#idk how to tag this or what to draw next or when so just throwing a bone

[lifehunted]

life is kicking my ass rn so here's an older dardavarre (they are having a great time)

[starglitterz]

♡ NIGHT DANCER.

❝ nothing changed, please don't change… let's blend together, one more time. ❞ / after spending the night with you, how do the genshin men treat you in the morning after?

✧ feat ; albedo, cyno, kaedehara kazuha, scaramouche, shikanoin heizou, xiao x gn!reader ✧ warning(s) ; suggestive (esp scara and heizou) ✧ a/n ; HIII everybody make some noise for quill’s shocking once a year post!!! hope you guys like this and if it doesn’t show up in tags i will delete my account (/nsrs) anyways idk why i’ve been so obsessed w the idea of waking up next to someone (can you tell i’m critically lonely? 💀) and so this piece was born. pretend u don't notice how scara & xiao’s might seem kinda similar it’s bc i view them thru the same lens LOL ok hope you enjoy! (also ignore the scara favouritism im kinda obsessed w this idea for him KJASKJD)

please reblog + leave comments ! it helps a lot w motivation <3

✦ ALBEDO. [ kreideprinz ]

you’re awoken by the feeling of a cold breeze caressing your skin, and as you grasp for his familiar figure, you realise albedo’s not beside you anymore. but before you can freak out, his soft voice calls to you from behind you, “good morning, dove. don’t move, i’m almost finished.” “finished with what?” you query, deciding to obey him and stay still. he doesn’t answer at first, but you can hear a faint scratching sound which almost sounds like charcoal against parchment. “and… done.” you shift in the bed, turning around to face him. albedo looks almost ethereal in the early morning light, especially when he smiles at you like you hung the stars in the sky. “i do hope you don’t find this peculiar, but i wanted to draw you while you were asleep. you looked so peaceful, and i wanted to immortalise this moment.” he hands you the paper, strands of wheat-coloured hair spilling over his shoulders, let loose from his usual half ponytail. you’re the only one who gets to see him like this, messy and imperfect instead of the flawless scientist he portrays to the rest of mondstadt. you gaze at the drawing, absorbing every detail as you try not to faint from what a sweet gesture this is, “albedo, this is amazing! you made me look so pretty.” he tilts his head quizzically, raising an eyebrow, “what do you mean? i just drew you exactly how i see you – you’re always beautiful to me.”

✦ CYNO. [ judicator of secrets ]

cyno's skin looks almost golden in the sunlight filtering through the translucent curtains. you're lying on your side, gazing at him and just admiring his features when his red eyes flutter open and he murmurs, “i might have to charge you for looking so much.” his voice is rougher than normal, deepened by sleep and it makes heat rush to your cheeks. “morning, babe-ah!” you can barely get out your greeting before he's pulling you back into his embrace, strong arms wrapping around you as he nuzzles into your neck. “cyno!” you laugh, turning around to face him, “stop it, i'm hungry! i wanna go get breakfast-” “hi hungry, i'm cyno,” your boyfriend looks at you with the most deadpan expression, and you're momentarily stunned. then you groan and throw a pillow at his head, “you're so lame!” “i'm not so lame, i just told you i'm cyno- okay, okay, i'll stop!” you collapse into a fit of giggles right as you're about to pummel his chest, “lamest ever.” “mmm,” cyno mumbles, eyes already fluttering shut again as he feels your plush warmth against him, “i'll make you breakfast, i swear, but can we just stay like this for a little longer?”

✦ KAEDEHARA KAZUHA. [ scarlet leaves pursue wild waves ]

the first thing you see when you wake up are kazuha's crimson irises laser-focused on you. the way his eyes scan your features, it’s almost like he’s tracing every detail to commit to memory, as if every morning that he wakes up next to you could be his last. “kazu? what's-” you're interrupted by a yawn, and your boyfriend's gaze softens as he looks at you. as you brush his red-streaked hair out of his face, he leans into your touch, almost cat-like in the motion, “what is it, 'zuha?” “i was just thinking... you make me glad to be a poet,” a gentle smile graces his features. “what? why?” despite the fact that kazuha is always letting praise fall from his lips like jewels, you didn't even remotely expect his answer. “because it means i'm lucky enough to be able to properly convey how you make me feel, and how gorgeous you are,” kazuha presses a sweet kiss on your forehead, then his brow furrows slightly, “but i don't think there's enough words in the world for me to speak about what you mean to me.”

✦ SCARAMOUCHE. [ kunikuzushi ]

when scaramouche wakes up, his first thought is; why does my entire body hurt? eyes still half-lidded and drowsy, he looks down and he's met with the sight of your back pressed against his torso, his arm thrown carelessly over your waist. he scrambles backwards, eyes widening with shock, and his sudden frantic movement wakes you up too. “what are you doing in my bed?!” “what the hell, scara?” you mumble, rubbing away the sleep from your eyes, “it’s too early for you to be this loud.” scaramouche’s heart is beating a million times a minute, and it’s only exacerbated by how cute you look when you’re this sleepy, not that he’d admit it to you for the world. but as you yawn and sit up, he thinks that he’s going to go into cardiac arrest. “you didn’t answer my question!” you give him a weird look, “we slept together. again. duh.” the blanket wrapped around your figure slides off a little as you reply, revealing your bare shoulder and giving him the faintest glimpse of your chest, and scaramouche’s face turns so red you genuinely think he might explode. “c-cover yourself up!” he scolds, clambering closer to drape the fabric over you again as his mind works through the haze of sleep, letting the memories of last night flood back.

realising how flustered he is, you take this as the perfect opportunity to tease him, “it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” “shut up.” he replies curtly, but he hesitates as his fingers skim over the bite mark on your collarbone. his eyes darken slightly as he recalls last night, the messy kisses that were more tongue than anything else, his teeth nipping at your neck and finally sinking into your skin, all to mark you as his. you’ve both never officially decided what the two of you are, but you both know that he’s yours and you’re his, and scaramouche doesn’t like sharing. a playful smirk curves your lips, “remember giving this to me?” “don’t test me,” he mumbles, eyes roving over your exposed skin. his gaze dips to the still slipping blanket, hands ceasing their rapid motion to try and rescue your modesty, “i might give you more.” your arms loop around his neck, pulling him back down to the bed as you smile teasingly, “so do it.” “you’re a bad influence,” scaramouche groans, hands already moving to grip your hips, and you laugh, “that’s why you love me~”

✦ SHIKANOIN HEIZOU. [ analytical harmony ]

“good morning~” heizou's lilting voice is the first thing you hear when you wake up, and his trademark smile is already on his idiotically kissable lips as the two of you lie next to each other in his bed. “you do this with all the criminals you catch?” you drawl, trying to ignore how your heart skips a beat as you see the way his green eyes twinkle in the light. “just the ones i think look best in a different type of handcuffs,” he replies smoothly without missing a beat, smirk deepening as he notices he's left you speechless. “plus,” his hand trails across your cheek, thumb stroking your skin for a split second before his smile turns devilish, “it'd be pretty hard for me to get them to the police station if i left them all unable to walk.” “ugh, heizou!” you swat his shoulder, and bury your face in the pillow as he bursts into laughter. “but seriously,” heizou taps your shoulder gently, almost hesitantly, and you peek up from the pillow to look at him. a soft pink blush dusts his cheeks, and his eyes flicker away from yours in a manner that seems almost shy, “you're the only person i'd do this with, criminal or not.”

✦ XIAO. [ vigilant yaksha ]

waking up next to you is like a little slice of heaven for xiao. he can barely believe that he, the corrupted conqueror of demons, is able to share a bed with a mortal who borders on angelic. you shift in xiao's embrace, tucking your head under his chin almost instinctively as your eyes open slowly, “good morning, xiao. did you sleep well?” he still gets embarrassed by your proximity, so his voice is a little curt as he responds with a pink blush darkening his cheeks, “adepti do not require sleep.” “ah…” you roll your eyes, but pounce on the opportunity to fluster him, “guess that's why you always want to go all night, hm?” “i-!” xiao's face turns an almost delightful shade of crimson and he looks away, “no respect for the adepti.” “not true!” you gasp with mock offense. cuddling up against him, you stick your tongue out, “i respect alllll the adepti. but my boyfriend? maybe not so much.” “you'll be the death of me,” xiao sighs, pulling you impossibly closer. “then i hope you'll die a happy man,” you giggle, threading your fingers through his jade hair. xiao's eyes slide shut from the feeling of you playing with his hair, and he murmurs a response that leaves you speechless, “after a life with you? certainly.”

i love them this is so soft when is it my turn // general masterlist

© starglitterz 2023. do not repost or modify in any way - reblog and leave comments if you enjoyed !

[pomegranatepip]

Golden Hour

rafayel × gn! reader

content: mostly fluff, idk how to tag suggestive content yet so I'll just say heavily suggestive elements, lmk if i missed anything

author's note: i suck at coming up with titles for things 💀 this is my first time writing for love and deepspace. i hope you enjoy!

word count: 838

AO3 link

Rafayel wakes up to the sound of his phone buzzing insistently. He groans as he reaches over, not bothering to see who called as he shuts it off. He turns over to his side, hoping he can still catch a few winks when he is met with the sight of you next to him, still fast asleep.

He almost never wakes up before you. His sleeping schedule is atrocious as it is, and has become even more so with that exhibit coming up. Be as it may, any thoughts of further sleep flee his mind as he takes you in.

You’re curled in on yourself, as if determined not to take up extra space on his bed- which would have been a nice gesture if you weren’t also hogging most of the blanket. He smiles to himself as he tries to fit under it with you, already thinking about how he’d tease you about it later. You shift in your sleep as he draws closer and unfurl yourself enough to throw an arm over him, revelling in the warmth his body provided.

If only you could see the warmth he held in his gaze.

The quiet domesticity of waking up next to you felt surreal. In all his lifetimes of finding you, knowing you, loving you, Rafayel had never allowed himself the luxury of imagining a future with you. Well, maybe at first. But fate had a cruel way of getting in between you two and driving you apart. Over the centuries, he had learned not to want for more than what he was given, knowing it could be snatched away at any moment.

But now, as he watches you scoot closer to him, still asleep, his heart swells with an emotion he can’t quite place. Is it hope? Contentment? He wasn’t sure. You were the wordsmith between the two of you, after all. But for the first time in a long, long while, he feels safe enough to want more. More moments like this, more time, more of you. All of you.

All he can think about is how beautiful you look right now, your skin glowing golden in the morning light streaming in through the windows. Your breath is warm against his neck where your face is nuzzled. Your own neck is littered with the marks he had left there last night, all the more visible now that it’s morning. As he traces his handiwork, he recalls the way your hands had roamed reverently over his body, the way you had kissed him, the way his name had fallen from your lips as he coaxed pleasure out of your body over and over-

He leans down to press a kiss to your bare shoulder. Then another. And another. His lips trail up to your neck, then your jaw, and finally to your cheek where he places one last chaste kiss.

“That tickles.”

He pulls back to see you looking up at him, your eyelids still weighed down by sleep. “Good morning to you too. Slept well I suppose?” he asks.

“Like a rock. How’d you figure?” you reply through a yawn.

“Well, you’re practically cocooned in my blanket while you’ve left me to freeze outside of it. Also? This is a king size bed. Look at all the space behind you. Why am I hanging off the edge?” He pouts as he gestures to himself.

You look around you, then give him a sheepish smile. “Sorry about that,” you mutter as you scoot back and hold the blanket open for him. “Join me now? I’m even giving my spot to you. It’s nice and warm.” You say the last part in a slightly sing-song voice, trying to persuade him to get in.

Not that he needed any persuasion, but he wants to mess with you a little more. “That’s it? That’s all I get for fighting the elements all night just to make sure my girlfriend is warm and toasty?”

“Well, what else do you want?”

Rafayel grins as he moves to hover on top of you, his arms on either side of your head. The way your breath hitches at his sudden proximity, the way your gaze moves instinctively to his lips- he drinks it all in. “I could think of a few ways. If you’re feeling up to it.” He poses it as a question, only wanting it if you do.

You pull him down so your faces are a hair’s breadth apart, your lips ghosting over his. He shudders.

“Well,” you whisper, smiling playfully, “I don’t have anywhere to be today. Do you?”

He trails a hand down your side, watching the way you respond, how you go pliant under his touch. He wishes he could suspend this moment in time. His godhood paled in comparison to the privilege of being able to worship you.

“No. I’m all yours for today.”

And for the rest of eternity, he adds unspoken, but you hear it and smile as he captures your lips with his.

[ruiniel]

👀 idk if this is too generic—may I request a smutty short fic of fem!reader x alucard, but set post-canon? Like in the little community village? (feel free to throw in anything extra/else!)

Hi anon, but what if they were *on the way* to the village, anon?

Above us, the sky

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Pairing: Alucard x F!Reader

Count: 2.7k

Rating: Explicit (🔞)

Tags/CW: oneshot, post-castlevania, inspired by castlevania, banter, attraction, oral sex (m receiving), oral sex (f receiving), desire, teasing, shenanigans in nature, fluff, drinks by the fire, Alucard POV

All characters depicted are 18+

A wry smile splits his face as Adrian waits beside his horse, watching you dismount you own steed. The lessons, through most of which he’d acted as a dutiful tutor, have finally taken hold. And now you must do this yourself, no matter his urge to ease your struggle.

"Right, watch and giggle," you grumble, succeeding with a graceless huff, "I'll get you for it later, worry not," you mutter with a grudging smile. You then walk past your partner, your belongings slung over one shoulder.

Afternoon sunlight spears through the branches of trees; his eye is pierced by a stray, lonesome ray as Adrian follow you with his gaze. No doubt if anyone were to see his face, they would report the traits of the besotted fool Trevor told him he’d become. He contemplates having to properly humiliate the hunter next time they spar to regain some standing and curb that enthusiasm for jibes, though… well. He’s not wrong, is he?

"Adrian, are you coming?" you ask, looking over your shoulder at him.

He steps forward with a grin, awaiting the scoff he knows will follow; and so it does, though he’s seen your brimming smile. The shiver running through him when you act this way makes itself known; he smothers it down. He can’t, shouldn’t want you here, on the road, despite being nearer to the village now; but the sway of your hips draws him with the magnetism of planets, and the image of your parted lips as he takes you refuses to disperse from his mind.

And, even as together you set up your small camp to rest, Adrian catches you stealing a glance or two when you think he’s not looking; you need him, and the notion fills him with delight, one he never thought he deserved to feel. But that was before. That was past. 

Your face hides nothing. You watch him as Adrian once looked upon you, dancing with the winds above the walls of the castle, not a care in the world. 

The memories fade as your words reach him. "Traveling through time and space again, my prince of the Night?" you tease.

Oh, but how he would tease you, his lively one, until you rose above the stars and your mind emptied of all that you knew. Adrian glances your way with a brief, faint smile as he works to start a small fire.

You’d settled in a hidden glade close to the road, and late you share an evening fare accompanied by fragrant, dark wine he’d packed.

Your mouth forms a tasty little circle after you take a first sip, gazing at him wide-eyed. "Can never, ever, underestimate the wine you have here. Goodness this is exquisite!" you down the rest of it, liberally.

"You may regret this indulgence on the morrow," Adrian says, arms crossed, throwing you a knowing grin.

You shrug. "That's for tomorrow's me to worry about. Now please," you raise the empty cup for a refill.

Shaking his head, Adrian complies. "But then, I have held your hair before, and in worse circumstances," he deadpans, placing the travel flask aside as you both recline around the brimming fire.

You gently slap his shoulder, and watching you, his thought turns to the first time you’d met, then the first time you’d abused drink so much, it led to such a sorry state Adrian could not possibly just stand by and watch.

"Your boots are safe this time, I promise," you chime, giggling at a sudden hiccup. 

It is late as you unpack for a night's rest under summer skies on your return route to Belmont village. His face raised to the cold stars, Adrian hears the slow shift of galaxies and endless circles from afar, through this world and beyond, struggling in their lonesome seats upon the firmament.

He nearly drifts away, the flames warming his face, his body softening against the hard earth beneath your cloaks. He holds you tighter, eyes locked on the stars. Silver light mellows his thought, his nerves, infuses his being. There is peace.

There is fear. It bolts through him like the cracking of a whip.

Adrian starts to feel you struggling against him, your words hissed and unintelligible, limbs contorting in strange positions.

"... it is I," he calls your name, fingers sifting through your hair. When you fail to awaken and still thrash about, he calls again with all the care and worry he feels through your bond; gradually, you mellow against him. 

Your breathing is quick and shallow as you turn your head, awake, watching him with tired eyes. "I... I'm sorry, it was…" you trail away, lowering your lashes and turning back against him, coiled deeper into yourself. "Like before."

Nightmares still plague you. You say they are nothing but your days following such nightly frights are always strange, and Adrian knows you’d not forgotten your ordeal through the siege. You dream of fleeing through his home where all its halls are burning and then the fire takes you and shadows take him. More or less the same visions, with varying outcomes. You hear his voice in your sleep, warning of no escape. Adrian tried comfort, but the aftermath of trauma is immense and its tendrils run deep, as well he knows. Would that he didn’t. And so, he holds you close, rocking with you back and forth to calm your battering heart.

You turn after a few moments, placing a cold palm to his cheek. "I'm so happy you're here," you smile, and in your eyes he sees the signs that sleep will elude for tonight. At first, you could not sleep at all, and now the dreams do not cease. 

Adrian meets your smile and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, sweeping its shell with his thumb.

"Adrian—" you gasp and meet his eyes, hands fisting together at his chest. 

"I got ahead of myself," he says, aiming for an apology though all that comes through, is yearning. He longs to touch you, but now is not the time to indulge. 

"Do it again," come the soft, reserved words.

He meets your eyes, confused. "Rest," Adrian urges, draping an arm around your waist and kissing the tip of your nose.

You smile, so shyly it levels him, and turn your face inward presenting him with the full sight of your ear.

"Which part of rest did you not comprehend?" Adrian tries reason, though inside he already burns to glide his tongue over that lovely appendage merely to hear your sigh, and continue over the rest of you. These primal states of mind and body in your presence can overwhelm; the need to own you is great, to control your gasps and sighs, to have you merge into him forever and a day.

"Please," you smile, reaching around his neck, following the quiver of his lips while your fingers curl into his hair pulling with just enough pressure as to diminish his resolve. "It'll help me rest," you whisper, and that fiendish smile widens at his strangled sigh.

"Have a care what you pray for, it might be given you," Adrian teases the old saying a little too darkly, a hand drawing soothing motions over your back. But relentless you are, coming flush against his body, and he once again drifts on the scent of your skin and the sweetness of your blood. 

He's lightheaded with your touch upon his cheek, following your changing expression. His finger again slowly grazes along your ear. You clutch his arm when he tilts your chin up, slowly, softly tracing the outline of your lips with his tongue. 

Your breath catches; then, again slower, and you grip him tighter, opening for him, your eager mouth ghosting his and Adrian nibbles on your lip, enjoying the hot, silky texture, the taste, the pressure. 

He whispers your name again, this time not in worry but in need; you turn until you’re trapped beneath him. Desire has pooled in your eyes and at least you’re smiling now, but Adrian wants to ask if this is truly what you need.

You curb his question, fingers again seeking and caught in his hair, nose pressed to his neck. "You smell so good… " Your wet lips glide over his skin, "you taste so good..." you murmur and Adrian grins through his blush, recalling a few very pleasurable past moments when you’d said the same.

His arms wrap around you and he rises, drawing you into his lap, watching as you take your time with the fastenings of his shirt. Adrian mirrors your movements, smiling, his fingers sure and steady. You press down on his hips as he lifts your arms to remove your tunic.

"You too," you gush a reproach, and he hastily complies. 

You gape at him. "I will never get over this," comes that husky tone he knows too well, "… how perfect you are," your fingers trail down his bare chest.

"We have enough time," Adrian deadpans. Perfect. Once, when he'd been a wreck, such words would have awakened ire and contempt. Now, he knows they come from the heart, and with you he's learned. He's learned to trust again. He attempts to guide you onto the forest bed—but you resist.

"No," you raise your chin, defiant, "you tonight." Your palms push against him, leading him down on his back and he lies there, defeated amid fallen leaves and grass, eyes narrowing at the devious curve of your lips.

You straddle him, still wearing your leggings, and he pulls at their lacings even as you swat his hand away with an impatient click of the tongue; you lean forward, placing your palms on either side of his head. "I want to taste."

Those words, your face, and the despicable way you bite down on your lip undo him and you feel it—feel him hardening against you and so enjoy it, rolling your hips back and forth, grinding until he must steady you.

"Slower," Adrian orders, perhaps too harshly, but you’d weakened him—again—and he clings to this last shred of control.

You say nothing, the smile gone, replaced by something else as you lean back and aid in removing his boots, watching him as one starved. Adrian feels the softness of you against his knees before your searching touch reaches for his bare abdomen, feeling every rippling indentation; you lean down and place a lingering, open-mouthed kiss to his hipbone, slowly rolling down his trousers. You then look him in the eye, grinning like a devil.

Adrian rises, propped his elbows, to at least give the impression of equal ground. Of course, that is a fool's game; there is no such thing, not with you. Even when he possesses you wildly, smothering your moans and cries, he’s still yours to do with as you please. 

You release him from the constraint of his garment as Adrian tilts his head back briefly, biting on his lip so hard he pierces the skin, and soon your touch is all he knows. You enjoy these moments of panting submission and your nimble hand feels him slowly, applying sweet pressure at every point; you bring a finger to your lips and lick it as Adrian watches, before tenderly sweeping it over the head of his arousal, your other hand resuming its maddening strokes.

