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heartbreakgrill · 1 year ago

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stiles stilinksi: breakable heaven; pt. 4, “you say that we'll just screw it up in these trying times, we’re not trying.”

a/n: thank you for all of the love! this takes place at the beginning of season 3, but there's some weird things i chose to do. they're in lacrosse season and cross country at the same time to stay relevant to both mine and the show's plot. also, the season only takes place over like three months, so it's gonna seem fast, though that's how it canonically goes. much love, friends!

trigger warning: this is the motel California episode, so a brief mention of unaliving.

tagging: @ariianelle (dm me if you’d like to be tagged! i lose a lot of comments in my notifs <3)

“can we please play some real music?”

y/n glanced up from her phone, open on the texts between her and danny, to see megan reaching through the front seats, towards the radio. y/n snickered slightly as the drake song switched to a pop station.

leo huffed from the driver’s seat, “baby, we’ve talked about this! driver picks the music!”

“baby,” megan mocked with a silly expression, “i don’t care. i’m not listening to just drake songs for another 5 hours.”

y/n hummed in agreement, “girls rule, boys drool.”

jack scoffed from the passenger seat, “you’re never gonna win that fight, leo.”

megan looked towards her with proud defiance, and offered up her palm for a high five. y/n gave her one, before looking back down to her phone. danny had sent another message.

danny: idk this lower classman looks like he’s about to get hella sick and stiles keep bugging him

y/n: so do you think the bus is gonna stop??? i have to pee soooo badly

danny: lemme ask coach

danny: oh stiles is already asking coach hang on

danny: coach says no

danny: it’s ok if u guys aren’t directly behind us

y/n: no it’s not just that i just don’t wanna be a bother to anybody by having to stop the car. plus leo’s already gonna be in trouble for missing the bus lol

danny: ugh whatever

danny: o fuck lower class man just fucking project uke vomited

danny: see u in a sec lover 😝❤️

–

the big yellow bus donned with the beacon hills school name across the side of it pulled bumpily into a motel parking lot. the inhabitants cringed from both the poor driving and the lingering smell of puke. unlike the rest of them, stiles sat proudly, with an all-too pleased smile on his expression.

y/n bounced in her seat slightly as leo pulled the car into a parking spot. she peered around in an attempt to find a bathroom area. she would’ve used the bathroom back at the rest stop, but leo thought it would be smart to get ahead of the bus.

now, it looked like they’d all be trapped in some motel that looked straight out of that psycho movie.

megan tapped her shoulder and pointed towards the front office. “let’s go ask the lady in there.”

leo had missed the bus for the cross country meet this morning, and since y/n, jack, and megan were already planning on coming out to support him, they carpooled together. they didn’t always make it out to meets, especially not ones hours from home, but they each had free weekends, and thought it would be fun to tag along.

y/n and megan went off to the bathroom, while leo and jack joined the hoard of students. danny, having just collected the key to his room, spotted two of his friends. they waved him over, and danny happily jogged their way.

stiles glanced over at danny as he went. he recognized jack and leo and peered around for megan, maybe even y/n. she hadnt responded to his text, the one he sent on tuesday, the day after their encounter in the jeep. he apologized for rushing out of there so quickly. but she hadn’t even read it.

scott said something, drawing stiles attention away. they went off to find their room, lydia and allison, isaac and boyd, closely behind them. just as they found the external stairs, y/n and megan came trotting out of the front office.

danny saw his best friend over jack’s shoulder and lit up. “oh, my love!”

y/n grinned and jumped up on the toes of her shoes. “hello, handsome!” she hugged him.

“listen,” leo cut into their moment, pointing over to coach finstock. “i’m gonna go see if coach will get us a room, since i’m supposed to be on that bus anyways.”

megan latched onto his hand, “i’ll come with!”

danny, y/n, and jack waved after them. y/n sighed, and glanced around the crowd of students, who were breaking off into groups. danny followed her gaze and snorted with a smirk.

“what?” she glanced up at him.

“he just went to find his room,” danny pointed towards the stairs behind them. “wanna go say hi?”

y/n waved him off, quickly, antsy on her feet, “no, no. that’s not what we agreed on, remember? i am staying away.”

danny nodded his head, slow, as if he didn’t really believe her. “we’ll see how long that lasts.”

y/n scoffed and punched his shoulder. “i mean it, you ass. mindless sex is the last thing i need right now.”

jack looked up from his phone, “who’s having mindless sex?”

y/n waved him off, “literally nobody.”

“i think you should,” jack shrugged, looking back down at his phone.

she crossed her arms and popped a hip, “excuse me?”

jack glanced back up, “i’m just saying. you spent how long moping over sam. best way to get over someone is to get under somebody else.”

at the mention of sam, y/n usually felt her chest constrict slightly. it happened this time, too, like the trigger of his name blew out all her defenses. but, she recovered quickly.

that had been happening a lot more lately- recovery. he didn’t have as much a hold on her anymore.

danny snickered at jack’s words, “oh, you have no idea-“

y/n shoved danny harshly. “would you two shut the fuck up? my sex life is not public business.”

“of lack, thereof,” jack mumbled to himself.

y/n went to clap back, when megan and leo showed back up with a singular room key. leo held it up between his fingers, and wiggled it, “could only get one, but- room 216.”

“thank god,” jack took the key from leo, “i could use a shower.”

he led the way to the stairs, and megan and leo followed closely behind. y/n started after them, but faltered her steps once she realized. megan would want to sleep with leo, leaving the only other open bed in jack’s name. he’d say it’s not big deal, that they could sleep in the same bed no problem. but, even though they’d been in the same friend group for a few years now, she didn’t trust him all that much.

she turned back to danny, “please, please, please let me stay in your room with you-?”

danny looked down at her, shoulders dropping as he noticed her eyes turn up in a sappy, puppy-dog manner. he rolled his eyes, “of course you can, you don’t have to make that pathetic face. i’m rooming with ethan, but he doesn’t care. let’s go.”

danny called over the new kid and explained the rooming situation to him. he was completely okay with it, and introduced himself to y/n formally. she’d seen him around and heard about him, but this was the first she’d spoken to him. he was friendly enough.

y/n followed danny and ethan up the stairs. they ran into megan, jack, and leo and passed on the rooming news to them. then, just as they began moving along, the door beside them popped open. scott and stiles piled out.

y/n, frivolous and non-confrontational, did a two-step around ethan, slotting herself beside danny and the railing. stiles didn’t pay enough attention to anything, but he smelled her shampoo linger through the air. stiles looked over just quick enough to watch her disappear into the room beside his and scott’s.

this was going to be a long night.

–

luckily, danny had an extra pair of boxers for y/n to wear as makeshift pajama bottoms. the two boys, sweaty and tired from the bus ride in, took turns showering, while y/n scrolled mindlessly through the television. afterwards, ethan and danny made themselves comfy on the other bed. they were in a similar situation as y/n and stiles- sleeping together, with the agreement that feelings wouldn’t get involved. tale as old as time.

“man, i wish we had snacks. i’m starving,” danny pointed out as he pulled the covers over his legs. ethan sat a few feet from his left shoulder, as if they were trying to keep distance between them.

but, y/n wasn’t stupid- she recognized the tension between them. she knew it all too well. she knew danny wanted to hold ethan’s hand, knew ethan’s darting eyes lingered on danny’s lips- more than once. while ethan started their movie, she came up with the idea to give them a few moments alone. she’d read enough romance books to know the trope- one of them would break eventually.

“i saw a vending machine,” y/n recalled, sitting up in the bed, “i’ll go grab some stuff.”

she collected her purse from the floor and the room key from danny’s bedside table, before her friend could protest. she passed danny a knowing look as she slipped out the door. she wriggled her eyebrows in delight. danny rolled his eyes, though he was blushing, and the tiniest smile cracked his lips.

y/n’s tennis shoes creaked against the floor of the balcony. the motel was obviously old, with rusted corners. it had the faint smells of dust bunnies and moth balls whipping through the air. the sun had set since the start of their movie, and it made the already creepy setting a little more chilling. it was comforting that she saw a few of her classmates, moving between rooms, hanging out on the balcony. but, even though there were plenty of people, the motel had a way of making her feel felt deserted, distant from the rest of the world.

she turned the corner and finally saw the vending machine, tucked into the corner with the ice. she spent a few minutes picking out a few different things, and even managed to stretch out the time by popping open a bag of m&m’s. she checked her phone and saw that ten minutes had finally passed. y/n felt she could return now. if they hadn’t confessed their love for each other, hopefully they’d at least kissed or something.

y/n slid the key into the door handle, hitting it loudly against the metal in order to make danny and ethan aware of her return. she slowly, surely, opened the door. much to her surprise- and delight- she was met with the sight of way too much bare ass skin.

y/n slammed the door closed, eyes squeezed shut, a little scarred from whoever’s ass she had just seen. shuffling could be heard from the other side of the door, and she assumed danny and ethan were sorting themselves out. but, she felt bad, cockblocking them, so she called out, “hey, don’t even worry about it. i’m gonna go ask lydia if she has makeup wipes. you two…have loads of fun!”

y/n huffed out a breath. her hand fell off the door knob, and she looked around. lydia was just two doors down. she remembered seeing the redhead with allison, when they went inside their room earlier. but, she couldn’t remember if it was the door right next to theirs, or the one after it.

she wasn’t really sure.

all she did know was that stiles and scott were behind one of those two doors. and with her luck…

y/n opted for just sitting on one of the chairs in front of danny’s room. she pulled up a book on her phone. danny would text her, or even come and find her, once he was done doing whatever it is he was doing.

it was taking all her willpower to ignore stiles. the fact that she even missed him as much as she did was a red flag on the entire situation. she tried to convince herself that she didn’t miss him, but his lips, his words, his ability to draw out of her a feeling she’d never really known.

but thinking like that made it worse.

y/n occupied her mind with a few pages in her book. but, as she turned another chapter, she heard a a couple pairs of feet scuttle up the stairs. two voices she recognized were speaking in hushed whispers, anxiety setting their tones. y/n looked up from her phone, flushing a little when she saw stiles’ face in the dim light of the motel balcony. they were coming her way.

she tucked her chin into her chest, eyes glued to her phone, hoping they wouldn’t be paying enough attention to notice her. her chest was tight. she felt tingly.

that luck of hers…

“y/n? hey, hey, what’re you doing here?” stiles pushed past scott, squatting to his knees before her. his hand came to rest on her knee, his touch soft and warm.

y/n didn’t realize how cold she was, in just her tank top that she wore and the boxer’s she borrowed from danny. she shivered, brows drawing together in concern. “what?”

stiles sounded worried, a little scared, like there was something really wrong. his eyes fluttered around her, over his shoulder towards scott. the latter boy’s hair was wet, and y/n glanced out to the parking lot to see if it was raining. the wind whipped towards them, and the smell of gasoline prickled her nose. she looked back at scott, tilting her head. was he covered in gasoline?

stiles squeezed her knee, “what room are you in? you need to get inside, here, cmon.” he grabbed onto her hand, entwined his fingers with hers like it was habitual. pulled her to her feet.

“what’re you talking about?” y/n furrowed her brows, squeezing onto his hand.

scott spoke this time, “it’s, uh- we saw an animal or something weird in the parking lot. like, a mountain lion or-“ he exchanged a confused look with stiles, like neither were sure of his testimony, “or something.”

y/n shivered, again, fear from all of the animal attacks that plagued beacon hills settling on her skin in the form of goosebumps. stiles noticed and he quickly shrugged his coat off. he slid it around her easily, “what room are you in?”

“d-danny’s,” she stepped closer to him, grabbed his hand again. she pointed to the room in front of them. “we need to tell coach. what if it-“

“danny and ethan’s?” stiles clarified as he cut her off. she nodded, words falling from her lips.

scott and stiles shared a look, and the latter boy shook his head. “why don’t you come hang out with us for a bit? we can watch a movie or something?” scott offered.

y/n shrugged, “i guess. i’ll text danny and let him know. hey, we should really-“

“it’s okay,” stiles led her into their room, and scott followed.

she slipped out of her shoes and sat, warily, on the edge of one of their beds. stiles peeked out through the blinds, on guard from whatever was out there. y/n felt there was more to the situation than either of them was going to let on. being in such close corners with scott now- the gasoline was so thick in the air. but, the mountain lion story alone was enough to freak her out.

and, she didn’t know if she needed or even wanted to know anything more. weird things always seemed to happen in this town. she didn’t need a reason to have a panic attack.

scott got a text. he quickly pulled out his phone. the abrupt end of the silence lingering in the room made y/n jump slightly.

stiles reared his head towards his friend, “what? what is it?”

scott’s eyes glanced over to y/n, who was staring blankly at the floor. her knee bounced up and down, and she hugged her arms around herself. “um,” scott was coming up with an excuse, “i’m just gonna go check on allison and lydia.”

he opened the door to leave, and y/n shot up from the bed. “be careful! you really should go tell coach, too.”

scott nodded, “yeah, sure.” he slipped out of the room.

stiles turned to y/n, fidgeting with his hands. he stepped towards her, concern laced in his tired eyes, “hey, you okay?”

y/n always noticed how tired he always was. but, tonight, it seemed he was more so.

she stepped a little closer to him, examining his gaze intently, “i’m fine. just a little- a little freaked out. the animal attacks in this town are no joke.”

“yeah, tell me about it,” stiles mumbled. he was shaken up from the events taking place this evening- his friends possessed by some deadly energy, scott’s near suicide. but, he forced on a strong front. y/n needed his comfort and security, no matter how many texts from him she hadn’t answered.

y/n watched his stare fall to the floor, and he faded out a little. she touched his forearm, grounding him back to earth. he met her eye. she frowned, “are you okay?”

“yeah, yeah,” he waved her off, “just…tired, ya know. long day.”

“why don’t you lay down?” y/n offered. she tightened her grip on his arm, moving it up to his elbow.

his breath hitched. he missed her touch like water. , now it was flooding him.

he nodded and stepped towards the bed. “will you- lay with me?” he thought over his own words, and quickly tried to make it seem less romantic, “in, like, a not weird way? i don’t know- nevermind.”

“yeah, stiles,” y/n brushed his words off, “i can lay with you. in a not weird way. friends can…friends can cuddle.”

he ignored the way that word stabbed his chest, and led them to the bed. stiles slid off his shoes, pushed back the covers, and fell into the bed. he lay on his back and held open his arm for her. she slotted herself into his side.

it was warm. comfortable.

both of them fell asleep within minutes.

–

a week passed, and neither of them mentioned that night.

they didn’t talk about it when they had sex in the stiles�� jeep, after the meet. they didn’t talk about it the next day at her house, when they had sex, again. or, any of the three other times they had sex.

they didn’t talk about the fact that neither of them had slept that well in months. they didn’t talk about the fact that y/n clutched onto stiles’ like he’d leave with one wrong breath.

and they especially didn’t talk about the fact that stiles kissed y/n’s forehead before he drifted off.

and told her, “thank you.”

–

y/n didn’t want to tell danny. so, she didn’t.

but, he knew her better than anybody, so he caught onto the fact that she had, at the very least, been sleeping with stiles ago.

according to danny, she had a, “glow about her.”

y/n shoved his shoulder, hitting her palm off of his uniform pads. she hissed at the pain and held her wrist limply in her other hand.

“that’s what you get for being a whore,” danny joked, poking her side.

she winced at the touch. “ouch! you’re a dick.”

“you’re gonna turn into one!” danny turned back to his locker, rummaging around for the rest of his gear.

y/n crossed her arms over her chest. she was wearing danny’s jersey again for the game. “and what about it?”

“nothing! there’s literally nothing wrong with it,” danny shrugged. he pulled his glove from the top of his locker and turned around, pointing it at her. “i just know you.”

y/n knew what that meant. she knew why danny was concerned. she knew herself, too. she knew how these things ended.

but she was choosing not to care.

“whatever,” she pushed the glove away from her face, “just- good luck on your game, asshole.”

she gave danny a tight hug before heading towards the exit. there were a few other players still in there, getting dressed, chatting about the plays for the game.

she spotted stiles at his locker. he met her eye and grinned. a blush adorned her cheeks. she waved.

y/n was about to open the door when stiles came bounding up behind her. he held it open for her, leaning over to do so, and his face ended up right beside hers.

“hey,” he sounded breathless.

y/n smiled, “how are you?”

they hadn’t seen each other since wednesday. y/n had a few projects for school, and work, so her schedule was jam packed. stiles missed her like crazy, but of course, he couldn’t really say that.

“good,” he nodded.

they moved out into the hallway as they spoke. the door fell shut behind them.

“listen,” stiles went to say, as y/n said, “sorry.”

“go ahead,” they spoke over each other.

“sorry,” y/n laughed. she brushed hair back from her face.

stiles’ drew his eyes over her skin, which was painted with white and red dots around her eyes. “your makeup looks pretty,” he found himself saying.

y/n touched her cheek, insecurely, “oh, thank you.”

stiles, caught up in the moment, gently pulled her hand from her face. he dropped it to her side and then moved his touch to her chin. he drew her eyes to his, arching her face upwards. y/n’s breath caught in her throat.

“what do i get if i win?” stiles found himself saying, a devilish grin on his face.

y/n was astounded by how good stiles had gotten at all this- the foreplay, the teasing, the things he’d say to her. he was an insecure, neurotic, freak most of the time. but, beneath the sheets, he’d learned control, confidence, power. it inspired security within her, positive self consciousness in her body, her movement.

and, though this made her face beat red, she smiled slightly. y/n wrapped her arms around his shoulders, entangling her fingers in his hair, and she pressed her lips into his. stiles nearly melted at her touch, curving his body into hers. y/n felt his dick harden against her thigh. she held back a grin.

and she pulled away.

“you’ve gotta win first,” she shrugged, pretending she was innocent to everything.

she began walking away, proud. stiles groaned in response and watched her hips, intently.

“you are such a tease!” she shrugged again, not even glancing back. not until he called out, “hey!”

she looked back at him, “what?”

“you look cute in that jersey, by the way.”

he winked at her before disappearing inside the locker room.

y/n faltered slightly. the moment sunk into her skin.

oh, no.

#derek x stiles #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski #stiles x lydia #stiles x reader #teen wolf #teen wolf stiles #teen wolf x reader

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fallenwhumpee · 1 year ago

Note

You flatter me too much :'D /pos I'm very glad you enjoyed my little snippet!! It kind of got out of hand at some point lol

If you'd still like a prompt, I'm always a sucker for some good ol Leader hiding an injury (physical or otherwise) until they collapse, whether literally or metaphorically :D /nf

Thank you very much!!

:D anon

You deserve! And I'm happy it did <3

I'm always open for prompts. You offer a classic one, it would be a waste not to write it. Hope you enjoy!

Fire

• Masterlist •

Warnings: Blood, collapsing, hallucination.

They could feel the heat against their cold skin, their closed eyes failing to keep the red flames out of their sight. The smell of ash filled their lungs, a ringing in their ears not helping their headache grow every second.

They sat up, a loud bang coming right after. They opened their eyes. Chaos was the only thing they could register, flames and smoke covering the debris they just lifted from their chest.

Was it happening again? No. They ordered the team to get out before the bomb went off. Leader wasn't going to see them burn. Not again. With a breath, they stood. They felt heavy— there was no pain, despite blood covering their clothes. Were they bleeding?

It was irrelevant. They were going to be just fine. As long as they got out.

Their ear ringing finally made sense as it turned to static, someone calling their name loudly. They cursed, their vision blurring. Perhaps it was good news because another wave of loud noises came, but they couldn't understand.

They stood, their balance faltering as the flames blew onto their face, a faint whisper crying for them. They breathed, coughing with all the dust around and trying to gather their focus.

"Is everyone alright?" They rasped, hoping the static covered their bad voice.

"A bit banged up but nothing serious."

Leader barely recognised Medic's voice, a shout drawing their attention. The same shout haunted their nightmares, the same shout they had listened to for hours as they burned alive.

"Good." They answered, ignoring the roof falling next to them. They were going to be alright. If they could only ignore the phantom voices calling for them...

"We're almost out. Where will we meet, boss?"

"At the entrance, if there is still one."

The fire roared once more, causing them to flinch and move. They couldn't understand why they felt this detached from their surroundings, but they knew they were risking their chance of getting out.

They calmed their steps, their fear masking the pain and the exhaustion. Each step felt heavier than the last, but they couldn't stop. Not now.

Soon, they found themselves running down the stairs, footsteps close. Maybe a few floors beneath them. They shied away from the fire, ignoring the screams demanding them to come back.

It was not real. They couldn't chase after the dead.

They gasped as their foot couldn't find the next step, their balance faltering. They closed their eyes, covering their head with their arms instinctively.

Luckily, they didn't fall too much, and nothing else from the rib ache was added to their list if worries.

Groaning, they peeled themselves from the floor, rising their feet slowly as the team jumped down.

"Are you alright?" Youngest helped them, but they steadied themselves quickly, looking for a way out. Both from the building and the nightmare chasing them.

"Yes, just a little disoriented from the smoke."

Youngest opened their mouth to protest, but Leader didn't let them talk.

"We need to keep moving," they tried to sound as strong and composed as possible. "The exit should be close."

This time, walking wasn't too easy, but the pain was bearable. They let the team walk in front of them, slowing down to hide their stumble.

"You fell pretty hard." Right Hand pulled them aside once they were all out and safe. "And you're soaked with blood."

"Not mine." Mostly, they didn't say. They were fine.

"You're not hiding anything, do you?"

"No," they lied with a straight face.

"Are you sure? I would hate to repeat the last time."

"It was not my intention. I just didn't realise." Leader answered, honest this time. They really didn't want to hide it last time.

"Didn't realise being shot." Right Hand scoffed.

Well, they always had problems with feelings over deep burns, which covered most of their body. They shrugged, putting an innocent face.

"Anyway, if you don't wish to..."

You left us to burn.

"... stay in the forest all night, we should move."

So irrational, they scolded themselves. They were rescued and dragged to a hospital with shouts and kicking legs. They didn't leave.

They breathed, marching on without expecting an answer. If they remembered correctly, there was a campsite nearby they could rest. They were sure everyone could use some.

There were only three hours of walk. Or four.

They could walk that little, and the trees around weren't burning. Not when they could see the team well and walking in front of them.

They focused on putting their foot in front of the other, keeping their breath even and eyes on the team.

Right Hand sprinted front, taking their place between Youngest and Medic, hushing the small argument about to break out.

They rubbed their arms, cold starting to creep up. They bit their cheeks, settling into the walking rhythm of others. They didn't want to look at their wound. They could deal with the pain coming in waves, but they knew it would become overwhelming once they saw the full extent. That could wait until they got back to their home.

But soon, they had to take a break. Everyone was too tired to finish the road at once.

They refused to sit, knowing they wouldn't be able to stand up again if they did. They gathered dry woods instead, making a small fire to warm up a bit. The team took it as a nap time, and they found themselves on the watch duty.

"Is everything alright?"

A small no escaped before they could register Right Hand behind them.

Right Hand hummed. Leader just stared at them, blinking back their blurring vision, not really understanding.

"I'd strangle you if you said you were fine again." Right Hand gave them a concerned smile.

Leader chuckled, their ribs aching. The pain was now threatening their composure.

Right Hand probably understood that they were unwilling to talk more, but tried again. "I didn't expect to find a bomb up there."

Leader did. And this time, they thought they could stop it from going off. At least they delayed it enough to get everyone out, and Leader was forever grateful for it. They couldn't lose another team.

"I'm sorry," for lying, they muttered, eyeing the remnants of their small campfire. They closed their eyes tightly, a whimper escaping.

They clung to the arms reaching to keep them on feet, dizziness washing over them.

"What's wrong?" Right Hand's voice trembled.

Leader's legs gave up, vision fading.

#whump #whump writing #leader whump #leader whumpee #fire #tw blood #collapse #hallucinations #does it count as hallucinations if only heared?

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sleepy-bunbun-ace · 1 year ago

Text

twst incorrect quotes but it's just my various yuu ocs (plus twst ocs). just a warning, this'll be a long one.

yume asta:

Yume Asta: Hey, Ace? Can I get some dating advice? Ace: Just because I’m with Deuce doesn’t mean I know how I did it.

Yume Asta: If Ace and I were drowning, who would you save? Deuce: You two can’t swim? Ace: It’s a hypothetical question, Deuce! who would you save? Deuce: my time and effort.

*The group is getting into the car* Yume Asta: I’m driving. Alexander Goldenheart, out of view: Shotgun! Sue Times, turning to face Alexander G: Aww! But you had it on the way here- Everyone except Alexander G: WOAH- Alexander G, holding a shotgun: No! I found a shotgun! And I want the front seat! *Pumps gun*

Yume Asta: If I accidentally sat on a voodoo doll of myself, would I be trapped forever in that position, doomed to starve to death? Alexander G: How am I supposed to know? Sue Times: You say, as if we don’t use you as a source of knowledge of the occult. Alexander G: *sighs* Alexander G: You wouldn't be trapped.

Yume Asta, holding a python: Guys I impulsively bought a snake, what do I name him Riddle: You did WHAT– Epel: William Snakepeare

Yume Asta: HELP! I TOLD EPEL I’D COOK DINNER TONIGHT BUT I CAN’T COOK! Riddle, pouring milk directly into the cereal bag: And you thought I could help?

-- (don't worry, yume can cook)

Yume Asta: In my defense, I was left unsupervised. Silver: Wasn't Sebek with you? Sebek: In my defense, I was also left unsupervised.

Yume Asta: What do you think Silver will do for a distraction? Sebek: He’ll probably, like, make a noise or throw a rock. That’s what I would do. *Building explodes and several car alarms go off* Sebek: ... or he could do that.

Yume Asta: It’s dark in here Kalim: Don’t worry dude I got this Kalim: *Stomps their feet* Kalim: *Skechers light up*

Yume Asta: Do you have any skeletons in your closet? Kalim: You mean literally or figuratively? Yume Asta: Honestly, the fact that I have to specify...

---

yume rosalia:

Yume Rosalia: *Trying to fill out legal paperwork stuff* Were you guys born AMAB or AFAB? Cater: Bold of you to assume I was born at all. Idia: I personally was created in a lab. Ortho: I just straight up spawned lol.

Yume Rosalia: I currently have 7 empty notebooks and I have no clue what to put in them. Suggestions? Cater: Put spaghetti in it. Yume Rosalia: I'm currently taking suggestions from literally anyone but you. Idia: Put spaghetti in it. Yume Rosalia: I'm currently taking suggestions from anyone but you two. Ortho: Put spaghetti in it. Yume Rosalia: I'm no longer taking suggestions.

