment in time.

"we'll move somewhere far away," he says softly, pulling you into his side as his hands rested on your waist, "i promise. i'll find us a quiet house in a quiet neighbourhood, and it'll be just us for the rest of eternity."

you look up at him lovingly, and he returned the same expression as he looked down at you. this wasn't how it was supposed to be - villains and hero's aren't meant to fall for one another. yet, here you were, wrapped in your so called "enemies" embrace. but you wouldn't change it for the world.

jonathan still recalls the day you first met, the memory ever so vivid inside of his mind. you were out fighting crime or whatever it was that you were doing that night, and he was out doing his typical, no-good, illegal activities. you know, fear-gassing and poisoning people; the usual. you'd stumbled across jonathan - or as you knew him back then, the scarecrow - finishing up what appeared to be a drug deal of some sort in an abandoned warehouse.

jonathan remembered the way his heart staggered when he saw you in your tight, slightly very skimpy, little latex bodysuit that you wore. the matching thigh high boots didn't help, and neither did that awfully pretty face of yours. he almost forgot you were batmans accomplice for a second, your appearance distracting him greatly.

"batgirl," he cooed mockingly, watching your every move, "so nice of you to finally join me."

"scarecrow," you sneered, "i've been looking for you."

"i'm flattered, darling. i really am." he says to you, making your blood boil.

"shut up-"

"and might i say, that latex suit is leaving very little to the imagination. if i knew this was how you would show up, i would've made plans to run into you sooner." he says, interrupting you as he cooed mockingly once more with hungry eyes trailing your body.

suddenly, you felt vulnerable and exposed under his scrutiny and lingering gaze. you cleared your throat, trying to compose yourself as you felt his eyes lingering on your body.

"don't bother trying to run-"

"oh, trust me, i'm not running off anytime soon. my goodness, batgirl. aren't you just a sight for sore eyes?" he cuts you off once more, stepping closer to you.

"...what?" you say with a dumbfounded tone, looking at him incredulously.

the two of you often laughed about the way you had met - the circumstances were a little odd, sure, but that just made the whole story of how you met even cuter. jonathan was never one to be so straight forward - until he met you. and you weren't one to fall so easily for a man, but that was before jonathan was in the picture. after your chance encounter with one another, you kept running into each other.

each time, you would threaten him, and he would flirt with you in retaliation. you'd tell him you had him corned for real this time, and he'd tell you that he had no complaints - he once said if you killed him then and there, he'd "die a happy man." the whole back and forth of you aggressively threatening him while he flirted with you went on for months, but eventually you cracked.

you didn't want to cave in, but once you saw what he looked like under that mask, you were folding like a goddamn lawn chair. the second you pulled the scarecrow mask off of his face, your jaw dropped. he was so attractive - and of course, he felt the same way from the moment he saw you. within a minute of the mask being pulled off his head, you were tangled up in his arms as he backed you into a wall, kissing you feverishly.

at first, there wasn’t a title to your “relationship,” but neither of you could give each other up. he needed you and you needed him. that was that. one night, as the two of you met up in secret once more, he asked you on a proper dinner date - which you agreed to, of course. it was romantic; he took you to a gorgeous, high-end restaurant that was classy and very...him. that same night, something shifted in the dynamic you two shared. it wasn’t just scarecrow and batgirl anymore - it was two people who were falling hopelessly in love.

from then on, the two of you were head over heels for one another, but both of you agreed to keep it a secret. when the sun was out during the day, you two were a normal couple; happily in love and holding hands as you walked down the streets of gotham. but by nightfall, you were strangers, no - enemies. it helped that nobody knew your alter egos, so during the day you two could be happily in love. but it was also a hassle to have to sneak around like two teenagers in love when the night crawled around.

his accomplices and the gotham rogues of the city couldn’t know that he was in love with batgirl, and you couldn’t have your accomplices or worse, bruce wayne, finding out you were devoted to the one person you shouldn’t be devoted to. i mean, it was past just a fling at this point.

it was love.

you two shared an apartment together (and a dog!). it was commitment at its finest. at first, the whole secret keeping and hush hush of it all was a little thrilling, but over time it got tiring. why couldn’t you just be happy? why did it have to be this way? you didn’t want to hide it anymore.

as you stood in the empty parkade with jonathan, you suggested an idea that you had been thinking about for a while now.