This torment kindles a rising, turbulent need and his hips thrust upward, craving the complete warmth of you. "This is... good but... I must... ah..." he gasps as you breathe warmth on the head, "I must have you... now," he struggles amid your games, moaning when you apply more tender pressure.

"Not yet," you murmur in kind, and a strained sigh escapes him; for the briefest of moments, Adrian closes his eyes—the greatest mistake, for now, the shivers of the universe spear him as your pink tongue slowly licks his hardened cock. The sight is always both harrowing and enticing in the worst of ways, leading him down a worrying spiral of darkened things he’d do to you.

"I said I would get you later…" you whisper evilly before one long, drawn-out suckle that hurls him into the endless depths of mindless bliss.

Adrian falls back down, head hitting the cold ground. In a haze, he hears your voice.

"Tell me how you want this..." your soft lips envelop him again and he turns his head to the side to watch, drowning in abject desire, subdued by this power though you ask him what to do. "Faster," he chokes, and you give him that, taking him deeper with maddening ease; he stifles a moan as his cock slips down your throat.

With eyes are half-closed, he can hardly breathe for the sensations raging through him, one hand reaching for a fistful of your hair as he forces you to stop and tilts his hips upward, holding you in place to feel you inside: the hot softness of your tongue, your lips, your throat. But this was enough and he forces you up by the hair, hand drifting to the nape of your neck.

Adrian rises, seeking your mouth, tasting you deeply even as you try to pull away. "No, not yet !" you giggle, pushing against him.

"Oh yes—" despite your struggle, he makes fast work of your clothing, leaving you bare with practiced urgency. Adrian orders your shoulders down until you’re the one lying flat on your back, writhing and grinning only to give him grief as he pins you to the ground with little mercy, and for a mere moment he regrets using his strength on you. "Open to me," he mock-orders, frowning when you playfully shake your head.

So this is how it’ll be tonight. Fine, he’ll play. He applies mild pressure yet again despite your squirming, and easily his fingers roam down your skin, between your hot thighs, palm placed flat on the small tuft between your legs. 

You still, mischief on your face, tensing against him when Adrian captures your mouth, bites gently on your lips; a sigh escapes him when he feels the slippery wetness and his touch becomes shallow, languid, circling your slit. He slips one finger inside. "So... tight..." his kiss turns crushing as he strokes and feels more, drifting on your soft mewling, varying depth and rhythm, drunk on the flare of desire and need infusing the bond you share.

Your thighs tense around his hand. "Now you have to… please…"

Adrian laughs, low, deep in his throat at your plea. "Not yet," he echoes your earlier words, beaming at your frustrated sigh.

"You have… the worst possible timing for revenge," you pant, hips gyrating, desperate for more.

"Do I, really?"

Your own hand frantically reaches and strokes his now slick cock with desperate urgency. "Adrian, please!" 

"How sweetly you beg," he whispers, suckling on your tongue, craving to bury himself into you so much, but you started this.

And you won’t have your way, yet. In a movement faster than you can object he rises, drawing you to him, and his head dips between your thighs.

You writhe and he grips you by the hips, fingers sinking into tender flesh, keeping you down. "Softly..." he nuzzles you, lips pressed to your skin, his tongue lapping at you, delving deep to taste; he sucks on your clit until you mellow, sighing and moaning; but every nip and flick of his tongue has you shuddering and soon you cry out his name again, broken by desire. 

Your hand seizes and grips his hair, body straining, needing him to take all of you, and it is hard to cease even when you twist and squirm, and he feels you peaking, trembling against him. Smiling, he lazily plays with you a little longer.

"Come to me," you ask, hands playing in his loose strands. 

Adrian breathes through his nose at the sight of your needy face and parted lips, the painful way your fingers dig into his shoulders; his kiss follows a slow trail upward, along your body, easily sinking down onto you. Looking upon your face, he sees your lips swollen and glistening from the bites you’d subjected them to.

"My golden warrior... is not too shabby with his tongue," you say, a telling gleam in your eyes, your legs wrapping around him.

The night is still young and Adrian holds you to him, silently melting at the entreaty of your body. 

"Now..." you beg through another kiss, trembling against him, your face limned gold and red by the fire.

Smiling, he cannot but obey.

MASTERLIST: CASTLEVANIA SERIES x READER

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[writing-good-vibes]

you are now leaving illinois

before the weird sex and the american dreams and the realisations that only the open road can bring, there was the beginning (well, almost). or: corey and michael leave illinois for the first time.

WARNING for mentions of shoplifting, carjacking, smoking and very mild angst, but this is actually pretty mellow. idk corey cries a little bit but that's not out of the ordinary for him.

taglist: @slutforstabbings @ethanhoewke @voxmortuus (if anyone else wants to be tagged in corey related things, just let me know !!)

The first stop they make since leaving Haddonfield is at a Walmart about 20 miles from the state line. Corey goes in, hood up and head down, just to grab some essentials for the road.

Bags of chips, cans of soda and bottled water. An armful of cup noodles and a loaf of bread. A half-gallon of chocolate milk. First aid supplies because he knows he's not the powerhouse that Michael is; rolls of bandages and gauze, a bottle of painkillers, antiseptic cream. He grabs the cheapest electric razor they sell.

He thinks about 'lifting his haul, but he doesn't want to draw anymore attention to himself than he has to -- not before they make it over the state line, anyway -- so he pays at the checkout. It'll make a dent in his wallet, but he'd saved enough to last a while, and it's an expense he's willing to spend for now. He's sure Michael won't mind them scrimping a bit in the future. Hopefully.

The checkout lady tries to talk to him, those empty niceties that he was so scared of before now feel maddeningly absurd after the week he's just survived. Even so, he tries to act as normal as possible, giving her a tight smile that has no chance of reaching his eyes.

Michael waits in the car, parked in a dark corner of the lot. He's wearing the mask, of course, he'd put it on as soon as he'd wrestled it back off Corey. He knew he was going to be in big trouble over that one, but Michael would have to wait a while to exact whatever revenge he wants on his new... accomplice? Amid the raging sea of emotion that is churning his gut, Corey feels a sick sort of thrill at that thought, at taking whatever Michael will deal out to him once they're in the clear.

Jogging back to the car, Corey throws the grocery bags in the backseat before sitting up front. Corey slides slightly across the bench when Michael makes a sharp turn out of the lot and back towards the highway.

Darkness surrounds them on both sides again, as they head out of town. Corey reaches back and routes through the bags until he finds the razor. He unboxes it in his lap, finding the charging cord and plugging it into the port on the dashboard.

"They're gonna be looking for us," he says, slumping in his seat and watching the side of the road where their headlights just about reach.

Michael doesn't say anything, but Corey knows he understands. Michael's been on the run before, he should know what he's doing. Although he has no practical experience, Corey had wiled away his adolescence thinking about how he could run away, far enough that Momma would never find him. There are worse people to worry about than Momma now.

At the next gas station they make another stop; a run-down mom-and-pop place, the type that Corey had assumed didn't exist anymore. The type of place he assumes won't have company policies or CCTV that backs up to a cloud.

Corey leaves Michael in the car again and heads into the garage. The burning adrenaline is starting the wear off, and he buys fresh pack of cigarettes to soothe his obliterated nerves, then makes a beeline for the bathroom, a single stall with a toilet and basin.

Corey's hands grip the edge of the sink and he looks at himself in the cracked mirror, the aged silver surface mottled around the edges. He'd never thought much of his looks, never had anyone to impress or any real reason to care, especially after the accident. But now, oh god now he feels like this is the last thread connecting him to his old self to everything he's done and did not do, and it's not as easy to cut as he expected.

He picks up the razor, clicks it on and feels the vibrations through his hand. Watching, eyes fixed on the halo of curls around his head, he brings the razor up, runs it through his hair, just above his ear. A tuft of hair drifts into the sink. He looks down at it, and even as he squeezes his eyes shut, the tears make their way out anyway. Pathetic, he thinks.

The sink fills up, tawny like a birds nest, and when Corey is finally finished, he almost doesn't recognise himself. He looks so different like this. Running a hand over his buzzed hair, Corey steels his gaze.

Corey had never been to Missouri before. In all fairness though, there were a lot of places he'd never been. Michael doesn't seem too affected, as they cross the state line, the Mississippi River raging beneath them. Missouri didn't even seem much different than Illinois, though in the dark of the night, he supposes he can't really tell. He's heard there are more cornfields, maybe, but other than that, the long stretches of highway felt the exact same as back home.

Home. Shit.

He wondered what home even meant anymore. It felt strange to even think they'd never be going back to Illinois, though he was pretty sure at this point they never would. Michael's home was gone, razed to the ground in a bid to wipe him clean off the face of the town that had ruined him; Corey had nothing to go back to either, nothing that hadn't ruined him, nothing he hadn't torn to shreds and set a blaze before leaving behind.

For the first time in his life, the open road seemed like the only real, tangible thing. Not just a pipedream or a childish fantasy anymore. He'd been stagnant, wasting, for so long he'd forgotten what it felt like to really move. Corey felt alive and he wasn't going back to the way things were, not ever.

Just on the horizon, Corey can see the watery grey-blue of the sunrise approaching. He doesn't notice that the white-noise rumble of the road beneath them is soothing him to sleep until his head drops to Michael's shoulder. Michael's eyes stay firmly on the road, and Corey decides, like most things about their partnership, that as long as Michael will let him have this indulgence, he's going to make the most of it.

[sleepyselkiesiren]

Got tagged in this ask game by @just-a-little-trans-chaos!

1. Are you named after anyone?

Funny story! My birth name was specifically chosen to be Unique, with a funky spelling and everything, but then the year I was born a very popular movie came out, and the mc had my name!!! Same spelling! So everyone thought I was in fact named after them.

As far as I'm aware my chosen name isn't based on anything, but I wouldn't put it past my brain to have sneaked in some special reason.

Oh, and my middle name is a family middle name

2. When was the last time you cried?

... well huh. I feel like I cry more often than I actually do! Or maybe I just cry less these days. Anyway, it was probably a few weeks back when I was throwing up for the 100th time and couldn't take any more

3. Do you have kids?

*glances around * well.... sure Hope not!

4. What sports do you play/have played?

I used to LOVE playing baseball! Turns out I'm hella disabled though, so no sports XD like dang no wonder I got Fs in P.E.

5. Do you use sarcasm?

Ooooohhhhh yeah! But like, my mom's family's hyper-specific saracasm style

6. What's the first thing you notice about people?

I am UNBELIEVABLY non-observant. A long-term friend with waist-length hair cut it to chin length and I noticed NOTHING. My partner often makes fun of me for straight up not noticing when characters are visibly missing entire limbs, or obviously using wheelchairs. They make it a game to see how long it takes until I notice

7. what’s your eye color?

B L U E. With yellow spots!

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

HAPPY ENDINGS!!! Please, I need a break from the Horrors

9. Any talents?

uhhh yeah probably, but hell if I know. What even counts as Talent

10. Where were you born?

Washington DC. Totally definitely stuck around there! (we moved when I was 1 so like. Wat even is America)

11. What are your hobbies?

Drawing, writing, and Coral Island or the Sims!

12. Do you have any pets?

My family has 2 cats, Ace and Coco. They have SO much drama

13. How tall are you?

Uhhhhh 5 smthn. Idk. Medium?

14. Favorite subject in school?

Creative writing!! But I kept getting kicked out for being the only kid to sign up, so English was the next best

15. Dream job

LIBRARIAN!!!! Please dear god make me a librarian!! I was born for the role!

I don't actually know which of my mutuals are ok being tagged in these games, so this is an open invite!

[puppy-the-mask]

We finished season 4 and I immediately clocked Azure as Elfman from fairytail and then found out his va is also All Might

Gonna put all my thoughts about it in one post under the cut

I’m so happy MK’s past is being touched on as a main plot line and also- Pigsy literally being MK’s adoptive dad made us emotional ;w; HE CALLED HIM SON- MK CALLED HIM DAD I’m fucking sobbing ;;;A;;;

Also I’m about to throw down with this fucking bird- even in the brotherhood he wouldn’t shut the fuck up and kept giving Macaque shit FOR NO REASON- how tf can you call yourself someone’s friend and just keep calling them a coward when Controlling Shadows and Sneaking Around is LITERALLY THEIR STRONG SUIT. Imma make a fucking duck roast out of him

On the topic of Macaque homeboy made a fucking bootleg of wukong’s game XD with the ‘I just picked up a ‘how to draw anime’ book’ artstyle I love him so much and he’s so genuinely nice helping MK out with his issues I’m so happy. He came to cause havoc and slander Wukong and then the moment he saw Mk glitching out and struggling with his power he got serious. *Bangs my fist on the table* THIS MAN!!! *ahem* I am completely normal about this

On the flip side we are DISTRAUGHT over what happened with the demon bull family. I think my mom is gonna kill Azure for trapping Redson- we’ll tag team ‘em XD I love how much they genuinely adore each other. They fought against each other and fell in love enemies to lovers style I swear these are the best characters and they don’t even get touched on half the time It’s A Travesty

Also it annoyed me that Azure immediately blamed Mk for trying to get Wukong back and blamed him for the tablet breaking when HE WAS THE ONE TO SLICE IT- IT LITERALLY WOULDN’T HAVE BROKEN HAD THIS BITCH NOT WHIPPED OUT HIS SWORD. He’s so quick to judge others and is blind to his own hypocrisy, if he stopped for one moment to talk things out before hand things wouldn’t have gone bad but then he gets all sad that others didn’t act according to his plan. I can somewhat understand him but homeboy needs to take a step back and look inwards for a hot sec. I do appreciate that he was trying not to involve the group in the matter since they aren’t their ancestors, and let them choose to involve themselves though. So I kinda like him but his lackeys not so much, especially that fucking bird >:(

Also idk about anyone else but during S3 when Nezha (?)was teamed up with Mk -for like a single fight- my brain went ‘big bro vibes’. Cause I can’t not put everyone into the found family like a buncha dolls in my new lmk doll house XD but I’m excited to see how he’ll fit in the group dynamic and if he’s gonna be a bigger character next season. He seems really cool!

ALSO THE DRAGON- MEI’S DRAGON ANCESTOR- OMFG HE’S SO CUTE. Dude is adorable- they gave him oversized sleeves and he’s so chill XD 10/10 character design he was so nice homie was just chilling in the dungeon unbothered. ‘Just make a new sword? 🙂’ and he was so right- he’s so incredibly based I love his vibe and he was only here for like 5 minutes

[siriuslylantsov]

juno

pairing: spencer reid x college!reader

description: in which spencer gets a little worked up when the two of you dance so when you get home a few hours later, you make it up to him.

tags: MDNI! smut, fluff, alcohol consumption, established relationship, tiny age gap (reader is 23 and spencer is 27), fem!reader, softdom!spencer but also a little sub, switch!reader, spencer gets a boner at a party lol, nipple stuff, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected pinv, brief finger sucking, dirty talk (gasp), praise kink, munch!spencer (my fav), nicknames used (angel, baby, sweet girl, etc.), little bit of overstim, reader isnt inebriated during it (hazy initially) but she sobers up quick, lmk if im missing anything.

a/n: to add on to the influx of sabrina carpenter song inspired fics, here is juno. i went through a rigorous process of deciding which spencer era i wanted for this and settled on s4 spence. my first smut, this was awful and fucking exhausting to write, idk how you smut writers do it but we got through it. hope you like it...

wc: 4.2k

the room is dimly lit, candles scattered on every flat surface– this is a fire hazard, calm down spence. there's a steady buzz of conversation that passes through the room, just enough people that it isn't overcrowded nor is it too sparse, it’s a stark contrast to the other parties—loud, sweaty and cramped—that have been springing up as the semester draws to a close. the pros of having an invite-only party, you think. 

the dress code, though not formally stated, is dark and moody. god knows what that means–just wear something black and make sure it's sexy. so there you are, in a mini skirt, an off shoulder black top with sleeves that end at your knuckles, knee high boots, and a pair of sheer tights. 

spencers in a black button up and matching dress pants. he looks good, really fucking good. his hair slicked back in a way you can only describe as prince charming and eyes somehow sparkling in the low light. you have to kiss him. you peck his jaw in admiration and he shoots you a puzzled but sweet smile. 

your arm is tucked snuggly in your boyfriend’s as you talk to a guy from one of your classes. spencer knows your crowd, so you don't feel too bad when you leave him to go help the host, your friend vanessa, in the kitchen. she's mixing drinks when you get to her.

“good turn out huh?” she says, handing you a bottle to open.

“oh yeah, ness, definitely. one of my favourites so far, too,” you commend, unscrewing the top and giving it back to her.

she pours the contents into a pitcher, “thanks.” 

“but you know… what could make it better…” your tone nothing short of subtle, your eyes glinting with persuasion.

she lets out a huff. “you spend an hour without normal music and you're suffering,” she teases you all while expertly pouring margaritas into red cups.

“hey! i love your-” you pause, trying to find the right words, “nondescript jazz but.. i love sabrina carpenter a bit more.” 

you throw her your best puppy dog eyes and she concedes. “fine. my phone is on the table. you can play whatever you want if,” she bargains, holding out a tray of drinks, “you take these.” you squeal and accept her offer.

“you're a darling,” you call out from over your shoulder as you walk away.

“uh-huh,” she says sarcastically, a small chuckle escaping her lips. “don't spill!”

you put the tray down on the coffee table upon your return, grabbing vanessa's phone before settling next to spencer, who is now on the couch. the guy from your class is gone. you frantically scroll through the playlist, adding things to the queue. spencer puts his arm over your shoulders as he peers over at the screen. he's used to your antics, so he doesnt question the fact that it isn't even your phone, humming in approval when you add a song that he likes. the music starts playing at a comfortable volume from the speakers and you lean into spencer's side, quietly murmuring along, “all i can do is try, give me one chance…”

at some point, a makeshift dance floor forms. clusters of people belting the lyrics, and swaying to the rhythm. you join them, always down for an impromptu dance sesh–or at least that's what the cup in your hand suggests. spencer watches you intently from the couch, eyebrows raised in amusement as you wave your hands around expressively with the words. he loves when you sing. his eyes trace the way your skirt hugs your hips, and how your hips, in turn, move in sync with the beat. he’s mesmerised by you. 

a few songs in, a sheen of sweat glistens on your skin. there’s no doubt you’re a dancing drunk. as if on cue—well, it was—'juno' starts playing, and you scan the room for spencer. you spot him in the corner, serving food onto his plate.

you rush over to him, recalling how he validated the song choice earlier. you’d played it to him for the first time a few weeks ago and he went on to explain how in roman mythology, juno is the queen of the gods and the goddess of marriage and children, similar to hera in greek mythology, and consequently, you told him about the 2007 film ‘juno’ and promised you'd introduce him to the world of michael cera, and that his life will forever be changed, when he said he hadn't seen it.

“mmph what?” he grumbles, a mouthful of egg roll muffling his words, as you pull him by the arm. you take the plate from his hand, putting it down on the coffee table and leading him into the crowd. 

you hold onto both his hands and move them between you two as you sing. 

“give it to me baby, you make me wanna make you fall in love.”

he smiles, trying to follow your movements and failing. you giggle at his attempts. 

“can't help myself hormones are high.”

you turn around and wrap his arms around your waist, your back to his chest. you try to lead him this way and he seems to catch on, moving his hips with you, it's a little stiff but it's a happy medium.

“oh late at night i’m thinkin’ ‘bout you, ah. wanna try out some freaky positions?” 

you aren't trying to drive him crazy, but the alcohol is. “have you ever tried this one?” you glance behind at him when you say this, pushing your ass back against his crotch, the feeling not lost between the layers of fabric.

you feel him tense behind you, but you don’t think much of it, assuming he felt awkward about dancing in front of people. you spin around in his arms, smiling happily, with not a hint of malice in your eyes. you’re not even teasing him—just giving in to an incorrigible need to perform, fucking theatre kids. 

he tries to play it cool but then the bridge arrives, and god save him.

“adore me,” you guide his hands to your hips. “hold me and explore me,” you lead them slowly up your body, gliding over your ribs, “mark your territory,” you press his hands firmly into your sides. you let go and loop your hands around his neck, rolling your shoulders, “tell me i'm the only, only, only, only one.”

you trail your hands down his chest as the verse repeats. you go lower till you drop to your knees in front of him, and he thinks he might die. 

“i’m so fucking horny,” no youre not, “tell me i'm the only, only, only, only one,” you are, everything.

you spring back up on your feet and start jumping, guiding him to dance with you or something to that degree. frankly, he's disoriented, your mood gone as quick as it arrived, as he tries to keep up. when, in fact, everything you just did went straight between his legs. a nervous flush spreads across his face as he feels the growing tightness in his pants, and you, oblivious to the effect you had on him–but only because you were drunk you swear– nudge his nose with yours in an attempt to calm him down. he gives you a tight lipped smile, classic spencer, and excuses himself to the bathroom, to splash water on his face or to jerk off, he doesn't know.

the party comes to a screeching halt an hour later when someone throws up on vanessa's couch and she kicks everyone out, swearing that she's never hosting at her place ever again.

you're a giggling fit as you walk down the, fairly empty, street. spencer follows close behind, a small smile playing on his face as he watches you spin. his coat hangs loosely on your shoulders–his coat and not yours because you insisted you wouldn't need one, but when the breeze hit your legs, you were sorely mistaken. he catches up with you and laces your hands together, your head lands on his shoulder now that you're all tuckered out.

after a quick subway ride the two of you make it to his apartment, having previously agreed that you'd spend the night there since you don't have any classes tomorrow. he slowly leads a tipsy you up the stairs and unlocks his door, letting you in. 

you let his coat drop to the floor as he leads you to his room, he sits you at the edge of the bed before crouching down to unzip your boots and take them off. he pulls at the waistband of your skirt, asking.