Yume Rosalia: Yo is Malleus sleeping or dead? Leona: Hopefully dead, I hated their guts. Azul: Yeah, so did I. Malleus: Okay first of all, fuck you-

Yume Rosalia: *Gently taps table* Leona: *Taps back* Azul: What are they doing? Malleus: Morse code. Yume Rosalia: *Aggressively taps table* Leona: *Slams hands down* YOU TAKE THAT BACK-

Yume Rosalia: Fitness tip: never stop pushing yourself. Some say 8 hours of sleep is enough. Why not keep going? Why not 9? Why not 10? Strive for greatness. Lilia: Next time you’re working out do 15 push ups instead of 10. Run 3 miles instead of 2. Eat a whole cake instead of just a slice. Burn your ex’s house down. You can do it. I believe in you. Silver: There were so many mixed messages in that I can’t-

Yume Rosalia, to Lilia: My life is in the hands of an idiot! Lilia, motioning to themself and Silver: No no no no no, TWO idiots!

Yume Rosalia: Remember when you didn't try to solve all your problems with attempted murder? Malleus: Stop romanticizing the past.

Yume Rosalia: Malleus... Why did you draw a pentagram on the floor? Malleus: Your text told me to satanize the house before you returned. Yume Rosalia: Yume Rosalia: I wrote sanitize, Malleus.

---

silvester hatter:

Silvester Hatter: Is stabbing someone immoral? Grim: Not if they consent to it. Ace: Depends who you’re stabbing. Deuce: YES?!?

Silvester Hatter: Grim, I'm sad. Grim: *Holds out arms for a hug* It’s going to be okay. Ace: Deuce, I'm sad. Deuce, nodding: mood.

Silvester Hatter: God, give me patience. Harper Pendragon (TWST!Howl): I think you mean 'give me strength'. Silvester Hatter: If God gave me strength, you'd be dead.

Silvester Hatter: I know you’re deflecting by making jokes about how hot you are. Harper Pendragon: It’s not a joke. Harper Pendragon: *sniffles* Harper Pendragon: I’m a legit snack.

Silvester Hatter: Do you ever want to talk about your emotions, Riddle? Riddle: … No. Trey: I do! Silvester Hatter: I know, Trey. Trey: I’m sad! Silvester Hatter: I know, Trey.

Silvester Hatter: Riddle and I were crossing the street, and this dude drove by and honked at us Trey: *Sighing* What did Riddle do? Silvester Hatter: He chased him to the next red light, then reached into his window and... Riddle: Who wants a steering wheel?

Silvester Hatter: If you had to choose between Idia and all the money I have in my wallet, which would you choose? Ortho: That depends, how much money are we taking about? Idia: Ortho! Silvester Hatter: 63 cents. Ortho: I'll take the money. Idia: ORTHO!!!

Silvester Hatter: So, what, now I’m just supposed to do anything that Idia does? I mean, what if they jumped off a cliff? Ortho: If Idia were to jump off a cliff, they would’ve done their due diligence regarding the height of the cliff, the depth of the water, and the angle of entry, so yes. If you see Idia jump off a cliff, by all means, jump off a cliff. Silvester Hatter: You jump off a cliff! Ortho: Gladly. Provided Idia did first.

---

yuu:

Yuu, negotiating with Jamil: We have Ruggie. Give us ten thousand dollars and they will be returned to you unharmed Ruggie: Whoa, whoa, wait, you think I’m only worth ten thousand dollars? Yuu: Ruggie: MAKE IT ONE MILLION– Yuu: RUGGIE STOP

Yuu: You have to apologize to Jamil Ruggie: Fine. Ruggie: 'Unfuck you' or whatever.

Yuu: We need to get through this locked door. Jack, give me your credit card. Jack: Here. Yuu, pocketing it: Thanks. Ace, kick down the door.

Yuu: Here’s a fun Christmas idea. We hang mistletoe, but instead of kissing, you have to FIGHT whoever else is under it. Jack: Yuu no. Ace: Mistlefoe. Jack: Please stop encouraging them.

Yuu: I just ended a four year relationship. Epel: Oh, I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Yuu: Hm? Oh yeah, I’m fine. It wasn’t my relationship. *Vil and Rook fighting from across the room*

Yuu: *Screams* Epel: *Screams louder to assert dominance* Vil: Should we do something?! Rook, observing: No, I want to see who wins this.

Yuu: Why is Riddle so sad? Jade: They took one of those “Which Character Are You?” quizzes Yuu: And...? Jade: She got Floyd.

Yuu, about Jack: Apparently we’re getting someone new in the group. Deuce: Are we stealing them? Ace: New or used? Yuu: Wonderful responses, both of you.

Yuu: How did none of you hear what I just said? Jack: I’ve been zoned out for the past two and a half hours. Deuce: I got distracted about halfway through. Ace: Ignoring you was a conscious decision.

Yuu: I love you guys, you're the best thing that's happened to me. Grim: We're the best thing that's ever happened to you? Yuu: Yes! Ace: I'm starting to feel a little sorry for you.

Yuu: In your opinion, what’s the height of stupidity? Grim: *turning to Ace* How tall are you?

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venenatd · 4 years ago

Text

last meal; jean kirstein x reader

summary: you and jean are in a relationship, and finally get some private time for a cute picnic date the day before he goes on the mission to marley. it’s v cute but also ur both horny!

content: smut / nsfw 18+. minors dni. (public/outdoors sex, dracylphilya, size kink, fingering, thigh riding, use of “good girl/baby”, praise kink, female bodied reader, unprotected sex, creampie) some fluff for good measure.

i am new to this pls let me know if i should add anything!!

word count: 3.3k words of unedited content

a/n: i saw a cottage core inspired jean post and this idea immediately popped into my head. i also kept thinking back to the sunset blush scene and it felt destined lmao. i thought it was gonna be shorter but i guess i get carried away lol. pls feel free to send me requests or ideas or give any advice on what you liked!! thanku!<3

Everything is painted with gold. The sun hanging low in the sky, despite the late hour, still warms your skin. You and Jean walk away from the Scout Headquarters, warmth of the evening allowing you to roam without coats.

He’s in a tight cream shirt, braces holding up darker toned pants. A simple hat sits on his head, shading his eyes from the setting sun. You, a simple sage dress, loose and flowing around your legs. The long grass tickles your flesh, and the two of you laugh as you try running through the field, lifting your limbs stupidly high to jump over the pasture.

Jean snorts at you, watching you flap around. The orange hue of dusk makes your hair shine, your skin glow beautifully. And as you look up at him, a wide and goofy smile spreading across your face, he can see all the flecks and details of varying colours in your eyes. And it takes his breath away.

It was the last night before the end. He’s not sure of what, but it feels like the next chapter is to be finished when he closes his eyes tonight. Tomorrow he goes to Marley. Hange ordered all of their team to go relax for the final day at home. “We’ve gone over the plans enough, we know every angle! Go! Shoo!”

Hange was right. Going in and getting Eren home. It was engrained in Jeans brain. The scouts knew everything they were going to before they arrived. So tonight, it’s all about you.

You, with your skirt floating around you as you weave between trees, making your way to the clearing the two of you know so well. It’s where he first admitted feelings, where you first kissed. The others don’t know (or so you both think), and until he’s safe from his last mission, you’re not sure the two of you will ever reveal your affiliation.

Pulling a blanket from the picnic basket you’ve brought with you, Jean lays it down on the ground. There’s a wide pond in front of you both, some ducks still paddling about. A thin haze floats over the water, the last of the summer heat still encouraging dragonflies and water skippers out.

The light snacks you’d managed to sneak out from your job in the kitchen were delicious. You’d whipped up some light pastries and desserts from leftover ingredients. Even some strawberries and grapes. Whilst everything was miniscule from lack of provisions, it tasted good enough.

Dipping the sweet red fruit from the cream and sugar and between your lips, Jean is in heaven. Your hair being pushed by the wind away from your face, the rosiness on your cheeks. The world may end tomorrow, but tonight he’s got all he needs.

His hands reach over, noticing the drip of cream collecting on the corner of your lips. Swiping his thumb along your cheek, he notes “you’ve got a lil..”

Jean looks at you, his eyes locking on yours, still gently cupping your face in his hands. Warm pupils flick down. His brows scrunch together for a moment, before he moves forward. His other hand comes up to your face, and he is so gentle when he kisses you. It’s as if he may break you if he goes too far.

The soft plush of his lips on yours, slowly pulling you in is intoxicating. He leans back on his forearms, pulling you over him, not letting you leave his mouth. You knock into his hat, it flopping off behind him as you lower your chest over his.

A hand reaches to his chestnut hair. It’s grown long over the last few years. You play with tendrils, the two of you lazily kissing. It’s soft and easy. You’re breathing into one another your chest resting on his as you move a leg to intertwine with his.

Shifting yourself slightly, you rest directly above his thigh. Jeans hand comes to the back of your neck, making sure you don’t split the contact he so desperately needs. Your nails slide softly against his scalp, twisting into his hair with more want.

The man, your man, underneath you curls forward, leg lifting and chest pushing up into you. Your crotch bumps against his thigh. A delightful little gasp erupts from you. If Jean wasn’t tongue deep in your mouth he could have even missed it. But he is, and he didn’t.

He’s tempted to see how far he can take this, maybe make another first here. You’ve had sex, and plenty of it. Although for the most part it’s been rushed, the nature of your jobs only allowing for quickies. You both lived in shared rooms, and the lack of privacy was definitely a roadblock in his attempts to please you.

This clearing, in the outside meadows by headquarters, is maybe an ironic place for the privacy you both so need. Putting any doubt out of his mind, Jean lifts his muscular thigh, achieving another gasp into his mouth from you. You grind against it slowly, tentatively.

“No need to be shy, baby girl” he smiles into the kiss.

Cheeks rosy, you roll your hips along his leg. Jeans body rises further, leaning back casually on one hand, the other gripping the flesh between your waist and hip. He breaks the kiss that has been going on so long, wanting to take in all the ways your face displays pleasure.

Your eyebrows knit together slightly. Your lips are wet with saliva, slightly parted as you give off little mewls each time your clothed cunt is brushed along his cotton pants.

There’s a sweet and tender feeling building in your lower stomach. You can feel how wet you’re getting, the slow and methodical undulations generating a heat between your thighs.

“Jean, plea-”

“You want more?” he’s quick to answer. Your head jumps and up and down, past the point of playing shy.

His long fingers meet with your jaw once more, lightly skimming your features. He’s noting it all down in his head. Maybe he’ll even make a drawing of you. You pause in your ministrations, and a low tutting comes from the man. “No, no. Keep riding. Get yourself ready.”

A delicious smile emerges on your face, and you bear down on his thigh. You take your hands on each leg, gripping onto the thickly built muscle underneath the cloth. A couple of fingers miss their mark, and you can feel how hard Jean is getting. Eyes flash between his crotch and his face, and he can sense how eager you are to please him.

His touch moves from your jaw down, one finger slowly running along the centre of your throat. Jeans hand dips, slowly dragging his fingernails across each collar bone, down to the valley of your chest. Your breath hitches, and he moves away again. You shift your hand in response, moving it towards the joint between his thigh and pelvis, allowing your fingers to brush his clothed balls.

Wherever his fingers move leaves a tingling in their wake. They push towards your shoulder, teasing the fabric from each one. Your dress pools a little, allowing him to make his way back, this time taking your breast in his hand. Thumb brushes against your puffy buds, and a finger meets it to squeeze lightly.

Jean fully lifts off the blanket, sat up straight. He makes quick work of your dress, pulling it down and pushing it up. He grabs at your legs, going between light caresses and tight grasps, not knowing which to settle with. Finally he finds purchase in your ass, guiding you back and forth over his thigh.

You moan into his mouth, fully succumbing to the wetness surely dampening through your panties, the feeling of his fingers twisting and teasing your pert nipples. He raises his fingers from your chest, using his thumb on your lower lip to apply gentle pressure.

Breaking the trail of saliva that connects you both, he pushes an index finger between your lips. You’re all too eager to suck on it, eyes looking dutifully at him. He inhales sharply between his teeth. His cock is so hard, so desperate to fuck into you. Jean wants it to be slow and beautiful, but he simply needs to have you. He wants you close to him before he leaves and doesn’t know if he’ll come back. And close means being inside you, hearing you in your purest form.

The dusky pink settling on his cheeks could be the sun, low in the sky, filling the meadow with rich hues.

Your moans could not be interpreted so wholesomely.

Fingers wet with your spit, he moves his hand between your legs, under the skirt. Pushing your panties to the side he lets you ride his palm for a moment. Teasing yourself, teasing your clit on his strong hand. He goes deeper, fingers sliding through your folds. He slips through your folds, resting at your entrance, before allowing your hips to rise and him to push knuckle deep inside you.

You reddened lips form a perfect ‘o’, and the bliss on your face is one he will remember forever. His thumb moves to your clit. Still on top of him, Jean watches you fuck yourself on his fingers. He kisses your neck, your chest. Taking your nipples and sucking, biting, nibbling.

Your walls are closing in on him, before gently relaxing and he can tell you’re close.

“Don’t be shy” Jean reissues his earlier statement. But now it’s far huskier, far more commanding. “I want to hear you, y/n. I want to hear you cum.”

You’re watching his face, the words - orders - tumble from his lips. They make you flutter around his fingers. You murmur out tiny please’s.

“What did I say? Louder, y/n.”

You moan against his neck, “please.”

Jean pulls your hair, making you extend your neck, forcing you to look up to the hues of pink and orange. “Louder.”

You’re so close. “Jean, p- please!”

“Good girl.”

With that he’s flicking his thumb over your clit, fucking his fingers up into your cunt. The sounds of liquid and wetness only add to the noises of you cumming. Pussy clenching around his fingers, hips giving way and as your legs start to burn and shake. Jean holds you up, working you through your orgasm. He wants nothing more than to watch you fall apart, moaning his name. And then whining curses as you become oversensitive. Yet your gummy walls still suck him in, begging for more.

Leaving your tight walls, he brings the fingers to his lips. You taste tarte and sweet. Better than strawberries any day.

Your breaths are heavy as he twists the two of you, resting you with your back on the blanket. You are radiant. A green halo of grass above you, the dusting of pink on your cheeks, your lips kiss-swollen.

Jean pushes your skirt up, eyes trained on yours as you rest on your elbows. Your eyes follow his movements. How his tongue wets his lips before he drags them on your inner thigh. How his fingers dig in to pull you closer towards him.

He pulls off your sodden panties, kissing into your hips, your belly. Jean is slow and deliberate. As much as he wants to be deep within you, he’s never had the chance to enjoy you this slowly before.

He rises, kissing your breasts as they spill from the top of your dress. His tongue paints saliva on your lips before slipping between them. The kiss is intense. It’s deep and sloppy and so needy.

Your hand reaches to his shoulders, thumb slipping underneath his braces pulling them off. Hands slip under his shirt, and he quickly helps you pull it off. His muscles are firm and taught, the amount of work his body has been through over the years evident underneath your fingers. You trail fingertips over stripes of knotted flesh, kissing each mark and scar after your hands move onto the next one.

“You’re beautiful, Jean”

Jeans cheeks go rosy and he smiles so bashfully that it breaks you apart. The lopsided grin makes you pull him back into you, teeth bumping together as you giggle into the kiss.

He unbuttons his pants, pushing them far enough down his thighs to allow more friction as he grinds into you. Jean is noticeably straining his underwear, his member long and hard. You move your hand down to cup him, squeezing gently through the cotton. You tug on his cock, leaving him stuttering into your mouth. Holding him just tightly enough, he ruts his hips into your hand, little sighs escaping his mouth into your hair.

Tucking your hand under the fabric, you pull out his dick. It makes your hand look smaller, Jean’s member long and hard. The pink tip is slick with precum, and your thumb brushes his head slightly, earning a little hiss.

You go from light little touches to harsher ones. Fingers brushing against the veins on his length, before you wrap around him again. He’s whining in your ear, “you like playing with my cock? Seeing what you do to me?”

With hooded eyelids you look at his contorting face and whisper “yes, yes. I want to please you, I want to make you feel good.”

“Such a good girl for me.”

Taking his member, you push the tip against the heat between your legs. Teasing your clit with his head, he looks down to watch you work. Precum lightly sheens over your folds, and fuck, Jean can’t wait to add to it.

“I w-want you so bad Jean.”

“You have all of me.”

You hold him against your entrance, the tip of him just resting at your little hole. Pulling him in a little, he pushes against the first tight ring. It’s always intense letting Jean fuck you, making you so full. You rock your hips up, letting him slip out a little, before grinding back down. It pulls him into you so sensually. He moans unashamedly as you control the pleasure you both receive.

Repeating the action, you lift again, pushing him out, and again tightening your stomach muscles to curl and bring him deeper inside you. His golden eyes are trained on where you’re conjoined.

He’s halfway inside you, stretching your tight walls so much already. Jean sits back, moving his tongue around inside his mouth before letting a ball of spit fall where his cock rests inside of you. Spreading it on his length, he helps you the rest of the way. Letting your eyes widen and gasp of surprise (how are you always surprised by the feeling?) as he fully sheaths himself inside you.

“God, you’re so tight,” he holds himself above you, head falling back as he inhales slowly.

Jean allows you a moment to breath, before he pulls back out, quickly snapping his hips back to yours. Moans tumble out of your mouth as he fucks into you. Lashes fluttering and your tits bouncing in rhythm, you are a sight for the sorest of eyes.

“You’re so pretty for me, all splayed out on my cock.”

He pushes your legs apart, watching his length disappear inside you. Watching how one hand twists your own nipple, the other feebly trying to grab onto his wrist. He’s splitting you apart on his dick, the feeling of being so fucking full taking over. You were already sensitive from your last orgasm, but he builds another, the tightening in your core unmistakable.

“J- Jean,” you hiccup, so overwhelmed by him. “You’re s- so big”

“You’re taking me so well, y/n.”

He lowers himself against your chest, bringing his knees upwards and closer to your ass. You curl up around him, holding your legs further up. Jean quickly renegotiates the position, pulling your legs around him whilst you hold under your knees. You can feel him so deep inside you this way, pulled into a ball underneath him. Jean wants to be impossibly close, and this new angle is punishing on your pussy. He can feel how wet you are between you, how much you enjoy the intensity of his cock working in and out.

His forehead presses against yours, his hand snaking between you two. From his new angle, he can hit that sweet spot inside you so easily. His length sweeps against it, and hits into your furthest wall. He lets out curses as he feels your cunt tighten each time, mixing with the moans and mewls from you. You lock eyes with him, big doe eyes pricking.

“Pl- please, I’m so close, Jean.”

Fat tears roll over your cheek, trailing to your temple. Everything feels too much. Him inside of you, the wet squelching between you. His strong fingers rubbing over your clit again and again. You let out a sob, followed by a moan. It’s a combination of knowing this is the last night, feeling how fucking intense his cock is inside you, hearing how much Jean needs you. He kisses your cheeks, tasting the salt, not faltering as he continues to pummel into you.

“You’re doing so good, baby.”

His balls slap against your skin.

“You can do it.”

His teeth bite at the flesh of your breast, pull at your nipples.

“I want to hear you.”

His fingers play and roll with your clit, feeling the way you tighten around his cock.

“Please cum for me, y/n.”

Your back arches off the blanket, the night sky soaking up the moans. The lewd noises in between you both are all consuming, the slap of slick and wetness only adding to your full body sensation.

His fingers keep moving on your clit, and Jean grunts each time your pussy spasms around his cock. He keeps pace, fucking you raw and with need. He loves to see your delicate face scrunched up, eyes rolling back and mouth unable to close.

And with the tightening of your walls around him, Jean’s close. “Where do you want me?”

“I want,” you inhale sharply, as his cock drives back into you, “you inside me- I- I need you Jean. Please.”

“You’re so good, baby, you’re so good.” He’s getting quicker, making you writhe beneath him in your overstimulated state. “I’ll give you what you want, okay? I’m going to cum inside your pretty pussy.”

Jeans fingers are going to bruise you. He's holding onto you so tight, never wanting to let you go. It’ll be something to remember him by. Movements are starting to stammer, the sweat evident by the sheen forming across his shoulders and face. You tuck a tendril of his honey hair behind his ear. “I love you”, you whisper amongst the moans. And with that he pushes deep enough to make you cry out, feeling the hot ropes of cum painting your walls.

Your man rests inside you for a moment, gathering his breath as he leaves languid kisses against your breasts, your jaw, your lips. He pulls out, seeing his cum drip from your pussy. Using his fingers he pushes the white around your folds, earning a sharp his when he brushes past your clit. Finally, he brings his fingers to your lips, and you put out a delicate tongue.

Cleaning him with your mouth, he sits back, sighing softly. How can you be this good? And you like him? Jean thinks he is the luckiest man on earth. He adjusts your dress for comfortability, before dipping next to you. Your heads are lightly touching, your hair intertwined with his. Staring up at the sky as the last colour leaves it in its inkiness, he holds you close. He presses his final kiss on your forehead.

“I love you too.”

#jean kirsten x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirsten smut #jean kirschtien #jean kirschtein smut #aot x reader #aot smut #attack on titan #attack on titan smut #jean smut #snk x reader #snk smut

1K notes · View notes

tsunderecookies · 4 years ago

Text

Horny HC

Pairing: Bakugo x Reader, Midoriya x Reader, Todoroki x Reader, Shinso x Reader, Hawks x Reader

Warnings: nsfw subjects, choking, spanking, spitting, hair pulling, language as vulgar as my mind, degrading, daddy kink.

A/N: Count on me to make my first ever post spicy. All characters mentioned in this are aged up to 21+. I hope y'all enjoy reading this. (Also i made these headers myself - not the chibis - so sorry if they shit, I tried :)))

Requests are open. Please send lol, imma run out of ideas.

So for my first set of hc I took the 5 heroes I had the most ideas for but I’ll definitely do hc’s for the rest as well. Also i love the villians so lmk if you guys want me to do a part 2 of this for them or any of the other heroes!

This man

This.Man.

He's gonna blow your back out. No cap.

I mean you see the way he treats his friends, you can't tell me he won't be daddy in bed.

Speaking of Daddy. Authority kink. It's either Sir, Daddy or Master. Katsuki has left the chat.

Bakugou is in charge, and you sure as fuck better know it. If not, he won't hesitate to remind you, teaching you a lesson you won't forget anytime soon.

100% brat tamer.

Bakugou loves putting you back in your place when you step out of line. He lives for the sound of your pleas and apologies as he reminds you of where you belong; on your knees right in front of him. ( that sounded so sexist pls don't come for me )

Punishments come in the form of spanking and edging for hours on end. He's not scared to manhandle you.

You gasp at the harsh feeling of your back slamming against the wall, the feeling of Bakugous hand slipping around your throat sending a wave of arousal straight to your core.

"What the fuck did you just say?"

"I said make me.... Daddy." A cheeky smile makes it onto your face as you repeat your words, but just as fast as it appeared it vanishes at the feeling of his hand tightening around your throat.

" Oh princess, you never learn do you?"

His favorite positions includes him hitting it from the back - he loves how he can just push your head into the mattress or lean his chest against your back to whisper dirty things in your ear. Not to mention the fact that he can grab your hair and pull your back flush against his chest as he tilts your head back so you can look at him while he rails you- and missionary with both your legs over his shoulders. He loves seeing the facial expressions you make while he presses his hand down onto your throat, his cock hitting places inside you you didn't know existed.

Definitely not afraid of quickies. He loves the adventure and danger that comes with the possibility of anyone being able to walk in on you at any possible moment.

Dirty talk: on fucking point.

" You like that baby? Yeah? You like it when daddy fucks you hard like this hmm? Tell me how much you love this. Tell me how much you like daddy pounding into you like this."

You know that kinda whiney type dirty talk tone? Like where their words are kinda dragged out and kinda high pitched? Yes. Yes.

Absolutely fucking loves when you can't speak. He loves how your words can barely slip out in between your moans and gasps, how absolutely dumb you are for his cock.

100% degrader.

Change my mind. You can't.

"That's right baby, yes - fuck. Take that cock. Take that fat cock like the slut you are."

"You like that you whore? You like it when daddy tells you how slutty you look all needy for his cock?"

This man is not afraid to mark you up. Good luck covering up those hickeys the next morning because its impossible. He wants everyone to know you belong to him, and you can bet your pretty ass that he has a shit eating grin on his face when someone notices them.

You can bet he has a shit eating grin on his face later when you try to confront him about it. He’ll also have some smart ass remark.

I can definitely see Bakugo having angry post argument sex. By the time he tosses you onto bed and crawls onto you the cause of the argument is long forgotten, the only thing going through his mind being how he's going to fuck the attitude out of you.

Absolutely loves it if you're loud. He wants everyone to know he's the one making you feel that good and that he's the only one who could make you scream like that.

" That's right princess, let the whole fucking city know who's making you feel this good!"

Definitely gonna have a ton of noise complaints, especially from your roommates if you have any. ( idk why but i picture katsuki sharing an apartment w kiri, sero and denki )

Bakugo isn't really a moan typpa guy, but god he will draw out the sexiest and unholiest groans and growls from the back of his throat.

I also feel like he's the type of guy that guides you through giving him head, telling you exactly how to suck his cock before he just grabs a fist full of your hair and ends up fucking your face.

We all know Bakugou is an overachiever, and this reflects during sex. He wants to make you cum as many times as possible using his tongue and fingers before he sticks his dick in you.

He isn't as romantic as Shoto with aftercare but he definitely takes care of you. He makes sure to go pee as well as make you go before turning on the shower for you both, adjusting the temperature to your liking.

He loves washing your hair for you in hopes that you'd do the same for him. He secretly loves the feeling of your fingertips massaging his scalp but would never admit it.

He's not super lovey dovey after, but he makes sure to let you know that you're appreciated.

"Love you, dumbass."

"Love you too, Katsuki."

All in all, you're in for a good dicking down.

I feel like this boy pours so much passion into it.

Especially with his history with his parents. The lack of love during his childhood definitely shows during moments like these.

With him it's always making love, its never just fucking. Sex to him isn't just an activity to get off or procreate ( cough Endeavour cough) its a show of both your love for each other, a moment for your bodies to become one.

Your pleasure definitely comes first to him. He would want to get you off at least a couple of times before even thinking of himself.

Shoto also struggles with expressing his emotions so this is a way for him to show you how he feels physically rather that having to convey it verbally.

He's all about the physical contact.

He definitely holds your hands during and whispers sweet nothings in your ear.

His favourite position is missionary. He loves the closeness, how he can look into your eyes and feel your shaky breathing while he moves inside you.

It's either that or you on top with him sitting upright with your bodies pressed together. He loves how close he can hold you. His one hand intertwining with your hair as he presses your head closer to his, the other around your back, occasionally moving down to you hip to help you grind down onto him.

Loves the feeling of your chest against his as he slowly moves between your hips, head resting against your shoulder as his hot breath fans over your skin.

He presses a chaste kiss to your lips before resting his forehead against yours.

"I love you so much angel, you're so beautiful like this."

He's also the type to light candles and have rose petals everywhere on special occasions.

But just because he makes love to you, doesn't mean he can't rearrange your insides while doing so.

Just hot, sweaty, nasty, rough sex.