“why don’t we just run away?” you ask softly, coming back to reality as you looked up at the man who you adored dearly.

“what, like right now?” he asked, watching you through the scarecrow mask.

“what’s stopping us?” you asked before answering your own question, “well, your job actually. never mind, i’m being irrational.”

“i could find a job as a psychiatrist practically anywhere,” he shrugged, “there’s a shortage of doctors in every city.”

“that is true,” you say back, and his hand gripped your waist tighter now, “but what about my schooling?”

“you can transfer, can’t you?” he asked casually.

“…well, yeah.” you say with a small chuckle. you were surprised he wasn’t opposed to such a reckless decision, he was usually the rational one. “i just thought you wouldn’t be so…i dunno, okay with it, i guess.”

“don’t you know how much i love you, moonlight?”

moonlight.

that was his nickname for you. something about it was so saccharine, so sweet but so fitting at the same time. jonathan thought it suited you perfectly because you were his moonlight. beautiful but sensual. your love was magnetic and addictive - magical, almost. just like how the moon brought a sense of calm and comfort to many, you brought a sense of calm and comfort to jonathan.

“you know i love you just as much,” you say softly, intertwining your hands with his, “the most, actually.”

“impossible,” he scoffs playfully, "...let’s runaway. leave our lives behind.”

you smile sweetly at jonathan, a love drunk expression painted on your face - he was truly the only man you had eyes for. “and abandon our…hobbies?” you ask softly.

“i’m willing to leave it all behind,” he nods, “as long as it means i get to have forever with you.”

for a moment, you thought you were going to cry from his sentimental confession. you thought there must’ve been something in the air tonight, but he was also never short of showing you all his love and affection. you stared up at him speechlessly as tears welled in your eyes from the romantic moment shared between the two of you. just two lost souls tailor made for each other.

“moonlight,” he whispered, “you and me, forever.”

“you and i, forever.” you whisper back, and he kissed you softly.

after breaking apart from the kiss, the two of you head back to your shared apartment. neither of you slept that night, and jonathan took the following day off of work. together, you spent the next twenty four hours searching for a new home far, far away. next came the plane tickets, and suddenly, you had bags on top of bags stacked in the departure gate.

“i can’t believe you quit your job for this.” you laugh softly, leaning your head against his shoulder as the two of you lined up to board the plane. “and your…side hustle.”

“i have a new job waiting for me in florida,” he said softly, kissing the top of your head, “and you have your new university waiting for you.”

“this is true.”

the flight was uneventful, you fell asleep on him and he had awoken you when the plane landed. the following week went by in a blur, the two of you moved into your new beach front properly in key biscayne. only fifteen minutes away from miami, it was convenient for jonathan to get to his new job, and close for you to drive to your new university where you continued your studies.

he’d given up being scarecrow, and you’d given up being batgirl.

the two of you disappeared without a trace, and all that you left behind was a note on both your behalves saying you were leaving forever, and that you didn’t want to be found.

“this place is so beautiful. i’m so glad we’re out of gotham, i was getting sick of that city.” you say softly, crawling into bed wearing nothing but your lacy, silk slip.

jonathan opens his arms for you - an invitation to come cuddle, and you gladly accept. “i know,” he whispers, “it’s like paradise. but anywhere is paradise with you, moonlight.”

“you softie.” you giggle, as he started to pepper kisses down your neck, making you shiver.

“i love you,” he whispered against your neck, nipping softly at the delicate skin, “let me show you how much i love you.”

you agreed to it, feeling needier than ever. the warm, summer breeze blew through the half-open sliding door of your balcony. the night was young, and the waves crashed over the shoreline softly as the moon hanging high with the stars illuminated your dark bedroom. it was like something out a romance novel - secluded and romantic.

“moving here was the best decision i’ve ever made,” he said softly, slowly slipping the straps of your lace off of you, “i’d do anything for you - but i think you know that, don't you?”

“please, baby,” you whisper, letting him undress you sensually, “i’m forever yours. my heart is in your hands.”