“spencer walter reid, are you trying to get in my pants?” you ask quietly, the tiredness in your voice evident as you try to tease him.

“yes,” he says with a mock seriousness that makes you laugh a little. “lift your hips angel.”

you oblige and he pulls your skirt and tights off in one go, stretching comically as the long piece of fabric peels away, in a way that only his long limbs would allow. he leans down and kisses up your shin to your knee, doing the same to your other leg, murmuring a “perfect girl,” into your skin before standing up. he makes you blush, always does. 

he walks over to his dresser to grab the pair of pyjamas you left at his place the last time you were over. he comes back with your shorts, but instead of the matching piece, he’s holding one of his t-shirts. 

“arms up please” he requests and you do, he slips your top off and offers you his hand so you can stand. 

you feel a little exposed, clad in only your bra and underwear, though he's seen you in less on multiple occasions. he bends to help you put on the bottoms. “i can dress myself, y'know?” you say, in spite of the fact that you're holding onto his shoulders as you step into the shorts. he only hums as he slides them up, tying the strings into a bow. he reaches behind you to undo the clasp, letting your bra fall. he shamelessly looks at your tits before he puts the shirt on. you shake your head minutely, amused. 

“come on,” he nudges you toward the bathroom.

you lazily brush your teeth, take your makeup off and flop onto the bed with a dramatic sigh, sinking into the pillows behind you. pillows that have accumulated over time since you started dating spencer, you had insisted a pile was the way to go and he indulged you even though most would end up on the floor in the morning–it's decorative, spence, and comfortable. 

you see spencer changing in your peripheral and sit up. you ogle him as he unbuttons his shirt. he smirks when he notices your eyes on him.

“you enjoying the show?” he probes, eyes squinting slightly.

you bite your lip coyly and nod. “mhm, very much.” you throw your duvet off lightly and step out of bed, crossing over to him. “let me help?” you ask quietly.

he lets go of his shirt and raises his palms up in surrender, letting you do it.

“i mean it's only fair, i showed you mine so you should show me yours,” you say, trailing a finger down his chest to continue unbuttoning. 

his hands find your waist and pull you closer. “oh, is that how it is?”

“afraid so, doctor reid,” you say with a shrug, sneaking your hands under the fabric to push the shirt off his shoulders. you reach down and make work on his belt buckle, trying to fight back a smile because he just makes you so… 

you slide his belt off and unbutton his pants, and sure, you can let him do the rest but what's the fun in that. so for the second time that night you get on your knees, and it hits spencer like a freight train. his breath catches as you pull his pants down. you’re about to get up when you're brought face to face with the very noticeable bulge in his underwear and you freeze.

“spencer,” he pulls you up, a little embarrassed. “you're hard,” you state, looking up at him with a crease in your eyebrow that formed in confusion.

he only sighs in response.

“please tell me that this,” you wave your hand over the clothes that were now on the floor, “didn't get you going.” 

“oh, angel no,” he lets out a low chuckle. “it’s from earlier.”

“earlier?”

“yeah uhm juno…” he says shyly.

you frown “jun- oh.”

“yup”

“oh god. oh god. spence, that's so much worse,” you deflate in realisation.

“why's that worse?”

“that was hours ago,” you say morosely, your frown returning in full force.

he laughs at your concern. “hey, i was fine, i'm a big boy,” he lies through his teeth. he wasn't fine. his trip to the bathroom lasted 15 minutes and consisted of him sitting on the closed toilet to calm down and ended when someone started banging the door for him to come out.  

you pout, feeling bad. “you should've told me.”

“yeah and then what? you would've let me take you over the coffee table,” he reasons but it only makes you flush.

“no, but we could’ve left early.” 

“yeah maybe.”

your head snaps up to meet his, eyes glinting with hope. “i could make it up to you?”

his face softens, “you don't have to do that.”

“yes i do, i want to,” you lay a hand on his cheek and he leans into it.

“you’re tired,” he argues, not wanting to give in, and kisses your wrist.

“no, i'm not,” he looks at you sceptically, “i'm not. i'm actually extremely awake right now,” you defend. “and what's that thing you said? orgasms release oxytocin” you punctuate this by tiptoeing to kiss his jaw, “and uhm.. prolactin,” another but this time on his chin, “and endorphins” on the corner of his mouth, “and, oh, serotonin.” you end with a fleeting kiss on his lips and he smiles against them, gotcha. “all which promote levels of drowsiness and relaxation-” you quote, in a very poor impression of him, making him chuckle and pull you in for another kiss, promptly cutting you off. 

his hands at your waist tug you closer, bringing your hips flush together. the action causes a little bit of friction to his erection and he whimpers into your mouth. you trail your hand down and palm him. he pushes forward into your hand.

“so needy,” you chide, leaning your head back to look at him.

“don't tease,” he whines.

god you love it when he whines, and that's very apparent by the dampness you feel between your legs. “‘m sorry, baby,” you say lightly, leading him back to the bed.

you lay back on the pillows and part your legs so he can settle between them. “come here,” you whisper and he leans forward. you cup his face with your hands and close the distance between your faces. he kisses you back so profoundly, it knocks the wind out of you. you gently bite his bottom lip and the gasp he lets out, allows you to slip your tongue into his mouth.

you feel his hand snake up your shirt, fingers grazing over your ribs, pressing firmly into your sides and you realise, he's mirroring what you did with his hands at the party. his thumb passes over your nipple, barely. you arch your back in response, wanting more.

“so needy,” he repeats.

“shut up,” you mumble, pulling him closer.

he lets out a huff and takes this as his sign to grind his hips into yours. you hum at the feeling, grabbing at his shoulders to keep going but he stops and you whine. 

“you just have too much on, sweet girl,” he apologises, lifting the hem of your–his–shirt. he quickly sheds it and your shorts before returning to his previous position. now both of you are left in your underwear, and you think it's sweet, you don't know why. he resumes his motions, the friction now heightened with one less piece of fabric. 

you're breathless as his lips latch onto your neck, peppering small kisses down the side, pausing briefly to suck a mark into your skin and then moving lower. your collarbone, sternum, down the valley of your breasts. he hooks an arm under you to hold you close while his lips move to your nipple, taking the right one into his mouth and sucking. he softly pinches it between his teeth and you keen, tangling your hand in his hair. he experimentally bites down harder and your grip on his strands tightens, causing him to groan against your chest. he moves over to the neglected one and repeats, making sure you're well attended to. he stays like that till you're squirming.

he starts kissing lower, over your stomach. he hooks a finger in your underwear, you put your hand over his. “i'm supposed to be taking care of you,” you whisper, the moment so intimate you're afraid to speak any louder.

“believe me, you are,” he says, matching your volume, pulling the fabric down and off your legs.

“spencer,” you drag out.

he lays down between your thighs and presses a kiss to the flesh there. “let me do this, please. wanna get you ready.” he implores, eyes big and pleading as they meet yours. when he looks like that, how do you say no. you chew your lip as you pretend to mull it over and he grows impatient, prodding at your thigh. you smile at his fidgeting and give him a curt nod–okay, if you insist.

he dives in without missing a beat, licking a long stripe between your folds. your hips writhe instinctively so he threads an arm under your thigh and over your abdomen to hold you down. 

“oh fuck,” you gasp as his lips attach to you clit, sucking profusely. your hand finds his hair again, in need of something to hold onto, and he doesn't mind the pulling seeing as he starts to dry hump the mattress.

his free hand moves to join his mouth, fingers circling and poking at your entrance. he hums out a question to which you nod feverishly, “yes, please.” 

he inserts both fingers at once, the sudden stretch causing you to jolt, a pained moan slipping out. he pulls away, fingers still inside. 

“okay?” he asks gently, though he knows the answer.

“mhm, spencer keep going,” you breathe out, raising your hips up to make him move.

he raises his eyebrows expectantly. “please,” you add, the desperation laced in your voice not lost on you.

he smiles, pleased, “anything for you angel.”

spencer eats you out like a man starved, greedily, and that paired with his fingers–you're done for. he curls his fingers, dragging out slowly and you clench around him, moaning.

“right there huh?” he coos.

he doesn't need reassurance, knowing your body like the back of his hand but you let out a quiet “yes” in response regardless.

he’s relentless in his pace, pumping his fingers and licking over your clit incessantly. you feel it, the coil tightening in your lower abdomen. you tug his hair in warning and he hums against you, the vibration making you shiver. he speeds up, replacing his tongue with his thumb. you buck up, meeting his thrusts

“there you go, fuck yourself on my fingers. so good for me, fuck.” he mutters out praises as he hovers over you again, his lewdness makes you whine. it always throws you off when spencer swears, much less when he talks like that, but you're not complaining.

“spence-”

“you gonna cum for me? cum all over my fingers?” he says against your cheek, dotting your face with delicate pecks. the gentleness of the action compared to what he was doing to you made you dizzy.

you babble out an incoherent confirmation as you grasp at his shoulder, no doubt leaving behind crescent shaped indents. he mouths at your neck and encourages you. “i’m right here. you're doing so good, let go angel.”

You fall apart with a broken sob, back arching off the bed. his hand chases the movements of your hips while you hold him tightly. his hand slows as he feels you calm down. he withdraws his fingers and brings them to his mouth, humming contentedly at the taste. You quickly pull them out, your nose scrunched.

“i hate when you do that,” you whisper, a little dazy.

“no, you don't,” he says with a smile, dipping down to kiss you. “you good?”

you can taste yourself on his lips, “yeah,” you reply bashfully. 

“think you can handle another?” 

you nod and you watch as he takes his boxers off. he situates himself between your legs, parting them a bit more before he drags his tip between your folds a few times. you whimper at the stimulation. his eyebrows furrow in thought.

“you wanna try something?”

“yeah? what'd you have in mind?”

“could you turn around and get on your knees?” he asks tentatively, eye darting between yours for any traces of discomfort.

there is none, just a hint of confusion as you position yourself the way he wants. he comes up behind you and guides your hips back to meet his. with one hand on your waist, he pulls your body closer so your back is flush to his chest. he kisses your shoulder, trailing up to your neck. he nibbles your earlobe and leans in.

“have you ever tried this one?” he says quietly, attempting to be serious but the smile on his face betrays him.

you groan, “ugh, you're so corny,” you cover your face with your hand, using the other one to slap his thigh. he laughs, a short breathy chuckle that you feel at the back of your neck. you lean your head back on his shoulder, “just fuck me.”

he huffs, something between a laugh and a groan. he pushes into you slowly and you moan in unison. you're quick to loop your hand behind his head as he builds a steady pace. the angle is excruciating, hitting your g spot with every draw back of his hips. you clench around him and he sighs into your neck, biting lightly. you grab one of his hands at your side and wrap it around you. your head turns toward his, pressing your cheek into his nose. it isn't enough. 

“baby,” you gasp at a particularly hard thrust of his.

he knows. “i know. i know. need to see you,” his voice is hoarse as he turns you around and lays you on your back.

he wastes no time in entering you again, burying his face in your neck as he does so. its slow and deep and you can feel all of him.

“fuck, angel. you feel so good,” he whimpers, speeding up.

“yeah? you feel amazing in me, beautiful boy.”

the sentiment makes him whine whorishly, beautiful boy. you caress the back of his neck as he ruts into you. he pulls his head up and lays his forehead on yours, gasping quietly. you stick your chin up and he kisses you, soft and messy and breathless, as the two of you steal eachother’s oxygen. you break away and glance down at where your bodies meet, his eyes follow yours.

“look at you, taking me so perfectly,” his praises go straight to your core, driving you closer. he can tell by the way your walls flutter, he trails his hand down and rubs your clit in tight circles. your nonsensical sobs of please and so close are heard by him as he drives into you deeper and harder. “me too, angel girl. i've got you, wanna feel you come on my cock,” he nudges you, words strained as he chases his own release.

your second orgasm crashes into you and like dominoes, his one follows. he comes in you with a shuddering cry. the aftershocks leave you twitching as spencer lazily fucks into you, selfishly. you squirm at the overstimulation and he stills his hips.

“good girl, you did so well for me,” he coos, pushing a piece of hair out of your face. your hum of appreciation turns into a sound of protest as he tries to move.

“wait, stay like this a bit…” you trail off, pulling him onto you, keeping him in you.

he indulges you for a while, he'll get up in a minute, knowing if he doesn't you'll complain about the stickiness and blame him. for now though, he tucks both his arms under you and nestles his head on your chest. he feels you laugh under him and he sticks his head up, expression on his face quizzical.

“i didn't think that me dancing would get you going so much,” you tease, though your eyes are filled with something akin to awe as you look at him.

he laughs too, “oh you have no idea.”

m.list

[just-some-random-blogger]

10 Second Elder

The Blonde Boys Club

Daemon Targaryen x Sorceress!Reader, Geralt of Rivia & Sister!Reader

Summary: Yeah, so your twin tried to kill Caraxes and now you have to convince his rider, the mother fucking Prince, that it was all a misunderstanding (it was not).

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: THE ONLY INCEST IN THIS IS THE CANON TARGARYEN INCEST ALRD IN HOTD OTHERWISE MISS ME WITH THAT BULLSHIT, fem!reader, witcher!twins, reader is kinda a witcher lol, I describe reader's hair and eye color, crack fic, typos, etc.

A/N: I JUST GOT A BUNCH OF IDEAS FOR THESE BLONDES AND OTHER FICTIONAL BLONDES PLEASE IM SO EXCITED TO WRITE THIS ??? SERIES???? (dont quote me on that, idk what it is) ASKFL:AFHALS:F. AND SHHH whatever plothole you have for the witcher!twins, just, just, roll with it i beg also I'm tagging @lexi-anastasia HI!! i actually thought of this prompt cos of your display pic. IDK IF YOU EVEN LIKE hotd but i hope you like this for the witcher!twins LOL I'm also tagging @avaleineandafryingpan because they reblogged my the blonde boys club post T_T (mahal kita) and of course @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda P2 "Dry Humor"

Geralt had smelt it in the air before anything else. He had his bow in his hand, drawn and ready. His stance was low. The steps he took against the leaf covered ground barely made a sound.

He straightened himself up when he saw an opening and pulled his arrow all the way.

When a gust of wind blew, he inhaled deeply, now certain of his opponent. A dragon.

Geralt inhaled deeply as the beast shifted in the spot it was laying. He saw the saddle on it, scoffing. Suddenly things were clearer as to why a dragon would be out in the open, so exposed. It was also clear that whoever the rider was did not care about how their ride had ravaged the nearby farm and village.

He knew his arrow would barely injure the creature, if it could pierce its skin at all, and yet he shot at its curled neck anyway.

No avail. The thing didn't even flinch.

Geralt purses his lips as he redraws his weapon. The dragon shifts again and this time, Geralt's golden eyes see an opening, quite literally an opening by the rib, just below the saddle.

The sound of the string tensing fills the witcher's ears. He narrows his eyes as he adjusts in his spot to further assess the wound, as well as to properly get an opening.

He notes how the injury was a not new, and yet it was still healing. He tries to listen in on the heartbeat, but even with how large it was, it was still too far for him to hear anything.

He withdraws a bit of tension from his bow, enough for it to still reach the dragon, but only to cause it discomfort, not really to reopen its wound, to rile the beast up enough for it to want to leave with its rider.

Geralt draws in a deep breath and releases it along with his arrow.

The dragon roars and rises from its place once the arrow hits its side.

Dramatic, if you asked him. Geralt was certain it didn't hurt as much as the thing was making it out to be.

As the dragon whined, Geralt unsheathed his blade and surveyed the area, listening in on the rider that would inevitably come next.

He inches closer to the dragon, by its tail, and soon enough he hears quick footsteps and frantic breathing.

When he turns over his shoulder to the source of the sound, the wound tension in his shoulders relaxes a fraction, then tenses again at the shrill whisper-yell.

"What the fuck did you just do?" I demand, throwing the severed head I had in my grip off to the side as I readied my sword in my hand as I went into a defensive stance, "we came for the monster I already slain."

"This thing is the reason why the village burned."

"And you think you can kill it!?"

"No, but its rider will get the message."

I lower my sword, in utter disbelief of what I was hearing, "you think it has a rider?!"

Geralt narrows his eyes, "It has a rider," he corrects, "I shot at its open wound below its saddle."

"THEN YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS!" I seethe, gritting my teeth, raising my sword again. Geralt watches me as I stalk closer to the dragon. I catch the way he knit his brows, and it makes my eyes twitch, "you don't know what it means."

Geralt nears me and I elbow him to the chest, "motherfucker."

All at once, the dragon is alerted by our presence.

The massive creature stands on its legs and growls at us.

I feel him, the dragon. I feel his regality, his tie to his rider, and his distress over the arrow. He knows it was one of us that caused it. He draws in a deep breath, ready to burn us both, along with the entire forest.

I drop my sword and I raise my hand, speaking in the dragon's tongue, "calm yourself."

Geralt measures my reaction and is unconvinced by both the language I am speaking, and the fact I disarmed myself.

"We mean you no harm, your grace," I call out, slowly walking over to the dragon.

He screeches and shakes his head.

"You think it can understand you?" Geralt grunts, tensing his jaw as he brings his weapon higher.

The dragon does not appreciate this one bit.

"Just because you don't doesn't mean he doesn't," I quip.

Geralt does not care and pulls out an elixir from his pocket, quickly downing it.

"You fucking idiot! We are not-"

All at once, a command is shouted, "DRACARYS!"

Without thinking, before fire could leave his jowls, Geralt shoots chaos, causing the dragon's head to shoot up and his fire to burn above overhead.

"LYKIRI!" I repeat the same High Valyrian command to the dragon. As his head downturns, the flames he breathed ceases.

Before I realize what is happening, I hear a man shout out as he charges, "WITCH!"

Geralt blocks my view of the incoming assaulter as well as his sword that was sword meant to slay me, "Witcher."

Their weapons skid against the other's. They are upon each other, attacking aggressively, as though their lives depended on it. The dragon grows, restless in the background.

"GERALT, STOP!" I scream as my brother's silver hair swooshes in the air, as does his equally blonde opponent's. My stomach drops at the sight of him, at the sight of the man who bore all indications of a Targaryen prince.

They charge at each other, stepping forward and back, metal crashing against metal. And for a moment, the long haired prince' anger gave him the upper hand, but I knew how Geralt was evading him; he was pulling his punches, but not for long.

I decide to divert my attention to the distressed dragon, finally seeing his saddle, and the arrow stuck to his side like a thorn he could not get out.

He does not like the fact I am quickly nearing him and snaps his teeth at me.

"Do not be insolent," I quip in High Valyrian at the creature, lifting my head up to him with his hand, "I am here to help you."

I could feel my pulse quicken as I make my way to his side.

I decide it's enough that he has not yet killed me for getting this close to him.

"Calm yourself, boy," I mutter under my breath, as I reach up to the arrow on his side. The dragon does a clicking noise, and I do not have time whether to debate it is a warning or a cry for help.

Without another thought, I pull out the arrow with a grunt. The beast whines then withdraws a long breath. I turn to him as it cranes it neck to do the same to me I drop the arrow coated with his blood in front of him. I raise my hands, "it is done."

"CARAXES, DR-"

"Shut the fuck up."

So that's his name. Now who would be his rider?

I turn to Geralt, whimpering in annoyance and dread. I watch him dig his knee on the man's back as he pulls his arm behind him, causing him to yelp. Caraxes rises at the sight of his overcome rider, screeching just as the prince pants beneath my brother on the ground.

Geralt makes a face and shuts his eyes when dragon spit splatters on his face. He clenches his jaw and mutters, "lyriki, beast."

"You do not even know what that means," I retort, "and get off him."

"You do understand that the only reason why that thing hasn't killed us is because its rider is under my knee."

"FUCK OFF!" the said rider growls.

Caraxes responds to this with yet another ear piercing cry.

Through all this, I suddenly remember the name I was looking for, "Aemon! Aemon. Caraxes' rider is Aemon."

Geralt makes a face, realizing what I meant, "you're telling me this is Aemon Targaryen?"

"Well, do you see anyone else commanding the dra-"

"CARAXES-" breaks into a yelp.

"We are having a discussion," Geralt leans down as he growls.

"Geralt," I quip tightly, "get off him," I step closer to the both of them, "now."

The black of Geralt's eyes begin to fade once I am directly in front of him. I kneel down on his side and meet the telltale violet of the eyes of the prince. They narrow when they meet the violet hue of my own.

"You must forgive my younger brother for his insolence, my prince," I mutter as I swat Geralt by his thigh.

He rolls his eyes and finally gets of his captive, "ah yes, older sister," he mocks.

"Time is time and blood is blood," I retort as I eye him before helping the prince from where he laid.

"I remember," the Witcher mutters, "High Valyrian. An elective."

I smirk as I turn back at him, "one you did not take."

"Yes," he sighs as he stands, motioning to his side, "language of the dragons."

"Old Valyria," I correct as I help the prince, who was catching his breath, rolls over, "the Tar-

"Targaryen," he says, heaving, as he falls to his back. He reaches his hand out to me. I knit my brows at him as his fingers find my cheek.