But with love <3

Even during the rougher moments he makes sure to show you how much he loves you and how much you mean to him.

He'd have his hand all tangled in your hair, some of the unholiest noises leaving his throat as he takes you from behind. His eyes not leaving yours in the mirror placed in front of you.

"Fuck. You feel so good baby - just like that, yeah - look at me princess."

He's very observant. He takes note of the things the drive you crazy so he can work your body even better next time.

Because sex is something more intimate for him I don't think he'd be into sex in public/semi public areas.

He doesn't want anyone else to see the gorgeous expressions on your face while you're at your most vulnerable, or the heavenly sounds that leave your soft lips for him.

I wouldn't go as far as to say he's possessive, but this is definitely something he views as for his eyes only.

He’s not a very big fan of quickies for the simple fact that he likes to take his time with your body and give you as much pleasure as possible rather than just get you both off. He’d much rather prefer waiting for you both to get home and properly take care of you.

Shoto isn't really vocal in bed, but his pleasure will still be conveyed through his shaky intake off breath and the ways his face scrunches up when you clench around him.

He definitely marks you.

Loves marking you as his on your most delicate and intimate parts, painting your chest and inner thighs as his.

He loves trailing his hand over them, rubbing soft circles on the hickeys with his thumb. To him this is proof of the beautiful moment you guys spent together.

The most passionate sex that you both have would definitely be when shoto comes back from a long business trip, his hand could never compare to your body. He definitely plans on making up for lost time, keeping you in his sheets for as long as possible.

And can i just say

The aftercare

Top tier.

He definitely runs you both a hot bath afterwards.

Candles, bubble bath and your favourite bath bomb. The works.

Definitely wants to carry you but won't do so if you feel uncomfortable about it.

He slips in behind you so you're sat between his thighs, his one hand interlacing with yours while the other softly caresses your stomach.

Sets up a little cuddle corner next to the fireplace so you guys can enjoy a movie before falling asleep in each others arms.

Sweet baby boi.

One word: shy.

Izuku knows what sex is and what happens during this intimate act. He’s also watched porn a couple of times so he knows the basics behind it.

But that doesn’t stop him from shape shifting into a fucking tomato every time you start undressing in front of him.

When you both first started becoming intimate you definitely had to make all the first moves and initiate it all because he was too shy and nervous to do it himself.

Even if he was horny as can be and needed you more than anything he’d rather suffer in silence than tell you or ask you to help him out.

He’s definitely not afraid to ask you how to work your body right. Deku knows that not everyone's bodies work the same and that what might have felt good for someone else won’t exactly work for you. So he asks. He asks you how to work your body right and he’ll keep this in mind for future reference.

He marks you but not as much as the others. He’ll litter them on more intimate places both because he doesn’t want to embarrass or inconvenience you and because he’s the only other one he wants to be able to see em. He’ll also get really blushy when he spots them.

This man 100% has a praise kink. He loves knowing how good he’s making you feel and won’t hesitate to let you know as well.

No matter how many times you’ve been intimate before he’ll always tell you how beautiful you look, how much he loves you and how much he can’t wait to make you feel good.

As time goes by and you give him more praise he’ll become more confident intimately.

I can’t really see Izuku having any hard kinks for the simple fact that he doesn’t like the idea of hurting you in any way, especially intentionally.

Like if you were to ask him to choke you or something he’d do it beacause he wants to please you but it would still be the softest shit you have ever experienced. Like for example he’d have his hand around your throat but he wouldn't add any pressure and his hand would barely graze your ass when he attempts to spank you.

He would be down for quickies but he’d be a nervous wreck about em. He’d constantly worry about getting caught and won’t shut up so you’ll just have to make him ;)

“Zuku don’t worry we’ll be fine.�� Your lips mesh together as you pull him closer by his shirt, tugging at the hem to signal you want it off before moving down towards his belt.

“ But y/n - chan I just don’t want us to get caught...” A whine leaves his throat as you start palming him through his jeans before quickly pulling them along with his briefs down to his knees.

“You need to relax more baby.” You press a kiss next to his ear before sinking down to your knees. “In fact I know just how to help you do that.”

Before he could even think of a response his hand flew up to cover out the loud moan threatening to slip out of his ajar mouth as his head fell back.

He’s definitely loud during sex.

Without a doubt.

He lets out these whiny little moans and he definitely tries to hide em. They wouldn’t be especially high pitched but they’d still be higher than usual. Can definitely see him as the type to cover them up with his hand but when you let him know how much you love them he’ll blush a little but let em all out.

You’ve seen how attentive this man is right? How he takes every little piece of info he gets into account when he fills out his journal and comes up with plans?

Yeah your body has its own journal.

Joke lol, but Deku is very attentive and takes note of every reaction he gets out of your body with his touch. How your back arches when his fingers hit that spot inside of you. How your moans get louder when he angles his hips in a certain way. How goosebumps appear when he litters kisses down your neck.

Aftercare with him is the cutest thing ever.

Blushy boi again.

He holds you close to his naked body and pushes his head into the crook of your neck to hide his blush. He’ll thank you for not only sharing moments like these with him but also allowing him to be apart of your life.

Now and then you guys take a hot bath together afterwards but most of the time you fall asleep in each others arms, an occasional kiss being placed on your forehead with a word of comfort.

This man will just love on you so hard.

The first thing that pops into my head when I think Shinso and sex is kitten.

He definitely calls you kitten in bed and he is daddy. period.

Like this man is rough. Without a doubt.

He’s the type that’s really fun to tease because you know he’ll punish you later. Especially if you do it while he’s at work.

A gasp leaves your lips when you feel a familiar pair of arms circle your waist, his warm body pinning you against the railing of the balcony.

"Surprised kitten? I thought you would've expected this, sending me those lewd photos while im at work. "

His hands move to grab onto your waist and push you further into the railing, yours grabbing onto it in turn.

His chest vibrates against your back as he chuckles, you can practically feel the smirk on his face.

"Yeah, you better fucking hold on to something."

I also feel like his pull out game is the best. He mostly enjoys cumming on either your chest or your lower back and face on special occasions.

He loves taking you from behind or on your side while lifting your one leg. He also loves sitting on the edge of the bed with you on top of him with your back facing him while he guides your hips up and down.

He loves these positions because it gives him the perfect angle to please and tease. He can easily reach around and play with your nipples but he can also tease you by just stilling inside of you when you least expect it.

It also gives him better access to the most sensitive parts of your neck so he can mark you up.

I feel like Shinso has a very high sex drive. Like i feel like he's down to go whenever wherever, which is why i think quickies with him is almost a daily occurrence. He loves the risk behind it and he definitely knows how finish you off within 5 minutes.

He absolutely loves it when you're a brat so use this to your advantage because it will get you r a i l e d.

A loud groan escapes the back of Shinso's throat, his hand tangled in your hair while he rams into you from behind.

"Is this what you wanted baby? Huh? Me fucking the brat out of you?"

He is an absolute king with his hands and he knows it. He knows how to get you absolutely spent with just 2 fingers.

Definitely jealous as fuck but he doesn't do anything about it until you're alone. He'll act normal up until you get home before pinning you against the wall and reminding you that he's the only man you should be giving attention to.

And oh my god this man can go all night long. He’ll pound you into the mattress until HE thinks you’ve had enough, sweat gleaming on both your bodies in the moonlight as he finally pulls out and pulls you close to him.

He’s definitely very adventurous. He’s not afraid to experiment at all.

I also feel like when he cums he cums A LOT. Like one of his favourite things ever would be you on you knees in front of him, his cock buried deep down your throat as you struggle to swallow everything he's giving you.

Sleepy sex is basically a morning ritual, his hips already rutting against your ass before you've even properly woken up. He loves the laziness of the whole ordeal as well as the closeness. Before you he'd just rub one out before falling back asleep, but now that you're here he can just indulge in you and then fall back asleep. Not that you mind.

Shinso doesn't leave hickeys intentionally. He just gets into it and does it without noticing it. Thinks it's hilarious as fuck when you struggle to hide them and definitely makes a comment about you knowing you enjoyed it so why complain now.

Definitely the type to wake you up and ask you to ride him at ungodly hours.

Member of the suck me off while I'm gaming club.

A little bonus: I can just see both of you going at it and he’s doing you good and then all of a sudden he just stops. Naturally you just assume he’s just trying to be a tease so you buck your hips up in attempt to get him to move inside of you and let out a whiny moan. Shinso would just kinda calmly look at you and go “ Baby... she’s on top of me.” and you’d be like huh???? tf he talking about, and just look up and see the cat you adopted together peeking at you over his shoulder. She lets out the cutest little meow and you both start giggling, taking a mental note to close the bedroom door before you get down in future.

After sex he’d take care of you. He’d clean you up and cuddle you really close. He’d run his fingers through your hair and massage your scalp for you. Will wake you up with breakfast in bed the next morning and a cup of coffee/tea.

Hawks has a god complex in bed and you can't convince me otherwise.

He's the absolute king of oral. He isn't just gluttonous for food if you catch my drift. He knows how to use his tongue, and the way he uses it on your sex is enough to make you see stars.

"Oh god. Fuck, i-i need- oh my god. Keigo, I need mhmmnnmm" your hand runs through his golden locks as you press him closer to your core, hips bucking and thighs threatening to close around his head.

Keigos head peaks up from between your legs, his mouth glistening with your arousal as his hand picks up where his tongue left off. A cocky smile sneaks it's way on his face.

"That's right baby, tell god what you need."

Hawks loves taking you in missionary. Why you may ask. Because this gives you perfect access to his wings. Nothing gets him more riled up than the feeling of your fingers dancing over the base of his wings where they meet his skin. The feeling's enough to draw a growl from within his chest, his hips immediately picking up momentum as he pounds you deeper into the bed.

Just like Katsuki, Keigo isn't afraid to mahandle you.

He loves the sight of your fucked out face as he wraps his hand around you throat, incoherent mumbles the only thing leaving your swollen lips.

He fucks you stupid, tongue lolling out of your mouth and eyes rolling back into your head. The sight of this turns him on ten times more than he already was in the first place.

Keigo will also use his feathers on you 100%.

A small gasp leaves your lips at the feeling of something soft stimulating your sex. You lower your eyes, undeniably turned on by the sight of one of Keigos feathers matching the momentum of his thrusts as his hips slam into yours.

Your eyes travel back up to your lovers face, unable to hold back the moan that escapes your lips as he winks at you with a smirk and picks up his pace.

Undeniably into praise. He absolutely loves when you tell him how good he's making you feel and how he's the only one who possibly could make you feel this way. Definitely gets cocky about it.

Along with his love for praise he also has a love for degrading. He loves the way you instantly start moaning louder and tightening up when he starts calling you his little slut and cocksleeve, it's enough to make his dick twitch.

Definitely possessive and protective as hell over you. Being Keigos sidekick meant a lot of work related arguments about recklessness from both sides. These arguments often times lead to hate sex.

A harsh tug on your arm stops you dead in your tracks as you turn around to come face to face with your fiancee, the scowl on his face giving away exactly what he was feeling before he could even get a chance to open his mouth.

"What the fuck was that." His breath was hot as it fanned over your face, the smell of mint unmissable. "That, Keigo, was me doing my fucking job." "No y/n, that was you being careless! What the fuck were you thinking risking your life like that?!" " Last time i checked that was our job description! We're supposed to be risking our lives to save innocent people, or does that suddenly mean nothing to you anymore?" "I don't fucking care about them I care about you! I have half a mind to remove you from field work thanks to that little stunt!" " For fucks sake Keigo! What are you gonna do?! Tie me to a fucking desk?!"

Within two seconds your back was pressed against a wall, your fiancees hands slamming down next to your head as he moves his face dangerously close to yours.

" Tread lightly princess, or i just might."

Adding to the possessiveness, i feel like Keigo will be one jealous son of a bitch with no shame at all.

Like he'd take you out for dinner at some fancy restaurant to treat you, only to have your waiter start flirting with you. Keigos blood would start boiling, his jaw set as he'd glare at the man flirting with his mate.

As soon as the waiter leaves he'd make some snarky, passive aggressive comments about the scenario before dragging you into the bathroom mumbling " If he can't see who you belong to I guess I'll have to show him"

He'd then proceed to shamelessly pound the fuck out of you in the restaurant making sure everyone, especially that waiter, could hear every single sound the left your lips. He'd leave so many hickeys on your neck. He needs to mark what's his.

"You're mine. You understand me? You belong to me baby, you're all mine." His hand roughly grabs your face making you look him in the eyes. "Say it." He gets impatient, lifting his hand to lightly slap your face, the action drawing a moan from your lips. " I said fucking say it."

Total exhibitionist. You have definitely been pinned against the large windows in your apartment or even his agency, on full display to anyone walking by as he fucks you nice and hard.

I feel like aftercare with Keigo would be little things that don't necessarily classify as aftercare but comforts you both.

After pulling out of you Keigo would lay down next to you, his hands wrapping around your body to pull you closer as his heart hammers in his chest and he waits for his breathing to calm down a tad.

He'd then get up, tug on a pair of boxers and grab the box of cigarettes and lighter on his bedside table before heading out to the balcony.

You'd slip out of bed, putting on his shirt before joining him outside. Your arms would be wrapped around his waist while he smoked, both of you enjoying the slight late night breeze and the sound of the bustling city before heading inside to snuggle up and fall asleep together.

460 notes · View notes

moxfirefly · 3 years ago

Note

B D J O V for Donnie, Karl and Alcina? (yes I am in love, no I dont have regrets uwu)

My 3 loves? Well why not! And pls enjoy the ficlet styles I’m going to opt for when doing dirty secrets! This is a little long so is going under the cut.

🩸🍷Alcina Dimitrescu🩸🍷

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and on the other)

A bit of an odd one here but she loves backs, like your actual back. The line of your spine, if you have those back dimples, ufff. She loves the shape of it if you’re on the more curvier side, she loves the skin, and your rolls, and any stretch marks. Just picture that elegant hand of hers ghosting over your back, nails maybe even claws.

On herself, well Alcina is aware of her assets and she’s very aware of her chest, both she’s quite proud of but she’s really proud of her figure over all.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

There was a pretty seamstress in the village who always was brought up to the castle to help with her dresses. She was a pretty thing in Alcina’s eyes, very much her type. When your making or fixing or measuring a tailor made outfit for a 9ft+ woman well it gets tricky and a little more handsy than usual. Alcina didn’t mind, the seamstress didn’t either. It was interesting following simple commands even if they were asked upon her with nothing but grace and poise.

So as Alcina sat for the 40th time to have something around her neck marked to be fixed, she had to stand between her legs to best approach and see the mistake. Only sitting did she have the best chance at seeing her at a more eye to eye level (well as best as it could be).

She isn’t dumb, she knows curiosity, want and lust like the back of her hand. Sees the nervous swallow of the seamstress whenever hands glide across her chest. The whispered ‘pardon my lady’ when she rests a palm on Alcina’s throat and takes a needle to the neckline with all the gentleness she can muster. Of course it’s the moment to prick her finger, the quiet hiss and scent is enough to alert Alcina and without waiting for her to fuss she takes that bleeding digit and kisses it, tastes the bead of blood, all while looking straight at her. When she still sees lust there, oh does she pull her closer.

One of her maids walks in about twenty minutes later, an array of materials in her arms so she doesn’t quite catch how the Lady of the castle smooths her dress and tries not to laugh, chest heaving a little and legs closing a tad. The maid greets her with her usual honorifics before leaving the requested materials, she notices the seamstress isn’t there and arches a brow at the room. “Lavatory” is all Alcina says before the maid makes a question. She nods but feels something isn’t right with the current picture but still leaves.

Once gone.

The seamstress crawls out from under Alcina’s skirt, mouth shiny, hair disheveled and nice set of teeth marks at her bosom.

It becomes a frequent thing after that.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

It’s not to say she needs to because she sincerely feels she has anybody at her beck and call who is willing ready and able. But on the rare occasion she indulges in some self care, it’s mostly in her luxurious tub. Feeling the warm water, her hair clean and smelling of that weeks chosen fragrance, well it gets her thinking and thinking leads desiring and if there isn’t anybody she’ll handle it. Slow, she loves drawing out her own pleasure, loves to feel that rise but stops before it’s too close. She’ll do that, edge herself a little bit more before biting down on her lip to muffle a more particular louder cry.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Both. She lives for giving it and she loves to receive it. She is just, wow, so incredibly good at it, she’s goes about it in such erotic and passionate way and if you’re not looking like you are being possessed by the devil then she up’s her game to make sure that happens. You can squeeze her head with your thighs all you want, she’s built different lol she can handle it. Don’t yank to much on her hair though, claw at her all you want but easy on the do.

She’s had a few inexperienced lovers which she has to guide when they want to go down on her. She’s very particular of what and how she likes it, but she’s patient enough to teach you.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

I’ll do you one better, https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMRSKhUoh/

⚙️Heisenberg⚙️

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and on the other)

https://hagelpaimon.tumblr.com/post/661063110466158592/i-wonder-wonder-who-ill-pick-hesi-baby-a

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) shout out to @imthegreenfairy88 for helping me out with this one.

The first few times he indulged in this he was very adamant in keeping it to himself and to himself only (with time and reassurance he chills out) but the first time he tried doing ‘back door’ stuff on himself he was very surprised about how good it fucking felt and every so often he indulged in it. There’s an occasion where he ends up in bed with some tourist, gun to his head he doesn’t remember their name but he sure fucking remember the blow job and fingering combo that they gave him that had him seeing fucking stars. He tensed up at first was about to say something but they crooked their fingers just right and swallowed his cock at the same time and words were out the window along with thoughts.

He was so far gone that it didn’t cross his mind that when he begged for another finger, he gave himself away and if their eyes weren’t indication of how delighted they had been, feeling two more additional fingers really proved the point.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

I mean I’m saying yea, he has to get creative with it sometimes so as to not get bored, but he picks up a few things he enjoys (he is creative after all) he’s definitely ruined his fair share of pillows, loves rutting into them. He has beat off probably in any section of the factory but shower is better for clean up. He for sure has done it outside of the factory, probably relaxing on a chair and if the weather is nice enough, it’s not like anybody is gonna suddenly drop by. He likes a tight closed fist when he’s close but enjoys a teasing touch to start things off, really enjoys grabbing his balls when he does it. Very messy messy boy when he cums.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

This man blows you like his life depends on it. VERY sloppy but it’s really hot, it’s how eager he is about it and how willing he is to suffocate and or choke on it. He’s told you to sit on his face multiple times at multiple moments of the day. He loves the taste of you, loves feeling suffocated by your thighs. You know what they about big noses too 🥴🥴

As for receiving he likes to dish out what he takes. So expect some rough mouth fucking, he will make you gag, he will make you all teary eyed cause he enjoys it. He’s fine with it without to be honest, he much prefers to be balls deep in you but if you enjoy doing it then expect hip thrusting.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Not super loud, but he isn’t mute. He groans and moans but he’s also a talker so expect a lot dirty talk. His voice drops in a way when he’s fucking you that it makes your toes curl. He’s all breathy pants when he’s close. Lots and lots of cuss words.

👾Donnie💜

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and on the other)

https://hagelpaimon.tumblr.com/post/661063462078889985/b-body-part-their-favourite-body-part-of-theirs

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He likes the taste of his own cum.

He denies it, really denies it, just says it’s his way of cleaning you up after a nice romp but he really has a way of proving the opposite. Donnie has ‘finished’ on you in every way shape or form. On your stomach, back, face etc you name and each time he has cleaned you up he’s either wiped it up and sucked on his fingers or he’s just full blown licked it off of you.

And there is something so disgustingly erotic about that you haven’t or don’t want to call him out on it. You’ve gone down on his multiple times and he very eager to kiss you after your done. One time you purposefully left some on your chin and lips to see if he’d clean it up first but nah, kissed the heck out of you. His favorite is cumin in you and then going down on you. The first time he did that, it was enough to make your toes curl till they cracked and just as you were about to say something he was yanking another orgasm from you. The combined taste of his and yours release? Fuck now that was his favorite.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Does it and does it often. He’s not prudish about it, it’s free oxytocin and for a guy who’s convinced he’s never gonna get a shot at being with somebody physically, might as well practice some self love.

Loves visual stimulation but he’s really into audio stimuli. Likes those audios where he feels he’s there with the person or the ones where they give instructions. Donnie is really into edging and if he’s got the time and privacy he can literally edge himself for a couple of hours. Has at times managed hands free orgasms. Has made cock sleeves or basically fleshlights (ah ingenuity), can have his moments where he’s super slow and teasing about it, light strokes and all that. Can also have moments where he basically fucks his fist to the point of making some pretty obscene wet noises. If listening to audios or watching videos he really loves trying to cum at the same time as the person in the vid or audio. Has a bottle of lotion right on the desk but that shit is so cluttered with stuff that nobody has picked up on it and honestly it’s kinda funny.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

GIVE GIVE GIVE.

Oh my lord is he OBSESSED with giving oral. It’s such a big turn on for him. He just loves how intimate it is, he loves how he’s giving you pleasure in such an intimate position. LOVES over stimulating with his mouth, loves feeling thighs trying to break his head, happy to die down the suffocated in his favorite place, loves feeling a hand at the back of his head and pushing him in further.

He’s not crazy about receiving cause he knows his size is a challenge but he’s not opposed to it, he much rather get a hand job from you.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Loud and not afraid about it. He enjoys the fuck out of it and is going to be vocal about it unless it’s adamant to be quiet because people are around. His churrs are really nice, deep but not as baritone as say Raph’s, but they feel and sound so good.

#tmnt bayverse #re8 village #donnie #heisenberg #alcina dimitrescu #lady d #lady dimitrescu #tmnt Donatello #Karl Heisenberg #lord heisenberg #tmnt Donnie #Donatello #ns*w alphabet #ask #dianounais

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gojology · 4 years ago

Text

Lovebirds.

