#if anyone has any suggestions your more than welcome to suggest something :)

[drdawnbreaker]

𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐒𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐭 ☆ 𝐁.𝐁

Synopsis: There was a demon on the loose, wreaking havoc in the small village that Father Barnes was a priest in. And he was going to stop at nothing to find who and where the creature was. Good thing he has a little helper to aid in his efforts.

Word count:  4.03k

Genre: 18+ Supernatural. Angst. Gore. Suggestive.

Pairing: Priest!Bucky x Female!Reader

Warnings: Swearing. Blood. Gore. Mentions of assult. Weapons. Demons and angels. Religion. Death. Making out. Sinning. Dirty thoughts. Thick flirtatious tension. Listen, I was deep in my feelings when I wrote this argh.

Note: I'm a sucker for destructive angsty priest with a morally grey streak, okay... sue me. I may or may not make a part two. Who knows.

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Bucky paced around his office, feeling himself grow more and more frustrated as the minutes progressed. He had been in this tiny, god-forsaken town for the past three months, searching far and wide, under every rock and pebble, and still, he was not any closer to finding this wandering demon. His agency had put him undercover as the new priest in the local church since sadly the old one had passed away from...sudden circumstances, which Bucky later found to be the said demon’s doing. He had hopes to find the creature and kill it before it hurt anyone else, but sadly, the challenge seemed bigger than he anticipated.

Placing his hands on the large spruce table, he takes in all his notes for the millionth time. The demon had a distinctive pattern, killing only men, twenty-five and over, locally born, ranging from all classes and backgrounds. But what did they all have in common? Why did the creature choose these men in particular? What was the trigger? Bucky felt like he was about to rip his hair out if he couldn’t figure it out by the end of the fourth month. He slammed his hand down onto the table in a fit of rage. Feeling the heat shift into his spine at the thought, the demon could be anyone. That he had passed by it without knowing. It could stand right in front of him, and he had already probably missed it.

“Father…” Your sweet velvet tone snapped him from his thoughts. You were tightly holding onto your bible with one hand against your chest, prayer beads lacing through your fingers while your other hand held the large door open. Your expression was filled with innocence and worry. “I heard noises. I… Are you okay?”

His heart skips at you, the sweet church girl, his face tainting a dusty pink ever so slightly. “Uh.. Yes. I'm just…working.” He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact. He wouldn't admit it, but through these past months, he had fallen quite infatuated with you. Your smile began an addiction he sought out every day.

Every early morning, you came into the church alone to pray before skipping to his office to ask if he needed any help. You were so kind and caring in welcoming him into the community. Making sure he had everything he could ever need shortly after he arrived. You were the only good thing to seemingly come out of this dull, mopey town.

Looking at you cautiously step into the room, your eyes wandering to the decoration on the shelf that you had no doubt memorised already, an idea came flooding into his head. You were locally born, as far as he was aware. And you know of everyone, so maybe he needed to gather some intel from an inside source and who then, you, the sweet sunshine that cascaded over the grey hills of this village. “Actually… I would like to ask you a question.”

You stopped in your tracks to glance over at the man, showing no sign of any emotion. You were still, pondering even. Your eyes wide and curious but your lips held in a thin firm line. “Ask away, father.”

He almost lost the question from his shuttered tongue as he watched your mouth creep up into a loving smile. But alas, he cleared his throat, quickly looking down to graze over his notes. “I must confess something…”

Your body tingled in inquisitiveness, taking a step closer. “Yes…” you bit your lip slightly, fiddling with the beads in your tight grasp.

“I am not just a priest. I'm.. a hunter of sorts.” He lifted up a piece of paper for you to take in your free hand, letting you look it over. The paper was old, aged marking the edges and face. It was information about demonology. Words that seemed to pop out the most on the page were ‘dangerous’, ‘demon’, ‘sinful’. This thing... This demonic creature was in your home, killing the men of your village. One by one.

“...So it’s true. There is devil work lurking in the town.” You gulped your hands, shaking slightly, handing the piece of parchment back to Bucky. “Is anyone else aware of this?”

“No. You are the first and only person I’ll tell. This town doesn’t need to start going on witch hunts to try and find the creatures themselves.” Bucky pinched his nose, just imagining it gave him a headache. He let out a sigh, picking up a few more sheets to place in front of you, "This is all I know. I was sent here to capture and eradicate the beast that has been luring men into the outwest woods. But for the life of me, I can't find the connection to all of the victims other than them being male."

You looked over all the names, reading each autopsy report carefully. Your mind to a thought, no, it couldn't be.. could it? Looking up at Bucky, you gulped. "Umm, F-father."

"Please just call me Bucky." He grunted, tugging on his white band around his neck, feeling himself grow hot being frustrated and also being near you.

"I think I know the connection..." You picked up another piece of paper scanning while Bucky stared at you intensely, waiting for you to proceed. "The first five victims. They had been accused of misconduct prior to their deaths."

You pointed to one of the names showing Bucky, "For example, John Hart, he was reported for beating his wife." You pointed to another name further down the list, "Edward Smith's wife called assault on her husband, saying he raped his daughter, but there wasn't any such evidence."

You turned the paper back to yourself, raking your hand through your hair, "All of these men have either beaten, assaulted, and raped women or have been at least accused of it."

Bucky slumped down on his seat in defeat. A conflict shadowing in his view. All these men were pigs. That was the connection. "Great, so I have a demon playing god and smiting men for misdeeds...perfect." he placed his palm on his face, groaning in annoyance.

"What are you going to do now, fath—I mean Bucky?" You took a seat on one of the chairs opposite the deck, resting your bible down on your lap as you sat up pin straight.

Bucky clicked his tongue, glancing at you for a moment. He wasn't going to lie to himself. The way you said his name was music to his ears. A tone he would never get tired of. But he shook his thoughts to look at the papers littering his desk. "We're gonna catch a demon.”

-

Following the next few days, every evening you and Bucky would meet up to discuss the case while also slowly gathering materials for the trap. You had told Bucky any more information you’ve heard or if you heard of any more allegations about any of the town's men. Luckily no one had spread any new rumours about anyone which was good, leaving you both to focus on the task at hand. Capturing and then eradicating the demon. One particularly cold evening, you and Bucky had spent a little bit too long searching through town books, not taking any notice of the sun lying to rest. It was only when you started to feel the chill on your exposed arms that you gazed out the window, seeing nothing but pitch night.

“When did it become so late?” Your voice barely above a whisper. Bucky, who was only a few feet beside you, looked up from the book in his lap, suddenly feeling the coldness creep down his spine.

"We should call it a night." Bucky slammed the book a little too harshly, making you jump. He caught your reaction but decided it was best to bite his tongue. Instead, he stood up, holding his hand out for you to take, "I'll walk you out."

You took his hand gently, your soft skin making him gulp. The touch of you was electrifying, like a thousand little fireworks going off at once in his chest. His fingers wrapped tightly around yours, tugging you up off the library floor, but his tug was a little bit forceful, causing you to be pulled flushed against his chest. Your free hand coming up to brace yourself on his chest. "F-father."

"I told you to call me Bucky. Please. I'm just Bucky." He whispered his breath, pooling against your cheek. He watched the blush taint your cute features, your eyes widening as he inched closer. You smelt of firewood, vanilla, and a beautiful mixture of floral scents. You were intoxicating.

"Bucky... We are still in the church." You murmured, eyes slowly fluttering as you let him creep closer until his lips were a brush away. Your hand that landed on his chest lowered, feeling his strong muscles underneath his robes.