Geralt looks down at him with contempt, lips curling in disgust, "watch your fingers, prince, or you might lose them."

I grunt, "I've quite had enough of you," I snap, rising to my feet. "You have been insufferable since we got here-"

"You're one to talk, little girl," Geralt eyes me darkly.

I crane towards his, "you do understand the consequences of-" I cut myself off when the prince stands to his feet. I change languages, "he is the prince of the seven kingdoms, heir to the throne."

"You whisper this to me as if I have ever cared, sister," he replies in Elder Speech.

"You should," Aemon responds as he looks between us.

We turn to him.

"You know Elder Speech?" I question, narrowing my brows.

He smirks at me, as he brushes his shoulder off, "an elective," he offers, "though I admit I only understood the word prince and guessed what you were saying." He tilts his head, "it seems my intuition has not failed me yet."

Geralt hums deeply and steps forward, "but it did when you misjudged me and allowed me an opening to strike you."

Aemon lifts his gaze upon my brother, whatever smirk that was on his face fades away.

"Enough!" I grunt, pushing them away with chaos.

A gush of wind rips between them.

My brother, who is used to it, steps back once, but the prince reels back and falls to his hind. I quickly extend my hand out to him and flash a guilty look, "apologies."

He looks at me for a moment before taking my hand, "Daemon."

"What?"

I pull him up as he repeats, "Prince Daemon, son of Prince Baelon, brother of Prince Aemon."

"Ah," I nod as I pull away from him. He steps forward when I do and watches me as I respond, "you are Aemon's nephew. His second rider. I will do well to remember, Prince Daemon."

"Indeed," he mutters with a soft smile.

I am pulled back by my arm and wind up crashing against Geralt's armor.

I look up at him he roughly swats the white streaks of my black hair away from my face that consequently was flying up to his because of the wind. He warns me in Nilfgaardian, "focus."

"Do not speak to me as though it is you who has a plan to get us out of this mess," I quip back in the same tongue.

"It would be easy to kill him and make it look like an accident."

I roll my eyes and shake my head.

"So, you are a witch," Daemon cuts in, making both of us turn to him.

"Witcher."

"Sorceress," I correct as I pull away from my brother.

"And what house do you belong to?" the prince asks, tenting his hands before him.

Just then, the dragon who we seemed to have forgotten, makes himself known and cries out to his master.

Daemon raises a dismissive hand and swats his away, sparing him only a second's glace. My brother and I watch as Caraxes huffs and rolls into himself, closing his eyes without another care.

Interesting.

"Kaer Morhen," I say, although questioningly, as I turn to my brother, "perhaps for me, I suppose, Aretuza."

"But Vesemir gave you your name as well."

"Yes, well, in that case, I do su-"

"And who are your parents?" Daemon interjects, tone less curious, and more impatient.

"Now that is the question indeed," Geralt grunts, then once again when I elbow him roughly.

"He's being serious."

"I know he's being serious, look at him."

"Why do you ask, prince?" I shake my head, stepping towards the said man.

Daemon examines me intently, so much so that, had I not been used to such scrutiny, I would have broken eye contact in discomfort. "Your eyes," he trails off as he peers down upon me, "are Targaryen's."

"Ah," my jaw drops. I find a chuckle leave me. "Much like his white hair is," I say, pointing to Geralt. I snort and slap a hand on his arm, "brother, you never told me we were secretly royalty."

He hums, nostrils flaring, "slipped my mind."

I chuckle to myself as I turn back to the prince. I watch as his jaw clenches and will my amusement to evaporate with my sigh, "tis not royalty that made our features so, prince Daemon, but the cruelty of magic. My own hair burns with white streaks because of his," I say.

"And what good is that knowledge to him?" Geralt makes a face as he turns to me.

"Well," I turn back to him, "he asked, did he not?"

"He did not ask you about your hair, any more than his dragon did."

"This is exactly why you have no friends."

"And you say that as though it is a bad thing."

"And you two are blood siblings?" Daemon cuts yet again.

We turn to him.

A moment passes.

The insinuation of the idea we could be anything else with our dynamic brings the familiar shiver down our spines.

"It gets no less revolting through time," Geralt mutters, "much less, knowing the traditions of his house."

I ignore his comment as I clear my throat, "twins, your grace, and I the el-."

Daemon ignores me, averting his attention to Geralt now, "you mention the traditions my house, and yet it seems you are unaware of how it is in my nature to seek satisfaction."

"Hmm," Geralt's brows quirk, "I would too, if my arse got handed to me."

I step in between them before Daemon could lunge. Because of this, I am trapped between the chests of the two hot headed blondes.

"Move," Geralt warns me, although his eyes do not leave Daemon.

"My prince," I ignore him, grabbing onto the fabric Daemon's arms, "you must forgive my baby brother."

Daemon dryly scoffs, eyes not leaving Geralt, "he'll have to get on his knees, my dear."

"You mean my soft belly-"

I shut him up with a gesture and heave, "it is a misunderstanding that we find ourselves in."

Daemon watches as Geralt struggles; he is unable to open his lips.

The prince's eyes finally turn back to me, they glimmer with mischief, "a misunderstanding, you say."

"I should like to treat you to a pint, if you would allow me the honor, so that I may... explain our predicament," I offer a soft smile. I feel my brother move from behind me, and so I shove him away with chaos, lest he shove me away to batter the prince in silence.

Daemon watches as Geralt propels back and hits a tree. By then, my incantation is lifted and so a string of curses leave his lips.

"That depends on whether or not your twin will be joining us."

"If you would prefer only one of us to drink with you, then I shall make it happen."

"Like hell, you would!"

"Then I will hear your explanation for this terrible altercation."

[sketchncanto]

Noise

So I edited/added to my little screenplay ficlet that I wrote a few months ago! Also posted this on AO3 for anyone that wants to read it there!

I can't get enough of baby Dolores and Bruno's relationship man. I'm eventually gonna write/post more little moments between him and all of the kids because (in Abuela Alma's voice) the brainrot is STRONG!

For clarity and to ease the reading experience, here's a description of the terminology I used, just in case anyone's like "how do you read a screenplay, what are these letters)

INT. and EXT.: Describes whether the location is indoors or outdoors (interior, exterior).

O.S.: Off screen. A character is speaking outside of the proverbial camera. They're out of the shot.

BEAT.: A beat refers to a pause. If there's a beat written, there's a moment or two of pause or silence.

The bits in parentheses are meant to be read as thoughts, feelings, tones and adjectives. (I prob didn't need to mention this but I wanted to just in case someone was like whaaat)

Anyway, hope you enjoy! <3

Edit: Idk why the spacing looks dumb on mobile, but looks normal on web? 🥲 Anyway let me know if it looks okay/is easy to follow when reading

INT. CASA MADRIGAL - VARIOUS INTERIORS

The Madrigals are having a game night and It's loud. The grown-ups are at the dinner table drinking, laughing and throwing cards around. Luisa (3)and Isabela (5) run around the foyer, playing tag and squealing as little girls up past their bedtimes do. Dolores lays on her stomach on the floor, attempting to draw a picture on a piece of paper with a crayon, but is interrupted by Luisa and Isa running by. The adults suddenly get riled up and cheer from the other room, causing poor little Dolores to cringe and cover her ears. Dolores, now visibly overwhelmed and fed the-hell up, gathers her paper and crayon in one hand, and covers an ear with the other and heads upstairs.

INT. BRUNO’S ROOM

Bruno sits at his little wooden drafting table, sketching a rat, who’s visibly struggling to hold a pose. BRUNO(O.S.) Almost done Alexander, just a little longer.

Alexander holds his pose, trembling. Bruno quickly and loosely sketches, looking up at the rat from his paper and down periodically. BRUNO(CONT’D) Oh come on, you’re strong– I’ve seen you lift an empanada twice your size.

A soft knock at the door. Bruno keeps sketching without looking up.

BRUNO(CONT’D) Come in!

Nothing. 

BRUNO(CONT’D) (Again) Come in!

Still nothing.

Bruno, visibly confused, turns in his seat and looks at his door. He gets up and walks to the door and opens it to find a tiny Dolores looking down at her feet. He smiles tenderly.

BRUNO (soft, warm) Hi Dolores. Any particular reason why you’re lookin’ at your feet?

Dolores looks up at her Tio with huge, watery eyes when… WEPA! The adults downstairs cheer and laugh wildly. Dolores promptly cringes and hugs Bruno’s leg.

Bruno’s tender smile falls– he gets it. He bends down and scoops his sobrina up, who then nestles into his neck and covers her ears. She starts sniffling. Bruno rubs and pats her back, trying to console her.

BRUNO (soft, warm..quiet) It’s okay, come on.

Bruno turns to head into his room, Dolores in arm and closes the door behind him.

INT. BRUNO’S ROOM (AT HIS DRAFTING TABLE)

Bruno sits Dolores down in his chair. He kneels down and wipes her eyes with his thumbs, then gives her a tissue which she then uses to blow her nose.

BRUNO (with a warm smile) You okay, kiddo?

Little Dolores nods and gives Bruno the snotty tissue. She picks up her crayon and starts drawing. Bruno tosses the tissue across the room missing the trash can (he doesn’t care– he’ll get it later) and continues with his rat sketch. 

BRUNO Alexander, I’m gonna need you to come back, amigo.  I forgot what position your leg was in.

Alexander doesn’t come back.

Dolores grabs her paper and presents it to her Tio (like check this shit out). It’s a drawing of her as a princess standing next to a big, burly man.

BRUNO That’s pretty good! (a beat) (pointing at the man on the paper) Who’s that?

DOLORES (frankly) My husband.

Bruno looks at his sister’s child, not surprised at all by her statement. This is Pepa’s kid, afterall. 

BRUNO (holding up his paper) Look at mine.

DOLORES (face scrunched, perplexed and kinda disgusted) His face looks weird– and why is his leg like that?

BRUNO (slightly taken aback, looking at Dolores and then quickly back down to his paper to keep sketching)

W-well I’m not done yet. (to Alexander somewhere in the room) And my model left me, so I had to guess.

DOLORES Well I think his weird face and leg give him character.

Bruno examines his little sketch.

BRUNO (You have a point) Mmyeh..

Alexander hops back up on the table, examining the sketch and squeaks.

BRUNO I dunno what you just said, but I’m gonna pretend it was a compliment.

Dolores giggles.

A knock at the door. Pepa pokes her head in the room before coming in.

DOLORES (softly) Hi, mami.

PEPA Hi, bebé.

Pepa walks up to the table to see what the rodents of the house were up to.

PEPA (warmly, to Bruno) Had a feeling she’d be in here.

BRUNO Yeah, guess you guys were being too loud for her.

Pepa, now visibly dismayed, looks to her daughter.

PEPA (Kneeling down next to Dolores) Bebita, w-were we too– 

DOLORES –loud? Yes.

Pepa looks at her brother. Even after all these years, he’s still the same soft, quiet mouse (well, rat more like) that preferred to be away from the noise. She can see him in her daughter.

PEPA (remorsefully, soft) Oh, Lola, I’m so sorry. It’s just.. We.. we’re working on it.

DOLORES (holding up her drawing to Pepa) It’s okay. Tio and I drew pictures.

PEPA Oh! Una princesa! Very nice.

DOLORES (snatches Bruno’s sketch from under his elbow) Look at Tio’s.

BRUNO (just realizing what happened, too late) Wait Dolor–

PEPA (uncomfortably) ..cute!

BRUNO (to Pepa, sarcastic) You’re so encouraging. I’d like to see you draw a rat--or anything.

PEPA (shooting him a look) Don’t start. (changing the subject) Alright, bebé, es hora de domir!  Say goodnight to your Tio.

DOLORES Goodnight, Tio.

She wraps her little arms around his neck and they share a hug. She pecks him on the cheek.

BRUNO (warmly) Buenos noches.

Dolores pauses and looks at Bruno, clearly unsatisfied.

BRUNO (furrowing his brow, confused) What?

DOLORES (clearly offended, crossing her arms) You didn’t give me a goodnight kiss.

BRUNO Oh, excuse me, what kind of Tio am I?

Bruno grabs Dolores in a cradle and starts attacking her cheek with kisses–she’s a tiny giggling mess. Pepa watches in adoration, melting at the sight. She loves her brother’s relationship with the kids–especially her daughter.

DOLORES (still giggling, struggling to get a word out) Okay, okay!!

BRUNO Wait, hold on, gotta get the other one.

He turns her head with a finger and starts peppering kisses on that side. Bruno hated getting kissed like that as a kid–ironic.

He finally lets her up from his clutches, smug.

BRUNO Happy now?

DOLORES (wiping her face) My face is all wet.

BRUNO You should be used to this by now, kid.  Look who your mother is.

PEPA He’s right, Lola.

Without any hesitation, Pepa grabs her brother by his cheeks and starts peppering kisses all over his face. Dolores looks on, amused.

BRUNO P-Pepa, knock it off! (struggling to talk past the constant contact and cheek squishes, annoyed) I a-already washed my face for the night! Now I gotta do it all over again!

Pepa lets go of his face, proud of the fact that she can still annoy him just as much as she did when they were younger. He promptly starts wiping his face with his sleeve like an annoyed cat. Pepa scoops up Dolores and turns to head for the door.

PEPA Sorry, I couldn’t help it. Besides, washing your face twice wouldn’t hurt. Your pores are huge. 

BRUNO (get out of my room) Goodnight Pepa.  (lovingly) Goodnight Dolores… oh wait, your picture!

DOLORES You can keep it Tio.  I don't get attached to my work..  It slows me down. 

BRUNO (who is this kid?) Oh, um.. Alright then.

Dolores waves to Bruno from her mom’s shoulder. He waves back as they leave the room. Bruno looks down at the picture Dolores scribbled. He grabs a thumbtack and attaches the drawing to the wall above his drafting table. That kid isn’t allowed to grow up.

[bakumu-archive]

you already have me

bakugou x reader

wc: 1.8k

summary: you expect to spend the night relaxing while bakugou spends time with his friends, until game night gets cut short and you become the center of his attention

cw: porn with little plot, daddy kink, praise kink, creampie, unprotected sex, a lil cum eating (idk if it counts but just to be safe), he carries the reader (he’s strong, he could carry you), a lil fluff as a treat, aged up characters, established relationship

a/n: posting for third time hoping to show up in the tags ✌

“DIE, YOU NERDS!”

Chuckling to yourself as you hear Katsuki scream obscenities from the game room, you continue your work in the kitchen making dinner. Standing by the stove and waiting for the water to boil you can’t help but miss his presence, even if he’s only a room away.

Your thoughts drift through various ideas: what are you going to do for the rest of the night, if your favorite fanfic has had an update come out, what Katsuki’s schedule looks like next week… Your thoughts always drift back to him, the love of your life and you can’t help but be jealous of his keyboard right now.

Gaming night with the boys was—as much as he would never admit it—one of Katsuki’s favorite things. He missed seeing his friends every day like back in their UA days, but since becoming a pro hero, getting engaged, and buying a house he has had to shuffle his priorities around. Usually, you spend the whole evening trying to relax as his shouting soothes your eardrums from the other room, but tonight is different as his footsteps suddenly sneak up behind you.

Grabbing your hips, he pulls you back into him. “Hey princess, I’ve missed you.”

His voice is huskier than normal, sending vibrations right to your core. His hands grip your hips tighter and you push your ass back into him.

“Katsu! I thought you were playing games tonight?” Your question sounds whinier than you intended but right now you couldn’t care less.

He hums behind you, grinding his growing erection into you some more before muttering, “Denki had to stop, early patrol tomorrow.”

He turns you around and picks you up so you are sitting on the countertop, hands skimming down your sides until he is gripping at your hips again. Stepping between your thighs to get closer to you, his eyes rake up your body taking you in. Your breathing is heavy, making him chuckle.

“You’re so worked up already, have I been neglecting my pretty girl?”

If you weren’t so turned on, you would have rolled your eyes at him, but all you do is whimper. You pout as he smirks at you, moving his hands under your shirt to rub your soft skin with his thumbs.

How he is able to turn you into a whimpering mess with just a few actions is always a surprise to you, but it has been a few days since he’s given you this much of his undivided attention.

His mouth is just a breath away from yours as he stares at your lips. “Guess I’ll have to make it up to you.”

Ghosting his lips over yours, toying with you, trying to drive you crazy. Surging forward, you try to capture his lips, but he pulls away just out of reach. As you beg him with your eyes to kiss you already, he licks his lips and lets out a deep groan before crashing his lips onto yours.

Tongue and teeth clashing into each other, he reaches one hand around your back, pulling you closer to him, while the other traces up your body to your neck. Angling your head, he kisses you deeper. A moan you didn’t even know you were trying to keep down emerges, breaking the kiss.

Feeling entirely too hot, you grab the bottom of your shirt and pull it over your head, quickly following it with your bra. Sucking in a breath as you expose your chest to him, he follows your lead, throwing his shirt across the room. Your eyes watch your fingers as they ghost across his abs before they move slowly up his body, bringing out a shudder from Katsuki. He’s holding his breath, waiting for you to make the next move. When your hands make their way up to his neck, you meet his gaze. His eyes are hungry, consuming your soul. It feels suffocating, but you can’t look away.

He moves his lips back to yours needily. He peppers kisses down your face before starting his assault on your neck. He starts out lightly kissing your skin at your pulse point, but as you moan more, he can’t hold himself back. He sucks and bites at your weak spots, intending on leaving his mark. His lips start to ghost down your chest as he moves his palms from your waist to your breasts, kneading them before attaching his mouth to one of your nipples.

Moans escape from your mouth as your hips move on their own against his cock. You can feel how hard he is through his jeans and your mind goes numb at the thought of him. Your hand reaches down to rub him through the fabric and you feel him pulse under your palm.

“F-fuck. Keep doing that, princess, and I’m gonna cream my pants,” he whispers breathlessly. He must be as frustrated as you if he’s already this close.

Looking down at him, you bat your eyelashes and whisper, “I’d rather you cum in me, daddy.”

A guttural moan leaves his throat. He suddenly turns to the stove - shutting off the burner that you had completely forgotten about with a slam before moving his hands back to your body, gripping under your thighs. You wrap your arms around his neck as he effortlessly picks you up off the counter. Wrapping your fingers into his hair, he resumes his assault on your neck as he makes his way to the bedroom.

He places you down on the edge of the bed and you stare up at him. His body looks like it’s glowing. A thin sheen of sweat on his skin, fiery eyes roaming all over your body, and with some of his hair sticking to his forehead, you think he looks like a god. He slowly starts to take off his jeans, dragging them down his hips slowly. He’s teasing you, knowing that you are getting wetter from watching him.

His cock springs free and you gasp, realizing that he wasn’t wearing any underwear. The sight of it makes your core clench. You desperately wish for it to be in your hands, your mouth, your cunt, honestly anywhere on you at this point.

“If you see something you want, you know you just have to ask for it,” he says as he closes in on you. His body encompasses yours. Looking down from above you, surrounding you in all of his heat, he places his hands on either side of your hips, waiting.

“Please, Katsu. I just want you.”

He lets out a small “tch” before reaching down to pull off your pants and underwear.

“You already have me, dumbass,” he says affectionately.

Your eyes meet and bask in the tender moment before his lips are on you again. Scooting you back on the bed, he climbs on top of you. Your lips meet in a frenzy, swallowing each other’s moans before they can escape. Both of you lose yourself to the kiss, tongues meeting in unison. He pulls away from you and you groan at the loss of contact.

His hand runs down your body, before dipping between your folds. A groan leaves him. “Fuck, baby. You’re already so wet for me.”

He gathers up your slick on his fingers before he brings them up to his mouth. Keeping his gaze locked with yours, he places his fingers in his mouth and moans. His eyes flutter as he sucks them clean. “You always taste so good. Mmm. If I didn’t need to fuck you so bad I’d eat your cunt out for hours.”

You can’t help but feel your empty hole flutter at the thought, but you agree. You are way too needy right now.

“Please, Katsu. Fuck me already. I need you, daddy.”

You can feel his body shudder when you drawl out those last words. He’s losing his composure and it’s exactly what you need right now.

He slowly spreads your legs out wider for him. He slides the tip of his cock against your clit and through your folds, drawing out moan after moan from you. And from the looks of it, Katsuki looks like he isn’t faring any better. He’s concentrating on not cuming already and he’s not even inside you yet. He places his elbows on the bed next to your head as the tip of him slides inside of your wet cunt, stretching you so deliciously. You missed his cock so much, even if it’s only been a few days. He pushes in you slowly and when he finally bottoms out, you both release a small, “fuck.”

His lips move against yours as he slowly pulls out before slamming himself back in, hitting that perfect spot inside of you. You break the kiss, arching your back, not being able to concentrate on anything except how he feels inside of you, as he keeps a steady pace fucking you expertly.

Your walls already fluttering around him and he moves his hand down to thumb at your clit. “Gonna cum for me already? That’s my good girl.”

At his praise, you feel your whole body tense. Your orgasm races through you, causing you to cry out his name like it’s the only word you know, vision turning black as you see stars, and your head swims in your high. His hips stutter as he lets out a string of curses before he pushes his cock deeper into your dripping cunt, spilling his cum into you.

He stays inside of you as he relaxes his body, putting some of his weight on you. Both of you are trying to catch your breath, as he looks down at you and smiles.

“I love you so much, you know that?”

You grin back at him, looking into his eyes that are so full of love and tenderness. “Yeah, I know, Katsuki,” you reply.

You kiss his nose, causing him to blush and you laugh. “Really, you just fucked the life out of me, but one kiss on your nose has you blushing? You’re so cute.”