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 | omg this is my first request. ilysm anon, im now feelin super cool. also, i just realized i put recc (as in recommended) instead of requests. i’m super stupid LOL. anyways, im touch starved too dw bby, i’m servin u up a long one since i rlly like this request and after all u r my first! 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 | Gojo x Wife! Reader 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 2307 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 | None! 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 | Coming home from a long mission in America, precisely 1 year, you’re excited to catch up on Gojo’s students, Nanami, and just Gojo in general. Leaning out of the car window, resting your arm against your purse, you sighed. A humid wind brushed against your skin, tickling you. It had been quite a while since you had been in Japan, spending almost a year on a huge mission in America. You had killed a battalion worthy amount of special grades. You spent most of your time in America in mostly horribly rundown places, equally as infested with curses. Although you found yourself enjoying America’s natural beauty, further away from the city life that many of the Americans found themselves enjoying, you much preferred Japan. after all, it was your home, and where you met Gojo Satoru. It would be another day until you could return, and you had gone through hundreds of scenarios of finally being in his arms again, but nonetheless, you were ecstatic at the thought of your husband’s touch. Your phone’s notification chimed loudly, you threw your phone onto the other seat, heart jumping up to a high rate. It was a recording of Satoru loudly yelling, “OPEN YOUR FUCKING PHONE!” with a flurry of giggles afterwards. Ijichi jumped, turning left and right. Whispering under his breath, he let out an exasperated sigh, switching the music channel. The recording was mostly because of the time you had to ghost him due to work. Gojo had snuck on and recorded it, doing some magical tech stuff and giving you the custom notification sound. You had kept it that way ever since, since secretly, you enjoyed that you were so badly wanted by Gojo, that, and you had no idea how to change it back. But the custom notification was sweet as well. You smiled to yourself every time you heard it, a familiar twinge of pain flashing inside of you whenever you realized you wouldn’t be able to see him for a while. Well, today, and the days after that would be different. You’d be able to finally see Gojo again, and his new students that he always frantically texted you about. Nanami, an old friend of Gojo, and also an old friend of yours, would also be there to welcome you back, you found yourself reminiscing about them. You had heard so much about them, one of the kids being Sukuna’s vessel, you wondered how Gojo could contain such a fear, being around the kid at all times, he always told you about how the kid was actually energetic and happy and an overall great kid, you had heard about Nanami, finally coming back into the jujutsu sorcerer field of work, even though you always found that he still had a thing for finances. You shook your head, “Save that shit for later, (Y/N).” muttering to yourself, you didn’t want to think of anything but Gojo, after all, it had been one fucking year of being deprived of the man you loved most. You were practically starving for the guy, in more ways than one. Ijichi gulped, facing towards you, one hand on his steering wheel, “Forgive me Mrs. Satoru, but um.. Forgive me if I misheard, but I think I heard your phones notification go off.. Due to the ah- incredibly loud profanity.” Now just realizing that you had completely forgotten about the phone notification, you nodded your thanks to Ijichi, a warmth rushing to your cheeks before opening up your phone. In the small, rounded box containing Gojo’s message, he wrote in all caps, “SUGAR, MY BELOVED, MY QUEEN, HOW CLOSE ARE YOU? I CAN’T FUCKING WAIT I’M LITERALLY BOUNCING UP AND DOWN IN OUR BED.” Smiling to yourself, you furiously texted back, “Calm down honeybun, I’ll be there in like, 24 hours, I’m not even fucking close.” You almost instantly got a DM back, making you jump a bit in your seat. Even with the 5 years of friendship, and the 3 years of relationship, and the 2 years of marriage, he still almost always texted you back as quickly as possible. “God I can’t fucking wait for you to meet the kids! We’ll keep it a surprise, yeah? We have a bunch of treats, and we also got the kids to get some gifts for you! How thoughtful aren’t they? They’re MY offspring by the way, so like, you know, whenever you want a kid, it’s your call ;)” You snorted to yourself, smiling. He genuinely seemed so excited, and it was all shining through even though it was from a screen. “Maybe in a few years, I don’t even wanna imagine a little you.” Despite the excited, bubbling feeling brewing bigger and bigger in your stomach, you figured it’d be best to sleep before the chaos. Happily sighing, you laid down, using your purse as a pillow, drifting into a blissful sleep. ‧₊˚✩彡. You awoke to a sudden halt, Looking around your surroundings, you figured you were home. Ijichi looked like he was damn near about to fall asleep on the steering wheel. Well, maybe that’s what 24 hours of constant driving did to you. You fished around in your purse, silently cursing looking for a water bottle. “Here, Ijichi, looks like you ran a marathon.” you grinned, handing the slightly crumped water bottle to him. He beamed as if a guardian angel had descended down and gave him a trillion dollars. “Mrs. Satoru! You really mean it? The ride was nothing, I was merely instructed to do so and I would’ve done it happily regardless.” You waved your hand, as a dismissal of the conversation. “You overwork yourself Ijichi, go catch a break, on me. If Gojo tears you apart, tell him he won’t be getting any pussy from me for another year.” Ichiji nodded vigorously, before dashing off, probably towards a massage center, God that guy needed it. ‧₊˚✩彡. Gojo frantically hopped up and down, it had been a day, now he was just waiting for you to bust through the door in your wild hair, his legs sprawled onto the whole of a couch, he stared at the ceiling, a dopey smile spread across his face. “Satoru. (Y/N) will not even want to be associated with you, looking at your current state.” he remarked, staring at the sorcerer with his strikingly dead eyes. “Nanami, how the fuck am I supposed to act calm?! I’ve waited for this moment for ONE YEAR! Does my hair look normal?!” “Your hair looks just like an albino porcupine, just as usual.” Flipping the page of his newspaper, he sighed, rubbing his temples. “I will never understand how someone like (Y/N) would be.. Interested in you, Satoru.” Gojo paid no attention to the insult Nanami had so clearly made, his ears were perked up, eavesdropping on a distant conversation coming closer and closer. “Gojo-Senpai was telling me about this movie while training my cursed energy! He basically spoiled the whole thing but he told me that the main character was super annoying but apparently she dies in the end in the most gruesome way possible! It’s worth the watch, your soul will feel cleansed as soon as you see her lifeless body!” “Yuuji, you literally spoiled the whole thing to me just now.” Fushiguro calmly stated, looking bored out of his mind. “Oh, oops.” Yuuji rubbed the back of his neck. He smiled coyly, tightly hugging his present. “What’s with the decorations, Gojo-Sensei?” inquired Nobara, stroking her warm toned brown hair. She had figured it was something about the presents that Gojo had forced the trio to get, but he never told them who it was for. The room had been decorated with various balloons and confetti, scattered about, on the table and the ground. A cake box wrapped with a gigantic bow limply guarded whoever was brave enough to get their hands on something that Gojo seemed to be protecting with his life. A pink table cover with a crudely drawn Gojo and what would seem to be a girl, a heart in the middle of the pair. In a horrible font with an even awfuller text, the text on top and at the bottom of the drawing proudly stated: “WELCOME BACK QT” “-YOU’RE HUSBAND AND THE CREW” Nobara stood in distaste, trying to disguise the face she made. The drawing, the misused you’re, and the overall poor design choice was enough to almost make her vomit. Nobara, about to make her distasteful statements about the whole mess, was suddenly shut up as Gojo started hopping up and down, looking directly at his phone. “SHE’S COMING! SHE’S COMING! EVERYONE IN YOUR PLACES!” Now, seeing Gojo freak out wasn’t outside of the ordinary, but it was to see him freak out to this extent. He was hopping up and down, blabbering about a certain woman named (Y/N). Nobara was pretty sure that if a curse attacked right now, even a special grade comparable to the one with the uncomplete domain could completely crush Gojo, the guy seemed completely unaware of the example he was setting to the kids. Even Yuuji stood in disbelief, and he had seen multiple tantrums by Gojo. Nanami, however, licked his finger and flipped the newspaper page. A face of boredom obviously displayed. Nobara, preparing herself to chew Gojo out about how utterly stupid and embarrassing he made the whole class of jujutsu sorcerers look like, stopped wide eyed as she looked at the doors slide wide open. ‧₊˚✩彡. You stood, shyly, looking at the ground. Gojo dove headfirst into your arms, laughing like a maniac and digging his face into your shoulder. You breathed in his scent, scanning the room. Three teens, sat wide-eyed, backs straight as they looked at you with eyes you couldn’t quite read. All three of them held presents. The one with eyelids underneath his eyes (which you assumed was Yuuji, the vessel of Sukuna) eyed you curiously, his eye twitched. The other boy, one with wild black-blue hair, sat mouth agape, before closing it. He looked like he was about to say something, before stopping entirely and hugging his present closer to his chest. The warm haired girl darted her eyes between you two, seemingly trying to put the puzzle together. Nanami put the newspaper down, glancing over to you two. “This is obviously Gojo-Senpai’s wife. He hasn’t seen her in many months, and as you can see, really really misses her.” he paused, a small smile spreading on his face, a rare sight. “I don’t even know why myself, but what can you do with lovebirds?” he thought aloud, his attention now focused to the two of you furiously making out, hands in places Yuuji and the crew didn’t need to see. “Satoru, (Y/N), leave the kissing for later. Don’t you see the kids?” You detached yourself from his mouth, panting for breath. The air being exhaled out of his nose fanned over your face, you had just now realized the kids again. “Satoru, lets sit down. I bet the kids are surprised. “ you motioned to the couch. Gojo whined. “What? They’re not that dumb, they can tell you’re my wife or at least, you’re my girlfriend, just by the way we kiss right? Isn’t this telling enough?” “You didn’t tell them about me, ever did you?” He sighed in defeat, holding tightly onto your arm as you dragged him over and sat down on the comfortable couch, opposite of Yuuji and the crew. Nanami scooched over, before finally getting up to pull another chair from somewhere else. Grunting, he excused himself from the room. “YOU HAD A GIRLFRIEND, GOJO-SENPAI? AND DIDN’T TELL US?” Yuuji questioned, looking like he was about to faint. Gojo laughed, snuggling deeper onto you, almost like a koala. “She’s my wife, aren’t you, sugar? Did you even pay attention to anything Nanami said? He literally said she was my wife.” Megumi made an obvious gagging sound, but even he didn’t seem as bored as he was usually. He actually looked intrigued. “Why didn’t you tell us, Gojo-Senpai?” the girl nagged, slamming her fist down on the table. Gojo smiled, “Uh, well, I wanted it to be a surprise when she came back.” “Couldn’t you have told us that you had a wife or something?” Megumi butt in. The door slid open, Nanami coming in with a wooden stool. “Knowing Gojo-Senpai, that probably went over his head.” grunting as he placed the wooden stool down and sat, he opened his newspaper again. “Where do you guys know eachother?” “Was Gojo-Senpai handsome back in highschool too?” “Do you know what lipgloss Gojo-Senpai wears?” “Gojo-Senpai, how did you know you loved her?” “Gojo-Senpai, can we eat now?” “Do you know why Gojo has such a horrible sweet tooth?” Before you could even respond, Nanami put his hand up. “Now, now, lets let the happy couple settle down.” he cleard his throat, not even making eye contact with anyone but the newspaper. An audible chorus of groans sounded, “What do you expect us to do? We literally just met her!” moaned Yuuji. “Weren’t you the one that literally asked if we could eat yet?” Yuuji immediately shut up afterwards. “Yuuji, she just came back from a 1 day trip. She should be laying down comfortably with Gojo-Senpai and they should be catching up. You’ll have the opportunity to talk to her and learn about her later. Right now she needs space.” “But-” Nobara whined, clasping her hands together. Nanami turned to Fushiguro, but even he had his mind set. “I didn’t even begin to think that Gojo had a wife. I really want to know more about her, if you think about it, this is all Gojo-Sensei’s fault.” Nanami rubbed his temples, staring at the two of you for backup, realizing that you two were making out again. Nanami sighed, 10 years later and you two were still the same.

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 4 years ago

Text

The Gang FINALLY sees how much of a BAMF Merlin is:

A smidge of Angst, but only because everyone is stupid :)

Part 4 of Merlin’s angry outburst. The Gang has ridden out (refusing to let Merlin and Arthur go alone) to a battlefield that will only have two bodies on display. One of them is Merlin’s.

This was meant to be the last bit but it was getting so long and I kept thinking of extra shit to put in soooooooo. Hopefully this is the penultimate part? But who knows lol.

TW: Lots of death (the final battle yo)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

They ride the whole first day in silence. Not even Gwaine has any jokes or stupid stories to tell, and the atmosphere is tense.

The time between Morgana rushing into the council meeting, and the group riding towards what looked to be Merlin's death, had blurred by. No one really had any time to think, but now, riding in silence, all they could focus on was the fact that they were knowingly heading to what could be Merlin’s demise.

No one concentrates on anything but urging their horses to travel as fast as possible, and Arthur shortly telling everyone to stop and make camp were the first words spoken for the whole journey.

No one replies, they just dismount their horses, and wordlessly go about clearing an area for the fire, laying out food, and checking the surrounding area for danger.

Merlin stalks off before anyone can stop him, intent on setting up some wards before anyone settles down. He’s clearly pissed, and Arthur shakes his head when Lancelot gives him a look, “Want me to go with him?” .

Arthur follows instead, trusting the others to set up properly whilst he and Merlin have a much needed private conversation.

It doesn't take too long to find him. He's noticed that, recently. Ever since the link was forged he always seems to be able to find Merlin first try. Before, he had to scour the whole castle to have a chance of finding his wayward manservant (and then his wayward Court Sorcerer), and even then sometimes he couldn't manage it.

It's comforting. In a way. Knowing that they'll always be able to find one another.

Arthur sees him in the trees ahead, facing away from him, his hands up in front of his body. He can hear him muttering something that Arthur doesn’t understand under his breath.

Years ago, Arthur would think that Merlin hadn't noticed him. But Arthur knows him better now. He knows the ever so slight hitch in his Sorcerer’s left shoulder means "I hear you. I see you. I know you're there." .

"You can't know that everything's going to be ok."

Merlin sighs and turns back to look at him, still visibly frustrated with everyone’s obvious fretting. Neither make any moves to walk closer:

"Course I can. I had a chat with Kilgharrah on the way here-"

(He taps his forehead as he says this)

"-no other Emrys-killing weapons have been made, and the only one anywhere near us, is yours. As long as you don’t stab me, I'll be fine."

Arthur huffs and shuffles his feet at this:

"Merlin, the vision. You weren't waking up and you heard what Morgana said. Why are you so intent to ride to what is almost certainly going to be your death, when our armies could win this battle anyway?"

Arthur is trying to sound firm, but his face gives him away. He was never all that good at hiding his true emotions when it was just him and Merlin, and his expression is sad and desperate.

It's only at that, that Merlin walks towards Arthur, putting his hands on his shoulders:

"That vision doesn't show everything. And yes, that may have been the clearest vision Morgana has had during this whole bloody war thing, but the future is still fluid. Nothing is set in stone. Arthur, I'll be fine. And besides, an all out battle means blood spilt, theirs and ours. If I can do anything to prevent that, then there is no choice, not for me."

The King clenches his jaw, before pulling Merlin into a tight hug. The Sorcerer let's out a surprised "oof" but grips back just as tightly, burying a hand in Arthur's hair.

Arthur speaks aloud this time, so quietly Merlin barely hears it even with Arthur's face in his neck. Perhaps thinking this is important enough that it has to be vocalised:

"Why have you got to be so bloody self sacrificial? I couldn't bear to lose you, Merlin. I need you with me, by my side."

Merlin smiles slightly at that, but doesn't let go:

"I'll always be with you. Nothing in this life or the next, could pull me away from you. I...-"

He hesitates here, but Arthur tightens his grip, and he takes a deep breath before continuing:

"-...this is where I belong. Right here, right now. With you."

Arthur squeezes him once again and pulls back, gently laying his forehead against Merlin's, very reminiscent of the spell cast all those weeks ago.

The both of them keep their eyes closed, even as Arthur speaks:

"We're having a conversation about... this, when we get back. We're ALSO having a conversation about your self sacrificial tendencies."

Merlin laughs and pulls back at that:

“Only if we have a conversation about yours first.”

The King rolls his eyes fondly, and turns to walk back, but pauses momentarily, without looking back:

“I may not understand your magical mutterings, but I know that you’ve finished setting the wards up. Are you going to come back? Or are you going to come up with another excuse for you to watch me leave so you can stare at my arse?”

Merlin flushes at that, and lets out a mumbled “Shut up.” before speed walking past a laughing Arthur, towards camp.

The whole group seems to relax once they realise that the tension between Merlin and Arthur had been resolved (or at least... changed. A different type of tension. The type that made Leon want to lay their bedrolls on opposite sides of the camp).

The evening passes quietly, nothing of note happening, and soon enough, everyone is asleep.

The next few days aren’t quite as tense, but they still hurry their horses, taking few breaks. It was wordlessly agreed that they wanted to get there as quickly as possible, so that they might have time to assess the situation properly.

Everyone was still understandably worried, but with Merlin being so relaxed, and Arthur seeming ok (ish) with what was happening, they kept their anxieties to themselves.

It’s the second night they stop to make camp, that Gwaine informs them that if they keep the same pace and get up early, they should be there just before noon the next day.

Everyone is a little tense at that, but Merlin speaks first:

“I’d say the rain isn’t going to hit until noon. If we move quickly, we should have at least a little time to plan..”

The group once again relaxes at that, grateful that they would at least have time to think things through, and check the surrounding area, before anything happened.

The relaxed atmosphere doesn’t last long, however. When they’d first stopped to make camp (that was around three hours ago now) Morgana had sat straight down, out of the way, and began to meditate. Without warning, she opens her eyes with a flash of gold, and lets a tear slip down her cheek before looking to Merlin.

He furrows his brows, and begins to speak before she can say anything:

“Morgana? What did you see?”

She lets out a humourless laugh, drawing even more worried attention from the group, before she replies:

“I’ve been trying to look past tomorrow. The near future, the far future, anything. Anything that might clue us in to the outcome. You know what I see?-”

Everyone is staring at her, clearly anxious, but she doesn’t take her eyes off Merlin, not even when Gwen places a gentle hand on her shoulder:

“-I see your mother and Gaius, quietly crying. I see Arthur, with a golden crown on his head, and a silver crown in his hands. I see a tombstone, with a name I can’t quite make out. I see your chambers, empty and cold, unlived in and covered in dust. I see... I see us. All nine of us that is, sat around our table. But one of the seats is empty, your seat. And all of us look... blank. That, is what I see, Merlin. And through all of it, I can feel your absence like a flame on my skin. I can see past tomorrow with ease. But I can’t see you.”

Morgana looks devastated. Everyone else in the group looking various mixes of shocked, scared, heartbroken.

Merlin nods slightly, and frowns staring into his lap. He was so certain that... logically, he should be fine. He’s died before and been fine. But Morgana’s visions are rarely that inaccurate, and if she’s stopped seeing his future entirely... well. It wasn’t a good sign.

He hums thoughtfully, before wiping the expression off his face and looking up determinedly:

“That changes nothing. I either do this, and everyone bar me survives, though I still think I’ll be fine, or we ignore your visions entirely, ride back to Camelot, and risk the life of every single one of Camelot’s citizens. And that’s not an option, so we’re just going to have to see what happens.”

Everyone opens their mouth to protest at the same time, but before any of them can make even a sound, Merlin jumps up, and speaks again. His voice is sharp, and invites no argument:

“NO. I said it’s not an option. This is what I do. I always used to hate the idea of a pre-written destiny, but if I’m meant to die tomorrow, then fine. So be it. I will NOT put my own life above anyone else’s. Especially not a whole kingdom’s, and ESPECIALLY not any of yours.”

He breathes deeply, and after giving a short glare to everyone individually, he sits down again.

He’s seated between Arthur (who had barely left his side) and Percival, who takes the Sorcerer’s hand in his own, holding it in his lap.

Merlin smiles at him as he attempts to pull his hand back:

“I’m fine Perc, I don’t need comforting. I always figured I would end up dying before you lot anyway-”

Everyone shuffles uncomfortably at that. No one likes to think about outliving one of their closest friends:

“-not that I think I’m gonna stay dead anyway. But that’s not the point.”

Percival holds onto Merlin’s hand tightly, but stares into the fire as he replies quietly:

“This isn’t comfort for you, Merlin. It’s comfort for me.”

Merlin seems taken aback at this, like he had only just considered that his friends might need comforting in the first place. He forgets sometimes (read: most of the time) , that he is as important to these people, as they are to him. He can’t imagine willingly going to any of their deaths, not without putting up one hell of a fight.

He nods, after he wipes the shock from his face, and settles his hand in Percival’s, instead of trying to pull away:

“I’m sorry. I know this can’t be easy for any of you-”

(as he speaks, he lets his other hand subtly gather up the fabric of Arthur’s cloak, for his own sake or Arthur’s, he’s not sure)

“-but I need you to trust me. Believe me, I’m not trying to get myself killed permanently... I mean dying even temporarily isn’t exactly fun but... you know. I’ll be fine.”

It’s Gaius that replies first. The others were especially worried about the physician, he was practically Merlin’s father at this point, and none of them thought they could cope with having to comfort the man if they lost Merlin.

“It’s not that we don’t trust you, Merlin. We’re just... worried. And it’s not like you’re well known for considering your own safety when it comes to planning for any sort of conflict.”

Merlin looks as if he’s going to protest, but Gwen beats him to the punch:

“Don’t argue Merlin. You can’t deny that you have a habit of jumping head first into the fray.” She says it with a small smile, but it’s weak, and Merlin suddenly feels guilty for all those times he’s worried his friends.

He threw himself into situations he was sure he would be able to survive, without considering the fact that none of the people he cared about had the same assurances.

His reply makes everyone chuckle

“Yeah, well. You know me. I’ve never been much of a planner.-”

The Sorcerer squeezes Percival’s hand once more, before continuing:

“-But it’s late, and if we want to get up early we should head to sleep.”

The group nods in agreement, and all begin to shuffle to their bedrolls, having hushed individual conversations as Arthur declares that he and Merlin would take the first watch.

(No one questions it. They rarely set watches nowadays, Merlin’s wards have become incredibly reliable over the years, but all of them understand that The King and The Sorcerer need this time.)

Other than Merlin and Arthur, Percival was the last to leave his seat, ruffling Merlin’s hair as he gives him a weak smile, before making his way to his roll to undoubtedly toss and turn through the night, like everyone else.

The King and The Sorcerer didn’t move from their spots next to each other, and, at some point during the conversation, Arthur had replaced the clutched fabric of his cloak with his own hand.

They stay silent for a while, not really knowing what to say. Despite everyone’s worries, the rest of the group is asleep after not too long. It had been two days of hard travel and sleeping rough, and no one would admit it but they were all exhausted.

Both of them seem to realise that there was little chance of them getting to have those conversations at a later date. The two of them struggled individually on what would be worse: forcing the conversation now before it was too late but knowing that might be the end of it, or leaving everything unsaid and leaving Arthur with the regret.

Merlin was inclined to leave it unsaid. As far as he was concerned, he would still be fine (though he was now unsure if he was right, or if he was just in denial).

Arthur wanted to get it off his chest. He may be a tad emotionally constipated, but Merlin is... well... Merlin. It took him a while to realise his feelings for Merlin, but once he did, it was like an unending avalanche.

On some level, Arthur knew that Merlin felt the same, but would it be cruel? Or distracting? For him to voice it now, before everything?

He remembers saying weeks ago “We’ve plenty of time before things kick off” . But that time had passed. It had flown by. Arthur thought he would have forever with Merlin, even when the war was declared he wasn’t worried. But suddenly there was no more time. He might lose him tomorrow.

Did he want to taint what few hours they had left with an emotional confession that could wreck them both? Or should he leave it, steadfast in the belief that Merlin knew. Which would be crueller?

In the end, Arthur decided that he wouldn’t be able to live with it: the doubt, the regret, if he never said anything, and... something... happened.

He grips Merlin’s hand tighter in his own, and swallows, but before he could say anything:

“I know.” Merlin doesn’t look at him when he thinks it, but squeezes The King’s hand in return.

“No, I... you have to let me... I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t, so just-”

Merlin does look at him then, and gives him a gentle smile to stop him rambling:

“Ok, Arthur. I’m here, I’m listening, I hear you.”

Arthur meets his gaze, a steady stream of tears down his face that causes Merlin to frown slightly:

“I... Merlin-”

Arthur struggles with the words, thinking back, he can’t remember a time he’s actually said them out loud. Ever.

He clears his throat, straightens his back, and steels his eyes. Merlin deserved the truth. And Merlin felt the same, he had never been more sure of anything:

“Merlin, I love you. And if you don’t come back to me at the end of tomorrow, I will never forgive you.”

His resolve cracks slightly at the end, but Merlin smiles at him fondly, teary eyed himself:

“I love you too. And I already told you, Arthur, I will always come back to you.”

Arthur grips Merlin’s hand tighter, and buries his head in the Sorcerer’s neck. Merlin wrapped his arms around him, and leans back against the log they were sitting against.

They fall asleep like that, the two of them wrapped in Arthur’s cloak. At some point during the night, Arthur’s head had slipped down onto Merlin’s chest, but neither moved. If anything, Arthur found he could sleep easier with Merlin’s steady heartbeat in his ears.

The Gang woke when it was still dark, but not in the way they had planned.

They all wake with a start, automatically pulling out swords and summoning weapons, before they realise that the blizzard like wind and deafening roar, was just Kilgharrah, landing on the edge of their camp.

They settle for only a moment, before they realise that Merlin hadn’t summoned him, which meant he turned up of his own volition, and that meant he brought news. And knowing Kilgharrah, it probably wasn’t good news.

Merlin approaches him quickly, a frown on his face and Arthur close behind him:

“What is it Kilgharrah, is Camelot ok?”

The Dragon lowered his head to meet Merlin’s worried stare before replying:

“Yes, the city is safe, young Warlock. I have left Aithusa to watch over it whilst I tracked you here. The army you face is in front of you, not behind you.”

Morgana speaks up quickly after that, a frown on her face:

“What army? I haven’t foreseen any big battles in a while, believe me, I’ve been looking. The only people that should be in that meadow, is us, and whoever... and one other man.”

Kilgharrah looks over the group slowly before looking back at Merlin and replying:

“It appears, Emrys, that you will finally get a chance to show off the extent of your power. An army is waiting for you, in that meadow, and you are the only one with the capacity to defeat them.”

Merlin takes a deep breath, and clenches his hands (one of which is quickly taken by Arthur. Another example of neither of them knowing which of them the action was meant to comfort):

“I don’t know if I’m that powerful Kilgharrah, I’ve never-”

“The only reason you do not know the breadth of your power, is because you’ve never before come even close to your limits.”

“But I-”

“Your magic is tied to nature, Emrys. Use it. Bend it to your will. The entirety of the world will move at your whim, you need only ask-”

Before Merlin can reply, or ask what the hell that means, Kilgharrah lifts his head suddenly, as if hearing something, and looks briefly to Merlin once more as he replies, before flying off:

“Have faith, young Warlock, in yourself and in destiny. I must leave you now.”

Everyone stands still, not quite in shock, but definitely confused, all bar Merlin, who just looks annoyed:

“Fucking typical. What’s the use of being a Dragon Lord if my giant pet lizard is going to be so bloody cryptic all the time.” is mumbled by the Warlock, as he looks towards the sun, just about rising over the horizon.

He sighs once more, before:

“Come on then. I suppose that was a good a wake up call as any. We should pack up and get going if we want to get a look at this army.-”

The next bit is mumbled to himself as he lets go of Arthur’s hand and wanders off to dismantle the wards:

“-And I suppose I now have half a day’s journey to figure out to beat it. That’s just great.”

It only takes a moment before the group launches into action, now freshly tense at the revelation that there was an army, and there was only ten of them.

They had faith in Merlin, and Morgana was there as well. And if everything really went to shit, there could be two dragons there to lend a helping hand (or claw) as well. But still. An army. That was big.

They’re riding out on the last leg of the journey within an hour, everyone having regained the tenseness that they had on the first day. Though all of them are slightly comforted by the fact that Kilgharrah hadn’t mentioned Merlin dying. He may be a cryptic bastard, but that definitely seemed like something he would bring up.

Gwaine’s directions and timings were accurate, they reached the edge of the seemingly empty meadow around half an hour before the sun hit the centre of the sky.

They remain hidden in the trees, Merlin casting a quick enchantment to shield them from being detected, before looking to Morgana and nodding.

The two of them close their eyes and stretch their arms forward, towards the meadow. A few mutterings and tilted heads later, they open their eyes. Merlin looking grim, but determined, and Morgana looking scared.

Lancelot is the first to speak:

“What is it, what’ve they go out there?”

Merlin looks at him briefly, before darkly saying:

“Why don’t I show you?”

With that, he once more raises his arm towards the meadow. His eyes glow brightly and he speaks quietly, other hand clenched at his side.

After a few moments, tendrils of light extend from his fingertips, and snake out around the perimeter of the meadow. Once the meadow is surrounded, Merlin twists his wrist sharply, and the tendrils turn inwards, shooting towards the centre point. After only a few metres they seem to meet an invisible barrier, and explode upwards towards the sky.

The light is blinding enough to force the gang to all shield their eyes, but they quickly open again when they hear an uproarious cacophony of noise.

What they see, is a huge army gathered at the far end of the field, packing up camp and preparing to move off, in the direction of Camelot.

It takes only a moment before a voice rings out above the noise, coming from somewhere around the edges:

“THE BARRIER IS DOWN!! WE CAN BE SEEN!”

A voice answers back, shouting for everyone to be prepared, that they would be noticed soon, and that the fight was coming to them.

Arthur furrowed his brow before quietly:

“That was their King, I recognise his voice. He must have sorcerers with him to keep the barrier going.”

Leon answers first:

“This is why our scouts haven’t seen anything, there’s been nothing to see.”

Merlin once again begins muttering to himself, drawing everyone’s attention to him (and also reminding them that apparently, Merlin had the power to take out the whole army) :

“Well, at least it’s smaller than I was expecting, underestimating us apparently. Sorcerers could be a problem though. Hmm.”

Morgana speaks up:

“I feel three. powerful, but not really fighters. They’re here for the barrier, and they don’t seem particularly happy about it either-”

She looks towards Merlin, face serious:

“-If you make it clear who you are... they might join us.”

Merlin hums thoughtfully, before replying:

“Depends entirely on if their fear of me outweighs their fear of him.”

The Gang looks taken aback at the mention of fearing Merlin. Elyan quietly saying:

“Why would they fear you? I know that you’re Emrys and everything, but I thought it was a Druid peace-keeping sort of thing you had going?”

Merlin looks back at the group, anger on his face, as he responds darkly:

“They’re threatening Camelot, her people, her King. I’m very much pissed off right now, of course they should be scared of me.”

Before he has time to say anything else, they notice that the army is about ready to move out, and Arthur gestures everyone to quickly get back and hide as he rushes towards Merlin:

“Merls! Ok... so, in the vision, the field was already empty when it started raining, and we have maybe 15 minutes at most before then, so what happens? Whatever we do, we need to do it now, they’re about to leave. Or maybe the field was empty because we let them go?”

Merlin responds quickly:

“No, we didn’t see the whole field in the vision remember, and this half is empty-”

He thinks for a moment, and Arthur looks towards the army, before looking back at the others, and then finally settling his eyes on Merlin once more:

“-Put your crown on, you and me are going to march across there, and they need to know who we are. The others will stay here, out of sight.”

Arthur looks worried, and put a hand on Merlin’s shoulder:

“You do know what you’re doing, don’t you?”

Merlin smiles back at him:

“Nah, figured I’d just wing in. Come on, I’m Emrys. I got this in the bag.”

Arthur frowns as Merlin chuckles, before grabbing his crown from his saddlebag. The others looks to him questioningly, but he just shakes his head, and gestures for them to stay hidden. They don’t look too pleased at that, but they follow his orders, and hide themselves and the horses among the bushes.