"I know..." He grunted through his nose. He snaked his hand from your wrist to your upper arm before taking place on the back of your neck while his other found place on your hip. "We aren't doing anything sinful."

"Hmm, but your thoughts would say otherwise." You smiled.

"You have no idea what I'm thinking about." He chuckled, his lips brushing against yours.

"I could take a guess.” You closed your eyes, sealing your lips on his, feeling an overwhelment of sparks crackling down your spine. Bucky grunted through his nose as the kiss became rougher. His fingers tangled into strands of hair on the nape of your neck while he swallowed every whimper and moan from you. It was like you were a deliciously wicked sweet treat.

Forbidden fruit he was not allowed to taste.

He couldn’t explain it but it was like you were the only thing that mattered the minute he met you. Like you were the puzzle piece he had been missing “B-Buck” You tried to pull away from him but his grip was firm on you, “We are going to…” You felt his tongue against your mouth, “Get..c-caught.” You couldn’t help but smile beneath the desperate kiss.

He finally pulled away, groaning in disappointment. “I know…” He sighed letting his grip loosen. Your hands snaked up his body gently before you pulled away entirely.

“Walk me out?” You suggested what he had asked moments prior. Bucky couldn’t help but feel himself grow in his slacks as he gazed upon your swollen lips and dishevelled hair. You were stunning in every possible way.

He walked with you to the front of the church, his hand grazing your own every time your arms swung a little too close to one another. Bucky felt like a schoolboy all over again, walking next to the girl he had a crush on.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Bucky smiled bittersweetly, turning to face you completely. You faced him also, shyly looking up at him with your cheeks tainted red.

"Tomorrow, Bucky ." You gave him a soft smile. Your fingers tangle with themselves as you patiently wait for him to say goodbye first.

"Well, sleep well. Goodnight..." The way your name fell from his lips made your heart thump as you nodded, leaning up to kiss his cheek gently. He swore he felt a tingle dance from where you place your lips on him. Walking off into the village towards your home, Bucky never took his eyes off you until you were out of sight.

"Lord..." He sighed, feeling himself breathing properly for the first time all day. He felt a twinge in his body at the loss of your scent, but alas, he had work to do if he wanted to catch this creature. But a part of him began to second guess himself. Yes, demons are bad, killing anything they want. But this demon. It had a reason. And a stupidly good one for that matter.

It annoyed him at the confliction. All demons are bad. Right? They lust for blood and chaos. Nothing more, nothing less. As he stepped back into the large church entrance, his mind spun from all the thoughts. Something was wrong with this whole thing. Something he had missed, maybe? Pinching his nose, he felt lightheaded. His fingers danced around his nostrils, suddenly gasping. "Blood?"

Looking up to the aisle in the middle of the church, he saw the moon start to pool into the room through the round window by the altar. And then, as he took another step, his mind snapped. His eyes clouded over with black, and he fell towards the floor.

He was out like a light.

When Bucky awoke, he could feel the stiffness in his neck. He must have been out a while. Groaning, he held his head as he slowly sat up. But what caught him off guard was he wasn't sitting where he fell. He had moved? Looking around his fuzzy eyes, he noticed he was right on the altar, leaning against the lectern.

Looking around, he tries to get his bearings. Noticing the moon has reached its peak, shining through the top window, indicating it was almost midnight. He had been passed out for almost two or three hours give or take. But what caught his attention was the overwhelming smell of iron. He touched the top of his lip, feeling the blood from his nose had dried. But this blood smelt fresh like it was right behind him...

In horror, he turned his head to see the gruesome sight that anchored his mind in dread—a lifeless man strung up on the cross behind him, the body pallid and still. A choked gasp escaped him, slamming his hand over his mouth as the image in front of him flooded his conscience. He went to move, but that was when he noticed his legs were bound. He struggled against him, confusion spiralling into terror. What was going on?

Just then, the church doors creaked open, and a familiar figure stepped inside. It was you, but the tender girl he had come to love now had an aura that chilled him to the bone. Her once bright eyes were shadowed, and your skin was tainted in a light shade of pink. "Bucky!!"

You ran over to him. This is when he could finally see you properly in the moonlight. Little horns poked from the top of your head. "Bucky. I thought... You're okay." You sighed, your voice sounding different. It was smoother, seductive almost, lacing with an otherworldly quality.

"What is this? What’s happened?” he stammered, heart pounding painfully in his chest. You were a demon. A lust demon to be exact. He'd never met a succubus in real life before, but he knew what they looked like through details in his demonology.

"I don't know. I got a letter saying you were hurt and needed my help." Your voice cracked as you reached for his bonds, but when your skin touched them, it stung, burning your skin. They were cursed? "W-who did this?"

"I could ask you that." Bucky’s bitterness caught you off guard.

"W-what do..." You looked down and saw your hands were shaded in pink, and in a flash, you ran for the silverware on the table seeing your distorted reflection. "Y-you can see me..."

"Yes.." Bucky replied coldly and conflicted. How could you, of all people be a creature of the damned.

"Bucky, listen, please. I'm not the demon you've been trying to catch, I swear." You kneeled back down to him, but he shuffled away, making your heart flinch. "I've watched you since the moment you came into this town. Your love, your promises, and your weakness. You want to save things. Not kill them. You are caring. That is how I fell in love with you.”

"Love? Demons can not do such things." Bucky’s voice felt like venom on your skin, making tears pool in your eyes.

"They...I can. I did. You changed that for me."

“No, I—I thought you were human,” he gasped, memories of laughter and warmth filling his mind, only to be replaced by dread. He missed so many signs. From the smell of you to the way you had with words. You were using him.

"Bucky, I wasn't, I swear to you. I might be a monster, but I've never hurt anyone." You interrupted his thoughts, shuffling closer, your presence both magnetic and terrifying to Bucky. "Please, Bucky, you have to believe me."

Bucky wrestled with his emotions as the reality of your true nature engulfed him. Were the demon he had been searching for, cleverly disguised and lurking in the heart of the town, feeding on the very compassion and affection he thought in no way could lead to sin? Or were you telling the truth? Were you just an innocent creature caught in the crossfire?

Looking at you, he can see the swirls of pink and crimson mixing with your human eye colour. The sweetness he fell for was still there. "I believe you."

You jumped into his arms, tears spilling down your hit cheeks as you nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

As the church pulsed with an otherworldly energy, Bucky realised he had known he made a daring choice—not to fight or falter but to embrace the truth of who he was, who you were. Life wasn't all black and white. There were beautiful shades of grey that he never took the moment to gaze upon before. He took a deep breath, taking in your sweet familiar scent before pulling you up by your chin to stare into the eyes of the creature he had fallen in love with.

"I was wrong about you. I'm sorry." He declared, a newfound resolve gripping his heart as he smiled at you. But before you could say anything, a new voice. A deeper one echoed in the cold eerie church.

“No, Father. You are wrong. But not for what you think.” The man's voice was a cruel tone, dark and chilling. Both of you snapped your gaze to him, seeing he was not alone. Two other men were trailing close behind him. "And here I thought you wouldn't succumb to her charms..." His face was finally revealed in the light. "My best hunter."

"Rumlow?" Bucky’s voice was laced with confusion. His mentor? "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, Bucky. For an expert hunter, you never really got the wit down, did you?" The man chuckled, making the other two follow suit like some perfect chimed robots. Rumlow's gaze glances at the hanging corpse, still hammered into the cross. He couldn't help but click his tongue.