He pulls out of you, rolling his eyes, and retorting, “Shut up, dumbass.” He climbs off the bed as you laugh. You roll to your side, watching him and following his ass with your eyes as he picks the discarded clothing off the floor. He reaches out a hand to you to pull you off the bed. “Lets get cleaned up and figure out dinner.”

You accept his help, using his hand to anchor yourself while your legs return to their non-jelly form. He kisses your forehead once you’re stable and as you make your way to the bathroom, he slaps your ass.

“Keep doing that, Katsu, and we’re gonna have to go for round two,” you tease.

He pulls you back into his warm embrace and wraps his arms around you. “Oh yeah? If we order takeout, I bet I could get two more rounds in before the food gets here.”

You laugh while he goes to find his phone to order from your favorite restaurant. You can hear him yell from across the house. “They’ll be here in 40 minutes, get back on the bed!”

God, you were in for a long night, but with Katsuki you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[bonny-kookoo]

Under Your Skin (JJK x Reader) | 🔞

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Goth/Punk!Jeon Jungkook x Secretary!Shy!Reader

Genre: Tattoo artist!AU, Badboy x Sweetgirl AU, Idk what else

Tags/Warnings: Ultimate goodboy Kook, He looks grr but is actually sweet, shy reader, smol reader, Kookers is WHIPPED, Also a tease, Dom!Jungkook because how could I not, Sub!Reader, Babygirl!Reader, Its not heavy on the whole ddlg-stuff but yeah they be having some vibes y'know, don't come @ me don't I'm not forcing you to read it lol, anyways moving on, because smut, yes I mean it's my content, and yall nasty admit it, slight hair pulling, manhandling also only a little, oral (f & m receiving), praising, mentions of emotional and physical insecurities, but Kook be supportive so we good, back to the nasty, body worship yes pls, biting, fingering, because why not, protected sex because we keep it clean in this household, light-hearted sex, kook being a romantic goof, yeah I think thats it?

Summary: Jungkook looks like absolute trouble; like one wrong look could set him off, and turn him into an absolute murderer. But oh well, ever heard the phrase 'Never judge a book by its cover'?

A/N: you might have noticed me only putting one emoji up top. I have decided to from now on only mark my adult fics with emojis (which is basically almost every single one lets be real). Also; stop reading my fucking fics if any of the tagged/warned things make you uncomfortable. I'm tired of everyone clowning in my inbox telling me how disgusting ddlg/smut content is. You can't even tell me you 'read it by accident' because that's why I'm always putting the cut underneath my fics =) so pls go finish preschool and then we can maybe shake hands. Maybe not. Covid and all. Yeah.

On the outside, Jeon Jungkook seems like absolute trouble.

He's working at a tattoo and piercing studio, dresses in all black, clattering chains and heavy boots always alerting everyone around of his presence. His long black hair is never truly tamed, his nails painted black, and his face expressionless most of the time. He's a talented artist and well trained piercer, always visiting conventions to keep up with the newest trends, styles, and equipment there is. He takes his job seriously- and is proud of it, knowing that he had proven his family wrong by now. They had been worried about him; especially his mother had scolded him that he shouldn't throw his time away trying to make it in a world of art many had already failed. But last year, he had finally invited them over to his rather nice apartment, showing them that he was living a good life, with nothing to really worry about.

Jungkook had made it.

Well, not quite.

Because as of currently, Jungkook had a new mission, a new goal.

"Ah, Jungkook!" You say, eyes sparkling as you smile at him when he enters the shop he works at. You had recently started to work there as well, since Taehyung was absolute shit at keeping files in order and track of schedules. You hadn't applied for the job specifically, that's at least what his coworker had told him- he had known you prior already, and was aware that you had wanted a change these days.

And Jungkook had been painfully crushing on you ever since you started.

"Your schedule for the week is already here- I uhm.. didn't put it on your desk cause, I didn't want to intrude your space and all.." You say, giving him a small black booklet where you always noted down his appointments. He appreciated it a lot- knowing how much of a hassle it could be to move dates back and forth just to somehow make it fit. You always made sure that he had enough time in between multiple daily pieces in case something took longer or less so you could make sure to be able to move things accordingly. You didn't want him to get overworked, you had said. He had smiled.

"Thanks- and you can go inside, no problem." He says, and you nod. "I know you don't make a mess, like someone else here." He says, hinting at Namjoon, who was known to be quite clumsy- yet a mastermind when it came to designing pieces he struggled with. Jungkook stayed at your front desk for a bit, making you tilt your head a bit, as you tried not to stare. He always took so much care of himself, you would have had to be blind not to see how attractive he actually was. But then again, you didn't get your hopes up- after all, he was nice to almost everyone around. "You've never been in there, right?" He asks, and you shake your head. You haven't been in his space at all- too scared to invade his privacy and making him upset in the process. "I mean- you got time right now? I can show you around." He casually tells you, and you look at your computer screen in front of you. Everything had been filed for today- so you probably had a bit of time to spare.

"Sure." You said, taking your phone and standing up from your chair, making sure to lock the pc so no one would accidentally make a mess out of your tabs. Or worse; close them. God knows all hell would break loose.

Jungkook had to really force himself not to let out any noise as you walked next to him.

You were so tiny next to him.

He wasn't that tall to be honest- with Namjoon and Taehyung both taller than him, he knew he was average at best. And for the longest time, he'd had a thing for tall girls, all elegant and confident. He still liked their aesthetic, yes- but now that he spotted you, he could really see the appeal of having a shorter significant other.

You were so cute.

You carefully stepped inside when Jungkook lifted the curtain that was used instead of a door, surprised to see how.. organized everything was. A little.. off- some things seemed to be randomly put somewhere, but in general, it seemed like everything had their proper spot. "I like to have it like this." He comments, and you nod your head to that, finally spotting his tattoo-gun. It was made out of purple steel- polished, and changing its hue depending on how you looked at it. It was absolutely beautiful, even though you had a rather limited understanding of these things. "Was a present from Taehyung last year." Jungkook says, sitting down on his chair. "I never asked- are you inked at all?" He asks, leaning backwards as you stand there a little awkwardly. "You can sit down somewhere, don't be so tense." He chuckles, and you look around, before you sit on the stretcher across from him. You shake your head, and Jungkook isn't surprised. Your pink converse sway back and forth as you sit on the stretcher, legs too short to reach the floor anymore as you rest your hands underneath your thighs; hem of your dress revealing more of them than he can usually see.

"I don't have any tattoos yet, but I've been talking to Namjoon about it." You said, and Jungkooks saliva tastes a little bitter at that. He doesn't want to pout or give away that it's bugging him at all that you're not talking to him about it- but he fails miserably. "Namjoon actually said I should talk to you about it, since the style I want fits you best." You say, and he can't hide his smile, bunny teeth on full display as he leans forward a bit.

"You'd let me tattoo you?" He asks, and you shrug, before nodding. "What do you have in Mind?" He instantly asks, not even bothering to hide his excitement.

If only you knew that it's because of you; and not just because he's gonna be the first to ink you.

You've both agreed on a design you want, and Jungkook can't deny that he thinks it's absolutely perfect on you.

"Are you scared?" Jungkook asks you as he prepares everything, his sweater's sleeves rolled up, revealing his own body art to you, as well as some bracelets; one that you recognize as the wooden-bead bracelet you had gifted him last year for his birthday. It was weird to see him wear it.

"I.. no. Just nervous." You say. "I'm worried I might cry and make a fool out of myself." You say with a laugh, and Jungkook chuckles, placing a reassuring and warm hand on your upper arm.

"It's fine. I've seen grown man cry like kids on this stretcher before." He casually says. "Don't worry; I won't think any less of you just because of some tears." He says with a smile, and you nod, turning your head to look at his room's walls instead; covered in drawings, sketches, and pictures of finished works he was most proud of. "Do you want anything to hold onto?" He asks, as he starts to shave the skin of your thigh to make sure he can work as best as possible. He's so into his work, so concentrated on doing everything perfect, that he doesn't even take much into account that you're laying in only your panties and oversized sweater; skirt neatly placed on a chair in the corner of the room, to get it out of the way.

"It's fine" You mumble, although you really want to. So instead you curl your fingers around the fabric of your sweater- something that doesn't go unnoticed by Jungkook, who decides not to comment on it for now. He simply throws the one-time razor away as well as the tissues used to clean your skin, before he carefully places the tracing paper onto where he seems fit.

"I think it would look great right here." He says lowly, carefully removing the paper to reveal the lines he's gonna trace with his gun in a few minutes. "You wanna look at it again?" He asks, and you shake your head. "Alright." He says, before he gets up and walks out his room; only to return with your small squishy and round unicorn plush that's usually sitting on your desk. "To hold onto." He winks, and you chuckle at that.

Jungkook really pays attention.

"So, Taehyung has told me you're a bit younger than me." Jungkook says to start casual chit-chat, trying to help your nervousness as his tattoo-gun starts to buzz to live. "Only a Year if I remember correctly." He says, and you nod.

"Yeah.." You say, and can't hide your dissapoinment flooding your voice. Jungkook, until now, only had relationships with girls older than him. He's even said before that he just likes having someone older than him around- which made you even more nervous around him.

"You sound upset about that." He chuckles, and gently holds onto your thigh as you jump a bit when he first presses the tip of the gun down. "Sorry. I'll be gentle." He lowly tells you, and you swallow.

Not the time Y/N, not the time.

"Uhm.." You say, fingers digging into the squishy plush in your hands. "I.. there's someone I like, but he.. only likes older girls, so.." You say, and Jungkook glances at you. You're already interested in someone? He continues to trace the lines, wiping afterwards to get the excess ink and blood off. "But I mean, then again I don't think I have a chance with him anyways." You chuckle, and Jungkook can't help but shake his head. Even if you're interested in someone else, he shouldn't let you have thoughts like that.

"Highly doubt that." He says. "If he doesn't see you, he's blind." He tells you, and you giggle, glad that he's able to make you feel a bit better about everything. "I'm serious." He says, and you nod at that, watching his inked arm flex every now and then as he draws with absolute concentration; black facemask hiding half of his face. You can see the way his eyebrows furrow, eyes fixated on his work as he moves with absolute routine. "Do I know the guy?" He casually asks, before he dips the tip of his gun in the tiny pot of ink again.

You don't know what to say.

He looks at you for a second, and decides not to dig. "You don't have to tell me. Sorry if I seemed nosy; didn't mean to." He apologizes, and you shake your head to let him know its fine. It's quiet for a moment afterwards, only the buzzing of his gun and your occasional whine of pain. "Sorry; it'll hurt a bit more now since I'm getting close to your inner thigh- that's always a little more sensitive." He comments, and you really hope he doesn't pay much attention to your panties.

When you can see his eyes stick to them for a second, you really want to just disappear.

He doesn't comment on it though. What is he suppsosed to say? He really doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, and considering that you already have a crush on someone else, he doesn't want to get himself in too deep as well. He simply works away, finally finishing the thin and delicate outlines of your piece- the first step, before he will see you again for color and shading. He finally connects the last line, and doesn't think twice about what he says next.

"Good girl."

It takes a second that feels way too long for the both of you to register the words, and Jungkook quickly occupies himself with turning off his gun and cleaning up your skin and his workspace to get the awkwardness out of his room. You try to instantly stand up, but his palm holds onto your leg- silently ordering you to stay put, which you do. He rubs something over the piece, before he gently lifts your leg to wrap it. "I'll give you a bottle of lotion for it. Leave that bandage on for.. I'd say until tomorrow morning at least. Afterwards, apply the lotion everyday to help it heal properly." He lectures you with a gentle voice, before letting you sit up.

"Thanks." You say, grinning eagerly at the now hidden artwork on your leg. Jungkook chuckles.

"We're not done yet, but I'll take it." He says. "I uh.." He starts, as you jump off the stretcher and go to take on your skirt. "uhm, you up for some fast food?" He asks, a bit hurried, before he can chicken out again. And he hates himself for a moment, because you had literally told him just half an hour before that you already had interest in someone else. But maybe you were too innocent to get his innuendo, maybe you wouldn't get that he was asking you on a date-

"Like a date?" You ask, and he really wants to hit himself.

"I mean, if you want it to be?" He says, swallowing as he averts his gaze, a sight very weird. His hand runs through his hair, chain around his neck and piercings on his ears clattering against each other and making sounds as he moves, his combat boots nervously tapping the floor a little. "It doesn't have to be.. I know you're already-"

"I'd love to." You say however, now fully dressed again, as you grin with your bright sparkling eyes.

And Jungkook feels like he's won the lottery.

It's your third time laying on Jungkooks' stretcher like this- waiting for him to work on your art, finishing it today. But the energy is different.

Things are different between you two in general.

After some casual movie dates and rounds of overwatch, Jungkook had admitted to you that he had a crush. It was rushed, while he was driving, so he didn't have to look at you and instantly get hit by your reaction. But then, you had told him that you felt the same- and the two of you agreed to let things process from then on. Whatever would happen; you would let happen.

And Jungkook was starting to flirt with you.

It was a little weird to get close to him like that. While everyone seeing you two was a little taken aback- with your dresses and skirts, and colorful and almost childish personality, he seemed like the absolute opposite- quiet, all dark and dangerous while carrying your milkshake so you could put your phone away into your purse.

"Alright doll, let's finish this." He said with newfound enthusiasm, winking at you as you laughed at his demeanor.

"You seemed more excited than me!" You say, and he chuckles. "You're really desperate to have me gone?" You say in a playfully upset tone, and he simply huffs out a breath, before cockily looking at you for a second.

"That's not true." He says. "I'd just rather have you laid out somewhere else than in my studio, that's all." He casually says, and you shut your mouth at that, cheeks red as he laughs at your cute display of embarrassment. He routinely prepares your skin, before he starts his gun. "Too much?" He asks, and you know he's not talking about the pressure of his ink filled gun on your skin.

"No-" You start, and he now seriously speaks to you, voice a bit muffled through his facemask.

"Please tell me if I ever make you uncomfortable." He says. "You're not upsetting me if you tell me I'm going to far." He says, and you nod, knowing that he now needs a proper answer. Jungkook is way more attentive and romantic than people may think he is. He's a gentleman pulled out of a dictionary- careful and gentle with you, and always keen on getting to know you for you, and not for the person you like to portray yourself as. He wants to know what you like, what you don't like, what you dream of, and what you hate about yourself.

"Don't worry- I will." You say, watching him work on your skin. "Jungkook?" You ask, and he hums a reply to let you know he's listening. "Is it okay if I sleep?" You ask, and he chuckles.

"Didn't I tell you not to stay up for too long before I left yesterday?" He teasingly retorts back to you, and you pout at him- with no hard feelings behind it. He had left last night after eating with you for dinner at your place; and he did indeed tell you to go to sleep a little earlier since he knew you would have an early shift today, opening up the store. "I'm really tempted to say no." He says, eyes now on your skin again as he dips the tip of his gun in a pot of color. "You know, as punishment for not listening." He mumbles, and you almost don't catch it.

Almost.

"Jungkook?" Taehyung stands in his doorway, finally finding him sitting at his desk. "Oh?" He says in a surprised tone, spotting your sleeping figure on his coworkers lap- head resting against the inside of his shoulder, with your arms around his middle.

"Yeah?" Jungkook asks, not at all shy or fazed by the fact that Taehyung is looking at you. "What is it?" He asks again, as Taehyung smiles, giving the younger man his small booklet that you usually give him every morning.

"Nothing left for today." He said. "Just wanted to tell you good work and send you home." The older one explains, zipping up his own jacket. "Guess she'll be coming with you?" He asks teasingly, but Jungkook doesn't bite the bait at all.

"Yeah. Don't burn the house down while we're gone, you two. " He says, slipping the booklet into his pocket before he pats your back. "Come on doll, let's go home." He tells you, waking you up at least enough to put on your shoes and lead you out the store to his car.

He buckles your seatbelt as the engine comes alive, radio playing its tune softly in the background as he drives you home. "You awake doll?" He asks, and you nod your head, turning towards him with barely open eyes. "You haven't had anything proper to eat today, so I'll make us some ramen at my place, ok?" He asks, and you nod, before your eyebrows scrunch up. "What is it?" He chuckles, and you now grow more awake.

"Wait- but if we eat at yours then you're gonna have to drive me home late." You say, and he shrugs. "Noo, Kook, what if you crash the car because you're sleepy?" You tell him with a whine, genuinely concerned for him, as he has the audacity to laugh. "Kookie, it's not funny I swear to god-!" You say, and he apologizes.

"I mean." He starts, casually dropping what he had wanted to ask you for a couple of weeks now. "You could always just stay over." He tells you, and you look at him, meeting his gaze at the red light he stops at, his head turned towards you for a moment until the lights turn green again.

"We.. would have to stop at mine so I could get some stuff though.." You mumble, and Jungkook looks at you with newfound enthusiasm, setting his turning lights to enter a different road.

It's in a parking lot that you first unintentionally confront him with your biggest insecurities and flaws.

You've tripped over a stray stone you didn't see laying on the ground, leading you to fall onto your hands and scraping your knees open. Just like any normal human being, you dust yourself off, instantly hoping that Jungkook inside the shop hadn't seen you fail at something so basic as walking. You had carried some of the items you two had bought into the car while also returning the shopping cart while he had payed- and by the look on his face, he had definitely seen you.

He wasn't laughing, or hiding his grin, or anything alike. He looked concerned, taking his card back from the cashier before walking out the store, jogging towards you, who sat in the open trunk, ready to get laughed at. Even though somewhere deep in your mind you didn't think he would, past experiences had led to you now having that fear, no matter with whom. "Are you okay?" Jungkook asks, looking at you as he squats down to take a look at your bleeding knees. He reaches into one of the shopping bags, taking out a water bottle and a pack of tissues, before he wets it, one hand holding your leg by the backside of your knee, while the other carefully cleans the small wound. "You gotta be careful Baby." He chuckles a little- nothing like the laughter you had expected.

"I'm fine." You say, not looking up at him.

"It's okay to cry, you know?" He says, and you stay quiet, trying not to breathe too much as you desperately hold them back. "I won't laugh." He promises, deciding not to look at you as to give you a bit more space.

"People will stare though.." You quietly murmur towards him, and he finishes his job, before he goes to throw the now used tissue away in a nearby trashcan. When he returns, he's taking his jacket off, the item way too large on your form as he throws it over you, pulling the hood up as you look at him for the first time since your little accident, eyes sparkling with unshed tears when he pulls the sides of the hood towards him a little. "There." He says, a reassuring smile on his face. "Now no one can see you but me." He tells you. "And I will never, ever, laugh at you." He promises, and pulls your head against his chest, as you start to let go.

He really hates to see you cry- but he's glad that you're letting him in enough to let him see you this way.

Jungkook is frustrated.

He tries not to really show it, because he doesn't want to blow up in your face like that, but then again, you're kind of the reason he feels the way he does. Because even though he thought you both had a genuine connection, you're yet to let him touch you.

And not just hugging and holding hands.

It's not that he's impatient- its because he knows you, at one point, wanted him that way as well. But something happened, something he didn't notice, that made you take ten steps backwards from him. You seemed to be retreating, giving up, and he has no idea what he had done to make you react that way.

As far as he knows, he had done everything right.

But then he sees them; the messages sent back and forth between you and Hana, a returning customer at the shop- well known to flirt with everyone around here. Jungkook himself had actually considered hooking up with her once a year back, simply to make her shut up, but then again, he wasn't into one-night-stands. And she had never truly been his type anyways.

'Ah yeah, just re-schedule that then, I don't mind at all! Just make sure we have enough time together, since we haven't had time to catch up on things recently, if you know what I mean.' She had sent, a week ago; exactly the timeframe you had started to distance yourself. He knew he shouldn't look into it, but then again- this was his business too. He had the right to know.

'Sure? I can give you an appointment at around 4 PM then, so you'll be the last one. Would that be okay with you? Again, sorry for re-scheduling on such short notice.' You had written, and Jungkook can't decide if you had been oblivious to her implication (which was bullshit), or if you were simply too polite to call her out. But it's the next messages that make him fume.

'Again, no troubles. As I said, I only care that its Jungkookie, I don't really trust anyone else with my body that way ;). 4 PM is perfect, you guys still close at around 6 PM right? He's got skilled hands, I'm sure we don't need much more time, if you know what I mean.' she has the audacity to write.

But its your answer that makes him fume.

'Good to know.'

"Jungkook?" You say, looking at the screen, as you suddenly dash forwards, trying to shut the screen off- as if that would make any difference. But he catches your wrist with ease, holding it in his palm as he looks at you.

"Do you think I'm sleeping with her?" He asks, and you try to escape his grasp; and he lets you, staying at your workspace however as he keeps you locked in place with his gaze. "Y/N." He urges, making you look away from him.

"It's none of my business." You say, shrugging. "I.. No, it's-" You start, but he cuts you off.

"No, finish that sentence. 'No' what?" He says, and you've never heard him talk like that.

"I just.. didn't think you'd.. do that." You meekly say, murmuring it as he tilts your head gently upwards to look at him; his face now more relaxed as he softly smiles.

"That's good that you think that way." He tells you. "Because I don't do that at all." He says. "She likes to start drama all the time- was probably bitter I turned her down so much. You know what?" He suddenly says, turning towards the screen as he clicks to change the account, opening his own Inbox as he starts to write an E-Mail.

'Appointment is cancelled, be glad I'm not suing you for defamation. JK.'