The King and the Sorcerer take a deep breath, before looking at each other and nodding firmly. They march out from their hiding spot amongst the trees, and make a beeline for the army, walking confidently.

Merlin made sure to walk just a step behind Arthur, and it takes only a few seconds for a lookout to spot them and yell.

The two of them stop in the middle of the empty space as the whole army looks towards them, their King stepping forward:

“Ah! King Arthur-”

The way he says King, like it disgusts him, like Arthur doesn’t deserve the title, has Merlin fuming, but he doesn’t step forward just yet.

“-It would seem that you have bought your druid pet, to beat my army. I WILL SEE YOUR HEADS ON SPIKES!”

Spittle flies from his red face as he screams the last part, and Merlin sees the way Arthur clenches his hand. Before his... friend? (can he say that after last night?) can reply in anger:

“Introduce me, and then go back to the others. I’ll be fine, he’s clearly underestimated me.”

Arthur’s back straightens, and he leaves his face blank as he shouts his reply to the angered King:

“You clearly underestimate us. This-”

(he gestures absentmindedly to Merlin, who steps forward and allows his eyes to begin glowing.)

“-is Emrys. He will make quick work of your... army.”

Neither of them pay attention to his reply as they look at each other. The glow fades from Merlin’s eyes as he puts a hand on Arthur’s shoulder:

“Trust me, go back to the others and I’ll take care of it. All of nature is at my fingertips, apparently. Go, I love you.”

Arthur clenches his jaw and nods, before turning and walking back to the others, smiling to himself as he notices the almost transparent shield that had formed around him as he walked.

Merlin takes a few steps towards the army (which is getting louder and louder as the King makes his way through the ranks, shouting encouragement and rallying them) before stopping in place and frowning.

Unless he wants to cause issues with time, he should probably keep it as similar to the vision as he can. He looks to the side, the same place he had seen himself look four days ago, and speaks:

“ I’m sorry. But it’s coming. I can’t stop it, I tried. This is the only way. Just... relax... it’ll hurt less. Four days.”

He narrows his eyes and focuses, and he can just about make out a hazy mirror image of himself stood a few feet away:

“Arthur loves you... me..... us. Don’t let him down.”

The image fades as he takes a deep breath, and continues his march towards the army.

There’s a clap of thunder, and suddenly the skies open, Merlin frowns to himself as he mutters:

“Oh for fucks sake, why am I always right?”

The army begins their sprint towards him, and Merlin stops his quick pace, planting his feet, and raising his hands to the sky. The Sorcerer figures that there’s already a storm, and a storm is part of nature, right? He might as well take advantage.

The golden glow from his eyes is almost blinding as his brings his hands down quickly, palms facing the floor. Lightening strikes the ground with a flash and a few hundred of the men at the forefront of the army fall to not rise again.

Merlin grunts as he realises he’s going to have to try a lot harder if he’s to succeed in taking out the 12,000 angry arseholes running at him.

He continues aiming lightening at the fastest knights, nearest the front, taking out groups of them at a time.

He feels another magical presence, and he glances to the side to see a young woman at the edge of the meadow, clothes in tatters and feet bare. She meets his gaze and nods, before looking to the army and shouting a spell. The ground shakes slightly and a large chunk of the army falls into cracks into the ground.

Those his lightening had not touched finally come within reach of Merlin, and he has to jump back as swords reach for his neck. He swings one of his arms in a wide arc, and a burst of blue fire elevates the war cries around him, into screeches of agony.

He has to banish dark thoughts as the stench of burnt flesh reaches his nose, and he swings his arm wide once more, the same again.

Now with a little more space to move, though with little time before he’s crowded again, he kneels, and slams closed fists down into the mud.

The moment his skin touches the ground, the whole meadow shakes, much more than it had previously, and the whole army stumbles and falls.

There is a moment of silence and calm once the shaking stops, everyone trying to regain their bearings, but it doesn’t last long, as the ground opens. Sinkholes and cracks expand all across the meadow, thousands of men screaming as they fall into unknown depths, or drown in mud.

Merlin stares out in wonder as he realises he hasn’t said a word since the battle began. He had used no spells, the world around him simply understood what he wanted, and obeyed his orders. Nature bending to his whim indeed.

His thoughts last only a minute before he forces himself to concentrate once more. He can feel the three other sorcerers trying to protect themselves, and prevent anyone from escaping. Looks like Morgana was right. Though they were exhausted from holding the barrier in place, and even if they hadn’t been, even combined, their power was nothing compared to Merlin’s.

He pulls his arms from the ground, palms facing towards the sky (which is still pouring). As he does, every crater, every pit, closes with a snap, the field seeming suddenly much emptier as half the army, and all the previous bodies, disappear into the mud.

Only a thousand or so men remain, and, ignoring their cowardly King’s shouts (he was hidden somewhere to the right of Merlin, out of his sight. Hmmm. He would have to take care of that later.) they try to scatter into the woods surrounding the meadow.

Merlin closes his hands to fists. Vines and roots burst from the ground, all sharp thorns and gnarled wood as they speed towards the fleeing soldiers.

The screams grow louder once more as all but a few of the knights are pierced, and wrapped, and dragged towards their muddy places of burial.

Merlin stands once more, and tilts his head towards the trees with a silent request.

He smirks as the sounds of wolves reach his ears, howling and growling and rabid through the trees. That’ll do it. No one would be able to outrun them.

The battlefield lay empty. The bodies having been swallowed by the earth, or still running around piss scared in the woods.

Merlin turns towards the sorcerers standing twenty metres away, meaning to promise them safety and amnesty in Camelot, because of their immediate willingness to help, but before he can say anything, he sees their eyes widen as they look behind him in horror.

He gasps in realisation, and goes to turn and defend himself, but before he can, he staggers suddenly forward as he feels a bursting pain in his spine and spread through his chest. He looks down to see the front of a sword poking out from where his heart should be.

With his last few seconds of lucidity he jerkily waves his hand behind him and feels the King (”How could I have fucking forgotten about him? I was thinking about him literally 3 minutes ago??”) stumble back a few steps, leaving the sword behind.

Merlin falls to his knees, still staring at the end of the blade, blood dripping from his mouth as he hears an agonised yell from across the meadow.

He finally falls completely, his face angled towards the floor and his eyes fluttering as he hears a metallic *swoosh* and a *gargle* and a *thump* behind him, before Arthur falls to his knees at his back.

The last thing Merlin remembers, is hearing Arthur muttering something or other as he gets pulled towards him, but by the time his eyes look to the sky, his mind, and face, are blank.

THIS IS COMPLETED, PART 5 (link at the top, and in the masterlist) IS THE FINAL PART!

Let me know if y’all want my thoughts on anything in particular :)

231 notes · View notes

rouiyan · 4 years ago

Note

hmm im quite new to tumblr and honestly am dissapointed with the lack of GOOD doyoung fics on here. can I request a scenario or a drabble (whichever u see fit) of doyoung taking me along when 127 were touring and the moments we had (backstage/fights and making up/ comforting when he felt unsatisfied with his perfomance/moments with some other members too) I just miss 127 touring a lot !! and ofc if this is too complicated u can refuse lol

hey lovely, this ended up way longer than it should have been but it’s really just a bunch of drabbles strung together that have somewhat coherence to another. i liked the way it turned out though and i hope that you do too <3

𝐨𝐟 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐈𝐆 𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒 — idol!doyoung x (gender neutral) reader ✧ genres : established relationship, fluff, angst ✧ word count : 4.7k ✧ disclaimers : swearing, food

synopsis — snapshots of what it's like to travel with your boyfriend. oh an his nine other teammates.

“how much space do you have left there?”

doyoung peers over you, chin propped atop your shoulder, and even though he sees for himself quite plainly, you supply him with an answer anyways, “not much, just the front pocket now.” his chin digs and you shift your head the slightest in his direction, to appease him with your attention maybe. he doesn’t budge nor speak so you take it upon yourself. “what?”

“quick kiss?”

plucking the garment from the assortment of items he'd passed along, you inspect it with curious eyes, "you gonna wear this?"

"huh? oh, that." he sits back on his knees, then onto his bottom, then crossing his legs, "i thought i'd give sleeveless a try." you don't mean for it to come out offensively, rather teasingly in actuality, "you?"

unbothered, he simply muses on, "yeah, me. why?" with eyes rushed and flitting across his surroundings for a sight of his phone. now you're even less in the intent of offending him, more so just pushing his buttons in the face of humor, a humor that's evident in the way you glance up from the tee, eyes locking with his own and shadowing with mischief, "with what muscles?"

doyoung clicks his tongue, sticks it into the side of his cheek, and now back on his knees, treads over to where you're sat, countenance teeming with amusement. his demeanor himself traces in the slight of a smile that's yet to appear, only held back as he defends his biceps, "hey, i've been working out, you know." you watch him situate himself once again, legs crossing just opposite of your own. placing both your hands on both his knees, you lean in, lips puckered and nose scrunched either in emphasis or hilarity, he isn't quite sure though he thinks it's cute. that is, until you speak again, "you want your kiss? how bout now?" and he mirrors with an, "i'll pass," standing to retreat back into the hunt for his missing phone, head shaking all the while at your devious antics.

minutes later and upon finding it within the folds of his sheets, doyoung reverts his attention back to you who, by the looks of it, has just finished packing for the night with both sides of your suitcase clamped shut but yet to be zipped. his feet are planted firm on the ground when you move to stand in between them. they're off the ground a moment later when you push him back into the bed with an 'umph' and a hug that pulls both your bodies flush against each other's.

you'd go on about it for days but to you, doyoung has always been a silent lover. a kind of lover that people would mistake as just 'a friend of yours' or sometimes even a brother, cousin, relative of the sorts. by no means is he vocal with his love for you, and though times are abundant when you find yourself at dead ends with the thoughts of how he seemingly flits between, in and out of love, the one thing that never fails to reassure you is how he holds you tight.

forehead on his chest and arms laced around his back, you do your best to hold him as closely as he does you but it's impossible, you think, and not because of his so-called 'muscles.' the intimacy you share with him is bred from comfort, apprehension, normality. it's apparent when he next speaks, voice lower and reserved for when you are close and the tingling feeling in his heart softens his regard a tenfold, "excited?"

you lift your head to peer up at him. the same softness is returned in your one-word response, "elated," as you thud your temple back upon his chest. the chuckles he give reverberate beneath you, "sarcasm or no?" a shake of your head is given but doyoung craves more. hands on your waist, he manhandles you, in the gentlest possible way, so that your head lies in the dip of his neck, arms around his shoulder, and legs on either side of him. he knows that at this point, your energy is already teetering the lines of consciousness. he makes the most of what little you have left.

"kiss me?"

a sloppy peck is left at the foot of his neck and your lips stay there for the rest of the night.

the wind slaps at the skin of your face. you swipe away a hair or two that it'd blown into your mouth, open as you exclaim into the wide air before you. the city air is noticeably laden with light pollution and carbon emissions alike but it's refreshing to you who has spent the greater part of the day limited to a cramped airplane seat. the shuffle of feet, a sound that's barely discernible in the mix of whizzing cars and honks, calls for your attention from behind. heeding to it, you find doyoung, swaddled in a sizeable down coat, with his eyes squinted in the wind. "coming in soon? you've been out here yelling for almost twenty minutes."

you give him a look that makes it seem as if the situation were of a scolding mom and a naughty child. it's like you're adhering to the script because apprehensiveness does indeed rest in your wary response, "i just wanted to try it, like how they do in the dramas, you know?"

his tone chides, "yeah, yeah i know," while dragging you back inside the warmth of the hotel room, sitting you atop the bed, crouching before you. "doyoung, what are you-" though bizarre, the prospect of a ring emerging from behind his back does cross your mind. instead, he draws forth a bottle of wine.

you comment on it a little later, four hours, with jaehyun sprawled upon the bed to your left, snores loud and resounding in between the sentences of your hushed (and very much drunken) conversation. "you know, earlier when you brought out the wine, i thought you were actually going to propose to me." under the lamplight from the bedside table, your boyfriend's cheeks are tinged a soft pink, flusteredness maybe, inebriation surely. his head slops forwards onto your stomach, off and out of the hold of his palm, and lolls there for awhile before his dwindling bouts of energy jolt him upright. the sudden movement of his elbows digging into your abdomen have you groaning until a light smack is landed on his forehead. doyoung gives you a sleazy smile.

"maybe."

suddenly you're very much sobered up. "what'd you say?" though doyoung is still very much intoxicated as his head tumbles down upon your stomach once more, mumbling against your skin, "i did bring a ring to surprise you. i don't know if now's the time though, what do you think?" you don't think, in fact, you are completely and utterly void of thoughts. his, "hm?" pulsates from beneath you but even then, you're at a loss of words.

"i think—" i think yes. "i think you ought to go to sleep."

when you will your eyes upon his figure, perhaps a minute later, you find that per your instruction, he's already fast asleep.

the flight from jakarta to london is 15 hours (too) long and you'd planned to spend a good chunk of it doing what you were doing now, seat reclined the furthest possible and knees brought up to your chest to prop up your switch. you'd come to the conclusion that packing your earbuds in your suitcase that went into cargo was perhaps your first big mistake; your second, forgetting to ask doyoung for his before he fell asleep. with the volume turned to mute for the past four hours and counting, you scrunch your nose as your animal crossing character silently stumbles across another wasp-laden tree, third in a row, but before you're able to net it, your boyfriend stirs from beside you, his fingers tapping incessantly on your wrist to call for your attention. you glance over at him, "what?" and when you glance back to the screen, you're displeased, to say the least, to see that your character now has a swollen eye, courtesy of the wasp and its programmed sting.

the look on your face when you drop your feet to the ground, the device dropping to your lap, is enough to get doyoung to cut straight to the point. "i need to brush my teeth, wanna come with me?" puzzlement clouds your expression and he furthers in explanation, "you know, to save time?" still not quite getting his point, you nod along anyways, thinking a little walk and stretch to the bathroom wouldn't hurt. "okay."

taking his outstretched hand, the journey to the bathroom turns out to to be the most stressful. the whole row of three very tall men (jungwoo, jaehyun, and johnny in that order) with their very long legs making the situation a lot more complicated than need be. you end up tripping once over jungwoo's left foot, twice over jaehyun's right shoe, and thrice over johnny's right knee, a lot higher than where any normal knee should mark when planted straight on the ground.

the lock on the lavatory clicks shut behind you right when you realize just how small the compartment is. doyoung closes the toilet lid and props a knee upon it, leaving you with enough space to place your legs shoulder-length wide at most. you look over at him, or rather, you tilt your head slightly to the right and chuckle into the fabric of his hoodie, his chest pressed into your face. you manage between your chuckles, "go on, brush your teeth."

his arms bustle their way around and about you to grab at one of the packaged toothbrushes at the left of the sink and a paper cup at the right. there really is no way around it though a moment later, he relents by taking both legs upon the toilet seat to accommodate you. his kneeling stance stunts his height so that you're at about eye level with him. "here," you pass along the toothpaste and he flicks a dot of it on the brush. instead of stretching over to the sink, he simply passes along the toothbrush for you to run under water, passes the cup for you to do the same, and accepts them back with grateful hands. "you know, this would've been a lot more efficient if you'd just gone by yoursel—"

"i know," he says it as if unimpressed, though it sounds more like 'iiroe' (or some other incoherent keyboard spam) as he continues to brush his teeth. you prop your hands upon your hips, both elbows hitting opposing walls and a teasing lilt is added to your voice, "are you mad you brought me along?" you're not sure if he's smiling or if he's simply following through with his teeth-washing regimen. doyoung shakes his head, "no." you smile at that.

you know for a fact that he's smiling when the two of you switch spots, quite the haphazard move for your head clunks onto an overhanging cabinet while his back is then subjected to half your falling weight. a hand of yours is quick to clamp over his mouth right when you gather your bearings because his laughs come out loud in between panting breaths. you're terrified at the thought of being caught by a passing stewardess who'd suspected two people and some funny business upon breaking in, only to find two people, yes, but one brushing teeth on the closed toilet lid and the other laughing hysterically with a hand clutching his sore back.

doyoung backs out of the bathroom at first alone, head snapping left and right in a spy-in-a-secret-agent-movie-esque way, before tugging you behind him, the folding door clapping shut. he waits as you prod careful steps over the three soundly sleeping men and he grins when his turn comes and he epically fails in his attempt to cross over in one, sweeping step. he apologizes sheepishly at the three, now awake though still very tall, men and he turns back to you, only then letting the suppressed sniggers out.

if not your lover, doyoung is your best friend. there's something reassuring about having someone that always has your back. whether it just be laughing with you, crying with you, sitting with you in silence as you both scroll through your phones, or even now, as he peers over your shoulder to watch your little character fish the same sea bass over and over again. you like the comfort that you share with him, the comfort you were so lucky to have happened upon.

the armrest in between is pushed up as you slip your switch back into the front pocket of his backpack. doyoung holds an arm out and you slip into the warmth of his side, head bobbing to the turbulence and onto the heights of his shoulder. he glances down at you, briefly, and when your eyes meet his, they curve into the sleepiest of smiles. the two of you sleep with the pace of your breaths in tandem with each other's, the two of you wake under the announcements of a landing, and your fingers hook onto the sides of his backpack as he leads the way off the plane, in a single file line all the way.

doyoung drapes a jacket over your shoulders the second you break the open air of london and he hooks the same jacket above your head where the awning of the airport stops and the thundering skies continue their downpour where it left off. his hand provides cover as you duck into the car, so as to prevent you from hitting the frame of the door, and when he slides in, right next to you as always, you grab his hand in your own, eyeing each other with the indications of a smile.

it's then, as you point to the little droplets that whizz across the window of the car, that doyoung finds himself face to face with the same conclusion that he comes to time and time again. he loves you, a lot.

the palm of his hands slide down the satin fabric of his slacks, repeatedly. the look you throw his way has him gulping. "you sure you're not nervous?" his hands stop midway, too obvious it seems. "not at all." a quirk of your lips is given in response as you take the seat next to him in the waiting room. you watch as he tucks his bottom lip under teeth and you watch as his hands shift in their continuation down his thighs but retract and interlink as if they'd remembered not to do so. a stage manager knocks once before bursting in, sweat trickling down the sides of her face and a side of her headphones pulled backwards of an ear. she pants though the show has yet to begun. "five minutes and he has to get backstage," is what she directs at you and you pair your nod with a kind smile, signaling her exit.

the interaction only seems to ignite increasing bouts of anxiety from your already antsy boyfriend so you take his hands in yours, situating your body a smidgen to the right, and do your best to absorb his attention in something, anything else that could sidetrack his nerves for just those five minutes.

"excited for tomorrow?" doyoung's hands squirm in yours and his facial expression morphs into a flicker of confusion before righting itself and following through with a reply, albeit half-hearted, "yeah, i guess."

"it's your first day off in awhile," you give his hand a squeeze, "and we get to explore the city, all by ourselves." he only nods along and though you're sure your attempt is futile, you hope that it falls through, "and new york's up next huh, i bet the snow will be real prett-"

"what are you getting at?"

it takes a second for you to process what he'd just did, what he'd just said, "what?" though looking at him, he's nonchalant as ever; the tone in which he rejoins makes it seem as if he's ticked off somehow, "why are you telling me this?"

doyoung's brows draw to a point and it throws you off. he is ticked off. and it's plausibly that realization that gets you taking a stand for yourself as well, voice now clipped, "i just thought that i could preoccupy your thoughts for a bit, you seem so ne-"

"y/n." stopped in your tracks, you blink back at him benumbed. "i've already got enough on my plate as it is, why can't you just let me deal with my own shit?"

there's something brooding beneath the face you put on for him. he sees it surfacing and he has enough sense to pay mind to it. that is, until you retort, "your own shit? then why the fuck am i-"

"yes, my own shit. last i checked, i'm the one going up on that stage tonight so stop talking as if it's our job." and his defenses are held back up, sky-high, untouchable. doyoung's scowling at you as if you've never been more wrong in your life when in fact, you're almost positive that he's never been more at fault. the clench in his jaw, his hardened eyes, edged stance, everything about him in the moment jars you and you want nothing more than to punch him square in the nose (you do have quite the mad uppercut) but you restrain yourself under the pretense that he's minutes, maybe even seconds, away from being called to the stage, to perform.

sighing, the only thought that comes to your mind as you gather your bearings along with your belongings is the feeling that creeps between the synapses that once had held tight in your belief of his support, of his leniency, of his affections when it came to you. you swallow thickly, bag in hand and other hand reaching out for your coat, because you're sure you've never felt as unwanted as you do now, in front of him, glowering in your presence. at least the glint in his eyes soften when you come to a stop in front of him.

doyoung peers up at you then, dubiously, and the first urge he receives is to duck his head back down. he feels small, and not because he's sitting and you're standing. he feels small, infinitesimal, with the knowledge that somewhere in those five minutes, things had gone awfully awry with little hope in rectifying in the little time left. the air that hangs heavy between the two of you remains silent, save for the unspoken passing of words that neither of you acknowledge. you're the first, and last, to break it.

"are you mad you brought me along?"

doyoung wishes he'd been quicker in denying. maybe that would've been enough to keep you from excusing yourself the second the stage manager had made her reappearance. maybe that would've been enough to get you to stay, to watch him, to cheer him on, to support him. maybe that would've calmed his nerves, finally, at last. he doesn't know, he's having a hard time deciphering his thoughts, chunking through his regrets, wallowing in his worries.

doyoung gets into position. the only thing he knows is that he's in the right spot, the glow-in-the-dark tape tells him so. he'll have to sing soon, and maybe his scratchy voice will add to his pile of regrets. he'll have to dance too, to remember formations, stage directions, but the idea seems so far away, foreign, when all he can think of is the look on your face as the seconds dragged on, waiting for him to say 'no,' to say 'of course not,' to say 'i'm sorry, i love you.'

he's having a hard time because even now, long after you've left, the words stay lodged in his throat. and as the screams from just beyond grow louder and louder, as the lights overhead grow brighter and brighter, doyoung finds himself face to face with the same conclusion that he comes to time and time again. he needs you, he needs you more than ever.

it's dark and cold when doyoung first enters. to the right, he flicks the light on mindlessly to be met with an empty room. he supposes that it's warranted. setting his backpack upon the bed, sheets still pulled crisp and unfurled, he almost succumbs to the taunts of sleep that entice him but a single thought of you rectifies him, hand fishing out his phone from a back pocket of his jeans.

it's then that he notices, with a startle that rivals a starring victim in a horror movie, the door to the balcony propped open a finger's length. he takes a glance back at the entrance to see your discarded shoes that had went unnoticed just seconds before, he figures. the curtains that skirt the adjacent windows billow in the wind that veers past the crack allotted, the gusts that becomes stronger and more fervid with each step doyoung takes in the direction. there's no creak that accompanies the swinging of the door, though he wishes there were so he wouldn't have to break his presence to you so suddenly. the second thing he notices, just behind the fact that you are indeed out here, is that the air is a biting cold, explaining the initial temperature he was met with upon entering.

you're wearing the same, thin sweatshirt that you had donned for your backstage viewing of the concert, regrettably the coat had been neglected in your state. from the far edge of the balcony, you know there's a whole world splayed out before you, buildings lower, taller, equally as tall as the high-rise of your hotel, winding streets that never seemed to end, traffic that never seemed to move. you know, but it's impossible to see for yourself with the tears in your eyes that come as fast as they go.

time is stagnant, has been for hours upon hours, for you. for you also, crying is foreign territory, really, you'd like to consider yourself headstrong in the face of conflict and composed in the face of inner turmoil. it feels silly to find yourself hundreds of feet in the air and hundreds of miles away from home, sobbing in the light of an ineffectual fight with your boyfriend of three years. and it isn't as if the fight proved detrimental to the relationship, it was trivial in all the ways that pointed to the single course of action being to simply make up with him and move on. but somehow, your hesitance holds in resilience.

you don't want to admit how unnerving it was to see an argument stem from such a small trifle, such a small amount of time, such a lack of care. why is it that situations that seem so small in their doing hold the most significance in their passing?

doyoung clears his throat and now you're the starring victim in a horror movie. a, "holy fuck!" accompanies the startle and the knuckle-white grip that both of your hands impose upon the rail. he steps fully out of the hotel room, into the frigid air of a london night, a london midnight in the middle of winter. "sorry, i- i'm back." rather lame but there's little headspace for you (or him for the matter) to process that.

with a hand still on the nob, doyoung stands stiff across from you who is slowly but surely withering in the realization of how pitiful you must look, hair mussed in the wind, tear tracks evident, and the remnant pants that your hiccups had left in the wake of your breakdown. if not pitiful, then straight up pathetic.

"are you okay?"

you blink at him. there's not much else you can say except, "yeah, i'm okay."

doyoung takes a step closer, a hand off the nob and the door clicks shut behind him. two more steps and he's a two foot distance from where you're stood on the far right of the terrace, gaze intent on his every action. he doesn't say anything at all, and what vexes you the most, he simply opens his arms wide, a forlorn sort of smile settling across his features. his apology.

there's not much else you can do except to give in to his embrace, reminiscent of all the love you've ever come to know, all the love you will ever know. you cry again, once in his arms; something about the smell of him, the warmth he gives off on a cold winter night, that gets you sniffling into his chest, finger fisting his own sweatshirt at the small of his back. a hand of his rounds your figure and holds you upright, the other is lain on the back of your head, soft strokes to tell you that he does care, he's here for you. really, the one thing that never fails to reassure you is how he holds you tight.

hundreds of miles from home, scratch that, because right there in his arms, there is nothing more convincing than the fact that doyoung is your home, you are home.

mark sips on his smoothie until the straw begins to make those whistle-y, echo-y sounds that tell of how he's finished the drink. a passing waitress takes the emptied glass from him and he gives a nod to her muttered, "refill?"

glancing back, he's met with a plate of food that's been cleared for a good while now and a table of mostly drunk boys that can't seem to get a hold of themselves. taeil, quite the horrific drunk, is slopped over haechan's side. neither of them seem to notice. and then there's yuta, taeyong, and jungwoo, all seated in a row and all with their heads fallen straight on the table, backs hunched over. sicheng and johnny are nowhere to be seen but mark supposes it wouldn't be all that odd to find one of them lain out flat on the floor, or underneath the table, or even suspended from the ceiling at this point.

mark glances across the table, locks eyes with jaehyun who had also decided to remain sober for the night. jaehyun gives a nudge of his head over to his right, to where mark looks to his left to see you and doyoung at the end of the table engrossed in conversation, so much so that it seems as if you're leaning into each other, elbows propped on the table and all. he could chalk it up to the speakers, the music was turned pretty loud, so naturally you'd lean in to hear the other better. or maybe, mark thinks, maybe the two of you are just naturally drawn to each other, a thing that happens to couples as he'd heard, subconscious actions like these are plausible as well. or maybe, mark thinks, but his train of thought is interrupted when the waitress returns with his strawberry smoothie, straw exchanged and drink refilled. he takes it from her, a gracious, "thank you," supplied and when she turns to leave he takes a sip, turning back himself.

whatever made it into his mouth is spat right back out when he sees the scene unfolding before him. here is mark's inner narration on what's happening:

doyoung-hyung's not in his seat, huh. oh there, he's standing, no wait—now he's kneeling, oh, he's kneeling. what's he getting from his pocket? a box, it's a teeny box. he's opening teeny box, oh fuck, oh jesus, oh he's proposing. he's asking you to marry him. oh my god, what if you don't say ye-

"yes."