"You know it almost pained me to kill these men. But desperate times called for desperate measures." The older man cracked his knuckles as he paced slightly. You shuffled closer to Bucky, cuddling desperately next to him. For the first time in all your life, you felt fear.

With all Bucky’s strength, he pushed against the ropes, his spirit igniting in defiance. In this moment of battle between light and dark, he defied the very nature of the demon that he loves and found the depths of the confrontation. He felt a flicker of the love he had for you, now intertwined with anger and betrayal from his mentor, another he had loved or hated in a way. Whatever you were, he no longer cared. No, all he wanted was you safe. Little did you know, you could hear Bucky’s thoughts loud and clear, pooling into your brain like a tidal.

"We've been looking for her for years. Laying traps, but no matter what we did, she wouldn't take the bait. That was until we found out she wasn't like other demons..."

Without dropping your eyes from the man, you placed your hand just over the bounds on Bucky. You began to focus on the ropes, whispering an incantation in your head over and over.

"She's also a witch." Rumlow snarked, snapping his fingers. One of the men quickly made his way over to you while the other seemingly grabbed out a book from the satchel that hung over his shoulder.

"B-Bucky. JAMES!!" The man grabbed you by the horns, yanking you backwards before dragging you towards Rumlow. You cried out, trashing against his hold. Bucky went to stand, but the bounds were still tight, and no matter how many times he tried to grab the rope, it burnt him.

"Don't you fucking touch her!" Bucky barked.

"Awe, Bucky. You really are a stupid little boy." Rumlow grabbed the book from his henchman, flicking through the pages with a cynical smile. "Out of everything you could have done. Falling for a beast was not what I thought you'd do."

"She's not a beast!!" Bucky could feel a tear break in his eyes as he watched you weep in pain as the grip on your sensitive horns tightened. Your claws scratch at the man's hands, but he doesn't move as if he wasn't affected by his flesh being ripped by your sharp nails.

"Well, this was all fun and all. But I think we should call it a night. I gotta thank you, though, Barnes. Without you, we would have never caught her." Rumlow began reading a page from the book aloud. The enchantment caught your attention, making you do as much as you possibly could to look over at Bucky.

Covered in blood, tears staining his sharp features. Your heart broke as you hiccuped, "I'm sorry, Bucky. I...I love you." It might have been too early to say it, but you didn't know when you'd ever be able to say it again.

"No no no no. Please. I love you too." He grabbed his bounds, his hand sizzling against the cursed rope, "Brock, don't do this. She's not a monster... you can't."

Rumlow didn't stop his incantation as the floor began to shake, and the night started to stir. That's when the man behind Rumlow stepped forward with a thick leather band in his hand. The man that held you tilted your head to the side, giving access for the man to click the collar in place. That was when Bucky knew what Rumlow was doing to you. He was binding you.

"I'll find you..." Your name rang in the air as Bucky cried, "I'll find you and break you free."

It was your turn to cry, hearing his thoughts. There was no doubt in his mind, nothing but determination and honesty in his words. "I'll wait for you."

The sound of the book being slammed closed reverberated against the walls. Yours and Bucky’s eyes snapped back to Rumlow seeing him pull out a gun, "You shouldn’t have said that, Barnes." His voice was cold, with his eyes empty.

Silence fell as the fire from a gunshot rang in your ears. Blood spilled out of Bucky’s mouth seconds later as he choked it all over the altar. You screamed, a noise so loud it would shatter the hearts in a mile radius. The floor beneath you shook, cracking before opening. The last thing you could see before the floor swallowed you whole was your lover, dying on the doorstep of the religion he so desperately trusted.

And Bucky..... he laid on his back, the wound in his chest spluttering the crimson liquid into the carpet staining and ruining the fabric. He could see the moon above him. Feeling the light raze on his skin. His eyes closed for a moment, taking in the tingling feeling. There was no more pain. Sadness washed away with every drop of blood that fell onto the stairs, and then he whispered out a stutter before taking his last breath.

"Forgive me, lord... I have sinned.”

—

© DrDawnBreaker. Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost, or use my work in any way, shape, or form.

[cacoetheswriting]

Please more Congressman Bucky and his assistant - I beg of you. I love your writing so much, been a silent follower for a long time!

stop it omg! i'm glad you're here and i hope you enjoy this <3

pairing: congressman!bucky barnes x assistant!fem!reader word count: 1.5k

content warnings: suggestive & mature themes, adult language, workplace romance in the making (aka slow burn), power dynamic imbalance (boss/employee), age gap (although not necessarily specified, reader would be mid 20s and bucky is obviously over 100 lol), mutual pining, use of pet names, fluff, jealousy and slightly possessive bucky - unedited - if i missed anything, pls let me know!

a/n: technically part 2 of this fic, but can be totally read as a standalone.

A document remains hidden in the bottom drawer of Bucky’s desk, under some random paperwork that no one will ever need.

You’re his assistant. Nothing more, nothing less. That’s how it should be — despite said document itching at the back of his mind. The blank Consensual Relationship Agreement (just in case, or whatever bullshit he’s telling himself).

Days pass as normally as they can. Following a rather flirty lunch, you’re careful around him, not wanting to say anything untoward. Bucky notices this shift immediately and ultimately decides, despite the overwhelming urge to ask what’s on your mind, if you’re as confused as he is, equally lost in the possibilities, not to point it out. 

News of a job opportunity in London spreads through the office like wildfire. Working for the Prime Minister, now that’s experience Bucky can’t guarantee and he makes himself forget about the document along with the attached attraction and one conversation that led to almost… nothing. It led to nothing.

You don’t say anything to anyone, until the day of his big speech.

Karen, Head of Personnel and human resources police, informs the future congressman you took a couple of personal days. She doesn’t give any details, but Bucky suspects it has something to do with London. A pain in his chest, a crack.

Luckily, the event goes without a hitch. Bucky is a hit. His speech was impressive, jaw muscles relaxed — a vast improvement from the last couple of times, and there's only one person to thank.

Afterwards, he’s redirected to a different room where a portion of the attending voters, who are also big campaign sponsors, gather to meet with him personally for a further discussion. He’s circling the crowd, shaking hands and waving.

There, amongst the few, Bucky’s gaze immediately latches itself to you. Like a magnet. Surprise graces his otherwise brooding features and he chews the inside of his cheek, fighting back a smile.

You wave. Fingers dangling one by one.

“Excuse me,” he says to one of the sponsors currently accosting him, “I’ll be right back.”

All eyes are on him as he crosses the room, but he doesn’t care. You’re with him, not in London, like he suspected you might be.

“What are you doing here?” His tone is pleasant, welcoming. “It’s your day off.”

“I’ve been told to remind you about a charity dinner for Survivors of The Blip.”

“You could have called,” he says simply, “I’m a pretty relaxed boss. You don’t need to uproot your day to do your job, especially during your time off.”

“I know you don’t really check your phone when you’re attending these things,” you say, tilting your head sideways. “So I figured it’ll be easier to come here and remind you personally.”

You smile sweetly. And because silence stretches, as he holds your eye contact a little too long, you add:

“Plus I have a date in the area.”

Bucky’s jaw locks at the word ‘date’. The sting of jealousy is worse than thinking he may never see you again.

“I watched your speech on my way here,” you tell the brooding man, not letting him stew. “You did good. Definitely an improvement from last time.”