"Jungkook-" You say, trying to get him not to send it- but it's already gone. "Why would you do that? Just because I misunderstood?" You whine, and he chuckles, shutting down the system as he looks at the clock, signaling that it's closing time.

"No." He says. "But because I don't want her around anyways, and this gives me a proper reason." He tells you, ruffling your hair as he looks at you. "You coming?" He asks, and you nod, taking your bag and coat before following him out the shop.

In the car, you finally speak up. "Jungkook?" You ask, and he hums out a reply. "Do you.. think I'm attractive?" You ask, and he clears his throat at the unexpected question.

"I- what?" He asks, unsure what you mean.

"Just.. Namjoon said, that he thinks you.. see me as a friend only? Because I'm nothing like the girls you dated before.. If I misunderstood something here then Oh my god-" You start to ramble, and Jungkook laughs suddenly.

"You think I'm not into you?" He asks, and you shrug. "Of course I want to fuck you doll." He casually comments, and you can't help but feel your cheeks redden. "Wait- did you really think I didn't?" He asks, face showing genuine horror as he looks over at you.

"I mean.. you never really initiated anything so I thought.." You started, and he groans out.

Thank god you're staying the night.

"Looks so pretty, does it?" He hums out, palm running over the tattoo on your thigh, delicate lines and well-placed shadings complimenting the colors perfectly. "You know why I love it most?" He starts, hand suddenly gripping the flesh for a moment, before he pulls you closer on his lap by the small of your back. "Because that's mine." He says, before he leans in, placing an open mouthed kiss against your pulse. "The ink that's under your skin, the design, the idea-" He mumbles against your skin. "And the body it's drawn on." You whine at his tone, dark and low, as he urges you back and forth on his clothed thigh- your panties suddenly feeling uncomfortable. "Isn't it like that, baby?" He asks, and you nod, furiously, and he chuckles. "Hm, you seem out of breath baby.." He grins at you, like a predator.

"Jungkook.." You whine, not knowing what you're asking for.

He wordlessly moves, helping you lay down on his bed before he crawls over you, his lips instantly attached to the skin of your neck, hands helping you out of your dress wordlessly, as he can't help but let his gaze linger on your body for a moment. "I can't believe that-" He says, pulling off your overknee socks. "-you'd ever think of yourself anything less than perfect." He says, placing a gentle kiss to the colorful image now forever placed under your skin by his skilled hands. He continues to display his affection over your skin, wandering over your stomach up to your chest, where he playfully bites just above your breast. He struggles with the front of your bra for a second, unsure how to open the undergarment without breaking it, as you help a little; letting them spring free. But only for a moment.

Because in the next, he's got them in his hands, palms gently moving over them, feeling their softness as he groans. "You're so sweet." he comments, as he finally kisses your lips, smile interrupting him every now and then. "So soft." Another kiss. "So delicate." Another one. "And all mine, yeah?" He asks, and you nod, smiling as he grins back, the expression making him look so young and carefree you can't help but wonder how anyone could ever think he's a bad man.

He's anything but.

He's so careful touching you, so delicate in moving his palms over your skin, as if its the most divine thing he's ever felt. He's still smiling, as if in a trance, while he can't stop kissing you. Your hands move into his hair- way softer than you thought it would be, and he groans into your mouth at the feeling of your fingers running over his scalp.

There's no urgency in anything he does.

He slowly moves again, hands opening your legs for him as he sits back on his heels, playfully pulling you closer by the backs of your knees, making you giggle. "You sound so sweet baby." He tells you, innocently, as if he's not currently placing his hand onto your center, ring finger collecting your already leaking wetness before he spreads it, moving his thumb over your most sensitive bundle of nerves while his ring finger enters you slowly. You whine at the feeling, not enough to get you as riled up as you'd like to be. Also; this is the first time you're genuinely experiencing foreplay. You don't know what to do- and Jungkook seems to pick up on that. "You good?" He asks, and you nod.

"I.." You say, breathless as he tilts his head, smile still present on his lips. "What should I do?" You ask, as his eyes widen.

"You?" He wonders, before he stops for a moment. "Don't tell me- this is your first time?" He asks, now genuinely worried he might've gone too fast.

"No.." You admit. "But uhm.. no one's ever, like.. you know, what you're doing.." You say, and that's when it clicks for him.

What kind of guys did you date before him that never gave you any attention like this? He's upset by it, but also weirdly cheered on by that simple fact; it gives him even more reason to make sure you'll get the most out of it. "Ah, I see.." He humms out, letting another finger stretch your entrance for him. "..well, I'm not like that." He explains, before he moves, face now close to your center- and you're unsure what he's going to do. "Trust me." He says, mumbles out, before his tongue places itself flat onto your clit, licking painfully slow as you move your hands over your mouth, trying to keep your noises in. "nuh-uh baby." He scolds, free hand pulling yours away. "Let me hear you." He demands, before he places his mouth back where it was.

Your mind is completely blank at this moment, the only thing you can really concentrate on being Jungkook, working you up so quickly you feel dizzy. It's new, and it's a little weird- but it's more than anything you've ever experienced before. And it brings you towards your end so suddenly you suddenly gasp out, back arching off the mattress as you grab at the sheets below, one hand grasping for Jungkooks, who lets you ride out your high to its fullest. "So pretty." He comments after wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, smiling at your blissed out state.

"Kook-" You say, moving as you sit up, less shy now that your brain is still clouded by pleasure.

"Ah- you don't have to." He tells you, but you shake your head, and he lets you. He slips out of his clothes, finally bare, and you would've taken time to look at all the different pieces of art decorating his body- if it wasn't for his cock, red and ready in front of you. Usually, you would've let your insecurities and doubts get the best of you. But this was Jungkook. And you wanted to really believe that nothing you would do could ever be judged by him. So there was no hesitation as your hands reached out for him, gently moving, before you took him in, your lips wrapping themselves around his tip, before you moved downwards, fitting as much as you comfortably could. Meanwhile, Jungkook himself was steadying himself with one hand on the mattress, while the other was buried into your hair, his own head thrown back as he closed his eyes.

Of course he had fantasized about this every now and then; but he had never thought you'd actually be comfortable doing it. And even if- nothing he could've imagined would've ever compared to the real deal happening. There was something absolutely mindblowing about the way that you handled him, your sweet and pretty presence looking so divine doing such a sinful act with him. He had to pull you off by your hair, gently, because any more, and he would've been a goner. "G-Good god baby." He chuckles, pushing you a bit so you were on your back again, reaching for his bedside table to search for a condom. "I swear to god if I- HAH!" He tells you in victory, hands making quick work of opening the foil package and wrapping the safety over his length. "I swear I would've run out butt naked to buy one if I wouldn't have found this." He says with a grin, making you laugh.

"That's weird." You comment, and he chuckles, entering you slowly as to not hurt you, his breathing labored as he still kept the lighthearted energy going.

"You think?" He asks, and you nod, giggling as your eyes close, the feeling of him filling you up too good to keep them open. "Hm no." He said breathlessly. "Would've probably put on some pants maybe." He says, before he starts thrusting. "Doesn't matter if it means I'd get to fuck you." He says, and you giggle again.

"Kook!" You scold him, and he still continues to thrust into you, exhaling forcefully as he kisses your neck.

"What?" He whines high pitched as if to imitate you.

"Be serious!" You tell him, but can't help your own smile either.

"Oh, why though?" He says. "We're making love, not war baby." He whispers into your ear, and you still laugh at it.

"I can't believe you!" You complain playfully, moaning out when he suddenly thrusts with more force, obscene noises now interrupting you two as he picks up his pace, clenching his jaw.

"And-" He starts. "I can't believe how fucking good you feel." He presses out, hand now reaching between the two of you as he brings you towards an earth-shattering orgasm, making you mewl as you can feel yourself bursting. "Good girl!" He praises, watching as you squirt all over him, his own orgasm hitting him soon after as he grunts out, finally slowing down until he stills completely, his mouth attached to your neck to place gentle kisses and teasing bites near your pulse point.

"I love you." He mumbles out, and your eyes sting.

Because yeah, you love him- you absolutely do, but hearing it from him, hearing it in such an honest and warm-hearted tone, having this final proof of his own feelings towards you, makes you emotional. "Baby, why're you crying?" He chuckles out of breath, wiping your tears as you smile, and finally look at him with glossy eyes.

"Cause I love you too." You say. "So much."

And he can't help but grin at you.

You really are the sweetest thing.

You watch as Hana walks out of Taehyungs studio, arm wrapped up in clear foil as she walks towards your counter, pulling out her purse. "Taehyung agreed on 345." She says, until Taehyung yells another number out of his studio, making her eyes roll. She wasn't supposed to come back- but Taehyung had agreed to finish her piece at least. "Alright, here you go." She says, watching as you counted the money. "Does Jungkook work today?" She asks, and you nod. "I'm just gonna go say hi then. You can finish the receipt yeah?" She says overly sweet, and you're about to tell her that Jungkook doesn't want anyone entering without his permission, but he's already walking out his studio, black sweater and silver necklaces on full display as he walks towards you. "Jungkookie!" Hana exclaims, but her face drops almost chomically as she watches Jungkook walk up behind you, placing a kiss on your bare shoulder as he looks over it onto your screen.

"Oh, looks like I'm done for the day. You need anything Hana?" He asks innocently, one hand on your desk while the other rests on your chair behind your back.

"I- just wanted to apologize for uhm.. the emails. I didn't know you'd read them." She says, and you slowly close all programs, while Jungkooks humms out something.

"Yeah, I figured." He says, before he shakes his head. "As I said, I'm letting it go. No hard feelings." He says, shrugging, before he walks towards his studio again, stopping in his tracks for a second. "Ah, baby, can you text Jin-Hyung and ask him if we can come now? I'm actually starving I swear." He says, and you nod with red cheeks, pulling out your phone.

"Huh." Comes from Hana, as she takes the receipt from you. "I honestly.. would've never thought." She mumbles, before she simply leaves, without any more words.

Yeah. You would've honestly never thought either.

(c)Bonny-Kookoo. Please consider supporting me on Ko-Fi.com/bonnykookoo. Thank you for reading.

[whatisthiswritingthing]

Good with Kids - Kristie Mewis x Reader

Prompt: Maybe like R is very hard but soft with kids? Idk whatever u want I don’t care as long as it’s Queen Mewis.

Note, so pretty sure this sucks, so let me know. 

“And the crew down there are my nieces and nephews,” Kristie motioned to the group pf young kids racing around the yard, the oldest being only eight, youngest three, trying to keep up the older kids. Y/N nodded seriously, taking in all the name and faces she had met at the family barbeque.

“Kristie, stop calling them that, it sounds like I have a stash of kids that no one knows about,” Sam stomped a foot, dramatically complaining to her sister.

“I don’t know family tree math,” Kristie shrugged her shoulders.

“Cousins Kris, they’re called cousins,” Sam rolled her eyes.

“Whatever, same thing,” Kristie smiled, knowing she was getting under her sisters skin, Y/N finally cracking a small smile.

“Not the same thing!” Sam exclaimed, she knew what Kristie was doing, but couldn’t help her reaction, drawing the attention of several other family members. Kristie grinned in return while her sister scowled, the family members all giggling, used to the two sisters bantering.

“Be nice to your sister Kristie,” her mom warned, with a smile.

Sam grinned triumphantly at her sister, who just rolled her eyes and tugged Y/N’s hand to the stairs of the deck, leading her to meet the group of kids.

“I thought you liked this girl Kristie,” one of her aunts teased when she saw where they were headed.

Kristie laughed, “I do,” she squeezed one of Y/N’s cheeks, drawing another small smile from the normally stoic woman, “but I think she’ll be able to handle herself.”

“Good, then come sit with me” her grandma cut in, shooing one of the other older grandchildren out of a chair next to her.

Kristie bit her lip and gave Y/N a hesitant look, Y/N giving her a reassuring smile and nod in return, pushing Kristie to sit with her grandparents.

Y/N walked the rest of the way down to kids playing tag in the grass. Kristie sat in the chair, shifting it so she could still see Y/N.

“She’s survived this long today, she won’t run away now,” her aunt teased, handing Kristie another beer.

“I know, but look at her,” Kristie motioned to where Y/N was already beginning to play tag with the kids, “she’s kind of hot, I want to look at her all the time,” she winked at another cousin across from her, drawing an eyeroll from everyone, her grandma giving her a gentle smack in the bicep.

The group grew and shrunk as the afternoon wore on, people coming and going, joining different groups or bouncing between them all. Kristie did her best to concentrate on the people around her, but her focus kept shifting down to the large yard where Y/N was still with the kids, them having accepted her as their own.

The kids and Y/N had found a youth size football, a small game going on. The word game used loosely, mostly the kids running around and Y/N gently throwing it for them to catch or running with it and them all tackling her to the ground. The adults all watched on, sharing smiles when they saw how happy all the kids were, Y/N distributing attention to them all, none of them feeling left out. Shifting easily to be a little rougher with the bigger kids, and incredibly gentle with the smaller ones.

“Alright, go get your kid and we’ll get ours,” one of the aunts smiled at Kristie, motioning to the group of kids attempting to drag Y/N down, “supper is ready.”

The pair made their way down the stairs, “supper guys, go wash your hands,” the aunt clapped her hands, gaining the attention of the group.

“Five more minutes!” the oldest called out.

“Yeah! Five more minutes!” Y/N called out from the bottom of the pile of kids, head popping up while she gently lifted a small body off her, it quickly replaced by another.

The rest of the parents all laughed, having been prepared to wrangle their own kids to the table, not expecting the lone adult to be difficult as well. Kristie stared at her girlfriend, mouth agape, before closing it and giving Y/N a hard stare.

Y/N immediately began sitting up, shifting kids to sit up with her, “supper guys! Lets go wash our hands!” the kids all began to scamper off her and race to the bathroom to wash their hands.

“Guess who just earned all future babysitting jobs,” one of the uncles patted Kristie on the back while following the rest of the family inside.

Kristie’s eyes never left Y/N as she pushed herself up once all limbs were untangled from her, brushing off any loose grass before meeting Kristie’s, giving her a wide smile.

“You really are a big kid, aren’t you?” Kristie met her as Y/N began to walk forward, wrapping her arms around her middle.

Y/N smiled down at the blonde, wrapping an arm of her own around Kristie’s shoulders, the couple making their way to the house.

Y/N pulled away when they walked in the house, washing her hands, before sitting at the table next to Kristie.

Supper was a loud, busy thing. Family all talking over each other, stories being thrown about, gentle ribbing all around.  

“You are nothing like these two described you, Y/N,” an aunt smiled across the table, shooting a smirk to Kristie, who rolled her eyes at the teasing.

“Oh?” Y/N turned, giving Kristie a smirk of her own, then shifting her eyes to Sam, who blushed at the look.

“Yupp!” an uncle grinned as well, “Sammy makes you sound terrifying,” he nudged the blushing blonde, “I think she’s scared of you.” Y/N had a hard exterior, and was very quiet, many people interpreting both for her to be very unapproachable.

“I am not!” Sam was quick to defend herself, “I’m not scared of you Y/N,” she looked at Y/N eyes wide, still blushing, Y/N continued to smirk at her, “I’m not!”

“Sure you’re not Sammy,” Y/N just winked, “what are you telling them?”

“Nothing! Kristie says stuff,” Sam stammered out, trying to push the blame onto her sister, pointing across the table. Kristie giggled at how flushed her sister got over nothing.

“They’re fishing Ssmmy,” Kristie smiled, resting a hand on Y/N’s thigh, the couple smiling as Sam flopped back in her chair, mouth wide, realizing she fell right into it.

The table as laughing at Sam, Kristie squeezed Y/N’s thigh, leaning slightly into her side, tilting her chin up and smiling at her girlfriend.

Someone else was about to tease Sam as well, but was cut off by cutlery hitting a plate, a loud “no” being called from the children’s table further down. Everyone looked over to a pouting toddler, arms crossed, lips pursed out, eyebrows furrowed. An exasperated ten year old glaring down. Letting out a sigh, an aunt pushed up from the table, squatting in between the children, working to sooth both upset children.

After a few minutes, the aunt stood up with the toddler in her arms, taking the plate off the table with her and returning to her original seat, toddler remaining on her lap.

The pout remained firm on the toddler’s face with his face tucked into his mom’s neck. Everyone else ignored the outburst, resuming conversation, mom continuing to try and encourage the boy to eat.

Part of the face peaked out, shyly trying to glance around the table, making eye contact with Y/N who made a funny face before anyone else noticed. Giggling, he tucked his face back in briefly, before coming back out, Y/N giving him another silly face.

His mom tried to encourage a fork of food, a grumbled “no”, and his face burrowed back in. Letting out a sigh, she dropped the fork back to his plate, going back to her own.

Y/N bit her lip when she noticed a small hand creep out and towards her plate, one eye peeking out from his mom’s shoulder. She slid her plate closer to the boy, offering her fork out to him. Supressing her own giggle, she watched while the boy awkwardly fisted the fork and stabbed blindly at food on her own plate, no one else at the table aware, having moved on to teasing someone else. The boys head finally lifted fully to put the forkful of food in his mouth, not gaining the attention of his mom.

“Oh Y/N I am so sorry,” she apologized once she realized where the fork of food had come from, noticing the plate of food pushed closer to them.

“Don’t worry about it, my food is just better I guess,” Y/N smirked, shrugging one shoulder, everyone giggling as the small boy reached out for another forkful of food.

“How come at camp you threatened to stab me with my own fork when I wanted to try some of your food?” Sam gasped when she watched the boy go in for a third forkful.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Y/N played coy, rotating the plate to give the boy something else to stab, subtly encouraging the pile of broccoli on the other side.

The boy crinkled his nose, trying to spear another piece of chicken on the far end. Y/N intercepted the fork, taking it into her own hand, and making a show of picking up broccoli and enjoying the bite. Winking at the boy, she stabbed a smaller piece, twirling the fork for his to take it.

Instead of using his hands, he leaned forward, eating off the fork while Y/N held it. His mom rolled her eyes, everyone else giggling at the boy. He pulled himself out of his moms arm, crawling awkwardly into Y/N’s lap.

“No, buddy, you can’t sit in Y/N’s lap,” his mom gripped his hips to try and pull him back.

“Don’t worry about it,” Y/N helped guide him the rest of the way, helping him settle in her lap.

Kristie stared lovingly at her girlfriend, watching as Y/N guided another forkful of broccoli into his mouth, the boy shook his head, refusing the vegetable. Y/N smiled, diverting the fork to her mouth, taking the bite with a dramatic chomping sound. His eyes tracked the motion, before clumsily picked up his fork to mimic the action.

Y/N smirked and shot a wink to his mom, everyone’s mouths dropping when he took another without prompting. The meal continued on, the pair continuing to eat off each other’s plates, the boy no longer complaining about eating any of the food.

Desert took everyone to the backyard, a fire having been started, ingredients for smores set out. Several of the kids having found their way to Y/N’s lap, one sat on either thigh, a third squished in the middle, and two more with chairs pulled as close as possible on either side.

Everyone watched while Y/N gave each child equal attention, helping one put a marshmallow on the skewer while answering another’s question, managing to keep all settled.

“You’ve got a good one Kristie,” an aunt leaned over when she saw the blonde watching her girlfriend, her gave soft, smile wide as she took in the woman with all the kids.

Kristie shyly looked away, “I know,” she looked to her aunt, “except now she has me jealous of a bunch of kids.”

They watched as Y/N helped a smaller hand onto to one stick, her other protectively holding a leaning body off her knee.

“That’s alright, I am too,” the uncle on the other side chuckled, “we have spent years trying to get them to all get along and she strolls in and does it without even trying.”

The adults kept an eye on the kids and Y/N, looking over frequently when they noticed how quiet the whole group had gotten. Parents brought their phones out, snapping several pictures of the entire crew asleep. Y/N reclined in the chair, three bodies in her lap leaning into her chest, two on either side snuggled under each arm.  

[ceciliablossoms]

Hey there, I was wondering if I could request a scenario where the reader who doesn't seem to be scared of anything, like rushes into battle and will go into the scariest looking ruins /w enemies without a second thought - But is actually terrified of spiders/bugs? For Childe and Xiao?

Yes, of course! I love this ask because I relate to it a lot fjdndnd

-------

Xiao

Their tendency to jump into battle often irked him. As fragile as mortals were, he expected them to be at least somewhat careful. When every there's trouble brewing though, they always seemed to throw caution to the wind when it came to their safety. He told them to call his name if they were ever in danger, but they seemed to be in danger all the time.

Battle was something they found thrilling, the exhilarating rush of adrenaline was something they longed for. What better place to find it than on the battlefield? When they visited him they were often scraped up, in the heat of battle they'd gotten careless and took some damage. He would scold them as always and patch them up as per usual.

When they came to visit this time though, they let out a cry that startled him immensely. Never had he heard the ever fearless warrior cry out in such a way, battle always being their strong suit. It scared him. When he heard the panicked cry of his name he was ready in an instant to slay whatever beast had hurt them.

When he arrived, however, he was greeted with their terrified form hiding around the corner and but a single Crystalfly fluttering gracefully in the air. He lowered his polearm, glancing at them in surprise.

"Please get it away from me..." Their voice was a shaky whisper.

With a sigh, he held out his hand, the Crystalfly perching itself softly on the tips of his fingers. He brought his hand closer to him and stared at it crawled into his palm.

"It won't hurt you, you know. As many battles as you've been in, something as harmless as this shouldn't frighten you." He glanced over at them before walking to the railing and watching as it fluttered away.