✧ end note — hey anon, i hope that you thought it was a GOOD fic. if not, ahem, i apologize for taking up your time. but really, this fic holds together so many mini ideas that i had but were never substantial enough to turn into writing so thank you for giving me a base to build off of, i enjoyed writing it very much <3

#neowritingsnet #neothestars #doyoung fic #doyoung fluff #doyoung angst #neo-constellations #neoculturecafe #nct doyoung #doyoung x reader #doyoung scenarios #nct scenarios #nct fics #rouiyan fics #rouiyan writes #requested

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delaber · 4 years ago

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Just Friends (Part 4)

Story Summary: After moving to America for a 3-month long internship, you meet two interesting characters on a boring night out.

Word Count: 4.3K

Pairing: Rafael Casal x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol, minor drug use, smut, slight dom!Rafa, swearing, and loads of British references (sorry not sorry lol)

Chapter note: ready for some smut? :)

Tag-list: lonelydance mysearchforgratification ramp-it-up

Other Parts: See Masterlist

Rafa looked up from the girl he had been charming and sent his friend a mildly annoyed expression before he realised who was standing in front of him.

His expression softened immediately, jaw going a bit lax, mouth slowly spreading widely on his face, eyes softening considerably when they landed on you. Even though you felt a bit uncomfortable under his gaze, you couldn't ignore the warm feeling growing in your abdomen as you were under his direct scrutiny. Fuck he looked good.

Without warning, his expression changed completely, and he suddenly looked almost devilish as he without a word abandoned the girl next to him and slowly walked over to you without breaking eye contact. Fuck, fuck, fuck! You were already turned on by him.

"If it isn't Margarita Girl," he said slowly, drawing out every word while running a hand through his hair, flipping the blonde strands to the side.

"Mystery Man," you said charmingly, tilting your head slightly, drawing out your words as well.

He slightly bent backwards while putting a palm to his chest, looking at you with a pained expression, "oh fuck. That accent just does it to me. Goes straight to the heart."

You laughed at him and let him stand up straight before you quietly said, "it's good to see you."

He nodded slightly, "Likewise - would you like to sit down? Have a drink maybe?"

You nodded too, "I'd love to."

Rafa sat down close next to you, his cologne filling your nostrils as he found you a clean highballer glass. Wordlessly, he poured you a mixer with a smirk while you tried to ignore the death glares coming from the girl that he had flirted with before you had stolen away his attention.

"Here you go," he handed you a muddy-looking drink.

"What in the world is this?" you raised an eyebrow as you took in the sceptical-looking drink.

"It's a Mystery Man-special," he said cockily, "try it."

You took a sip, the taste of smoked whiskey completely overpowering anything else he had put into the drink, "yuck! It's horrible!" you whined, sticking out your tongue.

Rafa shot back his head with a laugh, "You're hurting my feelings."

"This is the absolute worst drink I've ever had! Why'd you put in such an overpowering whiskey? It's terrible!"

"This happens to be my favourite drink in the entire world," he shook his head in disbelief, "I knew you were too good to be true - you can go back to your friends now."

"Not until I've made you a Margarita Girl Special," you said and grabbed a couple of bottles from the table in front of you and started mixing him a drink, your years working at a college bar definitely helping you, "this is a Bramble," you handed him the purple cocktail when you were done, "this is practically the most British thing ever."

He looked at the drink with a raised eyebrow, "normally I don't go for fruity-girly cocktails."

"Are you not manly enough to handle a colourful cocktail?" you smirked at him.

"I'll show you exactly how manly I am," Rafa winked at you before forcefully grabbing the drink from your hand. Delicately, he took the straw in between his lips, looking at you all doe-eyed as he started drinking. You laughed at him as his expression changed from theatrical to amazed.

"Good, yeah?" You asked him.

"I'm not much for admitting it but shit, this thing is fucking delicious," he said, smacking his lips a couple of times while eyeing the drink before going in for his second sip, "yeah, this is definitely better than my sad attempt at impressing you. You are hereby hired as bartender for the rest of the evening."

"So I don't have to go back to my friends now?" You teased.

"Oh, I'm not letting you go now."

"I can live with that," you sent him the most charming smile you could muster.

"Well, in that case - I think it's time for you to tell me your real name," he charmed back, leaning a little closer to you.

"I quite like being Margarita Girl. It gives me an edge, don't you think?"

"Trust me; you don't need more edge," he chuckled, "Plus, I hate being Mystery Man if all you think about now is an invisible creep that hides in women's locker rooms. Come on, I'll tell you my name if you tell me yours."

You laughed at him, "I get your point. But I kind of already know that your name is Rafa."

"So you know my nickname," he shrugged.

"It's a nickname?" you furrowed your eyebrows.

"What the fuck kind of a name is Rafa?" he chuckled.

"How am I supposed to know?! You have a friend called Diggs for crying out loud!"

"His real name is Daveed", Rafa continued, "- what, you don't have nicknames in England?"

"Of course we do," you laughed, "my friends and I are just not big on giving each other pet names I guess."

He nodded slowly, "Margarita Girl it is then. Your first and most fanciest nickname."

"I'll wear it with pride," you said quietly.

Rafa looked at you with piercing eyes, a smile spreading on his lips, "you really want to keep up the mystery?"

"You have to admit that it retains a certain amount of intrigue."

"I definitely find you intriguing," he admitted while leaning closer, his fingers brushing against the side of your knee. His touch made you fight a shudder all the way up the length of your spine but his next comment was whispered, and made you sure that he was aware of the exact effect he had on you, "I've thought a lot about you," he licked his lips and stared you square in the eyes.

"Why didn't you stop by then?" you said slowly, looking between his lips and his emerald green eyes. You were suddenly having a hard time concentrating on anything else than holding yourself back.

"I couldn't figure out if you wanted me to or not," he furrowed his brows, "I didn't want to overstep. It seemed like a one-time kiss for you."

"I had every intention of it being so," you nodded slowly, "still, I haven't quite been able to get you out of my head."

A small smile erupted on his face, "was it my soft lips? I bet it was. I moisturise them every morning, you know," he joked in almost a whisper, "women just can't seem to get enough of them!"

You rolled your eyes at him, "God, you're obnoxious!"

He chuckled as he started moving his thumb along the edge of your patella all the while he edged his face closer to you, "would you like to kiss them again?" He smirked. His face was mere inches from yours when he suddenly stopped, his eyes scanning your face. Every instinct in you screamed for you to look away from his piercing eyes, but a voice coming from inside your head told you that looking away was exactly what he expected from you, so you held on. He needed the challenge. He wanted it.

"Fuck," he breathed when he realised that you weren't going to back down easily. A certain darkness spread in his eyes as the devilish look from earlier re-emerged on his face, "your confidence is driving me insane," he leaned in and whispered against the shell of your ear, "I can't even begin to describe all the things I've been wanting to do to you."

This time, you couldn't hold back the shudder that spread throughout your body. You wanted to do unspeakable things to him too.

He noticed the shiver and was currently smirking helplessly against your ear. "Listen," he pulled back his face and smacked his lips, "I know it's only a couple of hours after midnight and that your night probably hasn't even begun yet, but do you want to get out of here?" The hand that had nuzzled against your knee was now crawling up the length of your thigh, sending shockwaves throughout your body. You wanted him to continue his wandering hand but not in front of all of his friends. Not here.

"Yeah," you breathed against the sensitive skin on his neck, feeling his jaw tighten as you softly pressed your lips against the stubble that extended a little bit beyond his jawline.

Hand still well-placed on your thigh, he turned to his friends Diggs and whispered something to him. Diggs nodded slightly, sending you a wink as Rafa grabbed your hand and pulled you away from the table, all the while the sour-looking girl was sending you a murderous look.

You and Rafa had barely left your seats before his hands came into contact with your waist, his fingers slowly crawling their way to the front of your dress, while he was kissing your neck and shoulder. He was walking behind you, hands running all over you as you hurried out of the VIP area and towards the exit.

As you half-ran through the club with Rafa's lips practically attached to your neck, you saw Samantha flirting with an older guy at the bar. Her stunned face when she saw you running out the club with Rafa tagging along no more than 15-minutes after she had let you go, was quickly replaced by a genuine grin and a thumb-up as you mouthed 'see you tomorrow' to her.

Rafa only briefly let go of you as he grabbed both of your coats from the coatcheck and followed you out the door, but his hands were on you again as soon as you stepped out of the double doors and into a vacant taxi. He gave the taxi driver an address you had no idea where was located before his hands started running all over your body once more. He pulled you close to him and hungrily kissed your lips all the while his hands were desperately running over your torso. His hands suddenly moved to your back as he pulled you closer to him. He leaned into the kiss, his soft lips moving against you, his tongue slowly caressing yours. His fingers were trailing the zipper down the length of your spine as he softly hummed against you. You enjoyed the sensation of being pressed up against him and welcomed the feeling of him invading all of your senses. The way he was kissing you; hungry and sloppy yet slowly and controlled combined with his wandering hands and small sounds of affection coming from the back of his throat was enough for you to decide that going with him home was the best decision you'd made all year. His slow movements as his tongue caressed yours was pure sex, and you could feel the heat starting at the pit of your stomach, as the warmth spread throughout your limbs. You were so hypnotised that you couldn't help yourself when a soft moan suddenly escaped your lips.

The sound you made had him losing his mind completely, his lips suddenly moving more forcefully against you again while he started panting against you.

Your hand travelled slowly up his thigh as he continued to kiss you hungrily. He shifted around, clearly in discomfort of how tight his pants were getting and he tried to shimmy around to alleviate some of the tension in his crotch to make himself more comfortable. You made a quick decision and moved your hand to pad him through his suit trousers. A tiny "Fuck" escaped his lips as you palmed his rock-hard crotch through several layers of clothing, and you watched him gulp as you found the zipper and slowly pulled it all the way down, giving yourself easier access to the massive erection between his legs. He made a guttural sound as you traced the outline of him, making the heat between your own legs unbearable. He helped you unbuckling his belt and the button above the zipper, so you had full access to his boxer-clad erection.

Still kissing hungrily, your fingers danced around the hem of his fly, moving slowly against him, until you decided that you had teased him enough. When you grabbed the full length of him through his boxers, he hissed at the touch and made a rather loud involuntary sound while he slowly buckled his hips upwards against your hand. You thought you'd never heard or seen anything sexier in your entire life.

Unfortunately, the taxi driver too heard Rafa's involuntary sound and whipped around in his seat. "HEY!" He called out as he realised what you were doing, "not in the cab, pal!" He said sternly.

Rafa cleared his throat, "yeah, sorry bro..." he said and ushered your hand away from his crotch while sending you a pained expression.

You straightened up and kissed his cheek, your hand retreating to a more safe zone on his thigh. He leaned in and pushed your back against the door of the taxi, kissing you slowly and sloppily. He put his hand on your leg as well, slowly starting to rub up the length of your inner thigh.

"Fuck, I can't wait to see that tattoo of yours," he whispered against your ear, "I can't wait to have you naked on top of me, screaming my name."

You made a whimpering sound at the thought of having Rafa slide into you, and you moved against his fingers that were now wrapped tightly around your upper thigh, his thumb brushing slightly against your wet panties every other second.

"Fuck I want you so bad," he groaned before taking your earlobe in his mouth, "this whole anonymous no-names thing that you insist on is turning me the fuck on. I'm going to fuck you so hard that you can't even remember your own name when I ask for it."

You whimpered once more, imagining Rafa in complete beast mode, roughing you up and taking you forcefully from behind.

"Fuck you look so good coming undone for me," he whispered and licked his lips, "and I'm barely even touching you."

"Touch me," you whimpered against him and felt how his fingers found the outline of your panties while his mouth engulfed your earlobe with a small groan. He was just about to dip inside the lace fabric at your core, when he was interrupted.

"SIR!" The taxi driver called from the front seat.

"WHAT!" Rafa bellowed back in an annoyed tone.

"We're here," the taxi driver said sourly, "are you going to stay all night?"

"Of course not," Rafa mumbled and paid the driver for the ride plus a ridiculously large tip 'to ensure his silence'.

Why, you had no idea.

"Let's go," Rafa came up behind you, urging you towards his front door. He was kissing your neck and pressing his pelvis up against you, making you shiver in anticipation of what lay ahead.

He unlocked the door and lead you inside the beautiful house that he was sharing with Daveed. You took in the space as Rafa continued attacking your neck with his lips, hands running all over the front of your dress. A dim blue light coming from the outside caught your attention.

"Hold up - you have a pool?"

"This is California - everybody's got a pool," he mumbled against your neck, slowly sliding down the zipper on the back of your dress.

"I don't," you said as an idea slowly took form in your brain, "I could go for a swim."

Rafa pulled back his face, "are you insane? It's like 50 degrees outside. Not to mention the fact that Diggs would have my balls for fucking you in the pool."

You turned around and kissed him, "please," you whimpered palming him through his trousers.

"Absolutely not," he groaned against you at the sensation, "next time I'll let you swim for as long as you want, okay?"

You made puppy eyes at him.

"Aw, don't give me that. I can't decide if you look fucking adorable or adorably fuckable," he grinned as he slid your dress over your shoulders, making the fabric pool around your feet.

"Fuckable, I hope," you said slowly as he took a step back to look at you half-naked in front of him.

He took a minute to admire you wearing nothing but your lacy underwear before his lips met yours once more, his hands immediately traveling along your body.

"How the fuck do you look this good," he mumbled as he gave your ass a smack and a squeeze.

"Do that again," you groaned against his lips, a small moan escaping you as his hand smacked you once more.

"Do you like that?" He said darkly as he smacked you a third time.

"Yes," you moaned against his incredibly soft lips. "Bedroom?" You panted against him and noticed how your voice was laced with lust

"Down here," he groaned and lead you to his personal space.

Together you fell on the bed, him hovering above you, still wearing his suit.

"You're wearing too many layers," you said while tugging on the collar of his dress shirt.

"Let's do something about that," he said and stood up straight, shaking off his blazer and pulling off his dress shirt even though it wasn't even unbuttoned. You carefully examined his many tattoos as he unbuckled his belt and quickly slid out of his trousers.

When he was wearing only his boxers, he stopped and looked at you, "what?" He grinned.

"You look good," you smiled up at him, "I like your tattoos. Especially that one," you said and pointed to the words written across his pec.

"That one hurt like a motherfucker... Let me see yours," he wriggled his eyebrows at you, "I've been dying to see it!"

You slowly spread your legs apart for him and revealed the small drawing you had etched on your skin.

"You have a fucking hot dog tattooed on your inner thigh?" He laughed, "god, you're such a nerd," he continued, "...but you do continue to surprise me," he knelt down on the floor in front of the bed and kissed your tattoo while he slowly ran his fingers over your lace-covered folds.

A sharp intake of breath from you had him smirking up at you before he hitched two fingers on either side of your panties' waistband. You let him slide the fabric off you before he positioned himself on the floor with his face between your legs. He kissed each of your inner thighs and mumbled in between wet kisses, "you have no idea how much I've been wanting to do this."

"Touch me," you panted as you felt his hot breath on your inner thigh, "please!" You squeezed your arms together to make your breasts really pop.

He grabbed one ankle at a time and positioned your feet so he had easy access to you, "I'm in control of this," he said darkly, his thumb finding its way to your clit, "do you understand?"

"Yes," you panted at the sensation, "you're in complete control."

"Good," he groaned right before he let his tongue slowly run over you.

"Oh fuck," you panted while his tongue moved sloppily against you. Your fingers went to the bottom of his hairline where you started massaging his scalp while he sucked, nibbled, and licked at your core.

Two of his fingers slid inside you while his tongue was performing magic, and you felt his fingers curl inside you, hitting your g-spot repeatedly as you started calling out his name with pleasure.

When your moans became so deep and so frequent that Rafa could hear how you were struggling to come undone, he retracted his tongue and fingers from you, only to be met by a whimper from you. "But I was so close," you groaned.

"I've waited five weeks. You can wait five minutes. Now turn around for me," he said demandingly, and you immediately did as he instructed. You were on all four on his bed, your face pressed slightly into the mattress when you felt his fingers on your clit.

"Oh fuck, Rafa," you cried out as you suddenly felt his tongue running over your folds and dip inside of you. With his right hand circling your clit, his tongue and left hand took it in turns to enter you. His well-placed strokes of action had you a senseless moaning wreck underneath him within a couple of seconds as your inner walls started tightening around his tongue and fingers.

"Don't stop," you moaned into the mattress as he sped up his actions, "please don't stop".

He felt you coming completely undone as you clenched tightly around the set of fingers that were pulsing in and out of you perfectly timed with your moans and shaking legs. You fell to the mattress and turned around, staring up at a panting Rafa with heavy eyelids. He was palming himself through his boxers with a very pained expression as he drank you in. As he motioned to lie down next to you, you noticed how his grey boxers were stained with leaking pre-cum.

He hovered above you for a few seconds, "you look amazing," he sent you his charming smile, edging his face closer to yours before capturing your lips in a heated kiss.

He quickly broke off the kiss and sat himself down on the bed next to you, sliding off his boxers in the process. He took your hand in his and guided you on top of him while he was still sitting up straight. His hands went to the back of you where he quickly unhinged your bra. His fingers brushed against your arms as he pushed down the straps leaving you completely naked on top of him.

"Oh fuck," he hissed when the bra dropped to the floor, "you're easily the most beautiful woman I have ever seen," he said, looking up at you with lust in his eyes. You ran a hand through his hair as his tongue slowly circled your nipple, his erection twitching against your stomach.

You put your finger under his chin and forced him to look up at you, "I want you inside of me," you whispered.

He nodded eagerly, "I need a condom," he was already out of breath, "Or I'm not going to last long. Not with you being this fucking sexy."

You nodded in agreement, "where?"

"Top drawer," he pointed to his night stand.

You pulled out a silver wrapper and opened it using your teeth. Rafa leant backwards on his elbows and watched as you grabbed him by the root and slid the condom all the way down his length, his head dropping low in the process.

You hoisted yourself up and guided him in the right direction, sliding down on him with a small whimper. A guttural sound escaped his throat when he felt your tightness around him. His hands were caressing your hips as you slowly started moving on top of him without breaking eye contact. He groaned beneath you and started massaging your breasts as you started bouncing faster and faster on top of him, enjoying the sensation of being stretched by him.

"Fuck," he whispered as you threw back your head with a moan. The grip he had around your waist tightened significantly while his expression was becoming more and more pained. He started panting louder and louder in time with your movements which in turn made you slow down the pace completely, sending him a devilish smile in the process.

"Payback time," you laughed down at him.

"Uh uh," he shook his head, "not gonna happen," he easily picked you up and threw you down on the bed next to him, "like I said; I'm in control of this," he whispered darkly as he slid inside you with force, making your eyes roll to the back of your skull.

"FUCK!" He groaned and went into complete beast-mode, fucking you roughly and holding your hands fixated above your head by pinning your wrists tightly together. The way his hips moved against you had you wishing you could run your nails all over his back and leave small marks of affection on his skin. Being rough-housed like this by such a sexy, handsome man was nothing short of amazing!

"Choke me," you gasped, looking up at him.

"Oh fuck yes," he said as he pressed his hand against your jugular veins right underneath your jaw, constricting the blood flow without influencing the flow of air.

The feeling of his full control over you had you a moaning mess beneath him. He was holding your wrists so tightly with just one hand that you were unable to move your arms even if you wanted to. All this topped with his perfectly moving hips and the sensation of his fingers pressing against your throat had you lose all control, and you felt yourself tighten significantly as you approached your second climax.

The tightness around him, made Rafa's movements more and more mechanical with each passing stroke, and you caught him with his eyes screwed shut completely just before you cried out with your second release of the night. The sight of you coming completely undone topped with the wonderful tightness around him was enough to send him over the edge too and he came inside you with a roar.

He had energy for a few lazy, pallid strokes topped with a couple of slow moans before he pulled out of you and threw himself down on the bed next to you. You were both panting for a couple of seconds until he reached over and kissed you softly, his hands running achingly along your over-sensitive body.

"Amazing," he panted against your skin, "perfect start to the new year."

You couldn't agree more.

#rafael casal x reader #rafael casal #daveed diggs #blindspotting #rafael casal fanfiction #rafael casal imagine #smut #bay boys

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jenivi7 · 4 years ago

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First Lines Tagging Meme

I'M SO HAPPY TO BE TAGGED IN THIS TWICE! Thank you @ink-flavored and @clyde-side !! (I almost just did this on my own too because I love babbling about my own fics...)

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line.

Now pinned and under a cut because it became a really long, really good introduction to me and my stories!

Hello!

Unnecessary and overly wordy introduction/personal musings: I love opening lines so much. When I worked at a bookstore, I used to open books and hardcore judge them on their first lines. I had barely any free time to read at that point so if it didn’t grab me in the first line or two, I put it back. The first Harry Potter book is actually in my pile of really good openers. “Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.” (Subtle alliteration, HELLO??) So I'm super excited to see if my own first lines come even close to the standards that I apply to other people lol. MY OWN MONEY IS ON NO. I have the feeling that I'm so frantic trying to get the story down on paper before the good words disappear from my head that I'm not actually paying attention to the first line. BUT LET'S SEE, SHALL WE.

So just straight up going backwards, I've written and posted TWO BRAND NEW THINGS after being away from fandom almost entirely for 10+ years! They're drabble length but they're shiny and new! <3 (All available fics are linked!)

1. Tango:

She teaches them to dance so that they can dance with her but when Atem gets that mischievous smirk on his face and pulls Yugi into his arms, their bodies spark and the dance floor smolders at their heels.

(The fic is so short that this is a full 1/5 of it but actually, I think I crammed all the good stuff right into that first line. This already might be my favorite. Like it says there in the line itself, Puzzleshipping.)

2. No Betting:

Anzu sat at the kitchen table writing carefully calculated answers onto sticky notes before attaching them to a fourth-grade math worksheet.

(Peachshipping! This one doesn't pop off until about line five so here's the rest of that bit:)

She had the same arrangement with her spouse as most parents had. When the kids were good they were hers. When they were bad, they were his. And when they were winning at games because they picked up rules with uncanny speed and read their opponents with more insight than ought to be available to a child, they were definitely, definitely his.

3. If you wanted honesty that's all you had to say (working title):

When he realized that the figure sitting under the game shop display window and smoking wasn’t Ryou, the physical body response was as though it had discovered a coiled snake not two feet away.

(This one! It's a NEW half finished(?) WIP. I actually started this one before the drabbles but wanted to finish before posting it. Then it got out of hand, then work got out of hand, then I started a couple more projects and well. I keep putting words on it though and eventually there will be a Kleptoshipper that turns into Puzzle and Tender for your reading enjoyment. Also, fair warning - don't use song lyrics as a working title. Every time I look at the document I get the song stuck in my head.)

Now we have polished up reposts of old stories for their move to AO3, where I'll basically keep my master archive. Not full re-writes but I fixed a bunch of typos and awkward sentences and they're much stronger for it. Most of these are from a pairings contest way back when so LOTS of different pairings and lots of AUs!

4. Human:

It was like a bad noir, the thought crossed both of their minds.

(Scifi AU, Rivalshipping. That one's not bad for a first line. Actually no link at the time of writing cause the re-edit is going up in like, a half hour? an hour? a half day? It's my next project after finishing this, finishing up the edit and posting it on AO3. Now with link!)

5. Blood:

Fingers through midnight black hair, whispers in his ear, touches that sizzled along the skin, awakening nerves and senses.

(Dungeonshipping, Pegasus x Otogi, vampires AU. Oh that’s a nice first line! <3)

6. Crazy for You:

The keys are too large and too heavy for the doctor more used to more modern facilities but she doesn't say anything, just follows the orderly as he pulls the large door open.

(Manipulashipping, Anzu x Marik, Psychward AU. Still one of my favorites from that era. Big bold warning though, THIS ONE CONTAINS NON-CON)

7. Finality:

“What are you doing here?”

“Saying goodbye.” Bakura’s translucent arms swept across the graveyard. “Is this not an appropriate place for it?”

(First two or so bits of dialogue as the first first is a generic question. You can tell this is one of the really old ones just by that but it's a sweet, sad little Tendershipper that still has a special place in my heart.)

8. Pieces of You:

Glitter caught the light, leaving shimmering trails in the air as it got everywhere.

(Glittershipping, Anzu x Kisara. Another one that's special to me. Kisara is my girl and my first writing muse. <3)

9. Cambodia:

“It was summer of fifty three...”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute, it can't have been fifty three. You might be that ancient but I'm not. It must have been sixty three.”

(Jiishipping. Yes. Sugoroku x Arthur. HEY, IT CAME UP IN THE RANDOM DRAW FOR THE SHIPPING CONTEST OK. And my writer's brain hasn't backed down from a challenge yet... Another one that takes 4 lines to pop off but it's a good start. Actually, here's the rest of the bit just because I cannot get enough of these two bickering:)

“What do you mean it must have been sixty three? You don't even know what story I'm trying to tell.”

“Am I in it?”

“What?”

“So you're deaf now as well as daft? AM I IN IT?”

“Of course you're in it, y'old coot. Don't know why I'd tell a story without you in it when both grandkids are sitting here.”

10. Coffee and Cigarettes:

"Cigarettes and coffee? That's not a very healthy lunch."

Mana crossed her legs and took a refined sip of her own coffee even as her company was not.

(Mischiefshipping, Mana x Thief King Bakura. Oh this one I'm actually sad that it doesn't immediately sparkle in the first line cause it's one of my absolute favorites of everything I've written. And I think it's the only time I've ever written Mana but I LOVED IT AND HER. Oh no! I lied, I've written her at least one other time though I don't think that one quite captures her sheer chaos energy like this one does.)

11. A Million Missed Chances:

Somewhere along the line, someone made a choice.

(This one. THIS ONE. I think this is by far the most epic idea I've tackled. I still don't know if the sheer scale of the thing came across in the actual fic but in my head it was massive and I remember pounding away at my teeny tiny laptop late at night because the whole thing hit me maybe a day or so before the story was due for the pairings contest. We only had a week to write each fic and my really good ideas never came to me before the very last minute. T.T Conquestshipping, Mai x Valon.)

12. A Fear of Falling:

She drove.

Like she always did when something bothered her.