He drops his shoulders, relaxing, and lets out a low, breathy chuckle.

“I took your advice.”

You arch a brow. “Had S-E-X?”

“No, no.” Bucky shakes his head, smirking. “To test that theory, I’m waiting for a uh…”

“Worthy mate?”

He snorts. “Something like that.”

There’s another beat of silence. Charged with something far beyond platonic. He’s fighting the sense to reach for you, here in front of all these people.

“You should get back to mingling,” you say. “There will be a car waiting for you out front in an hour taking you to the hotel. You have a room, number 313. Here’s the key and you’ll find your tux hanging on the wardrobe door.”

“And you?” Bucky asks unintentionally. The key in his Vibranium palm, your fingers still gently pressing against the plastic.

“Me?”

“You know where I’ll be. Shouldn’t I know where you are?” He’s testing the waters. You can tell him to fuck off, he’ll understand. He’ll hate every second of it, but he’ll understand.

Instead, you roll your eyes. “I’ll send you a location pin, boss.”

And with that, you saunter out of the room. 

He watches you go off on your date with a sinking feeling in his chest. Rationally, Bucky knows it’s ridiculous. He’s got no claim on you. Aside from occasional light flirting, there’s nothing else going on between the two of you. He may want there to be — especially late at night, when he’s in bed all alone — but from what he hears, London is on the table and he won’t hold you back from chasing a dream.

The charity dinner is just more politics.

Bucky is bored out of his mind. He wishes for a friendly face. Sometimes Wilson attends these things, but tonight doesn’t seem to be on Captain America’s agenda. So he sits alone at the large banquet table and nurses a whiskey.

Someone will approach the odd time. Thank him for his good work or wish him luck in the upcoming election. He politely shakes their hand, makes small talk, and lets them walk away to the next table.

He thinks to thank you tomorrow. For the work you do. All these people, telling him how great he is for the personalised emails with detailed information on campaign progress. The meeting reminders, and the efficient follow-ups with transcribed minutes. The overall care. You do that.

Uncharted feelings aside, losing you to London would be a blow to his campaign.

And just as Bucky is thinking of possible ways to influence you to stay, his phone buzzes. He retrieves it from the inside pocket of his tux. Your name graces his screen and the brunette man can’t help the smile that circles his lips.

The text is simple. A location pin, as promised, to a restaurant a block away.

He types: Received with thanks.

Three dots appear, then disappear. One minute passes and nothing. Bucky thinks you must be enjoying your date and is about to lock his phone, put it away, when it vibrates in his grasp once more.

You: In case charity becomes too boring.

Bucky blinks at the words. He re-reads the text a couple of times to really make sure you’ve sent it, and even after he’s done so, he’s not sure what to make of it.

He sends: Am I faking a work emergency?

You: ???

Bucky: What about your date?

You: I wouldn’t be texting my boss if I was enjoying myself.

Then, a few seconds later.

You: No show.

The brunette man’s grip tightens around the glass in his hand. Anger rises, bubbles up inside his chest, waiting to burst. He does his best to suppress the feeling, but the thought of you sitting alone at a restaurant, stood up by some dickhead, makes it difficult.

He’s up on his feet, making his way through the crowd before he can talk himself out of the idea.

Outside, the air is chilling. Bucky hopes it’s not a sign of what’s to come. He walks down the dimly lit streets of the city, phone in one hand because even though he’s got your current location memorised, the blue dot is enticing. He can’t let it disappear.

He can’t let you disappear.

There it is again, the thought of losing you to London. Creeping up on him, then falling like a ton of bricks. Bucky quickly shakes his head. Trying to suppress what he’s feeling about this particular scenario. Now is not the time.

Nearing the restaurant, Bucky’s movement falters. He sees you standing outside. One arm hugging the long coat closer to your body, the other down your side, flicking ash off a cigarette. You lift your head in his direction, almost as if you can feel his gaze on you, and a smile flashes across your features.

“Didn’t think you’d actually show,” you say as he approaches. Honey-like tone, although a splinter of sadness.

“There’s only so much mingling I can handle.” Bucky’s careful with his words.

You raise a brow. “I suppose I’m flattered. Not every boss would choose his PA over a fancy dinner.”

He swallows. I’d choose you over everything, seems like too loaded of an answer. But the words are there, at the tip of his tongue. He just can’t push himself to say them. Yet.

“Should we go in?” Bucky asks, hand at the back of his head, uneasy, not wanting to let silence win because when it’s quiet, you might decide this — whatever this is — is a mistake. He’ll unintentionally push you towards London.

“I uh, I actually gave the table up,” you answer, putting the cigarette out, and he tries to hide his disappointment.

He swallows a breath, arm falling back down to his side. Then, Bucky looks around. Some passers-by point, whisper. His lips purse into a tight, fake smile. He waves and mouths hello, as always polite because that’s how he was raised, but truthfully, he wants you alone.

He’d even settle for alone-ish.

“But I’m assuming you didn’t eat?” The brooding brunette wonders, catching your eyes once again.

You shake your head in response.

“Then let’s go, sweetheart.” Charming tone and that damn moniker making your cheeks bloom with blood.

Bucky proceeds to turn on his heel and starts to walk, glancing over his shoulder to make sure you’re following — which, to his delight, you are.

With a bright smile on your face.

as always, thank you for reading & please support your writers by reblogging <3

[crossdressingdeath]

Hm. Interesting that you managed to misgender Ivenci despite it being... basically impossible to miss that they use they/them. Not a good look. Word of advice, if you want your arguments to be taken seriously I'd suggest not missing very obvious aspects of the characters you're trying to talk about. And that's the kind interpretation of that little fuck up of yours; if you're being a bigoted cunt then kindly fuck right off out of this fandom, you don't belong here and are not welcome.

Anyway. Impressive how you've managed to totally miss the point of Ivenci's whole plotline, which is very clearly that pretty words mean nothing if you don't back them up with meaningful action. Ivenci says a pretty piece about getting rid of the Crows and replacing them with Antiva's "rightful leaders", but those rightful leaders are... Ivenci, according to their own obvious motives and explicit plans (and they're likely also some level of aristocrat, although that's never confirmed; you know that the only democracy in Thedas is Orzammar, right? And even that seems to often end up being a monarchy with extra steps? Government isn't for the lower classes in a setting like Thedas). Even if we ignore that, the "true" (for lack of a better word) rightful leaders of Antiva are either the king or the merchant princes, depending on whether you believe the story or the truth of how Antiva is run. Ivenci's not advocating for some modern democracy, they're advocating for a monarchy on paper and. whatever it's called when a low-ranking bureaucrat starts poisoning people who disagree with them in reality. I'm not going to rehash all my points, because frankly I can't be bothered and if you can't be arsed to actually engage with what I'm saying I'm not going to waste my time repeating myself, but "the Crows are the ones who put their money where their mouths are while Ivenci is trying to use a horrible situation that they deliberately made worse to take control of the city and then kill anyone who disagrees with them" is in fact kind of the fucking point; hey, maybe Bioware in 2024 was more interested in saying something about politicians than their fake assassins' guild that lives in Antiva and so has entirely amoral reasons to not let any of this happen.