“i think this is what heaven on earth feels like,” he decides, laying himself down between your legs as he slowly started to drag your matching, lacy panties down, “you’re my favourite.”

before you could spew out any more romantic, poetic nonsense, his face was buried between your legs. a soft gasp left your lips, and your back arched instantly as he licked a long, fat stripe up your folds. the only two sounds to be heard in that room was your wetness as he lapped up your soaking cunt, and the waves crashing onto the shore. two sides of the same coin, in an odd but beautiful way.

perhaps jonathan was right - this did feel like heaven on earth.

finally, no more hiding. no more pretending. no more double life. the night was yours, and you allowed it to take you over. for once, you could scream his name all you wanted into the darkness. you were letting him devour you the way you so desperately wanted him to every single time you’d see him prowling around the streets of gotham. every single time you had to pretend he was a stranger.

but jonathan wasn’t a stranger - he was yours.

the feeling of his tongue on your cunt, licking and nipping softly, caused you to moan out his name softly. he continued to leave teasing little kisses all over your soaking pussy, and when he ate you out like a starved man, your legs were starting to shake.

“oh my god,” you gasp, “i-i’m close.”

“you’re divine.” he mused against your cunt as he continued to eat you out skillfully, his tongue reaching all the right places.

all you could get out were breathless moans and cries before you were creaming on his face, and he didn’t stop. he kept licking, nipping, and kissing every part of your pretty pussy until you had to physically push his head away from your slick coated thighs and trembling legs.

“i could eat you out forever,” he sighs, looking down at you as he started to pull his plaid pyjama pants down, “you taste so sweet, like candy.”

you blush and roll your eyes playfully at his comment, trying to ignore the way it went straight to your head. he pushed you back onto the pillows of the bed softly, and lined his throbbing cock up with your slick folds. you both let out breathless moans when he bottomed out inside of you, and your hands reach up to his shoulders as he started to thrust himself in and out of you.

the stretch was intoxicating, and it felt like his cock was made for your cunt. as the head of his cock continued to brush up against that spongy spot inside of you, your eyes started to roll back into your head from the immense pleasure your boyfriend was giving you right now. your plush walls clenched down on his veiny cock, and both of you were losing yourself in a mixture of moans and overwhelming pleasure.

"you feel brand new every time i fuck you," he said lowly, "jesus - fuck, you feel so good."

his praise had your cheeks burning, but it also had your toes curling and your dripping core clenching on him. as you attempted to look straight into his eyes, you found yourself getting lost in the pools of his icy blue irises. it was almost like he brought you clarity. actually, scratch that - he did bring you clarity.

"i'm, mm, a-already close," you moan as he looked down at you hungrily, "f-fuck, so deep."

he brought your legs up over his shoulder swiftly, pounding your cunt at a deeper angle now. you swore for a minute you were seeing stars as he plowed himself in and out of your slick walls, and you were starting to feel absolutely, positively cockdrunk.

"beautiful," he spoke lovingly, his tone both sweet and saccharine, "cum for me."

the band in your lower stomach snapped as he spoke so softly to you, and your pussy tightened up around his fat cock, causing him to groan at the feeling. your eyes rolled back once more as your legs were trembling over his shoulders, and his name was falling from your lips like you were worshipping him. you did worship him - he was your god.

"thaaaat's it," he groaned, "i need- fuck- i need to fill you up. i need to watch my cum drip out of your pretty pussy."

his words were starting to drive you insane. if you hadn't already lost touch with reality after that heart-stopping orgasm he just gave you, you sure were now.

"please f-fill me up, p-pleeeeease," you begged, whining towards the end of your sentence as your mind started to go blank with the way he was fucking your tight, soaking hole. "i love y-ou, jon-"

as he watched your face twist in pleasure, he couldn't believe how pretty you looked all fucked out from him. your staggered, broken, breathless pleas had his cock twitching. finally, as you told him you loved him, he couldn't hold himself back from filling you up any longer. he almost whispered as his cum spilled into you, painting your walls white as he let every last drop of his seed fill you.

his hips stilled, and your eyes fluttered open as the room went quiet. the only sounds to be heard was the heavy breathing coming from both of you. jonathan smiled sweetly at you, letting out a content sigh before pulling himself out of you gently. you winced slightly at the feeling, but he welcomed you with open arms as you snuggled into his embrace.

quietly, you listened to the splashing water on the shoreline outside of your balcony. the waves were calm today, and the night was warm. the palm trees that surrounded your small, secluded home on the beach brought a sense of tranquility. the both of you let the silence between the bliss linger for a moment longer before jonathan spoke up softly.