(Oh the first chapter on this is also one of the really ancient ones. Like one of the very first things I wrote. That first chapter really shows its age and is a little shaky but the others are better and the last one is what fits into the chorological order here. Polarshipping, Jou x Mai. One of my very first ships. Probably THE first actually <3)

13. What Our Creators Make Us:

"Well, well." The match flared, scattering dark shadows until it was blown out and the only light that remained was the red glow from the cigarette end. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

(Psychoshipping, Marik x Spirit of the Ring Bakura. With a bit of Bronze, Angst and Tender in the follow up. Old but I'm ridiculously proud of it, hence it's place in the master archive. Ahaha you can tell how old it is though by how clever I think I am. I thought it was funny to make my audience figure out who was talking and not reveal the characters for a good fourth to third of the fic. Ahhhhhhh. Sorry about past me.)

14. A Revolution of the Spirit:

It wasn't fair. It just wasn't.

That they were close was understandable (you don't get much closer than sharing headspace) but that even now, after deals were made with gods, endless arguments, compromises and the ultimate guilt trip that he had only been a teenager when he willingly sacrificed himself for all of humanity, things she had only half seen and only partly understood even though they had all been there to witness, that even now Atem continued to invade Yugi's personal space as though he belonged there got on her nerves.

(Woah Nelly! That third sentence should probably be three, four and five. Even if I just split it in half we'd continue the pattern of things popping off in the fourth line. I think that's one pattern that's emerging! A really good bit takes me about four lines to set up and deliver! Oh, the challenge was Revolutionshipping, Anzu x Atem, but the fic is actually Spiritshipping, Anzu x Yugi x Atem.)

So confession time, I haven't been out of fandom completely, I just hadn't written my own standalone stories in a very long time. There are a few (ok ok more than a few) long-running rps that @miss-moberg and I have been adding to on and off over the years. I can't resist throwing in a couple of these.

15. Cafe!

The door shut behind them with the soft click of the latch and the exhale of a breath long held.

(This opening line was from December of 2020 when we rebooted a very old Prideshipper and that is a damn good opening line if I do say so myself. I can definitely see the difference now between the newer works and the older ones. I've gotten better, she's matched me pace for pace and eventually something will be finished, I'll work up the courage to ask permission to post it and the whole internet will get to see how brilliant the two of us are together.)

16. Treasure Hunt!

"Ryou, I think you're going to regret letting me tag along on your adventuring this time." Yugi didn't bother turning away from the airplane's tiny window to see if his seatmate was paying attention. He was more thinking out loud with his friend playing the role of a convenient sounding board. "Because I think this trip is the only thing I'm going to talk about ever again."

(One more from RP because it's got that fun, four line punch that we've discovered is a pattern for me! Opening entry is from 2017.)

Also, in truth, my count is a little off when I say I'd been out of fandom 10+ years. I've been away from YGO for that long but I did spend a brief stint in Homestuck where I read a ton of fanfic, flirted with a couple group RPs and even wrote a tiny bit. 9 years without writing a new fic isn't as impressive as saying ‘over a decade’ but it is a little more accurate.

17. What You Will:

In the land of fair Illyria, along a small, sandy stretch of its rocky shore, a ship has come to ruin and one lone woman lies still as death among broken wood.

(The beginning of a Homestuck/Twelfth Night crossover that I'm still determined to work more on someday. It's only got a single chapter but it's magic though now I'm concerned about not being able to recapture that. Not a bad first line though. The style is so different it took me reading it a couple times before going, oh yeeeeeah, that's pretty good!)

18. Relentless:

You pull him to the deck and then across it by the remains of his shirt. Let him say one last goodbye. His ship pillaged, his crew murdered, his hands bound behind his back and at your mercy.

Funny word, that. Mercy.

(The first line is pretty decent but there's that four line combo again! Five but I could basically fix that with a comma. Featuring the troll ancestors Mindfang and Dualscar because every time Hussey introduced new characters they were instantly my favorite.)

19. Black:

There is dark and there is dark and there is dark and then there is black. She is black. Licorice and coal. She is hate and resentment and everything that tastes bitter, the kind of black that coats the tongue like oil, drips down the back of the throat and keeps going.

(Oh wow. Am I allowed to say that about my own work? A Terezi/Vriska drabble that I'm putting as much here as I think I can get away with because it's so good that it fucks me up a little going back and reading it.)

And here it gets tricky because I think the more recent of the old, old fics are in the Drabbles and Shorts collection on ff.net and I can't see a post date. So I'll just pick a good one to end on.

20. Two Princes:

It was inevitable as the rising of Ra's chariot after a long night, as the flooding of the river banks every spring, and Atem always knew that Yugi's kiss would be as warm and gentle as the evening breeze in the summer that brought relief from the scorching day. It was.

(How about the final honor going to more Puzzle/Blind? This probably has the strongest first line of its era. Actually I'm not sure when it was written. It was just hanging out in my writing folder and, thinking about it, I probably wrote it when I was fading from fandom the first time around but still trying to hang in there. No wait! That’s too sad, we can’t end on that! Lets add one more to the list for the sake of personal narrative!)

21. Linger:

The world doesn't need him anymore. It doesn't need his sword and it doesn't need his pen.

(A tiny Princess Tutu afterward that I wrote for myself. Nice one-two punch in the opener. Also it rounds out the personal story that accidentally developed here with a line later in the fic, "Words, however, never stray far from a good writer..." Like, wait, stop. Past me, how did you know T.T)

Did that take a sudden emotional turn for anyone else or was that just me. Can I offset that a little with an honorable mention? Let’s do that while I collect myself. Here’s one more.

Honorable mention: Ryou and the Thief

There was a storm gathering and too much magic in the air. Much more than occurred naturally and magic at this level was never a good thing.

(I can’t have a list of things I’ve written without having Ryou and the Thief on it. If you click on this one though, BEWARE, it’s old, it’s silly and it has a ton of explicit gay sex that… would be written very differently if we were handling it today I’m sure! This is the first RP @miss-moberg and I ever did together and our excuse to Gemship and Puzzleship turned into us running the boys through a whole adventure based on the Osiris myth. It’s the longest thing I’ve ever completed and I’d still consider it kind of my legacy.)

And that’s the last 21(+1!) stories that I’ve written!

The clear winner of best first line for me is 15. Cafe! It’s short, elegant and manages to contain a whole mood even without the context of what’s going on and who’s involved. (Spoilers: It’s Seto and Mokuba making an AU escape from Gozoboro.) Close second is Tango, the most recent story. It’s neat to see just how much better I’ve gotten and also really cool to see that even if the first line itself doesn’t contain a punch, it’s usually because there’s a nice, strong idea being set up and delivered in the first four lines (or so). What a pleasant surprise!

AND WOW, this whole tag thing didn't need to be so long! Or personal! Seriously, if you get this tag from me the challenge is only to list the first lines to 20 stories and maybe try to draw one or two conclusions from them. You all thought I was joking when I said I loved talking about my own writing! But actually, I guess it’s fine like this as I ended up using it as a way to re-introduce myself. Like, "Hey, I used to live here a long time ago and oh my god I love what you've done with the place!" Rather than being someone who's just popped up out of nowhere a few weeks ago to creepily bother all your best of the best creators so....

^///^ Hello!

Thanks for letting me ramble!

Tags! I think I've seen most of the authors I follow do this already but on the off chance you haven't been tagged yet: @elexica (checked your blog to see if you'd already done the tag and saw that you're another person returning to writing fanfiction after 10+ years. Same! Hello!!), @danieco, @draconicmaw, @nedjemetsenen (has someone tagged you already?) and two shots in the dark, @miss-moberg and @edmondia (I'm so sorry you two. T.T Please feel free to block me forever.) And please, anyone else who wants to babble about their own writing! Do this, it was so much fun. <3

#ygo #yu-gi-oh #yugioh #yugioh fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #jenific #so many ships #so many characters like woah #not half bad for a retrospective if i do say so myself #thank you for coming to my ted talk #tag game #first lines tag

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tomthesoftie · 5 years ago

Text

laundry day

a/n: this took me like 2-3 hours to write - oops - i came up with this idea when i was drawing in my sketchbook, hopefully it’s good because it’s already 4 am lol

pairing: college!flirt!tom holland x nerdy!reader

warnings: foul language, kind of sexual not really, tom being a dick and a flirt, y/n has a shitty day, rip harry is such good friend

masterlist

pt.1 | pt.2

After a long day, you headed back to your dorm, taking a bath a soon as you got back. You had planned on going to the library to do some late night studying, or just reading, after your bath. Unfortunately, it was laundry day and you only had a white, cropped camisole and a short skirt, that was too short to be worn anywhere, left in your closet. You groaned having no other choice than to take those.

The day had been terrible for you. You had been assigned stacks on stacks of papers that were either due by the end of the week or 3 weeks, maximum. Then, when you were rushing to get your lunch, some ass cut in front of you and took at least 30 minutes to order, resulting in you not having any lunch and rushing to your class. After that class, you had 15 minutes to get to your next lecture, so you decided to get yourself a coffee. Thankfully, you were able to order this time with no interruption, but when you were walking to the lecture hall, a curly brunette “accidentally,” and harshly, bumped your shoulder, making you drop the coffee in your hand. You cried out, feeling your anger succumb your every emotion.

“Dude,” you exclaimed.

You were never the kind to fight back, but today had already been so shitty for you that you’d snapped.

The brunette grinned, “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“My ass,” you rolled your eyes, clenching your fists at your side, “look, buddy, today has already been a very shitty day for me, so if you wouldn’t mind, at least sound sincere when you apologize for fucking spilling my only source of energy.”

“Sheesh, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” he laughed, not taking a single word you had said seriously.

“You know what? Just fuck off,” you stomped away, remembering that you still had to get to your next lecture.

He snickered behind you as you walked away, clearly finding amusement in your indignation.

That brings you to where you are now: heading to library in a skimpy outfit with a strap of your book bag clinging onto your right shoulder. By now it was 8 P.M. and you still hadn’t gotten any food to eat. Although your stomach was growling louder than a predatory animal sensing danger, you were determined to get to the only place you could seek peace: the library.

As you walked in, Harry, one of your close friends was eyeing you weirdly. He had volunteered to work at the library, seeing he could do his homework and study there, as well as get in a few aesthetic pictures.

“What are you wearing?” His eyebrows furrowed, scanning your outfit.

“Don’t judge, it’s laundry day and today fucking sucked,” you groaned loudly, knowing that no one would be at the library at such a late time of day.

Your stomach growled, “You got a lion in your shirt, or shall I say piece of fabric?”

“I haven’t eaten lunch or dinner at all today,” you slouched, dropping your bag to the floor, “got anything I could eat?”

“Of course, I got to have a snack or twenty if I’m going to be working till 10 P.M,” he handed you two large energy bars, “you’re gonna need it.”

“Thanks, you’re the best,” you pulled a chair over to the circulation desk, where Harry was seated.

“I know,” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes before grabbing you book bag, pulling out Pride and Prejudice, one of your favorites. You opened the book to the page you left off on and began reading. Harry had gone back to studying and taking pictures, mostly of you.

“Harry,” a voice boomed as it entered.

You had only gotten 45 minutes to read in peace. You mentally and probably physically banged your head with the book.

“Are you ready to go?” The voice continued.

As you listened closely, you realized you’d heard to voice before. You just couldn’t put your finger on who it was.

“I still have 1 hour left, Tom,” Harry stated.

You lifted your head in the direction of the familiar stranger. It was curly brunette, the one who had knocked your coffee out of your hand and given zero fucks about it.

“Who’s there, Harry?” you asked, staying hidden in your seat.

“Just my older brother, Tom. I don’t talk about him much ‘cause he’s a dick,” he said, raising his voice at the end, making sure Tom could hear him.

“Right, I’m the dick,” Tom mumbled to himself before snapping back, “call me another name and I won’t be giving you a ride home tonight. Also, who’s the girl?”

“Y/N, she’s my friend,” he replied, paying no mind to his brother.

Tom brought it upon himself to scope you out. He wandered through the isles of books and looked at all the seats in the library, finally finding you to be sitting with his brother. His eyes scanned your body, admiring the suddenly too tight tank top and short skirt on you.

“Hey, coffee girl,” he winked.

“You know Tom?” Harry glanced at you, confused.

“No, I don’t. I just know that he’s a douche who can suck and choke on his own dick,” you had tensed and your anger from the afternoon had started rising again.

“I’m sure you’d like to,” his stance not faltering.

“Son of a bitch,” you simply flipped him off, not wanting to put anymore effort into him than necessary.

He chuckled and brought a chair over to sit himself next to you. The warmth of his body was radiating off of him.

“Pride and Prejudice, a classic. I’ve never read it, though. Would you say the 2005 film was worthy of its positive reviews?” Tom tried to start a conversation, but you ignored him, scooting your chair away from his.

“C’mon, darling, if you’re still mad about the coffee, I can make it up to you,” this peeked your interest.

“How so?” You asked, placing your chin in the palm of your hand.

“You and me, tomorrow at 12 P.M, that french café near the garden. See you then?” He offered, arching his brow.

You sat silently, thinking about it, “Fine, but don’t think that this is a date.”

He grabbed a pen and post it, writing his contact information on it, “Whatever you want, princess.”

You snatched the paper out of his hand and began packing your bags. Forgetting that you were wearing practically a strip of fabric around your waist, you bent over and grabbed your bag, giving Tom a great view of your ass and the black, lace panties you wore.

Harry cleared his throat, “Y/N, your skirt.”

Your eyes widened in realization, “Oh shit, sorry.”

You stood up straight, pulling the skirt down as far as possible and started to head out before a voice stopped you.

“Also, feel free to wear that tomorrow,” Tom winked one last time before letting you walk away.

Your face was burning red and you couldn’t help but let your giggle slip through your lips. You were sure gonna wear this tomorrow.

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codevassie · 5 years ago

Note

i've got a request! prinxiety fantasy au. roman became a prince after making a deal with a magical creature (that can be a side but also can remain unnamed, whatever works for you). the deal was: roman would become prince but in exchange, the creature would take his true love when roman would meet them. so roman was always careful not to fall in love with anyone. that worked until he met virgil. aaand i leave the rest up to you! i hope this makes sense lol

CV: Sorry it’s so long and also not long enough and also really late. Thank you so much for your patience! My mind would not stop coming up with ideas for this fic but I wrangled it in enough to get this out. Hope you like it, An!

CW: Weapons, Trauma, Injury [Edit: Angst, Unhappy Ending]

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Prince Roman was kind and fair to all who knew him. It was uncanny to his citizens how Disney their prince was. He glowed in all ways–always smiling, exceedingly handsome, eyes gleaming with pride.

He was also a bachelor, sworn to it almost like a monk. He loved to flirt and would dance with many a handsome man; Roman was no stranger to romance and collected kisses like precious stones. He was not one for staying with one person, sweetly turning down those who came back, wanted more. There was guilt in his eyes, but the prince never wavered.

He was determined to rule on his own, with only advisors to lean on and citizens to give his love. This was something that had never happened before, but their kingdom had also never had a prince like Roman before.

Since the day their prince had been crowned heir to the throne by the childless king and queen, things had been very different in their kingdom. Royalty did not have to be blood, and a king did not need a queen, or any spouse at all.

Roman did not want to marry. And no one would have batted an eye at this–but the prince did not seem to want anything at all. Full of love, he had no one to give it. Friendly, but lacked friends. It was a constant source of gossip around the castle–why their beloved prince insisted on being alone.

But the prince knew what he was doing. Roman knew well the dangers of growing close to others.

He didn’t regret the decision he made. As prince, he could make a difference; he had somewhere he belonged. A mother and father who cared. Citizens he adored, and adored him in turn. People to care for, to fight for. Roman now had more than he ever hoped in his once hopeless life.

Most importantly, Roman had his brother back. That was worth more than anything Roman could have gained or given. Worth more than his very life.

So, no. He didn’t regret it. If he had the choice, he’d always go back and face those wild eyes, those scales and wicked lies for the chance to have this.

Whoever he’d meant to love one day would have to find someone else.

-/-

“How are you today, Remus?“

Remus hummed. Roman knew that translated to ‘not very well.’

“Okay,” he said calmly. He moved over into the brightly lit room to where his brother sat at the window. Roman sat across from Remus and said nothing else. Today wasn’t a talking day.

So Roman sat and let his nerves calm, his mind wander like his brother’s must have been. He couldn’t imagine what sort of things Remus saw–flashbacks from the hills and the caves and the fear. Roman grew restless, and he couldn’t imagine how Remus did it for days on end, jolted into another reality that existed in his head, in the past.

He passed a lot of his days like this, sitting quietly by his brother’s side. Probably not enough though. Never enough to help. But it was hard to balance his time now that he was prince, always something more to do, something he could do to help, to plan, to sign, to consider. It was a lot.

But at least they weren’t terrified every day would be their last.

At least Remus was with him again, safe.

“I miss Dee,” Remus surprised Roman by speaking up. Roman looked over, but his brother hadn’t moved. His gaze was towards the hills.

There was nothing Roman could say to that. He stood reluctantly, taking a glance towards the horizon himself, before stepping back. “Sorry I can’t stay very long today.” It had only been twenty minutes Roman noted by the clock on the mantle, but Remus didn’t seem phased. “I’ll come eat dinner with you tonight, though,” Roman offered. Still, nothing. “Alright. Bye, Remus.”

Roman stepped out, careful to not make any loud noises as he shut the door. Days like this were the reason Remus’ room was far away from the hustle and bustle of the castle. The noise was too much for him. There were still plenty of people around to attend to him though, to make sure he didn’t get up to too much trouble during the times he was lucid.

That didn’t stop Roman from stepping away and quietly knocking his head on the opposite wall. Forehead supporting him, Roman sighed, trying to piece himself back together. Once he had built himself up, able to give a winning smile and a confident gait, Roman picked himself up and squared his shoulders.

A prince had very little time to spare already, and he had used what he had to visit with his brother.

Winding through the halls, Roman made his way back to the front study, where his advisor and a handful of guards waited. When he opened the doors, he shot them all his winning smile. “Are we all ready?”

It took them no time at all to get to town, then just a little further to the square, which was under construction. It was a smaller project, but one that Roman loved: a park, with room for community gardening, a playground with outdoor instruments, a couple pieces of exercise equipment, and a small stage for community theater.

It was important to him, but it was something he rarely had the time to see into fruition. There was more pressing matters in the kingdom that Roman had to oversee.: discussions to meditate, economic policies to study, corruption to dig into. When Roman became a prince, he’d known it would be a tough job, but he had never expected what seemed like such a nice kingdom on the outside to have so much else on the inside.

It was exhausting, but this park was where Roman hoped to make a positive influence. He barely had the time for it, but he made the time for it. It was usually what kept him awake at night in his office, going over budgets and blueprints.

He hadn’t been to the site for a month.

When the carriage pulled up, Roman jumped out, guards already on his tail. He didn’t wait for them, though, striding straight towards the ring of architects and construction crew at one side. A quick glance around told Roman they were making decent headway on the tiny amphitheater.

Looking back, he took stock in what he would be dealing with. The kind architect was there, so he’d have to do his best to steer clear. Roman was a sucker for nice guys. The smart one was there too. Damn it; double the threat.

“Hello, Shelby, Logan, David, Patton, Christie,” he greeted the ones he knew by name. “How is everything going?”

Shelby, the team leader, stepped forward, giving a kind smile. “Moving forward at a considerable pace, my prince,” she said, and, from there, they dived in. The architects pointed to blueprints and talked about estimated times for finishing different aspects, as well as possible obstacles and needed materials. They talked for half an hour before they were talking in circles again, and Roman knew he needed to draw a line and make a retreat.

“It sounds like you all are doing splendidly and have things well under control. I would say continue forward with how you’re doing. I trust you to make the right calls.” His smile was wide, and he was beginning to feel the line of business and friendly failing.

All Roman wanted to do was share jokes with Patton. Listen to Logan tell him about the book he was reading. Even hear about Shelby’s family–though she was hardly a threat to the curse inside Roman. Still, Roman felt wrong for staying around, for getting near anyone with the danger he posed.

Roman needed to get somewhere safe. He needed just a breath of fresh air–somewhere without pretense, where he wasn’t constantly tottling between unnecessary rudeness and letting his traitorous heart do what it does and fall far too quickly.

He had always fallen fast and hard, always one for all or nothing. Never at a mere glance, no. He may be a romantic, but love at first sight simply wasn’t real. Deep longing at first sight was something Roman was prone to, though.

But Roman was careful. Never would he let an innocent soul pay for his deeds. If the price he had to pay was his love, then he would simply never fall in love.

And, since love at first sight wasn’t a thing, Roman could simply stay away from anyone he might have liked. If Logan’s smart words made him blush, if Patton’s puns made him giggle-

Off Roman went. If he didn’t stay around them, he couldn’t fall in love with them. Easy enough.

That may have been a reason Roman rarely made his way to the park construction or spent too much time at any of his projects. He cycled through advisors. He exchanged polite greetings with guards and nothing else. He was an amiable prince, who reached out to his citizens, but he couldn’t afford to be too friendly, to get attached.

He knew he could be better. Without this fear, he could be so much better. He’d be friends with everyone he knew, not acquaintances. He’d be a personal ruler, not a distant one.

He couldn’t risk the lives of his citizens though.

So, at the nearest chance, Roman ducked away. The others invited him to coffee, but he declined.

Instead, he went somewhere he’d normally never go. He marched into the library, waltzed straight up to the most infuriating person he knew.

Not even Roman was hopeless enough to fall for Virgil.

“My prince,” the librarian greeted lazily, not even standing from his slumped position across the desk. “What can I do for you today?“

He picked up a pen and scrawled across a paper, deigning to not even look Roman in the eye. Whatever pleasantness Roman had felt upon seeing a familiar, unexpectant face, soured at the blatant rudeness.

This callousness was what had sealed the deal for Roman in the first place though. The absolute zero percent chance that Roman could like, much less love, this man. Roman never thought he could hate one of his own citizens, but this guy… He was the worst.

Roman could have never fallen in love with someone so… Virgil. So condescending and sarcastic and pessimistic. Virgil brought with him a stormy cloud of hatred everywhere he went. The mere thought of being around him was deplorable.

Which made him perfect.

“I just came to see your lovely face, my chemical woe-mance,” Roman said breezily. He had taken to maliciously flirting with the library assistant. It satisfied both his need to flirt with someone and his abhorrence of the man’s face.

And tone.

And personality.

And the way he pointed out every security detail his guards had missed by walking in there.

And how he always pointed out the measures Roman was slow to take with his policies, and ones that he missed, redirecting Roman’s attention to needed areas.

And when his hair fell in his eyes because, damn it, Roman wasn’t blind.

And when he laughed at something because he wasn’t horrible all the time and those were the times Roman panicked the most because shit did he mess up by letting himself talk to Virgil so much-

And his fashion sense was also horrible, so there.

But, of course, Roman was above such things. If the gloomy broody wanted to stoop, Roman would not-

“Forget how to say your own name again?” Virgil asked, and Roman stopped in his tracks, shooting him a confused look. “Hate to break it to you, but Roman doesn’t have a W.”

Roman’s face lit up red and he straightened faster than a cat struck by lightning.

“I am your prince,” Roman said, hands curling into fists. The guards behind him didn’t react, however. By this point, they were all used to Roman and Virgil’s arguing.

They thought it was ‘banter.’ Roman often reminded them it was a verbal battle of wits. They asked why he kept coming back.

He never answered that.

“I don’t need reminding every time you’re here, my prince,” Virgil rolled his eyes. It was ironic how the honorific fit in his mouth, like a bad taste.

“Don’t call me that,” Roman snapped. Virgil raised a brow.

“What do you expect me to call you then?” he asked. “Your excellency? Your highness? General pain in my ass?”

“You make all of those sound like ‘general pain in my ass.’” Roman shot back with fire.

“Then what?” Virgil crossed his arms.

Roman spoke without thinking. “My name.”

One of the guards coughed behind him. Virgil looked stunned.

“You want me to call you…” he said, and all anger had dissipated. If Roman had known this was all it would take to knock Virgil off his high horse, he would have done it so much sooner.

“Yes,” Roman said, feeling awfully proud of himself. “Call me Roman.”

Another cough behind him. What was it with the guards today? He hoped no one was coming down with anything.

“Roman?” Virgil asked, and it was said quickly, like he was still shocked at everything going on. This, however, is where Roman realized his mistake.

His name on Virgil’s tongue did not, in fact, sound like ‘general pain in my ass.‘

His name sounded….

Softer.

Sweeter.

Like a melody he’d never heard,

And one he’d kill to hear again.

Roman was suddenly hit with a sadness so unmistakable it was as if it had always lived in him. Something that felt lonely, something that felt like… goodbye.

Goodbye to this. Goodbye to the only person he had left that saw him as something that wasn’t a prince, or a stranger.

Oh gods, not Virgil too.

Roman straightened up, clearing his throat suddenly. “Um, yes?” he said, voice coming out squeaky. He cleared it again. “I mean, yes. Yes. Of course. If you’re going to insist on butchering everything else…”

“Might as well butcher the real thing?” Virgil asked, and he finally broke out of his shock to snicker. Roman’s heart thumped.

Fuck.

“Yeah, well. I actually have to go now, but it was nice seeing you and-”

“Nice seeing me?” Virgil asked, thrown off guard by Roman’s sudden departure. Roman hadn’t been there five minutes, but he had to get out of there.

“As ever. Terrible to see you as always, hot topic, and, if you’d just excuse me-” Roman was backing away, making his way to the door. He assumed the guards would follow.

“Hot topic…” Virgil seemed to be asking, but Roman didn’t give an answer.

“See ya!” were his final words before he ducked out.

Roman paid no mind to the knowing glances his guards shared behind him as he rushed off to the carriage.

He could only think of the heart in his chest.

And the noose it could lasso around Virgil.

-/-

“It’s not Virgil, right?” Roman asked pacing around his brother’s room. “Anyone but Virgil, surely.”

Remus continued to look out the window, mind probably elsewhere.

“It wouldn’t be. Virgil is… Virgil.” Roman shook his head. “He’s Virgil.”

“Virgil?” Remus spoke up, but he didn’t look at Roman. Maybe he was present, just a bit.

Roman nodded, pacing again to the other side of the room. “I can’t see him again. That’s it. It’s too dangerous. Even if there’s absolutely no way I’d fall for that guy, I can’t risk it.”

Remus turned Roman’s way, eyes looking troubled. Roman’s mind was spinning out of control.

“But it couldn’t be Virgil. I wouldn’t fall for him. I can still talk to him. It’ll be fine, right?”

Roman paused, thinking through his words before groaning.

“Oh my gods, I want to talk to him!” he lamented, then sat down heavily on his brother’s bed. Remus continued to watch him, looking for all the world like there was a puzzle in front of him, very close to being solved.

“Remus, what am I going to do?” Roman asked, covering his face. “I like Virgil.”

“Virgil,” Remus mumbled.