And yeah. They are all fictional. Glad you managed to pick up on that. But that means everyone is "sanitized" (by which I mean allowed a place within the setting where they would hopefully be stamped out in real life; groups not being pure evil isn't sanitization, it's called writing a good story) compared to what they'd be in reality. Orlais is an empire. Basically everywhere else is a monarchy. There's a church with a private army that goes on state-sanctioned killing sprees. Every playable character in the series has a triple-digit body count. All of this is treated as if not totally fine then at least an accepted part of life. The Crows are not actually meaningfully worse than any of that; it's called fantasy, it's no fun if everyone's clinging to modern day morality. They're also objectively not a mafia; they have the accent and some of the aesthetic, but the games and books make it very clear that they're closer to merchant princes (at least some of them are merchant princes, in fact) than any sort of criminal enterprise. This is a setting where "professional killer" is a legitimate career. If you can't deal with that that's your problem, not mine.

I am once again begging people to realize that Ivenci does not in fact want to "make Antiva better", that's not why they want the Crows gone. This is someone who straight up let Treviso get occupied by the Antaam who fuck up every city they occupy (and tbh it is actually insane to me that a mage let the Antaam occupy their city after the atrocities in Ventus, which must have happened before the Antaam took Treviso because occupied Ventus is referenced in Eight Little Talons which happens before Antiva is invaded; it says a lot that Ivenci thought that was a good idea). They tried to gas the city with qamek (again, insane thing for a mage specifically to be doing after Ventus, these experienced writers did that on purpose) to remove the Crows and their supporters yes but also anyone who spoke out against the occupation too loudly. Guys, please, Ivenci wants power. We are repeatedly told and shown that they want power. They'd rather destroy the minds of half the city and give those remaining to the Antaam than not have power. Their immediate response to being told they'll be put on trial—with the knowledge of the king and merchant princes, so even if we assume the Crows don't have the legal right to do that they fully intend to cover their bases on that front—for all that treason it is at this point well documented they've been committing is "You can't do that to me, I'm the governor of this city". Them saying the Crows are bad does not mean they're right because they could not more clearly think the Crows are bad because they're getting in their way specifically.

They're not even right about why the Crows are bad; first and easiest the stuff about the Crows murdering people in the street is just straight up nonsense, there is literally nothing in any other game or this one suggesting they do that, they kill people they are hired to kill (and because they're so expensive those targets are extremely unlikely to include random people on the street) and claiming they're as bad as the Antaam (who we do see dragging people away during the first visit to Treviso) is ridiculous. And second... I've said this many times, but defending Antiva is literally the Crows' job. If the people of Treviso or Rook (or Ivenci, although they wouldn't for obvious reasons) went to the king and asked for help to free Treviso, the king would send them straight back to the Crows because defending Antiva is their duty and they do it proudly and as well as they can. Keeping Ivenci in the loop is the limit of what they're really required to do, and frankly given Ivenci is a) incredibly rude, b) wildly suspicious and c) entirely useless it's really more than they deserve, someone please replace this person with a competent governor who actually wants to help their people. Also no I won't ever be over them standing around doing nothing except insisting Crows Bad right outside the field hospital the Crows set up and are fighting to defend from the Antaam in blighted Treviso. This is where everyone involved in this situation who claims to care for Treviso should be putting their money where their mouths are and it is telling and pointed that the Crows do at great personal cost—the Crow casualties dying of blight and getting warped into monsters that the other Crows with Rook's aid have to put down so they aren't suffering and can't hurt anyone was deliberate, can people stop acting like the Crows are totally fine and untouched in blighted Treviso—and Ivenci and the Butcher don't, that was a deliberate storytelling choice and I would like people to stop ignoring it.

Ivenci is not insisting the Crows should stay out of it because it's not their job and they're overstepping; they're saying it because it is the Crows' job and they are interfering with Ivenci's plans, which is in fact evidence of the Crows working as intended in their role as Antiva's defenders (which does make the argument that Ivenci's right about the Crows being bad for Antiva somewhat ironic, given they're walking proof of the Crows being pretty good at their role even while being actively sabotaged and before anyone suggests Rook's doing all the work I'm saying right now that that's not the case, the Crows are clearly doing a lot when Rook's not around, and if you claim it is because we don't see them doing it you'd better be claiming that literally every faction is completely worthless because that argument does not apply to just the Crows). I am begging people to use their critical thinking skills, people saying things you agree with in broad terms and people being right are two entirely different things.

[corrodedparadox]

Looking to try out some red foil prints and I think I might start with these?

I’ve also been eyeing some iridescent + gold foil and I think these would look cool in foil,,,, so many choices. What the fuck.

[roguishcat]

Fangs and Cheeks

Summary: Astarion is an ass man.

Excerpt:

“I don’t expect any physical intimacy. I love what we have. I love you,” you said truthfully. “But um… You being lost in the moment, being so feral about it… It felt nice.”

“My rutting against your ass like a hormonal hound would with a bitch in heat? I’m sure it was a magical moment,” he quipped sarcastically.

Word count: 4.3k

Rating: Exlicit (MNDI)

Tags: Dry humping, PinV sex, orgasm denial, somnophilia kink, Reader being a bit of a brat, brat taming (if you squint), Reader having a danger kink, Reader denying that she has a danger kink, oral (female receiving), soft dom Astarion, smut and fluff, Astarion is loved, smug Astarion

A/N: Please tell me if you notice typos and mistakes. ❤️ Constructive criticism is appreciated. Comments are always loved! ❤️

(dividers by @saradika)

Once you and Astarion were in what you would call a ‘proper relationship’, you quickly discovered that he was a very tactile person. Astarion hated being touched out of the blue, grimacing and stiffening if anyone got too near for his liking. Yet, he was rather partial to keeping his hands on you. He was especially fond of your derrière, making sure that it received plenty of attention from him.

In hindsight, it's been this way ever since you first slept together. An occasional brush here and there. His hand on the small of your back moving further south than was necessary. The little squeeze that could be nothing but your imagination. Just you being hopeful and wanting your feelings to be reciprocated. Because you were under no illusion that your romp was nothing but that.

Astarion was gorgeous, ethereal, and intoxicating. All sharp lines and velvety words. Words which time and time again affected you in a way that you'd not thought possible until you met him.

And you? As much as you wanted there to be more to your trysts, you were painfully aware of the fact that you were conveniently there at a time when he felt like blowing off some steam. 

Yet, as you fought your way through the Shadow-Cursed Lands, shared victories and supported each other through the horrors that awaited around every corner, you felt a change. Like something between you shifted just enough for Astarion to start looking at you in a way that had your heart fluttering like a caged bird.

His touches became softer. He lingered. Held you closer, spent more time with you than necessary. Instead of drinking from you when you were asleep, Astarion would find an excuse to be in your tent whilst you were still awake, as if wanting to hear you ask again and again if he was in the mood for a nibble.

Astarion started sharing more of himself with you, telling you of what he had been through over the past two centuries. And you realised that perhaps to Astarion you being there for him, standing up for him, seeing him as a person, was novel and very welcome.

When Astarion confessed, nervously telling you of his deception, his guilty conscience not allowing him to take advantage of your affection for him any longer, you assured him that being with him was enough.

More than enough.

With you agreeing to abstain until he felt ready to resume the sexual part of your relationship, Astarion seemed to come to enjoy just being with you, exploring intimacy that other forms of touch brought.

You felt giddy every time you asked for a kiss and Astarion agreed most enthusiastically. Kissing you deeply, both his hands squeezing your butt tightly, kneading the soft flesh in a way that had you both moaning into the kiss.

Lae’zel would roll her eyes and march past you with a huff, muttering something unsavoury under her breath about istiks and their peculiar mating rituals. Her words would go completely ignored.