"i love you, moonlight." he whispered softly, playing with your hair.

truth be told, jonathan didn't think he could fall any deeper for you than he already had. he just couldn't stop; everything about you made the usually reserved and rather cold ex-con turn soft. you were his night sky, stars, planets and everything in between.

jonathan never knew that he could have moonlight in his hands - until the night he held you.

my taglist (join here!): @galactict3a @xanaxiii @seaamonster @nocturnest @pennybee22

@bloodandglitter207 @humbuginmybones @oceanstem @futurefamousdeadmusician @jonathancraneslittlepet

@dolleyednymphette @kpopgirlbtssvt @ll4n4 @ilovetoxicfictionalmen @the-buddy-things

@ellebelleshelby @wiseyouthinfluencer @aprilsfrog05 @minedofmoria @strangeobsessed

[mypoisonedvine]

Drabble Idea: Judge Crane decides to give his obsession a third option. Death, exile, or…….

You know he would use his position in order to get his crush all to himself while Gotham burns.

YES OMG SOME LOVE FOR JUDGE CRANE he's so underrated and I actually lost it when I saw the movies in theaters and he popped up <3 like omg look it's my husband

warnings: coercion, ownership, threats of noncon, yandere vibes

"You can't be serious," you mumbled, but you knew he was-- Dr. Crane wasn't an especially humorous guy, that whole death by exile bit from earlier notwithstanding.

He still smiled at you, though; "It's your choice."

"Well, it's not much of a choice, is it?" you scoffed.

"It's a better choice than anybody else got," Jonathan shrugged, "if you do choose exile, I'm sure these guys would love to give you a nice send-off-- right, boys?"

You didn't even have the heart to look back at the thugs who had dragged you in here, but you heard them chuckling and mumbling amongst themselves. Crane had made his message clear, and you let out a sigh of defeat. "Fine," you said.

"Fine?" he repeated. "What's that mean, you'll just die?"

"No, I--"

"You know, you said once you'd rather die than marry me, do you remember that?" He laughed. But that was years ago, when your father tried to set you up with him because he was a respected doctor and you were a nice young socialite-- it was more about rebellion than anything else then, but learning about his insanity and criminal activities wasn't exactly changing your mind.

"I was wrong," you admitted, "alright? I'm sorry."

He smiled again, a little more sinister than the last time. "Then you can wait for me with the others... sweetheart."

~

The huddled mass of the 'arrested' dwindled through the day, executives and politicians dragged up the stairs to meet their fate as determined by Crane; soon it was only half or less left behind, with you simply counting the minutes until you'd be taken-- you couldn't imagine what life would be like with Jonathan, and for now, you tried not to.

He came for you at the end of the day, standing above you and smiling down as you stayed sitting on the ground, leaning against a pillar and waiting for whatever he asked you to do. "I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say," he admitted as he stared at you. "Hi honey, I'm home or something?"

"You don't actually sleep here, do you?" you frowned.

"No, no-- I believe in work-life balance," he shook his head; then reached his hand out to help you up. "Come on, let's go home."

Though you hesitated, you took his hand and let him help you to your feet with a wince.

"Are you alright?" he asked, seeing the pain on your face.

"They kinda roughed me up," you admitted quietly, though your breath caught when Jonathan pulled you closer.

"Poor thing," he mumbled, petting your cheek briefly, holding your waist a little tighter. "And having to sit on this hard floor all day-- you must be sore, hm?"

You nodded slightly, though you felt strange talking to him like this-- like it was a normal conversation, and not something you had to do to keep yourself safe. If being with him could really be considered 'safe'...

"I can write you a script if you're in too much pain," he offered, "but I think you just need some rest: somewhere warm, a nice big bed..."