They came out from their hiding spot, twiddling their thumbs. He raised an eyebrow at them, arms crossed. His stance was annoyed but his eyes gave away his mild amusement.

"I'm sorry" They averted their eyes, embarrassed.

He let out a huff through his nose. To anyone else, it would have seemed irritated, but you knew it was his way of laughing at you without hurting your feelings. He cracked the very slightest of smiles.

"Do you want to hold it next time?"

They tensed, swallowing thickly but nodded. "It's not gonna bite me is it?"

He huffed again, "Of course not."

-

Tartaglia

They were incredibly headstrong. He admired them for that. That mixed with the fighting spirit that never seemed to dwindle got him fired up. As many times as he's asked them to fight him, they never once turned him down. Their fierceness was like no other and often their fights ended up in a draw. The two were always competing but there was no victor.

It always amused him how they jumped headfirst into battle without hesitation, no matter the hazard. It was as though their fear was non-existent. They would spit in death's face or take on armies alone if they were able and win every time, but when he heard them yell his heart stopped.

If there was something enough to strike fear into the heart of the likes of them, it had to be truly terrifying. At first, he thought there would be danger, so he readied his weapon and approached ready to brawl. Yet there was nothing.

He stared on in confusion, putting away his weapon. They were hunched in the corner, holding themselves, talking under their breath. He approached them slowly.

"Something the matter?"

They jumped at the sound of his voice and turned to face him, expression fearful, "CHILDE PLEASE KILL IT."

He turned to where they were pointing, only to let out a hearty laugh. When they let out an offended whine, he hunched over, clutching his sides. He wiped his eyes, before picking up the spider that was sitting still on the wall.

"It just a spider." He held it out to them, only for them to let out a high-pitched shriek and back away. He laughed again then disposed of the insect. They calmed down instantly.

"Thank you." Their voice was quiet from embarrassment

He grinned, "Who knew, my ever fearless sparing partner is afraid of a little arachnid."

They flushed at his teasing tone, " Shut uP I'LL KICK YOUR ASS"

"Is that a threat or a promise?"

"B O T H."

-

Xiao Tag List: @reina-dragoness-aka-rei, @fictionalcharactersthatsit, @cherryyyaeraa, @youaskedfurret

Tartaglia Tag List: @cherryyyaeraa, @youaskedfurret

cherry idk if you're seeing this but I can't tag you, it says your blog doesn't exist hfbhsdjf that's probably because you have it so your blog doesn't appear in search results

Tag List Application

[enduracarrotchips]

YouTuber AU

Hello welcome to Dating Scandal but with Twitter Involved (nightmare)

A little exposition here: 

Link, Zelda, Sidon, Revali, and Riju are the most popular group of youtubers on the internet and have a huge fanbase that likes to theorize, draw fanart, and write fanfiction about them. Disclaimer, I don’t actually interact with real-person fandoms myself lol there’s just too much potential for drama and misunderstandings & they’re always bound to end in a dumpster fire but that is sort of what this au is about so.

Impa, Mipha, Daruk, and Urbosa are family friends that appear in a lot of their videos/streams. 

(This is an art blog I swear)

enter vidcon 20XX

Link: 

blows stuff up/sets stuff on fire with a side of cooking vids and gaming

most are filmed outside, he does those challenges where you try to cook stuff with limited ingredients/materials

has the largest fanbase of all of them, but not the most…intimidating.

does a lot of collab videos, mostly with Impa, Daruk, and Riju because they have similar interests/channels, but Zelda appears in his videos and is seen filming and the stans read too far into it

simps. i’m pointing at you.

Most popular videos are “shield surfing on rock!—how I broke my leg” “can Daruk eat Impa’s motorcycle?” and “how to inhale ranch dressing.”

Twitter handle is @ arsonistslullabye because he’s a hozier fan

45m subs

Zelda:

theories, analyses, conspiracies, and the occasional e x p e r i m e n t

she once got link to eat a frog for 50 bucks.

most people argue that she’s better than more popular YouTubers because she actually has quality content to give to the world and she has a lot of defensive supporters

She used to get a lot of hate before Urbosa spoke up about it and scared the bejeezus out of everyone

has an actual posting schedule

“Happy Sunday everyone, it’s Zelda Hyrule and today we will be talking about cryptozoology and why blupees exist, you cowards.”

Twitter handle is @ zeldaofhyrule and she is pan. just so you know. One of those calm extroverts that mystify me to this day.

18m subs

Sidon:

fashion/life hacks. Like gourmet troom troom but if they were real people.

Has the 2nd largest fanbase

most of them are girls

Sidon has a boyfriend though, which he told everyone at VidCon a few years ago

cue the drama and shipping and the entire fandom trying to figure out who the boyfriend is. A well known reddit thread emerged that presented the common guesses being Link, Sidon, and Zelda.

“But it can’t be Zelda, Sidon’s gay.”

“I’m not in the fandom but I thought Zelda was a boy??”

“Did you just say Sidon? Is that a typo? Are you saying that Sidon’s dating himself?”

Sidon x Sidon became a fandom joke.

Don’t look at me I’m just setting up all the worldbuilding. every fandom has their weird dark sides and Sidon x Sidon is the Linkcest of the Sidon YT fandom.

Mystery BF is actually Bazz, a pretty inconspicuous guy who appeared in a few of his videos. This was confirmed a year ago, but everyone still ships him with other YouTubers because they’re convinced he was lying to throw them off his scent. He really can’t catch a break and this is why you should not ship real people.

Twitter handle is @ officialprincesidon

says “beguiling” a lot

21m subs ᕙ( ͡❛ ▿ ͡❛)ᕗ

Mipha:

Sidon’s sister, hasn’t posted a single video but just has the channel for show because she appears in so many of Sidon’s videos as a model for his makeup tutorials and whatnot

has 328k for that. Everyone loves her, she’s great. @ mimipha

Revali:

Link’s sworn rival

Link thinks they’re friends

He kept popping up in link’s Twitter threads and making snarky comments until zelda called him out for not even following link (so why was he stalking his acc) which kept the Twitter drama to a minimum

Revali was the catalyst of a few popular memes and that’s where most of his subs come from.

drags link into a few challenges that always get a ton of views because of how competitive they get

“ITS JUST ASININE” is a running joke that everyone tries to get him to say. His @ is itsjustasinine as well

Urbosa is the only person who can win an argument with him

5m subs and growing rapidly. newer to youtube than everyone else.

Impa:

Doesn’t have a channel she’s just a mutual friend of Mipha, Zelda, and Link

Rides a motorcycle, so she is used in a few of Link’s videos.

@ ihaveamotorcycle because she thinks having a motorcycle is a personality trait. the most unruly on Twitter when it comes to replying to fan’s stuff, leaking upcoming videos and generally causing chaos.

Mipha’s girlfriend. That’s how she met Zelda and Link.

Urbosa:

Is actually a model, but she has a ton of YouTuber friends because she’s known Zelda since birth.

when she entered the youtube community she didn’t realize she would be adopting like 15 children

5m subs. her videos are professional & related to her modelling career. @ urbosasfury

I feel like she would do unboxing vids. I’m not sure what she’s unboxing.

Daruk

Just a friend of Link’s, fun guy. yells a lot. once ate a rock and had no reaction.

people are scared of him for that reason

Riju:

yoga & gymnastics & “ha look at how flexible I am its eAsY” videos

you know the type

she also does reactions and is sponsored by save the sand seals charities which she is very enthusiastic about. She’s also Urbosa’s niece and the only minor in the gang (15). I like to think that the champions YT community is actually not creepy so everyone respects her a ton

doesn’t post frequently, she mostly appears in Link’s videos to jump out of airplanes or whatever. And sometimes Zelda’s if she’s interested in the topic. 500k subs, but she’s always really popular when she appears in Link’s videos.

VidCon:

In the months leading up to VidCon, some fans on the internet made a few discoveries: first of all, that the inside of Link’s house is painted green. This is a big deal because all of his videos are filmed outside either in his backyard or on trips that he and the brosquad go on to do…whatever bros do. explosions. idk. The point is he had some announcement about VidCon and filmed it inside. Only the wall and a potted plant were shown.

However, the colour was similar to the the shade of Zelda’s living room. Fans dug through years and years of old videos and found a clip of Zelda walking through a hallway, where there was an open door and a glimpse of a houseplant.

There were 2 types of responses to the theory:

“They could just be roommates guys calm down”

“and they were ROOMMATES?”

others pointed out that Link could just not have a house and had to crash in Zelda’s

Some guy on reddit claimed he had a botany degree and declared that the houseplants in the clips were not of the same genus. Normal people pointed out that the plant would have grown 4 years between the clips and would look considerably different.

#Zelink trended on twitter for a while and people posted other old clips from both of their channels and the frog video blew up again

Impa retweeted a post tagged as #zelink with “rofl” and later publicly apologized for causing confusion.

Fans noticed that in the “can a motorcycle drive over my arm” (it was clickbait he’s fine) episode 2 years ago, Link was eating out of a paper lunch bag with his name written on it in handwriting that a few people claimed to look like Zelda’s, leading people to believe that she had packed him a lunch.

However, this theory was shot down with the counterargument that Zelda can’t cook. although. i mean how much skill do you need to make a sandwich.

No one knows what tumblr is doing at this time

Zelda wore a scarf in her “Save the Sand Seals” video that matched identically to the scarf Link wore when he travelled to Hebra to film a shield surfing video, but it’s been debated wether it’s actually the same scarf or not.

Neither Zelda nor Link has spoken up about the theories, and besides Impa’s one slip on twitter, neither has any of their friends. Zelda received a lot of backlash for the assumption that she was dating Link because he has a lot of delusional fans that didn’t want her to “steal their man” or whatever the hell that type of fan would get mad about

Oh yea and bolson & karson run a zelink fanpage on twitter sorry I forgot about that

after that whole mess, everyone was even more anticipant of VidCon in the hopes that some of their questions would be answered.

The whole batch went to VidCon this year: Link, Impa, Daruk, and Riju are a gang while Sidon and Mipha go together and Zelda & Revali each go separately. Urbosa is there for supervision moral support

Zelda has always been much better at dodging questions that she doesn’t want to answer than anyone else, so her Q&A went without a hitch. When asked to confirm the rumours she said “which one?” and then moved on to the next question (without actually confirming any rumours).

Link is generally a more awkward person but eventually said that he had filmed the video in Zelda’s house because it was nicer and didn’t realize it would cause such an uproar. Fans were disappointed, but Bolson claimed he saw Link and Zelda exiting the hotel elevator on the same floor after Link’s Q&A session. No one believed him.

Fans went back to theorizing over who Link, Zelda, and Sidon were all dating, because apparently they can’t just be dating unknown people and have to be with other YouTubers

Sidon and Bazz got engaged about a week after VidCon, making at least 4 preteen girls cry

actually try 4 million

Sidon x Sidon made a brief comeback but Sidon spoke up about his fandom for the first time ever on twitter and told everyone that no, he was not dating himself. eventually, everyone settled down and accepted that none of them were in a relationship save for a few loud fans.

Link and Zelda still got the occasional “when will you tell us who you’re dating?” comment but most of them were joking and the people who still hardcore shipped them were generally frowned upon. Zelda’s popularity went up after VidCon and she regained the 200k subscribers she’d lost after the first theory dropped.

Two months after VidCon, Link posted a video titled “Zelda and I’s House Tour!” and gave around 45 million people a heart attack

as revealed in the video, they had actually been dating since they were 16 and everyone’s just a fool.

the potted plant is named Hestu.

[mcfiddlestan]

Ten Random Lines

Ten Random Lines

Rules: pick any ten of your fics, scroll to the midpoint, pick a line (or three) and share it. Then tag ten people. I was tagged by @mischief-and-tea-by-the-sea.

Tagging anyone who sees this and wants to do it! Also, I did not go to the midpoint on some, lol.

P.S. Not all of these are published. Some were and were taken down, and some aren't finished yet...and may never be, idk.

From Just A Fool, Chapter 5: Clint Throws A Hissy Fit and Natasha Packs a Punch (Frostiron, post-Avengers AU)

Natasha relaxed minutely, dropping her arms to her sides, absently fingering the handle of the knife she kept strapped to her side. “Stark—”

“When did it start?” he blurted out over her soft voice.

“When did what start?”

He turned, setting his dark, determined gaze on her. “You and Barton.” Tony’s lips quirked up at the way Natasha visibly bristled. It was the first time he had ever seen her, this agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., caught off guard. “Was it in Budapest?”

“How is that important to this discussion?”

“What discussion? You dragged me out here to badger me into breaking up with Loki.” Her head jerked in surprise and confusion and he nearly groaned in frustration. “I am, on occasion, not stupid. I can read a room.”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, even moving away from him, and now he could add seeing genuine emotion to the list of firsts. He didn’t follow her, but he turned to watch her, leaning against the railing casually, enjoying how he was getting to her. “I wasn’t going to badger you, for the record. I was just going to…forcibly convince you.”

From Blank Page, Chapter 14: Waiting for You to Bring Me to Life (Frostiron, Modern AU, friends to lovers to exes to lovers again)

Loki glanced down at one arm, then the other, then his lap. “Including the serpent…nine.”

“Nine?” Tony’s eyes nearly bugged out. “Well, let me see ’em.” Again, Loki made no move to show Tony anything. Tony tilted his head. “Hey, I showed you mine.” He tapped a finger twice to the arc reactor and grinned. “Now show me yours.”

Damn it. That was a fair point. Too fair for Loki to ignore. Moving quite slowly, he tucked one arm into his shirt, then the other, and carefully tugged it over his head. He kept the soft, green garment bundled in his lap, over his right hand. Loki wasn’t normally shy to show off his ink when asked, but it would be different with Tony. His reaction would be different.

He sat there, giving Tony time to take it all in — at least, to take in the tattoos that were visible to him. The most obvious of which was the one of Jörmungandr. It was in varying shades of blacks, greens, and golds, winding around his thin but muscular arm. The head, jaws open in a silent roar, red tongue lashing out, took up a good portion of the left side of his chest. The serpent’s tongue seemed to be licking at the sparse patch of hair in the center of Loki’s chest. Tony angled his head, touching a hand lightly to Loki’s right arm, and he obligingly turned so he could get a look at the emblem of theatre masks in the form of skulls, black and gray, with red accents, surrounded by the words Laugh Now, Cry Later on his right bicep.

“Did Bucky do all this?”

“Yes,” Loki answered softly. “He’s quite talented. Steven initially helped with some of the drawings and outlines, and he provided many samples displayed in the shop and the books. But, James has become quite a proficient artist himself.” He was rambling; words were tumbling out of his mouth. “The shop is doing quite well, actually; well enough that he and Steven are thinking of purchasing a home and marrying next year when Steven completes his army service.”

Tony made an impressed face but said nothing else on the subject. “Where are the other ones?” Loki hesitated again, briefly, before turning his back to Tony, showing him the side view of a black raven with its wings spread across his left shoulder blade. He slightly shivered when Tony brushed his fingers over the wings. “Wow…nice.”

Righting himself, Loki bent over to lift the legs of his loose-fitting pants, and Tony lowered down to a knee on the floor, his mouth still hanging open. “That is James’ design of a rising phoenix.” He pointed to the black, red, and gold design rising from a bed of black and red flames that encircled his right calf.

“Damn, that’s kick-ass,” Tony murmured.

Loki grinned softly, then pushed his pant leg down and put forward his left leg. “And, obviously, those are flames.” The flames seemed to emit from Loki’s ankle, starting in deep reds and oranges, and bled into cooler blues and purples.

“Those are really nice. Bucky does good work.” Tony spoke his complimentary words and moved to sit on the bed again.” What about the other ones?”

Loki dropped his other pant leg and fixed Tony with what he knew was a serious gaze. “Uh, well… they’re not anything spectacular, like the others you’ve seen — just a, um…,” he glanced down toward his lap, and clamped a hand over his right wrist, still hidden beneath his removed shirt.

“What?” Tony chuckled. “Show me.”

“Yes, of course,” Loki murmured. He didn’t pull his hand from under the shirt. Instead, he shoved his hand through the neck hole, exposing just enough of his wrist to reveal a thick-lined, black symbol. “There’s not much else to it. It’s a Norse rune. It means peace.”

“Cool. Let me see.” Tony reached for him, getting a loose grip on Loki’s forearm, and pushed at the shirt. Loki tugged, trying to snatch his arm away. “Wait—”

“No. Anthony, don’t.”

“I just wanna see — let me see—” There was a brief struggle before Tony ultimately yanked the shirt away. And he spotted the three dates inked into Loki’s skin beneath the rune. “What the…?”

Once Tony’s fingers loosened from around his wrist, Loki pulled his arm back, covering his wrist with his left hand, and holding it to his chest, where his heart was racing.

“What is that?”

“Nothing,” Loki muttered. Tentatively, he lifted his eyes to Tony’s. Then dropped them again when he held out his hand, palm up.

“Loki.”

He was kicking himself for these particular tattoos now. Bucky had warned him. Get them in a more hidden place, he’d said. Remember, not remind. But, stubborn as a mule, Loki wanted what he wanted, where he wanted it. And Bucky acquiesced. Breathing fast, squeezing his eyes shut tight, Loki lowered his arm to Tony’s hand.

To Tony's view, the dates, inked in the simple format of the numbers of the months, days, and years, were upside down, so he shifted to read them better. His breath released in a quiet gasp that Loki felt fan over his skin, followed by a swipe of his finger. When Loki finally opened his eyes, he saw Tony was pointing at the first date.

“That’s the day your mom died.” It was a statement, not a question, but Loki still felt compelled to confirm it.

“Yes.”

He watched Tony swipe his finger over the third date in a darker black than the others, which meant it must have been more recent. “This…” His finger still on Loki’s racing pulse, Tony flicked his eyes up. His voice was barely above a whisper and tight with emotion. It cut deep, right into Loki’s soul. “This is the day I came home.”

Straining to keep his cool, to control the trembling of his chin, Loki nodded.

“Why?”

Loki moved his eyes to his wrist, quickly flicking away a tear that rolled down his cheek. “They…” Loki cursed the cracking of his voice. “Those are three important dates for me. Something significant, something that changed everything from that day forward, happened on each of those days.”

Loki’s bottom lip was still quivering as Tony ran his finger over the middle date. “Loki…what…what happened on this day?”Oh, gods. Loki’s left hand curled into the material of his shirt in his lap, and he cleared his throat so he could speak clearly. “It was…the day that Steven Rogers saved my life.”

From Empire State of Mind, Chapter 2: An Offer He Should Refuse (Frostiron, post-Avengers AU)

“Stark…”

“You shouldn’t have come here, Loki.” Tony spun around. “This isn’t a sanctuary for the criminally insane.” Tony thought about Clint and Natasha — and himself. “Mostly. You can’t just show up here and think everything is forgiven and —”

“I can make you a deal.”

Tony drew up short at the interruption. Once again, common sense was telling him he shouldn’t even listen, shouldn’t even consider the deal. But if Tony only relied on common sense, he wouldn’t be one of the richest men in the world. “What deal?”

Loki rose from the stool and slowly stepped to him. “Allow me to reside here for the week…and I will never bother you or the others again.”

Tony’s face relaxed, and he brought a hand up to stroke his goatee. It sounded too good to be true — which meant it probably was. “How do I know I can trust you?”

“You can’t,” Loki answered simply. “Just as I cannot trust that you won’t contact your agency or your Director Fury and turn me over to them. But I can set your mind at ease on one point.”

‘What’s that?”

“You need not worry about any impending chaos or destruction. My magic is,” He lifted his hands, turning them as he looked at them. “Quite limited right now. And courting chaos is the farthest thing from my mind at the moment, to be honest.”

Tony’s eyes shot down to Loki’s hands after he lowered them to his sides again. “So you’re not going to conjure up your glow stick of destiny and try to put me under your magic spell or anything?”

Loki fought a smile. “No. My sceptre has been….” He looked away annoyed and sighed, “Confiscated. It’s hidden somewhere on Asgard by the Allfather’s magic. It would drain my own magic if I tried to search for it. And if I recall correctly, that didn’t work the first time.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed with a laugh. “I know. I just wanted to remind you of it.”

From Stay With Me, Chapter 1 (WinterFrost, Modern AU, mechanic!Bucky, graduate student!Loki)

Bucky stuck a cigarette between his lips and rose to excuse himself. He had been outside for a few minutes, enjoying his cigarette in silence when he felt another’s presence. He didn’t have to look to know it was Steve. “I’m fine,” he murmured while exhaling a thick plume of smoke.

A chuckle sounded beside him. “How’d you know I was gonna ask you that?”

“‘Cause I know you.”

“Ha, yeah.” Both men went quiet again, the crickets’ song and the clinking of ice in Steve’s tea the only sounds between them. “You gonna come around on Sunday?”

Bucky glanced at his friend, in the middle of taking another drag from the cigarette. “Remind me…?”

“Peggy’s birthday.”

“Oh! Yeah, absolutely.”

“Good,” Steve breathed the word out on an almost relieved sigh. “I need you here. Peggy and me, we’re gonna tell Abraham about the engagement.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Steve barked out a laugh. “No — sorry,” Bucky chuckled. “You know what I mean.” Steve nodded and took another drink of his tea. Bucky frowned in thought and glanced at him. “I didn’t know you still kept in touch with him.”

Steve shrugged. “He and his wife raised me, Bucky.”

Bucky’s lips twitched. “You lived with them for four years, Steve,” he pointed out. “Until you aged out.”