Shadowheart would smirk and pretend to be annoyed, remarking that if they were to be subjected to seeing you be all over each other, at least some change in repertoire would be nice.

Gale would suggest that for the sake of the others he would be more than happy to teach you to cast Silence.

You were not really sure why everyone assumed that you and Astarion were doing more than share each other’s space. It never went past kissing. And perhaps a little under the shirt action. Just as you agreed, you gave Astarion space and time to figure out what he was comfortable with. The two of you would hold hands, cuddle up to each other, share heated looks and sweetest kisses that made your toes curl. And without fail Astarion’s hands would eventually be touching, patting, squeezing, playfully slapping, or pinching your ass.

So, it really was not that much of a surprise when you woke up one fine morning with Astarion rutting against your clothed backside. Now, whilst you had no issue with your vampire enjoying himself, having explicitly stated to him on several occasions that you were game for whatever he would come up with, you were not entirely sure what to do now.

Should you just stay still? Judging by how his pace was picking up and the way his gentle grunts were becoming more audible by the second, Astarion would be done soon. He was clearly so lost in the moment and eager to chase his release that he didn’t even pick up on the change in your heartbeat.

Most of the time you slept like a log. It would take wildebeest stampeding past your tent for you to stir. Which is probably why Astarion, having made plenty of quips and jokes about your almost impressive ability to fall asleep in any place as soon as your head touched the bedroll, was not being particularly careful about being quiet.

Yes, staying still was probably best. If you were entirely honest, Astarion wanting you so desperately was doing wonders for your confidence. And the moans and muffled grunts, his cool fingers on your hips, soft curls tickling the back of your neck, got you hot and bothered in seconds. You two weren’t intimate in... a while. And whilst this was not exactly how you thought you would next be intimate, you'd take it.

And then you felt your nose itch. What started as a just little itch that had you scrunching you nose in annoyance was becoming worse by the second. Oh, hells! You were going to sneeze!

You tried to turn your head ever so discreetly to the side and rub your nose against the bedroll. Surprisingly enough, even you moving got absolutely zero reaction from Astarion. And this would be the end of your predicament if you were anyone but the unluckiest woman in all the realms.

Your violent sneeze was like a clap of thunder on a still night.

As you blinked your watery, bleary eyes, you realised that Astarion stopped, the fingers gripping your hips no longer there. You gulped, not really sure what to do now that it was abundantly clear to the both of you that you were very awake and very aware of what was happening moments ago.

“Do you want to tal-”

“I’d rather not,” he interjected quickly, and you felt him moving away from you.

Panicking, you grabbed onto his sleeve, making him still.

“Are you really so adamant on prolonging this unbearable moment?” Astarion asked tersely, making you wince. Yet your fingers did not lose their vice-like grip on the fabric.

“Or do you want to tell me all about what you think of my disgusting, despicable behaviour?”

“I- I don’t think it was disgusting,” you cleared your throat, a blush blooming on your skin. “Not even a little.”

“I was kind of… into it,” you admitted with some reluctance. Because what kind of person did that make you? A very sexually frustrated one, that’s for sure and certain.

“Oh?” you heard the lilt in his voice as he lowered himself back onto the bedroll, settling beside you but not quite close enough for him to touch your back. Realising that you were still holding onto his sleeve, you let go, his arm moving out of your line of sight as soon as your fingers were no longer holding on.

“Why?”

The question caught you off-guard. You didn’t really want to tell him the truth. How embarrassing to admit that you would jump through hoops for his attention, even after him telling you explicitly that you were ‘well and truly taken’.

“Do I have to answer that?”

“No. But I would prefer it if you did, my sweet.”

The endearment made you relax a little. Picking up on it, Astarion drew your body closer, one hand settling back on your hip. You shivered as you felt that he was hard still.

Reigning in your raging libido, you reminded yourself that you were not to jump his bones and were to remain a perfectly well-functioning adult about this. You’d tell Astarion what you felt without giving yourself away so much that he’d feel pressured into anything.

“I don’t expect any physical intimacy. I love what we have. I love you,” you said truthfully. “But um… You being lost in the moment, being so feral about it… It felt nice.”

“My rutting against your ass like a hormonal hound would with a bitch in heat? I’m sure it was a magical moment,” he quipped sarcastically.

“Oh, you don’t have to make it sound that hot,” you laughed and put your hand on top of his cool fingers, running your fingers along his knuckles in soothing, comforting strokes.

“What I mean, it felt good to be desired, wanted by you.”

Your awkward confession and gentle touch got him to relax a little, you could feel it when he put his chin on your shoulder. You could also feel something else that you would very much wanted to press into. On top of. Around. You were not picky.

But you stayed very still. And that was pure, sweet torture.

“Make no mistake, I want you constantly.” Astarion’s cool breath tickled your skin and set it ablaze. “If it were up to me, there would be far less adventuring and helping out those pesky refugees, and far more time spent feverishly enjoying each other.”

He sighed and kissed your exposed shoulder. You grasped onto whatever restraint you had and pressed your lips together.

“But it seems that it is not up to me,” he went on. “So, when my trance was interrupted by you moaning my name in your sleep, I felt a stir. And I just- just went for it. I don’t know what I was thinking. I doubt that I was thinking at all. Not with you making those delicious sounds and you being so close. I apologise.”

“Astarion. I love you. And I did tell you on more than one occasion that I’d be happy to try anything. Consider this as us trying something new.”

“What happens now?” Astarion murmured.

“What do you want to happen?”

You didn’t get a reply. Licking your lips, you decided that perhaps a gentle suggestion would not hurt. Astarion knew that he could say no. That you would never hold it against him.

“If you like, we can pick up where you left off.”

“Meaning?”

Well, it definitely wasn’t a ‘no’. There was a distinct huskiness to his voice that made you feel that perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst thing to tell him exactly what you thought.

“I think that you should finish what you started.”

“Tsk, naughty. Who knew that you would be into something like that?”

“Who knew that you were so into my ass?”

He snorted and muttered something that sounded like ‘not yet’.

“Dearest, have you seen how leather lovingly cradles it? Nothing is left to the imagination. I can scarcely tear my eyes away long enough to fight whatever horror is sent after us!”

He was moving again and you bit your lip to stifle your moan, wondering if you could angle your body to get friction where you most needed it.

Astarion noticed. Of course he did.

With a breathy chuckle, you felt his fingers move fabric aside, sliding into your underwear.

“Allow me,” he grunted into your ear.

“Such a gentleman,” you sighed, spreading yourself a little wider to give him more to work with.

“Of course! How callous would it be to leave a lady… wanting,” he punctuated the last word with a thrust of his hips. “Although, one cannot help but wonder, what were you dreaming about that had you moaning my name, hm?”

“What was I doing to you, dearest?” Astarion asked and moved his clothed erection against the swell of your ass, his fingers circling your clit with light, unhurried movements. You bit your lip harder, not wanting to alert the whole camp to what was going on. Astarion adored the blush that overwhelmed your skin.

“Oh? Don't feel like talking right now? How about I guess. Let me see… was I gentle? Did I whisper sweet nothings into your ear as I took you slowly?” Astarion teased, lifting himself a little off the bedroll so he could see your face better.

Hm. No change in your heartbeat, no spike in arousal. Clearly, that wasn’t it.

“No,” you confirmed his suspicions, “you were not.”

“Naughty,” he clicked his tongue and gave a pleased chuckle. "How absolutely delightful.”