He leaned in closer as he trailed off, taking a deep breath beside your head as he rubbed your back. Though he must have noticed the way you tensed up and nearly pulled away, it didn't deter him.

"I'll be good to you," he promised, "if you just behave. You don't need to be so afraid of me."

But you could hear the excitement in his voice; he liked that you were afraid of him. Finally, he had the power over you that you'd denied him all those years ago. No matter how sweet he promised to be, one way or another, he was going to make you pay for that.

[loulouwrites]

THE NIGHT WATCH . ALFIE SOLOMONS

summary: alfie's eldest son is sick - he won't leave his bedside. warnings: illness, swearing, thoughts surrounding the death of a child, melancholy, unedited, angst, violence, discussions regarding the death of a child word count: 1.5k a/n: a lil drabble form the home series! i'm honoured by the love people have for this family. i know i'm not the most active on here but i just wanna say if anybody wants to talk to me (about anything) don't hesitate to hit me up! (i am still putting my taglist together but I completely forgot about it when I wrote this - forgive me pls)

It had been going around for a while now.

Some illness spreading around London that had children dropping left, right and centre.

Some children barely got a sore throat, and those that did were usually better after a few days, but he had heard the stories of the unlucky few, the children that had been bed bound for weeks before silently passing in their sleep.

He hadn't thought much of it at first - he found stories about other people's children mind numbingly boring - even the saddest accounts he had heard had barely registered in his mind.

When Benjamin had started coughing one morning, he had rolled his eyes, insisting he wouldn't get out of school that easily. His wife - who was gentler and kinder than he could ever be - had laid her hands on her son's cheeks, instructing him to go back to bed with a kiss on his forehead.

It had caused quite a tiff between the couple.

"You're too fuckin' soft," Alfie had told her, pointing an accusatory finger in her face.

"And you're too fucking hard on him," she had spat back, smacking his hand away.

She had been right, of course.

When Alfie returned home that night, the house was eerily quiet. No children greeted him at the door, even Bubbe the dog had barely looked up from her bed by the fireplace.

He had found them in the master bedroom, his wife had pulled up a chair next to the bed, and was dabbing a damp cloth on his son's forehead.

He would never forget the way Benjamin looked lying on the bed, his face pale and his hair sticking to his forehead, the wheezing breaths he took being the only sound in the room.

"I sent the children to my mum's," his wife had said, sitting with her back to him, her eyes completely focused on her little boy lying in the bed. "The doctor said it's highly contagious so they shouldn't be around him - or us."

He could tell she had been crying, her voice quiet and shaky.

Alfie didn't say anything in response, because what could he say? He stepped further in the room, moving to sit at the foot of the bed, his eyes trained on Benjamin's limp body.

"He's fucking boiling, Alfie," she choked out a sob, "he's so hot but he won't stop fucking shivering, I don't know what to do."

Alfie watched as his wife's body shook with sobs, putting her head in her hands as he sat on the bed, silent, confused, and so very scared.

"He'll be alright," his voice held no conviction, almost as shaky as her's was. "He's a tough lad-"

"No, he isn't," she cried, lifting her head from her hands to look at her husband. "He isn't. He's sweet and gentle, he isn't tough."

"Love," Alfie shook his head, leaning forward slightly, but she cut him off.

"It doesn't matter anyways, it doesn't matter how tough he is - or isn't - kids have died, Alfie, they've died from this."

She stood from her seat, pacing the room as he looked on helplessly. He had seen her scared before, he had seen her sad and everything in between, but nothing compared to how she looked now. Her hair was a mess, her makeup had smudged, and there was already dark circles beginning to form underneath her damp eyes.

"Listen," Alfie rose from the bed, placing his hands on her shoulders to keep her in place. "He's going to be fine."

"You don't know that," she whispered, hanging her head.

"And you don't know he won't be," he bowed his head to meet her eyes, "but we're going to do everything we can do to help him, yeah?"

"Yeah," she sighed.

That had been hours ago.

It was almost three in the morning as Alfie sat on the chair beside the bed, a dimp lamp casting a soft glow on his son's pale face. His wife had fallen asleep on the bed next to Benjamin, and the room was silent apart from the occasional raspy breath from his son.