“I can’t ever see him again. This is the end. We were never even friends! He was the asshole in the library. That’s it. That’s all he’ll ever be. And, somehow, I like him. What the fuck, heart? What the actual fuck?”

“Virgil,” Remus repeated, brows furrowing. Something was there, but Roman was too distracted to consider it.

“Gosh, but I can see it now. He’s got the warmest brown eyes to go with his shit personality. He’s so sarcastic. He actually makes me laugh. How dare he?! How dare he make me like him and all his assholeness?”

Roman stood from the bed. One look Remus’ way and he immediately regretted everything.

“Rem? What’s wrong?” he rushed to his brother, who had the most distressed look on his face, fingers sparking green. Roman folded his hands over them, not minding the slight sting. It was better than someone walking in and seeing the magic. “Remus?” Roman asked again, kneeling before his brother.

Remus blinked. Looked down at his hands and frowned. “Sorry, Ro,” he said, then looked back at the window. Whatever he’d been thinking, it was gone. Roman couldn’t help the sigh that escaped him.

One second of lucidity and Roman was glad it was gone. What kind of brother was he? Watching Remus look out the window again, lost to everything but the hills past the kingdom, Roman felt a deep sinking loss in his chest.

But, with that look that’d been on Remus’ face… how could he not be relieved?

He sighed again. Roman did that a lot in this room. He wished he could help it, for Remus’ sake.

But Remus probably didn’t hear it anyway.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” he breathed, words lost to his brother. “I’m the one who should be sorry.”

Roman retracted his hands, absently noting the singe marks across his palms. He’d wear some gloves to cover them.

“Sorry,” he repeated. The word rang in his head, begging to be said again and again, until his sins were carried off with them, somewhere far away in the wind of those words. “Sorry.”

-/-

The next time Roman visited the park, he didn’t go to the library. However, it seemed he didn’t have to.

“Thank you so much, kiddo!” Roman absently heard from Patton as he scanned over some of the construction plans. “I can’t believe I forgot this.”

Roman heard one of his guards cough, stifling what sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Funny, they usually only did that when-

“No problem, Pat,” a deep, vaguely uncomfortable sounding voice replied, and Roman shot straight up. There was another noise that was definitely a laugh this time, but he didn’t pay mind to it. His eyes shot to the interaction happening not five feet from him.

Virgil.

He was standing a bit slouched, hands stuffed into his pockets and nodding along to Patton’s excited gibbering. It was sort of adorable, how patient Virgil was, the way he hid his smile when Patton punned, how out of place he seemed to feel, but comfortable around his friend.

Roman hadn’t known Virgil and Patton were friends. That was adorable.

Okay, Roman should really stop thinking of Virgil as adorable. Soon. Now.

But his eyeshadow was slightly smudged–probably from wiping it on accident–and that was adorable too.

No. Stopping now.

Roman dipped his head back down, boring his eyes into the blueprints. He absorbed none of it, but he acted the part like a champ. Looking busy sure came handy when a prince wanted to avoid people. You couldn’t argue that a prince wasn’t doing important work.

Well, perhaps a lesser prince. But everyone knew how seriously Roman took his job (whether he lived up to expectation or not. Virgil saw past that. Virgil pointed out exactly where Roman lacked…. but he also commented on the good things too. He’d said how much safer it was to walk home lately–how the children were excited about the park–how some patrons of the library complained about the tax increases, but Virgil argued with them about the necessities of the kingdom; all the community works, roads paved, safety measures).

“Ro?” Patton asked, and, even if it weren’t for his voice and bubbly nature, Roman would have known it was him. Patton was the only one on the construction crew that had taken him up on his offer to not use ‘my prince’ every time they referred to him.

“Hm?” Roman asked, pretending to be busy. He saw Patton from the corner of his eye, dragging another person by his side–no doubt Virgil. Roman swallowed harshly.

“This is my friend Virgil. Sorry to interrupt work and all, but I try to introduce him to everyone around here. He doesn’t get around too often and-”

“Pat!” Virgil hissed beside him, and Roman couldn’t help it. He looked up.

And they locked eyes.

Virgil’s cheeks were a dull pink, furiously trying to escape the bounds of the pale foundation he’d applied. For a moment, they were suspended there, Virgil and Roman just looking at each other.

Then, Virgil looked away. “Patton, you can’t just drag me around everywhere.”

Patton, the dear, had the good grace to look sheepish. “I just thought you’d want to meet the prince is all.”

“We’ve already met,” Roman said, against the wishes of his panicked nerves. It felt like something he wanted to keep for himself, something he could hold secret and close to his chest. He forced the words out though. Surely there was no valid reason to keep it secret.

Virgil flinched as Patton whipped around to face him. “Really?!”

He shifted a bit on his feet, and Roman noticed how considerably less confident he was outside the library. Maybe it was the new space, or the unknown gazes, but it worried Roman how much smaller Virgil appeared outside his familiar walls.

While Patton excitedly talked to Virgil about this new development, Roman was able to take a second to himself. It was Roman’s first time around him knowing how he felt about Virgil–without the panic of last time, mind spinning with Do I like him? Do I like him? Do I like him? Roman could examine those feelings up close here, scrutinizing them for what they were. He definitely liked Virgil, that much was definite by then, but how much? Roman fell quickly, but, as long as he was even still a bit afloat, it was fine. Virgil was safe.

And Roman understood with relief that this was indeed the case. He wasn’t in love with Virgil. It was still frightening how easily he’d fallen in deep like with the man, but Roman could remedy the situation. It just… took a bit of… severing of their relationship. Just a dash of distancing, a pinch of avoidance and rigid politeness.

It was less than a minute that Roman had to think on this, Patton and Virgil’s conversation ending abruptly when Virgil started to get visibly overwhelmed. That worried Roman too, but it only seemed to embarrass Virgil.

“Virge? Buddy?” Patton asked, but Virgil’s red face shook back and forth.

“It’s fine, Pat. Let’s just moveonrightnow,” Virgil spoke without a lot of breath, words coming out quick. He was different outside the library, like he was constantly afraid of… something. He was jumpy, and Roman was sure that if someone were to sneak up on him right now, purposefully or not, they would be socked in the jaw.

“Yes,” Roman spoke up, seeing his opportunity. “I’m afraid I’ve actually ran out of time here, but we got a lot done here today. Great job, all of you.”

“You’re leaving?” Patton asked, looking disappointed.

And Roman realized what he’d tried to avoid for so long. Patton was cute. He was funny and kind and made Roman feel like the world had light. But Roman really had nothing to be scared of. He looked at Logan too, clever and full of passion for his work and interests, and thought the same. He’d been avoiding all the wrong people–people who could’ve been his friends.

So to Patton Roman gave a sad smile of his own. He gave his excuses–the many duties of a prince, how busy things have been lately, that he really should let them get back to work instead of hovering over their shoulders so often–he was just a prince, after all.

It all paled to the real reason, nestled deep in his chest where he hoped no one would look, see his obvious lie.

Roman couldn’t be near Virgil.

Too risky.

-/-

The thing with falling for someone–it doesn’t stop when you don’t see them.

What was the saying? Distance makes the heart grow fonder?

That saying existed because days without those you’re infatuated with just make you think about them more. And Roman, the chronic dreamer he was, could not stop thinking about Virgil. He dreamed in his sleep about pushing the hair from Virgil’s face, curling it around his ears and leaning down for a gentle kiss. He day-dreamed about Virgil in his library, slouched over his desk, waiting for patrons and passing the day in boredom.

Roman thought of his snarky quips, eyerolls, insistent gestures when he was trying to tell Roman something. Those milliseconds of a softer look that Roman would ignore, trying to convince himself he loathed Virgil, so he wouldn’t have to go away.

He realized now how too late it was.

Virgil’s laugh was stuck in his ears–Virgil’s nervous voice outside the library–Virgil’s stories of friends he’d never see again, growing up in a distant place.

And Roman hadn’t realized how much of himself he’d given as well. Virgil had been an ear to Roman’s rants, a backboard to spring off horrible ideas. Virgil could be ruthless, and Roman could be idyllic, but, somewhere in there, it actually worked. He’d told Virgil about spreading himself thin, about the demands of a prince he hadn’t expected when the king and queen had adopted him. He told him about how much he cared, cared so much, about the people of this kingdom, even while he’d only been there for three years himself.

There was so much, now that Roman considered it. And still so much he wanted to share. He’d never told Virgil about his brother–no one knew about Remus. He wasn’t fit to be in the public eye. That much scrutiny and pressure, after everything he’d been through, would destroy him.

But he found himself wanting to tell Virgil. Found that he trusted him with the information.

And he wanted to tell Virgil about where he and his brother grew up, about the night he woke up and Remus wasn’t by his side, and it took two years of searching and loneliness to find him and save him. Roman wanted to tell Virgil his favorite color was red, that his favorite stories as a kid were about knights, not princes, that he spent his free time–or what freetime he used to have–writing poetry, and he had a secret love for theater that he’d never had the opportunity to explore.

Roman felt his heart pulling pulling pulling. It wouldn’t rest, wouldn’t relinquish the hold it had over him, would not forget him- him-

Virgil.

His heart was a selfish thing. It stuck like glue to those who didn’t want it. It kept its love in a cage, never to let go.

But Roman had to stop thinking of him. It would only lead to heartbreak. It would only lead to Virgil’s doom.

That should make it easier on his heart–knowing the person it longed for was at risk for its choice–but nothing did sway it. It was up to Roman to wrangle it in, suppress, push it down down down.

A sound at the door of his office snapped Roman out of his thoughts–spiralling, an hourly occurrence at this rate, sending him straight to a world far away, spinning in purple irises. The door creaked open, and there stood an odd sight.

“Remus?” Roman asked, concerned. He was already standing, walking around the desk and across the room. “Is everything alright? Why are you on this side of the castle?”

Remus was very far from his room, and the castle was pretty confusing. It was a surprise his brother had found him at all.

“Virgil,” was all Remus said, like it held all the answers he’d ever been looking for. Roman paused, eyebrows furrowing.

“What about him?”

“It’s him.”

“What?” Roman asked, and Remus reached out, grabbed his hand. Before he knew it, Roman was being pulled along. Remus was leading them down the corridor, looking more sure of himself than Roman had seen since they were kids. “Remus, what are you doing? Where are we going?”

Remus didn’t answer him. In fact, Roman was thrown into even more confusion when he was steered into a random room at the end of the corridor, his brother huffing as he shut the door behind them. “Walking takes too long,” he seemed to be realizing. His hand was glowing and, when he reached out for Roman again, it was a blink of an eye before they were standing somewhere completely new.

“Remus, what the hell?” Roman asked, retracting his hand. “You shouldn’t use your magic like that! Anyone could see you.”

But Remus wasn’t listening. Was he ever? Instead, he was looking around. “Not where I would have picked.” He was sounding… like himself. Roman stared, wide-eyed. If he wasn’t so confused, he’d be elated. He’d long since thought getting his brother back to any normalcy–or whatever was normalcy for Remus–was impossible.

“Who’s there?” a voice interrupted his thoughts, carrying across the library stacks. Roman recognized it and cursed internally. Why had Remus taken them there?

Slowly, Roman put up his hands and crept out of the small alcove Remus had taken them to, ready to come up with an explanation for their sudden appearance on the fly. “Do not be afraid,” Roman said, as any prince would. He stood in the open and found Virgil’s gaze. All Virgil had to protect him were his own fists–not the best tactic, Roman thought. Then again, it was only the other day that Roman had been afraid Virgil would sock the nearest person.

Still, just his fists didn’t seem like a great defense against swords or knives or any number of weapons a burglar could have. There was a pang in Roman’s heart as he thought of what might have happened if it wasn’t just him and Remus in there. Virgil would have been defenseless.

As realization dawned on Virgil’s face, they stood at a stand still, both almost afraid to move. When Virgil’s eyes drifted to his raised fists–loose, not really fists at all, who had taught Virgil to fight?–he dropped them like hot coals, stuffing them in his pockets.

“Fuck, Roman, you nearly gave me a heart attack,” Virgil said, and Roman knew he shouldn’t be focusing on this–but Virgil had said his name again, and his heart was singing.

“My dearest apologies,” Roman bowed, and, going by the weirded out look on Virgil’s face, that was not of norm between them. He supposed they had never been quite civil with each other–even at the beginning. “I wanted to show my brother the library and you weren’t at the front desk, so we just came in.”

“I’ve been at the front desk this whole time,” Virgil said, not defensive, but confused. Well, at least Virgil wasn’t in a bad mood.

“Funny. We didn’t see you.”

“Wait wait wait,” Virgil said, backing up a second. “You said brother?”

Shit.

Looked like Roman would have to explain that sooner than he’d thought. Or, really, at all. Wanting to tell Virgil and telling him had been on two separate lists entirely. Roman wasn’t actually supposed to be talking to Virgil at all.

“Okay, so-” Roman went to start, but he was caught off by a twin set of gasps, one shortly after the other. The first had come from behind him, so that’s where he looked.

“It is you,” Remus said. Roman’s eyes widened, finally catching on to what his brother had been trying to tell him.

“Wait, do you know each other?”

“Remus?” Virgil’s reply answered that question well enough. Roman turned back to him, eyes darting between the two. Virgil sputtered, “What- How-”

“It’s too late,” Remus mumbled. It sounded a bit more like he had over the past year–less like himself, but his eyes were present; he looked to be considering something–something he didn’t seem to favor. “It was a trap.”

“A trap?” Roman asked. “What do you mean? A trap for who? Who’s trapping?”

“Remus, what the fuck? How are you here? How did you get away?” Virgil asked, walking closer, but not too close, like there was still a part of him that couldn’t believe what was in front of him.

“Get away?” Roman said, pieces further slipping into place. He didn’t like where this was going.

“What about Dee?”

“Dee…” Roman mumbled, the name familiar in his ears. I miss Dee, Remus had said. I miss Dee I miss Dee I miss Dee…

“It’s too late,” Remus repeated. “Of course it was you.”

Then, the room erupted into chaos.

-/-

Books flew, shelves rocked, windows clattered. From the corners of his eyes, Roman could see flashes of purple and green. Past the wind in his ears, he heard vague shouts from Virgil and a round of fuckfuckfuckfuckfucks from Remus. He couldn’t recall if he was saying anything himself, but he knew what he was feeling. Scared.

Roman had no idea what was happening, but, from the flashes of light, he deduced it must have been magic. This made him turn toward his brother, suddenly scared that all of this had gotten to him. Being outside the castle, some place unfamiliar, not to mention Remus had always been kind of a loose cannon with his magic–it could have caused Remus to panic.

But one look at him and Roman knew his brother wasn’t the one doing it. He turned to Virgil, remembering what he’d been saying, how he’d known Remus, how he’d raised his hands in a stance that made no sense in traditional fighting–but, with magic?

Purple sparks flew across Virgil’s skin, like they were doing on Remus too, but his eyes weren’t aglow. He wasn’t doing it either.

What was happening?

Then, abruptly, it stopped.

Shelves balanced back to their places and books dropped to the floor, lifeless. It was all they could do to just stand there before movement caught Roman’s eye at the top of one of the shelves.

Someone sat there, legs folded elegantly over one another where they balanced precariously. Roman recognized the one glowing eye peering down at them, the scaly hands, the knowing smirk.

“What a lovely reunion,” she purred. Roman was stricken, fear clenching his gut. Instinctively, however, he stepped forward in front of Remus and Virgil. He watched as her eyes traveled over each of them, finally landing behind Roman’s left shoulder, lips curling further into her face. “I was hoping it would be you.”

“How- How did you-” Virgil stuttered, but his voice died out. Roman narrowed his eyes, something protective overpowering his fear.

“You should not be here,” Roman stated.

“But, my prince,” she said, “We made a deal.”

“A deal that hasn’t come to fruition,” he said.

“I see someone’s still in denial,” the woman leered. “A witch’s curse knows all, though. You can’t scam the Dragon Witch of her hoard, my prince.” The way she said ‘my prince’ infuriated him, but nothing like Virgil’s had. The Dragon Witch said it like it was nothing, like it was delectable and sweet and hers to keep.

“What is she talking about?” Virgil asked, and Roman turned. Instead of scared, he now looked confused. He was watching the two of them, apprehensive, but ready to fight. His hands were up again in those loose fists, purple sparking off of them. Magic. Virgil had magic. “You made a deal with the witch?”

“Not that he had much choice.” The witch shrugged. It seemed casual, despite the manic glee in her eyes. “I was going to kill him and keep Remus. But he wanted his brother, and he got to be prince of a kingdom! Fair trade, if you ask me.”

“It’s not fair,” Remus said, and the witch seemed to remember he was there. “You can’t take him-”

“Shut up, Remus,” she said offhandedly and Remus flinched. Rage filled Roman, and he stomped further toward the witch.

“Don’t you dare-”

“Don’t I dare what, sweetie?” she asked, folding her legs up onto the bookshelf with her, where Roman couldn’t reach. He was ready to topple the whole shelf when her words caught him. “I’m only here for what I’m due. I was hoping you’d choose Virgil.”

“What?” he asked, and his voice echoed. He turned around and saw Virgil’s ghostly face, mouth open, having spoken at the same time.

“There’s so many possibilities, you know,” she said and sighed like she was bored. “There’s some realities where you fall for the architects, but there were quite a few where we’d end up here and that was certainly a risk I was willing to take. So glad it paid off.”

“But I’m not-” Roman protested, and when he was cut off again he felt ready to pull his sword. It would do nothing against her magic–something he knew well–but she was really getting to him.

“Not in love? Please,” the Dragon Witch scoffed. “It’s not my problem you haven’t realized it yet.”

“Wait!” a voice suddenly tore through their conversation, and Roman looked back at Virgil, something tightening his gut. Virgil looked simultaneously angry and afraid and lost. “Hold on for a second. What the fuck is going on?”

With a grace that shouldn’t have belonged to someone so wicked, the witch floated down from the bookshelf, jumping right over Roman and landing in front of Virgil. Virgil seemed to have masked everything in those few seconds, standing defiant and tall before the woman. It mystified Roman. It was nothing he had ever seen before–nothing like Virgil’s comfortable confidence in the library. Virgil lowered his hands, appearing defenseless and unafraid under her manic gaze.

“Long story,” she said, tossing her head side to side. “But I’ll tell you the ending if you want. My little happily ever after… minus dear Remus over there. I’d rather have all three of you but Remus turned weak. This. This was the outcome I was betting on.”

She leaned in, centimeters from Virgil’s face and anyone else might have missed the minute flinch in the man’s body, but Roman saw–tuned into it. Virgil’s eyes were hard. He said nothing.

Even as he was sentenced to his doom–to a doom brought to him because of Roman–because of a heart he couldn’t control–because Roman had signed away another’s life–a life that wasn’t Roman’s to give–a life Roman hadn’t yet met–that he was destined to love and hate and damn forever.

And it’d been a trap.

“Virgil, my long lost terror, you belong to me again. The End.”

#sanders sides #prinxiety #roman sanders #virgil sanders #ts creativity #ts anxiety #ts #tw weapons #tw trauma #tw injury #minor edits: realized the italics didn't copy over #but that's fixed #also i'm going to lose my shit if people don't stop walking behind me while i have writing on my screen #i have an allergic reaction to people seeing my writing when i'm not ready for them to #which for irl people is next to never #requests #tw angst #tw unhappy ending #ahhcc

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pffbts · 4 years ago

Note

hi, i love your writings! can i request something fluffy with soonyoung from seventeen? maybe a confession, first date or something like that? thanks already🌈

―GENRE: fluff; just hoshi being the cutest tiger cub.

―CHARACTERS: kwon soonyoung x neutral gender!reader | no supporting character.

―W.C: 1.9K

―AUTHOR`S NOTE: hi! hello! my first svt request on this blog :) thank you so much for requesting. this one sounds cute, i hope you enjoy reading, bub! love u <3 it`s 3 am right now so i guess i`ll go to sleep, for now, lol oh and congratulation to svt for their 2nd win for home:run!!

[05:11 PM] [the papers are flying away but there`s two hands always to hold]

―soonyoung had half of his head in the pattern of folds of the rose coloured craft paper and half of his head on how he must give you the paper rose he will make. will he just leave it on the desk before he leaves the club or give you in person?

oh no, soonyoung thought immediately, sitting straight up in his seat and looking straight ahead while his eyes went wide, he can never do that. that`s simply impossible. that would be too much. he continued to convince himself.

the middle school kid who was sitting two seats away from soonyoung looked at him like, what is this adult doing since the past two hours?

the place where soonyoung was at is none other a simple art club by the neighbourhood of his part-time workplace. it`s a cosy place, almost similar to a library it`s an art-related club―a place for escape from the reality of the harsh world where people who love painting, crafting, sculpting or as simple as drawing for a hobby comes here. you can bring your own materials in here or the manager will provide that for you if you forget some days. you can simply pay for the materials. the place does take a monthly rent but it`s not much.

but for soonyoung, he wasn`t one of those people who came here for an escape from reality. he was here for you and under the influence of the biggest smile you gave him when two months ago, you and he met for the first time at a mutual friend`s birthday get together at a ramen restaurant.

it was a very small get together. most of the participants were just graduates or drop-outs who worked part-times like soonyoung and you for some pocket money until you get a proper job.

when you saw him at the door of this art club two weeks later after that night, he was an awkward mess. he was confused and giving nervous laughter whenever you tried to make him comfortable. you were apparently working as a helper in this art club. most of the times, you help the people who came here by cleaning the brushes for them, cleaning after they leave away any paint splashes or cut out craft papers scattered on the floor or table. sometimes, you helped the people themselves who weren`t that expert in crafting, or drawing.

you liked crafting yourself so you always stuck to helping people who came to craft. painting and drawing isn`t something you were that talented so you avoided them most of the times.

it was quite evident why soonyoung stuck to crafting to himself. he wanted to get as much closure to you as he can. he was a nervous wreck already and it was quite hard for him to talk to you in the eye.

you were like the brightest thing in the room. when he would lift up his face to take a glimpse of you, everything faded in the background, everything becomes something of a blurred image except for you. soonyoung always looked forward to the free schedules on his calendar so that he can see you again. at first, he felt like he was back to school, having a crush on someone from the next class. it was thrilling yet a sad experience because he wasn`t quite sure how to approach you because he had never felt like this with anyone.

soonyoung was worried if his feelings will be able to reach you, will they get a chance to live inside you. he was worried if he`ll be able to grow out of this feeling he has built inside his heart. some days, it gets quite impossible to ignore them, some days it flows like a river. he has been to the clubs a few days and did absolutely nothing but stayed nibbling at various art papers and catch glimpses of you. you, on the other hand, never came to him because obviously, it was a rule that you can only go or approach the visitors only when they call for you and soonyoung, apparently didn`t have anything to ask related to craft so he could never call you. heck, he didn`t know the c in the craft forget doing things that creative. that`s why most of the times, he would waste away his time just catching glimpses of you from afar or when you talked to someone at the table, just give you the most dedicated undivided attention through his ears.

but today soonyoung was hesitating. he was witnessing a fight within himself. a part of him wanted to call you and ask how to make a rose and half of him is telling to stop embarrassing himself in front of you. that once it`s done, once he has said it all and you reject him by any chance, it would be completely over. he would suffer from his first unrequited love for his lifetime. he will never forget about you because you are his first love.

but the youtube tutorial wasn`t helping him at all. when you were doing a silent round around the table, you caught soonyoung kind of struggling. he was sighing listlessly, licking his already chapped lips (obviously from too much licking previously). he looked all over the place but he wasn`t calling for you which kind of frustrated you a bit.

soonyoung had always been the silent craft guy who would always sit at the end of the long table and was obviously bad at the craft itself. you thought maybe instead of meditating, this was the best he could do.

you decided this thing he was trying to make was going nowhere. so you came across his seat and instantly dropped down to act like you were picking up a pencil. you threw the pencil in your pocket a bit against his chair. soonyoung noticed instantly what was happening right beside him and he froze right there.

but as soon as you looked up from the place where the manager won`t be able to see you, you whispered to soonyoung for the first time today, “do you need help?” you moved your eyes towards the paper in his hand, pointing that you want to help him with that.

soonyoung, who was previously a little confused now said in a low voice, “i think i can do it.”

“it`s been two hours, the club will close in 20 minutes. let me help you so that we can accomplish what you`re trying to do.” you said back to him, pushing his buttons a bit.

soonyoung, when he heard what you said looked down at you with a face of realization. the way you said it made it seem like you were talking about how he can help you confess whatever he feels for you, that time is running out and things will flow like as usual and it might be too late for this feeling to grow in a pair and not one-sided.

he nodded at you.

“you`ve to call my name,” you whispered back to him.

soonyoung looked around the room a bit and called your name.

you sat beside him with a rose coloured craft paper showing him how to fold the corners to make it into a rose. soonyoung was for the first time giving every bit of his attention to the creation under construction with your hands.

he was following the instructions as you say to him and after almost ten minutes when the rose was a success, his face broke into a smile. you turned around and faced him in your seat. soonyoung held the rose with the toothpick acting as the stem in his hand. he was looking at the rose with heart eyes and he turned his body a bit towards you, but his mind was somewhere else. his head blanks out for a second and he had no idea what he was about to do.

his heart just decided to take a lead and he lifted his hand up to put the rose behind your ear. soonyoung looked at the rose, at how it looked more pretty now that it`s sitting on your earlobe. his smile never left his face, instead, it was more evident as his eyes became thin crescents on his face. as his hand started dropping from your ear, his fingertips brushed against your cheek which made you look him in the eye.

soonyoung, as he felt the skin under his fingertips, broke from his daze. he looked at you in dismay, he was absolutely scared at that moment of what he had done. his head moved fast and hung low. his palms rubbing on his thighs and his eyes moving from one side to another. he didn`t know a single thing to fixate his eyes on.

“thank you,” soonyoung heard a familiar voice, “thank you for gifting me your first rose.”

soonyoung snapped his head at your direction, “what? i mean, i`m sorry. i shouldn`t have done that―”

“am i getting more of this from next time?” you asked him, breaking his words in halves, “you`re going to make more of this for me, right?”

“huh?” soonyoung voice was lost, his head was somewhere else. suddenly he was void of any words, reactions. his mouth was half-open, his eyes were slightly wide.

“you`re making more of this for me, right?” you took the rose from above your ear and placed it right in the chest pocket of your t-shirt. the rose looked vibrant on your bland faded yellow t-shirt.

“if you want then…” soonyoung tried saying, still unsure how to process all this.

“i want all the roses you make, soonyoung,” you said his name making him know that you know him and what this rose meant for both of you, you wanted to make it loud and clear by saying his name, “it`s only because you gave me your first, i want to have it all.” you looked at him and smiled.

soonyoung could do absolutely nothing but smile back at you shyly and know that some firsts of his like this first love which resonated with this first rose will eventually be a first for you too. all he wished for at that moment is for his feelings to reach you and looking at how you kept the rose on top of your heart, soonyoung saw a bit of hope.

fin.

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