Astarion’s thrusts took on a different rhythm to match the increasing speed of his fingers working you.

“So, I was rough, wasn’t I?” He pressed a fang against the hot skin of your neck, biting down on sensitive flesh without breaking skin.

“Yes,” you squirmed and pushed back, making his eyes slam shut. You shivered as a strained groan tore itself from his lips.

"Fuck," he hissed, releasing your neck to put his lips on a pulse point.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Must have slipped," you said grinding yourself against the bulge beneath the leather. Because you were past the point of reasoning and definitely way past having any restraint. Astarion spoke of not wanting to be treated like he was made of porcelain. Perhaps pushing back just a little would be exactly the right way to show that you weren’t walking on eggshells around him.

Astarion’s ruby eyes narrowed dangerously, yet a smile curled his lips.

"Do you really think you can play me so easily?"

"Oh, no. I would never!" Your gasp was so theatrical it made him bark a delighted laugh.

"Ha! Trying to outplay me, dearest? Well, it is not going to be that simple.” Astarion purred and tilted your head, so you'd look him in the eyes. The expression on his face was as arrogant as it was tantalisingly attractive.  “I am always the one in charge when it comes to playtime, you'd do well to remember that, my sweet."

He nipped your shoulder blade, humming in satisfaction at the shiver this elicited.

"If I recall correctly, you were in the middle of telling me your dream."

Ah, yes. You did remember that he wanted you to talk. Talk whilst he was overwhelming you with sensations, his nearness, his scent, just his everything. Sure. You could probably manage to string some words together.

“You were rough.”

“We’ve already established that.”

 And perhaps to another, more merciful being, that would be enough to let you off the hook. Astarion was hardly known for being merciful.

His fingers slowed down, making you thrust your hips forward. Astarion clicked his tongue and nipped the exposed skin of your shoulder, “Go on, dearest.” 

“It was after a battle, you were still in your armour.”

“I’m glad that I am such a consummate lover I needn’t even strip.”

“Sex dreams don’t have to make sense, alright?”

“No, dear,” he chuckled. “I’m so very sorry, do continue.”

“There isn’t that much more to it. I woke up before we actually… well. But um-”

Oh, you might just as well go for it. Astarion knew full well that he was intoxicatingly handsome. What he didn’t know was when exactly you found him most attractive.

"I- I enjoy seeing you fight."

“Would that be a danger kink, per chance? Do you want me to take you in the middle of a battlefield? Or should I feel worried over your throwing looks at others, hm?”

"No, it’s you. Every move so precise and purposeful. Your muscles straining, metal singing against metal. You are beautiful, and sensual, and confident, and powerful."

“Go on,” he whispered with a quietness that was at odds with the possessive way he griped you. You felt Astarion grind against you. Slowly, indulgently. The hand not working you moving from your hip to your ass to give it a tight squeeze that would definitely leave a mark.

"I see you and I marvel at your tenacity, the stubborn set of your jaw as you refuse to give in. Your curls tainted red, your eyes set on your target as you strike with cruel precision."

“My, my, who knew you were harbouring such fantasies. Such deviousness under that sweet façade. Only you could care for such a monstrosity.”

“No,” you cut him off sharply. “You are not a monster.”

You licked your lips as you thought of how to make him understand.

“You are many things. My friend, my confidant, my lover, my protector. I’ve never had that before you. I trust you. And that-,” you whimpered, eyelashes fluttering, a tear rolling down a heated cheek.

“Yes?”

“And that makes me want you even more,” you admitted as you saw stars, Astarion’s fingers not breaking their rhythm, sending a wave after wave of pleasure rippling though your body. Finally, his hand stilled.

You panted, turning your head enough to the side to rest your cheek against his cool one. Closing your eyes, you let your body sag against his.

“I take it you enjoy dangerous things, darling?” Astarion whispered into your hair.

“Most pretty things are,” you forced out between breaths. “And you are the prettiest, handsomest rogue I’ve ever seen.”

"Love?" Astarion shifted and moved, and you felt his fangs graze the sensitive flesh of your neck.

"Yes."

Please.

He bit down to take long, greedy gulps, both his hands clutching you to his chest. Having been told that he could taste how you felt made you wonder, what secrets was your blood revealing? What sensations he drew into his own body from yours with every gulp?

"Clothes off. Now.” Astarion ripped himself away from you, not wanting to overindulge and leave you weak.

"But why? I thought you wanted-"

"Love, I don't always know what I want. But this is one of those times when I do."

Suddenly, Astarion was gone, making you whine in protest.

“Underwear off,” he commanded whilst fumbling with his clothes, his voice raspy because of the emotions he was struggling to contain.

You were more than ready for this. But you were feeling cheeky. So, with a smirk, you lifted yourself off the bedroll until your lips were an inch from his, your warm breath on his cool skin.

"A lady likes to be asked."

He gritted his teeth but relented. "Please, love."

"Tsk, don't pout, Star. Was it really so hard?"

"No. But this is,” he snatched your hand and put it on his length, giving himself a few strokes with his fingers clenched tightly around yours. “So be good and do as I say. Off."

You felt a shiver dance down your spine as he called you a good girl. He was playing dirty, and he knew it. This time you obeyed almost instantly, fingers shaking as you took off your smallclothes.

As soon as you discarded them, Astarion was behind you again, naked from the waist down. You turned your head to look over your shoulder, taking in his face.

Desire, need, lust.

He stared at you like he was desperate to have you. Perhaps in a way he was. You gulped, feeling giddy and excited, and also very pleased with yourself for choosing to wear a cotton slip to bed.

Angling your arm a little awkwardly, you reached for Astarion and your thumb flicked over the sensitive tip, making you gasp when his hips surged forward.

“Touch me again,” he ordered when your hand began to leave him.

“But I-I want to feel you inside.”

“Soon. Good girls who wait get fucked best, didn’t anyone tell you that?” Astarion taunted, though he knew that he was the one suffering.

His mind was clear, he was present, his eyes on the face of the one who loved him so tenderly and fiercely. He wanted to fuck you into the bedroll right there and then more than anything in his life. But that didn’t stop him from wanting to have a little fun with your first.

“Touch me, I know you want to.”

Perhaps you did, but that was beside the point.

“I need you, Astarion. Please.”

“Soon. Get to it, love.”

No matter how much he willed himself to stay still, Astarion’s hips jumped as your hand went up and down his length, moving to cup his balls and caress them with gentleness that had Astarion cursing himself for not just giving in.

“Astarion,” you whined, not quite recognising your own voice.

“Fine.” One arm wrapped around your waist, he pushed you back down against the bedroll. “Since you ask so nicely, I will indulge you.”

You were going to snap at him, but then whatever what you were going to say turned into whimper when you felt the tip of his dick rub against your entrance. You were still sensitive, and a shiver ran through your body at the slightest contact.

He gave a few shallow fucks before finally, finally giving you what you wanted.

Astarion dropped his head onto your shoulder as his hips began to grind and roll. His cock slid deeper, flexed against inner walls. He pulled out, slamming back into you and enjoying every soft hitch in your breath.

“You’re so tight. Fuck,” Astarion groaned out, nestling into your neck as he picked up pace.  “I won’t stop anymore, love. I can’t stop,” he admitted huskily. He no longer had the strength to control himself.

Astarion parted your legs to give himself better access and tore at the cloth still covering your body, the fabric tearing under his rough treatment to expose one of your breasts.

“Astarion!” Your protest turned into a whine.