This was all he could do.

All he could do to help his son was to sit by his bedside and watch him breathe, watch for any sign that Benjamin was struggling, and to press the damp cloth to his face whenever a shiver broke out of his body.

He had never felt more useless in his life.

If it were any other situation, they would know what to do. If Benjamin had cut his knee when he was playing, his mother would be able to patch him up and make him feel better, if he had gotten into trouble at school, Alfie could pay the teacher's a visit to make sure it never happened again.

But this was completely in the hands of God.

Alfie wasn't a particularly religious man - not in the common sense of the word, at least. He was proud of his identity, he enjoyed the community and sense of belonging it gave him, but he fell short when it came to the believing part of his religion.

He had always thought God was something people used as a comfort in their darkest times, or as an excuse for things not working out the way they had wanted it to, it was never particularly real to him. Yet, as he sat at his son's bedside, with nothing to offer him but a damp cloth, he found himself bowing his head, and silently praying to God that Benjamin would be okay.

He hoped this would be the first time God listened to him.

The doctor had arrived early the next morning, prodding and poking the sick child and humming to himself.

Alfie stood by the doorway with his wife, both of them shuffling slightly on the feet as they waited for the doctor to finish his assessment, their patience wearing thinner with every passing second.

The doctor sighed when he turned to face the parents, a frown on his old and battered face, his beard moving as he scrunched his mouth.

"I see no improvements," he had spoke, and Alfie had to grasp his wife by her waist when he body began to collapse, another sob racking her body.

"What does that mean?" Alfie asked, his hands still secure around his crying wife.

"It means that you should prepare for the worst."

"No, no, no, no," she whispered, her legs giving way for the second time.

"If he recovers it will be a miracle, I've seen stronger boys succumb to this illness."

Maybe it was the doctor's tone of indifference when he spoke, maybe it was the feeling of his wife's body shaking uncontrollably in his arms, maybe he was just looking for somebody to take his frustration out on, whatever possessed Alfie in that moment to let go of his wife and grab the doctor by the collar, slamming his body into the wall, was as fierce and raw as the fear gripping his heart.

"Now you listen here," Alfie growled, his face inches away from the doctor's. "My son will not die. You know how I know that?" the doctor shook his head, his face reddening in fear. "I know that because you are going to fix him. If you don't, it'll be your body they wheel out of here."

The doctor's eyes widened, and Alfie was sure he was about to start crying. "Mr Solomons, there's nothing I can do, I would if I could-"

"You will," Alfie roared, pulling the doctor back slightly only to slam him back into the wall harder. "You will find a way."

Just as Alfie pulled his arm back, his hand curled into a fist, his wife's voice called out to him.

"This won't help Benjamin, Alfie. Just stop it."

Alfie released the doctor, who gasped for breath, his face pale. He turned to his wife, his face softening. "He can't die."

She walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "He won't die," she muttered into his chest, "you won't let him."

It was nearing nine o'clock at night when Benjamin started to stir in the bed. His mother had yet again, fallen asleep at his side, and Alfie was sat in the uncomfortable chair by the bed.

"Dad?" He whispered, his voice weak.

"I'm here, mate," Alfie said, his voice catching in his throat. "I'm here."

"I don't feel well."

"You're not well, mate," Alfie leaned forward, placing his palm on Benjamin's forehead, which was already beginning to cool.

"I told you I wasn't just trying to get out of school," Benjamin choked out, and Alfie let out a hearty laugh, startling his wife awake.

"Oh, thank God," she breathed, sitting up and cupping Benjamin's face in her hands. "Thank God."

"You might catch it, mum," Benjamin groaned when his mother bent down to pepper kisses on his face.

"Still sharp as ever, I see," Alfie muttered, the tension in his body seemingly disappearing.

"We need to ring the doctor," his wife said, and Alfie shot her an unimpressed look in response. "A different doctor," she conceded. "Though him being awake means the worst is over."

"What did I tell ya?" Alfie grinned. "Tough as nails, this one."

[mochiwrites]

an isal drabble based on @isjasz and @kunehokki's au and this ask ( content warning for blood and death <3 )

(Someone is screaming. You realize it’s your own voice.) 