“I know,” he responded softly. Bucky took one last drag before stubbing out the cigarette and shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “He wrote to me, Buck,” Steve mumbled into the silence. “His wife sent me stuff…while I was over there.” He continued to speak softly, but with conviction, as he always did when he spoke of his time in Iraq.

Bucky stood completely still, forcing himself not to shuffle his feet or make some excuse to go inside. He always felt a little uncomfortable when Steve brought up Iraq. Without ever delving too much into his reasons, he blindly assumed it was guilt; guilt he carried for not going back for a second tour with Steve, for choosing to walk away from the army to be a regular mechanic in a regular garage in a regular city, leaving Steve without the expert sniper that he was.

That Steve had a rougher time there, saw worse things than the first time, and lost some men, only made Bucky feel worse. They never discussed it after that first time. And even now, as the two friends, who had known each other since they were boys in Brooklyn, stood under the dim yellow porch light, it grew more tense by the second.

"I better get going," Bucky finally said, unable to take it another minute.

Steve’s head shot up. “Already? You sure you’re all right to ride?”

“Had a long week. And I’m fine, Stevie. Don’t worry so much.” Bucky held out a hand to him, and Steve gripped his tightly. “I’ll see you on Sunday. Promise.” He released Steve’s hand and moved to head down the walkway to his motorcycle parked in front on the street.

“You’re not gonna say bye to the others?” Steve aimed a thumb behind him at the house, even as Bucky swung a leg over the bike and reached for his helmet.

“Do it for me?” He chuckled at Steve’s eye-rolling and started up the motorcycle. “See you later, buddy.”

From All I Ask, Chapter 2 (WinterFrost, Modern AU, veteran!Bucky, artist!Loki)

April in New York was beautiful. New York was beautiful; he mentally corrected himself. California had been nice; Los Angeles was sunny, warm, and very laid-back. Too laid-back. Loki thought he would go mad if he spent too long there. It wasn't as if he wasn't inspired by the snow-capped mountains in the distance, the sandy beaches that stretched for miles north and south, or the acres of orange and lemon groves he'd seen once on a helicopter ride. But that much free time, in that beautiful of a place, turned out to be detrimental to his productivity.

New York was more to his liking. Bustling city life was where Loki needed to be. Taking up his pencil, he began to sketch his view of the horizon languidly. The sun was starting to hide behind some skyscrapers, but the sky was lit up in so many vivid colors that it was difficult to resist putting it down on paper so he could add the colors later. Colored pencils, perhaps. Maybe watercolor.

As he sketched, the pungent odor of cigarette smoke reached his nose. Confused, since it wasn’t usually cigarettes one could smell around here, Loki searched for the source. He found it on the balcony just below his.

There was his hearing-sensitive neighbor, one floor below, straddling the sill of his open window, taking a deep drag off a cigarette. Irritation hit Loki first — at the cigarette stench and because the man had made more complaints about Loki's music and work hours. And because deep down he'd never lost the enjoyment of being a pain to others – and because he was such a little shit – Loki was all set to yell down for his downstairs neighbor to put out his cigarette when the light of the setting sun hit a window somewhere across from them. It reflected onto the other at just the right angle.

Loki went still. The picture of him sitting on the sill brought an image to Loki’s mind, and, quietly, he flipped a page. He began a light outline, moving his pencil blindly over the page as Loki watched his neighbor bring the cigarette to his lips again. He shot a quick look down at his sketch, using the tip of his finger to smudge a line here and there. Catching movement in his vision, Loki saw his newest subject – he was horrible with names, honestly – had risen and stretched out his arms.

That was when Loki caught sight of something abnormal on his left arm. Marks – no, Loki decided. Scars. Deep scars, only shades lighter than his other arm, were etched into the skin, from shoulder to wrist. Perhaps his hand, too, but he wore a black fingerless glove hiding the majority of his hand. Loki inhaled sharply, seeing the beauty in the marring of his otherwise flawless skin, seeing the potential of how he could recreate it on paper. Or canvas. Or anything. 

It was too late when Loki decided to call out to him – and say what, he questioned himself. His neighbor had ducked back inside. Loki looked over his rough drawing, wondering if the man downstairs would sit for him just a couple of times. Maybe.

From Untitled SamTasha fic, Chapter 1 (SamTasha, Stucky, Modern AU, firefighter!Sam & Steve, musician!Bucky, businesswoman!Natasha)

Sam Wilson wasn't paying attention. A swift sucker punch to the gut brought him back around. Groaning, half bent over, he glared up at his friend and working partner, Steve Rogers. "What the fuck, Steve?" Steve only shrugged and grinned. That stupid, boyish little smile that made everyone back at the firehouse think he was such a sweet guy. "This is what happens, my friend, when you sleep on the job." Sam straightened, keeping a hand pressed to his stomach. "Excuse me if I'd rather watch a pretty lady box than be your damn coach." "Hey, don't do me any favors. But I'd be careful with that one." Steve glanced back at the redhead and the man with a bun at the back of his head sparring in the boxing ring. "Pretty sure she could wipe this entire gym floor, the one above it, and below it, with your ass in a cinch." Sam chortled. "You know I'd let her, too. Look at her." He urged Steve to turn around completely and bit into his bottom lip. They weren't the only ones being spectators. Several of the gym's patrons had taken a break from their regimes to watch the skilled match. Grunts of exertion and cries of both defeat and victory sounded between the man and woman as punches were blocked and kicks were averted. "What is that?" Sam asked, crossing his arms. "That's no regular boxing." Steve made a noise of uncertainty. "Looks like some mix of martial arts. Krav Maga maybe." The man ducked a deft sweep of the woman's leg by dropping into a split and Steve's brows lifted, impressed. He chuckled and slapped a hand to his friend's chest. "Come on, Wilson. We're wasting time. We have to head back in a bit." Sam sighed, torn, and not a little disappointed. "Yeah…wait." Steve scoffed under his breath and looked back in time to watch as the redhead landed a swift kick to the man's chest, making him stagger back. And she spared no time to let him gather himself; she launched herself at him, clasped her hands onto his broad shoulders and used them to swivel herself around him, not once but twice, propelling herself with her legs – short as they may be, but clearly strong – and ended it all by trapping his neck between her thighs and landing with a slam that echoed through the gym to the canvas.

“Son of a bitch,” Steve muttered in a shocked gasp. He looked over at Sam and saw the curve of his lips. “No.”

“I have to.”

“Damn it, Wilson.”

“Five minutes. I swear.”

“We're gonna be late.”

“I'll make it up to you, okay?” Sam pleaded even as he started to back away, moving toward the ring where Natasha was helping Bucky to his feet.

“Damn right you will. You're buying the food tonight.”

Sam stopped. “What? Why?”

“I'm on chef duty for tonight; you're making me late, so you have to buy the food.”

Sam lifted dark eyes to the ceiling, brushing Steve off. “Fine, whatever. Meet me in the locker room.”

“Oh, no.” Steve began to unravel the tape around his large hands. “I'm watching this. Gotta make sure I get all the details to tell the guys.”

Sam frowned hard at him, but Steve merely sent him that boyish grin again. Steve got one hand free, and watched as Sam approached the redhead, her dark-haired friend practically limping away. He noted Sam’s usual moves; a bashful smile, maintained eye contact that thankfully, was more flirtatious than creepy, and an offering of his hand. He gestured as he spoke and Steve had to bite back a chuckle at the indifference on the redhead’s face. He turned away briefly, to toss the tape from his hands into a trash bin, and when he turned back, Sam was on his way back. With a giant smile on his face.

“Shit,” Steve breathed to himself. “You mean you actually got her name and number?”

“Better. I got her to agree to get a drink with me.”

Steve raised a brow, surprised yet skeptical. “A drink?”

“Yeah. Sort of a pre-date date. If we hit it off, she'll consider going on an actual date with me.”

Steve made an impressed face. “She's screening you. I like her already.” He started off toward the locker rooms and Sam fell in step beside him.

“Hey, you're not busy tomorrow night, right?”

“No, I'm off the next…” Realization dawning, Steve stopped and looked at Sam, jaw tight, eyes bright under lowered eyebrows. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Sam protested; but his smile was still too big. “All right, look. She agreed to drinks…but to make it more casual, and less like a real date – I get the feeling she's been let down a lot,” he added as an aside, “I agreed to bring along a friend. And she'll bring one, too.”

Steve's head fell back, an exhalation of breath that sounded like a pained groan released. “Sam…”

“It's just drinks!” He promised. “And it'll be my treat.”

“You bet your ass it's your treat. Come on,” he started for the showers again. “I’ve got a meal to plan and you’ve got some begging to do.”

Sam rolled his eyes, grinning like an idiot, and followed.

From Dark Side (Part One of the Picture Perfect series), Chapter 23: The Definition of Gay and Birthday Sex

When Loki opened his eyes, Darcy had taken the seat directly across from them. He frowned at her and sat up. Tony moved to rest his head on Loki’s shoulder and curl himself around Loki’s arm, but he didn’t wake up.

“Has something happened?”

Darcy shook her head, her dark curls, spilling out from the bright turquoise knit beanie she wore, bounced around her shoulders. “Nah, I just felt like I was invading their time together. So, I came out here.” Her smile grew to show big white teeth. “And found you guys cuddling.”

Loki chuckled softly. He saw Darcy’s gaze focus on Tony, almost narrowing, and turned to look down at him himself. “What are you looking at?”

“How’d you do it?” she asked, her voice full of what sounded like wonder.

“Do what?”

“How’d you get Tony Stark to commit? Nobody’s ever been able to do it. Is it because he didn’t know he was gay?” She turned those big blue eyes on Loki and asked the question like she was asking if he wanted a piece of gum.

He grinned. “You’re under the assumption that people only fall into the two categories of ‘gay�� or ‘straight.’”

Darcy’s face contorted. “Tsch, yeah! Well, I mean, I know you don’t.”

“Do you?” Loki raised an eyebrow, crossed one long leg over the other, careful not to jostle or move a still-sleeping Tony.

“Yeah, because you were with Bucky, then Maria, and now Tony. So, you’re bi, right?”

Loki shrugged. “If that’s the name you wish to apply to it.”

Darcy tilted her head to the side and mimicked Loki’s position, crossing her legs. “What would you call it?” she challenged.

“I don’t attach any labels to myself, dear. Others seem more inclined and happy to do it for me.”

“But you guys,” she aimed a black-polished finger at him, then at Tony, back and forth a few times. “You and Tony, you do it a lot. I mean, that’s what I heard.”

Loki couldn’t help the curve of his lips. He glanced down at Tony when he buried his nose into the sleeve of Loki’s sweater for a brief moment. “You heard as in from someone else, or you heard as in you were eavesdropping outside my door?” 

Darcy made a horrified face. “Eww, gross, no! I meant like gossip. I. Hear. Everything, Loki,” she said with an authoritative air, pressing a hand to her chest. “That’s why I’m so surprised that Tony’s been with you for so long. Even with Pepper, it was off and on. And only for, like, a month at a time.”

“Is that so?”

She nodded knowingly, almost wisely, like she was teaching him a lesson. “So, what’d you do, huh? Did you use magic on him? Did you put him under some spell of yours?” She wiggled her fingers like a magician.

Loki’s chin lowered. “You jest, but your question suggests the only way Anthony Stark could fall in love is if he was tricked into it.”

Darcy’s shoulders and hands lifted in an innocent gesture. “I’m just saying, as far as I know, you’re the first person he ever said he’s loved. Besides himself, of course.” Loki smiled, chuckled, and nodded his head more in acknowledgment than agreement. “So…?”

Loki lifted his gaze to hers and smiled politely. “Sorry — Darcy, is it?” She nodded. “I’m afraid I am not inclined to discuss the details of my relationship with you. I mean, no offense. But I especially won’t discuss it when the other half of said relationship is awake and listening.”

Darcy blinked, and her mouth fell open as her eyes shot to Tony.

“Aw, man!” Tony sat up and playfully shoved Loki. “How’d you know?”

Loki cocked his head to the side. “I believe I’m familiar as to when you are awake or asleep after spending the last four months sleeping beside you, Anthony. Also, you laughed when Darcy said you’ve never loved anyone but yourself.”

“Shit, I gave myself away. You’re no fun.”

From As Long As You're Mine (Frostiron, post-Avengers AU)

“You lost?” he quipped.

Loki’s eyes remained fixed on Tony’s, and that sexy little smirk curved his lips. “Not at all. Thought I’d pop in and say hello.”

Tony forced out a chuckle, but that’s exactly what it sounded like — forced. “Yeah, right. Where’re your horns, Reindeer Games?”

Loki’s smirk melted into a dreamy grin and, clasping his hands behind his back, moved toward the bar. “I’m sure you’re aware I’ve managed to escape Odin’s clutches, yes?”

Tony nodded.

“Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to retrieve my sceptre or much else. I’m lucky I managed to snatch this off the hook in the prison they tried to secure me in.” He flicked the lapel of the coat before shrugging it off his shoulders and setting it aside as he slid onto one of the barstools.

“I’m not sure luck is a word that applies to anything that you do.” Tony hadn’t moved from his spot; he didn’t dare. If he moved over to the bar or anywhere near Loki, he knew they would both be in serious trouble.

Loki laughed softly, then gestured lightly toward the collections of bottles and glasses behind the bar. “Aren’t you going to offer me a drink?”

Damn it all to hell. “Fine,” Tony muttered and reluctantly made his way behind the bar, setting down his glass. “What’s your poison?”

“I am sure whatever it is you’re drinking will suffice.”

Without another word, Tony pulled out a tumbler from under the bar and filled it halfway with Jack Daniels. Seconds after sliding it across the counter to Loki, it slid back, empty. He looked at it, frowned.

“Why won’t you look at me?”

Fuck. Deeply inhaling, Tony’s eyes flicked up, meeting a pair of deep green eyes. Green? Tony could’ve sworn Loki’s eyes were blue. He must have looked confused because… 

“Is there a problem?”

“No, I…I thought your eyes were blue. That’s all.” Dropping his gaze, Tony refilled his glass and Loki’s before placing it in front of him. He watched Loki’s fingers wrap around the glass, felt that damn rush again.

“That day, they were. A side effect of the Tesseract’s influence, thanks to the Chitauri. You’ll remember the Hawk’s eyes were similarly blue. More so than usual,” he added before Tony could respond. Loki took a long drink, swallowed, and sighed a bit at the burn down his throat to his empty stomach. When was the last time he  refueled? He couldn’t remember. He drank again. It wasn’t what he was used to on Asgard, he thought as he ran his tongue across his lips, but it was good. “I must admit, Stark…” 

Tony looked up at his name. It was the first time Loki had ever used it.

“I’m surprised you would remember the color of my eyes.” He lifted the glass again, fixed Tony with a steady gaze over its rim. “Should I be flattered?”

Tony feigned indifference, though inside everything was fluttering, beating a mile a minute, or generally spazzing out in a way he refused to acknowledge on the outside. He finished off his drink to calm it all down. “Are you asking permission? I thought you did what you wanted. Or is that just a bunch of bullshit?”

It was silent for a beat. “Quite right.”

Tony jerked back but could go nowhere when Loki’s arm snaked out, his hand fisting in Tony’s black Aerosmith tee, and pulled him across the bar to plant his mouth on his. Tony’s lips parted to object, but when he felt that long, velvety tongue slide into his mouth, he forgot whatever it was he was going to say.

From Second Time Around, Chapter 1: Thirty-Six Days Later (WinterFrost, Modern AU, disgraced vet!Bucky, college student!Loki)

The August sun was blazing down, overheating the concrete of the sidewalks and the black pavement of the parking lot, when James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes stepped through the sliding doors of the pristine white medical building. He slipped a dark pair of shades over his sleepy ice blue eyes and idly wished he hadn't worn a black t-shirt and dark jeans. But he always favored dark colored clothes. He took a deep breath, and though the air was thick and hot, he was just grateful to be outdoors for the first time in over a month.

A car horn sounded and an old station wagon pulled up to the curb. Bucky saw a female hand push out from behind the lowered window and wave him over, followed by his mother's overly sweet voice saying, "Yoo-hoo! Bucky, dear!"

A little embarrassed, Bucky gave a small wave back and turned to the orderly that had escorted him out, shook his hand, and laughed at the man's attempt at humor when he told Bucky to not call or write or visit.

He picked up his duffel bag of personal items from the bench he stood next to and headed to the station wagon, where both of his parents now stood outside the car, waiting for him. They both welcomed him with a hug; his mother's, as usual, feeling just a bit more genuine than his father's. They all climbed back into the car and started the drive back to their quiet little town, a couple hour's drive.

Bucky stared out the window, blankly watching the world pass by, barely listening to his mother rattle on, filling him in on everything that had happened while he was cooped up in a rehabilitation facility for the past thirty-six days. Intermittently, he brought a cigarette to his lips and inhaled the rich taste of tobacco and smoke. Apparently, nothing much had changed; summer block parties were had, recent graduates both left for college and returned from it — nothing Bucky really missed out on. But the big story of the week, and likely for the rest of what was left of the summer, was about the bravery and courage of the town's favorite war hero, Captain Steve Rogers  — who also happened to be Bucky's best friend.

Steve, an Army captain, had been going on his daily jog one morning, running from one part of town to another, and back. He often liked to run alongside the ravine that crossed through the city, as it veered away from the heaviest parts of traffic. It just so happened on this particular morning, a young girl had fallen into the ravine, chasing after her ball and couldn't climb back out, after twisting her ankle. Steve had heard her cries, climbed down and carried her, and her ball, to the nearest medical office, and saved the day.

Bucky's mother fed the tale to him, sounding as prideful as a mother hen. Rightfully so, though, as she had taken on the role of parent after Steve's mother died when he was just eighteen, not long after both he and Bucky had left to join the army. Her death left his childhood friend an orphan, as his father had died when he was barely out of toddlerhood. Bucky leaned his head back against the red leather bench seat of the station wagon, concentrating on his breathing, exhaling long plumes of smoke, letting those pesky feelings of resentment and hurt seep from him, like a drop of water sliding down his back to eventually dissipate in darkness somewhere. His mother always spoke of Steve in high regard. And why shouldn't she? The guy was the shining example of the all-American good guy.

From Untitled MaLoki fic, Prologue (Maleficent/Loki, AU crossover between Maleficent (2014) and Thor (2011))

The explosions were getting louder, closer.  Maleficent, the Younger, could feel the ground shake and the windows with it. She heard voices outside and downstairs, yelling and screaming. When she looked out the window in her bedroom, she could see tunnels of smoke in the distance and shadowed figures fighting on the hills of Svartalfheim. Father was out there somewhere. 

There was so much happening, but she didn’t know what to do. What she could do. Her magic was still too powerful for her to wield. Mother was training her. But then the war happened. 

“Maleficent!“

She turned her head at her mother’s voice, shaken by its urgency. She slipped on her shoes and ran to find her. “Yes, Mama?” She stood looking over the railing where Mother was searching for her frantically in the foyer. 

“Come. Quickly. We must go.” She met Maleficent at the bottom of the stairs, and took her by the arms. “Where is Astrid?”

“I am here, milady,” a voice spoke from a doorway leading to the kitchen. 

Maleficent’s mother took her hand and reached for Astrid’s — then placed Maleficent’s into Astrid’s. “Take her. Make haste to the field beyond the forest.”

“No, Mother, I want to stay with you.”

Maleficent, the Elder, knelt before her young daughter, her fingers trailing down her chestnut hair, falling over her shoulders on either side of the horns growing out of her head. Maleficent saw her swallow thickly and her stomach twisted with anxiety. “I’m afraid you cannot, pieni korppi. The Einherjar are getting closer. You must go.” [Little Raven]

Maleficent felt tears sting her yellow eyes. “But I could help. I could—“

“No.” Maleficent the Elder was quick to quiet her daughter, her only child. She rose again and turned to Astrid. As she spoke to her, Maleficent the Younger looked past her, out of the entrance to the home she lived in with her mother and father. She could see the explosions growing nearer and nearer. 

“And remember, Astrid: Neshihi rouhilejee, tifidhoh djonta elithidheene yr ajamihi/.” [To save our people, there is nothing I would not sacrifice.]

“Yes, milady. And may the threads of the Norns guide you on your journey.”

Maleficent the Elder nodded. She turned as Maleficent called her, expecting the young fairy beside her, but found her just inside the entrance. “Maleficent…?”

Maleficent stared, frozen in horror, as a ball of orange fire headed straight for them. Her mother shouted and instinctively, Maleficent raised her arms, her magic — purple at its edges — coming to her fingers. But she never got to use it. An arm wrapped around her waist and she was hurled in the air, her young but powerful wings spread and wrapped around her body protectively as she landed directly in the arms of Astrid. 

“Run!“

“Mother!”

Maleficent reached for her, but Astrid was strong. Tears streamed down her face as she watched her mother — her strong, willful mother — hold the ball of fire back, her own magic a cobalt blue. The elder Maleficent strained and the younger knew she wouldn’t hold it much longer. 

Their eyes, matching sets of yellow with dark green edges, locked, and Maleficent heard her mother’s voice in her mind: Go, my child. I will always be with you. Kira liljal nol. Now! [I love you.]

Maleficent stopped struggling and let Astrid take her from her home. As the image of her mother being consumed by a wall of fire burned into her memory, Maleficent vowed revenge on Bor, son of Buri, and the realm of Asgard.

Apologies for the length. LOL. Three or four sentences is hardly anything. If you read this far, yay! Thanks!

xoxo, La