His head hurts, it aches as if it were splitting in two, his throat feels raw, blood spills on his chin. But he can’t stop, he can’t. He’s so close, he’s almost there. He can’t give up now, can’t allow the name of his home to slip away from him once again and leave him a wanderer with no anchor. 

The King is right here, he can help. Together they can say the name of their home, they can–

(Your country!!! Your home!!! It’s gone, it’s gone, it’s gone!!!)

He can’t lose it, he needs to grasp it. 

(You’ve never screamed this much before. So much of you hurts. Does any of it even matter?)

It was his. It was his!

(But you can’t even say it’s name. You can’t you can’t you can’t you can’t you can’t you–)

A sound breaks through the chaos of noise in his head, breaks through the agony gripping his body. It breaks through like some sort of light spilling in through dark storm clouds, just before the sun comes through. 

Something, someone touches him. They grab him by the shoulders, and their hands burn – and yet they do not. Pleasant and gentle, calming and warm, but the contact makes Grian want to tear himself away. He thrashes and wriggles in their grip, yelling some unintelligible thing. It hurts it hurts ithurtsithurtsiTHURTSITHURTSITHURTS!

There’s a pressure against his cheek, one that causes Grian to still entirely. His head is still aching, still leaving him heaving with dry breaths from pain. His throat hurts, jaw aching from strain. But ever so slowly does he come back to himself, and it’s all because of the weight on his cheek. He leaves his country behind, lets it truly slip past his fingers like grains of sand, as he locks gazes with gentle looking eyes. He abandons ownership of his home in order to find his place in the lightless depths before him. 

It’s Scar. 

Scar’s hand is pressing into Grian’s cheek, holding it still. 

(He’s… touching you? He’s willingly touching you?) 

The other is looking at him with gentle eyes, the edges of his lips strained in a struggling smile. His thumb brushes along Grian’s cheekbone, “There you are, G.” His voice is soft, like a soothing melody. 

(But…)

(Wait.)

There’s a trail of blood dripping down Scar’s chin. 

Eye going wide, Grian slowly drags his stare down. He finds the front of Scar’s shirt bloody and slightly torn. What he also finds… is his dagger embedded in the other’s chest, his hand on the handle. Panic shoots down his spine, and it feels like the air in his lungs is being squeezed out. He trembles, but he can’t pull his hand away, can’t remove the dagger that’s actively causing Scar to bleed. 

Scar, sweet Scar, tries to play it off, tries to smile at Grian like he isn’t dying from a stab to the heart. Like he isn’t dying at Grian’s hand. He laughs, a dribble of blood spilling over his lips, “Yeah, not m-my brightest moment, huh? Should’ve m-made sure you wouldn’t go swinging at me while f-freaking out.” 

Grian can’t look away from him, family and enemy fading away from him. He hurt Scar. 

“‘s alright though, G, I-I know you didn’t mean it.” Scar pulls his hand away from Grian’s cheek, and some disgusting part of Grian’s mind wants to cry for Scar to put it back, to touch him again. 

Yet all he can manage to respond with a stutter, “S-Scar…” 

“R-Really, it is!” Scar smiles, even as he wobbles forward. “I’d… rather it be the person I love… dealing the last blow…” He slumps over, head landing right on Grian’s shoulder, and Grian can feel the warm blood dropping on his hand. He uses his other arm to catch Scar, as if it’ll do much to help besides keep him from hitting the floor. 

“Scar..?” he slowly asks, breath speeding up as it hitches roughly. “S-Scar?” 

(You killed him.)

Did Scar… say he loved him? “Ah.” He shakes. He trembles. His breath is coming in too fast, too sharp, he can’t breathe. His hands tremor, he lets go of the dagger but it remains in Scar’s chest. Scar loved him. Scar loved him. Scar loved him and Grian killed him. 

(You hear the raw scream that sounds from your voice.)

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can we get a Bihan and m!reader mini fic(what do you call those?) where the reader is really touchy but only with bihan, and he only finds this out when reader comes to him for a hug in front of his brothers , where they act surprised at the reader’s actions.

Also I love love your work!🫶

Mini fics are often called drabbles or drabs for short :)

This isn’t going to have much -if any- dialogue at all, so be prepared for that. But thank you for enjoying my works, it’s much appreciated. 🦦

Bi-Han had been gone for a lengthy period of time on an intense mission he had easily summarised as a mission of high importance for the Lin Kuei. And all the while you were clinging onto his bare muscular back, your face firmly resting within the space between his shoulder blades that you would occasionally kiss, listening intently to every word that left his mouth; just as you practiced multitasking by having your hands gingerly stroke the scars that you knew were located on his abdomen.

You weren’t a touchy, feely guy by any means. You didn’t actively sought out physical affection nor distributed physical affection out to anyone, not even to your closest friends, as you tended to keep your hands firmly to yourself and show your affection and appreciation through different means. After spending some time with Bi-Han however had brought a side out of you that you weren’t aware was you ever had, a side that was strictly reserved for Bi-Han and Bi-Han alone; One where you would always find yourself being the first to initiate physical contact between yourself and Bi-Han.

One such instance being holding hands where you would subtly brush your hand against the back of his hand, before slipping your hand comfortably into his, your fingers intertwining within his own and holding onto him as tightly; as you possibly could as though you were scared to let him go, for fear that you had actually made him up within your mind in means of satiating a hidden desire, rather then search for it out elsewhere.

Soon after Bi-Han’s departure for the mission, the days that followed afterwards felt like an eternity when strung together, back to back. It wasn’t until then that you realised how much you deeply missed and craved Bi-Han in all his entirety. You hadn’t came to this realisation until way later, when during nights you had been instinctively reaching out towards his side of the bed in your sleep -jolting awake in an instant when your hand felt only bedding- looking for his distinct figure through the darkness; Only to be reminded that he was out on a mission and wouldn’t be back for quite awhile yet before attempting in going back to sleep.

This routine would continue for many more nights afterwards before news broke of Bi-Han was coming home has reached your ears. On that particular night you could barely find it within yourself to commit to some proper sleep, you would only end up becoming more and more fitful, before ultimately waking yourself up from your own restlessness and excitement in getting to see Bi-Han again. It was almost embarrassing if you weren’t completely taken with the stoic man with the stupidly gorgeous pair of eyes.

So upon the day of Bi-Han coming home, you were stood alongside his brothers, Kuai Liang and Tomas Vrbada, with the impatience of a puppy dog awaiting at the door for it’s owner arrival. And it must’ve been easily notable as both Kuai Liang and Tomas Vrbada shared a knowing look, but out of respect for your relationship with their brother, they didn’t speak upon it nor point it out to you; for they awaited patiently to welcome their brother come home and congratulate him on the success of the mission. It wasn’t until you finally saw Bi-Han within your peripheral vision did you felt your body take over, as you found yourself breaking out into a full on sprint towards the cryomancer.

You honestly didn’t care how you came across to others, you were the one who suffered sleepless night without Bi-Han to cuddle up to, not them, so they couldn’t judge you for missing your attentive lover. When you had gotten close enough to touch Bi-Han, the first thing you did when within proximity was hug him as tightly as you physically could, burying your head within his neck and breathing him in deeply as your hands grasped at his waist desperately; feeling your soul become whole once more as you allowed your eyes to flutter shut and a content smile blossom across your lips, happy to finally feel Bi-Han against you and it not be within your dreams.

The twin looks of utter surprise upon Kuai Liang and Tomas’s faces went completely unnoticed by you but not by Bi-Han, who always assumed upon first meeting that you were naturally affectionate towards your friends but upon seeing his brothers reactions, that didn’t seem to be the whole case. He would’ve reprimanded you for hugging him -and in public no less- when he had a reputation to maintain, but Bi-Han did had to admit that he had missed you whilst he was away, wanting nothing more then to feel you cuddle him from behind and feel your hands trace his scars; as It had acted as his own personal motivator in getting the mission done as quickly and effectively as possible.

‘Welcome home Bi-Han.’ You muttered into his neck. ‘I missed you greatly.’

‘I missed you too, little bird.’ Bi-Han replied in a tone where only you were able to hear him clearly enough as your smile widened as your hold on him tightened, just happy to finally have him back in your arms.