“I’ll buy you a new one. I will buy ten,” he chuckled darkly and kissed your back.

“I’ll make sure to remind you,” you hissed and moaned, feeling a hand cup your breast and move to roll a nipple between long, dexterous fingers.

You were so, so close. It was maddening how well this man knew exactly where to touch you.

And then his hand was gone and you felt Astarion withdraw abruptly, leaving you concerned and panicking.

Was this too much? Was he- Oh! Oh.

Whatever thought you were about to have next died a swift death as Astarion’s tongue flicked between your folds, your throaty, desperate moan encouraging him to continue.

His tongue thrust forward, and then again, and again and-

“Astarion,” you half-sobbed, face falling forward. You held the pillow against your mouth to try to silence whatever obscene sounds you were about to make.

Legs shaking, fingers gripping the pillow so hard that your knuckles turned white, your second orgasm hit you hard, Astarion not stopping until he saw that you were finished.

Rising a little on shaking hands, you took a few steadying breaths.

“What happened to ‘I can’t stop’,” you managed.

“I slipped.”

You gave an inelegant snort and turned weakly to face him, legs and arms trembling. Astarion grinned at you cheekily, finding that he rather enjoyed how much of a mess you were. Hair mussed, clothes torn beyond repair, the red imprint from where you pressed the pillow into your skin, and the way you could barely hold yourself up.

He did all that. And he was not even done with you.

Astarion lay down onto the bedroll, pulling you down beside him, hands snaking round your middle and holding you close.

"I want that, you know," you felt him exhale. "I want to be the man you see," Astarion whispered, face hidden in your hair, as he entered you with utmost gentleness. Pausing briefly he just lay next to you and enjoyed the sound of your still ragged breath, the rapid heartbeat, the warmth of your skin. You felt his hand trace patterns on your waist as it moved down, settling on the swell of your hip.

And then Astarion was moving again. Slow, so toe-curlingly slow at first. Then a touch faster, settling into a rhythm.

"You already are. You are strong.”

“Yes.”

He was speeding up, this time ready for his own release.

“You are free."

He moaned and whimpered, hips stuttering, thrust turning desperate.

"I love the man that you are."

He bit down on your shoulder and you winced as fangs peirced skin, rivulets of blood staining what was left of the cloth that barely covered you.

"I love you, Astarion."

He thrust once, twice and then again and- oh. Astarion fucked you through his orgasm and then more still, until he felt himself grow soft, his spend trickling down between your bodies.

He drew in a breath he didn’t need and shuddered as the last wave of pleasure coursed through his body.

"That was amazing," you lifted his hand to your lips to kiss his knuckles.

“Well you have to say that now, after you had your way with me so thoroughly,” he said with an air of a virgin defiled by a rake.

“Are you saying that it was me that seduced you?” You turned your head to see him grin.

The nerve of that man!

“As if you didn’t know what you were doing to me when you wore that,” he pointed a finger what used to be your sleepwear, “to bed.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” you huffed.

“Perhaps then I should give you-”

“Will you two fuckers stop fucking already, it’s too early for all this!” Karlach bellowed from her tent.

“Gale?” Shadowheart groaned in dismay, probably wishing she put her tent up further away from Astarion's.

“On it.”

“Did he just cast Silence on us?” Astarion heard your voice in his mind.

“I believe we were a little too loud.” The elf wiggled his eyebrows at you as you felt him make use of the tadpole.

“This is mortifying,” you groaned and tried to hide your face behind your hands.

“Well, if they needed their beauty sleep, should have told the wizard to cast the spell earlier,” Astarion shrugged, looking completely unapologetic, and slapped your ass, delighting in your surprised squeak. “Besides, we can be as loud as we want now.”

“You are kidding, right?”

“I do not kid.”

“Astarion! No!”

“Yes.”

He rolled you onto your back and started kissing from your collarbones down to your breasts.

“No,” your voice had a little less conviction, weak hands pushing back silvery curls and tracing the tips of his ears .

“Yes.” Astarion lifted his head for a moment, ruby eyes filled with adoration, only to continue his descent.

“Oh, fine,” you gave a happy sigh, feeling him hum against your skin in approval.

You knew that you should probably feel chastened now that you knew you cost your companions precious hours of sleep, but you felt floaty and content, and far too well-fucked to feel too guilty. You would deal with the inevitable looks and comments later.  And then Astarion did that thing you liked with his tongue and you did not give anyone another thought for quite a while.

💖 Tag list 💖:

@ninty900, @ayselluna, @dajeong, @ravenswritingroom,

@misscrissfemmefatale,

@clazberryk, @anukulee,

@preciouslittlebhaalbae,

@sh3rl0ck, @mellowenthusiast2299,

@fleetstreet78, @starlight-rogue,

@obsessedwhyyes, @arzen9, @hellethil,

@nyx-knox, @vividiana, @khywren,

@maeryls-journal

[cbeargyu]

what you want

summary: you and taeyong have been best friends since college, sharing your adult lives side by side—your flower shop, his branding firm, countless shared memories. but as you near your 30s, the yearning to become a mother grows unbearable. during a reunion trip to jeju island, a tipsy conversation turns into something tender, raw, and irreversible. what begins as comfort and shared vulnerability becomes something deeper—intimate confessions, unspoken love, and the beginning of a quiet forever.

pairing: bestfriend taeyong x fem!reader

genre: slow-burn, friends to lovers, emotional smut, soft romance, hurt/comfort, domestic fluff, eventual pregnancy.

warnings: breeding kink, unprotected sex (consensual, emotional context), impregnatio, pregnancy mention, emotional vulnerability, suggestive adult themes (18+), heavy romantic tension with soft resolution.

wc: 4,5K

notes: hi hiiii, okay so i've been dying to read smutty taeyong fics lately and it's been ALMOST impossible to find 😭 like 90% are mxm and there's barely any tae x reader content out there... if anyone has recs pls drop them in the comments ily. alsooo it's probably painfully obvious by now that i'm obsessed with the whole breeding kink + domestic fluff combo BYE that's literally my favorite thing ever 😩🫠💗

you’ve always been close to taeyong.

since college, really—when you met in that ridiculously stuffy marketing class during your second year. he was late that day, hair still damp from a rushed shower, a printed branding portfolio tucked under one arm, and somehow, he still managed to slide into the seat beside you with an easy smile and that soft voice.

you became inseparable after that. group projects, late-night convenience store runs, silent study sessions that turned into hours of talking about everything and nothing. you built a quiet rhythm with him, one that never required a label or explanation.

you opened your flower shop right after graduation. taeyong built his own creative agency, specializing in branding and design—sleek, intentional, always poetic in its aesthetic. you sent him flowers for his launch day; he designed the logo for your storefront for free. "it’s a gift," he said when you tried to pay him, his voice warm over the phone. "besides, i owe you for all the coffee you bought me during thesis week."

now in your late twenties, things feel stable. solid. your dreams are real. you run a blooming business. taeyong’s agency is doing well. life, on the surface, is soft and good. but there’s one thing that sits heavily in your chest.

you want a baby.

you’ve wanted one for years. even when you were young, you imagined yourself as a mother before anything else—before being a florist, a business owner, a woman navigating city streets with earbuds in and a tote bag full of errands. you crave that connection, the physicality of pregnancy, the quiet intimacy of raising someone who came from you.

but dating? nonexistent. your schedule is tight, your circle small, and the men you do meet are more interested in weekend flings than parenting plans. you’ve been obsessively reading about IVF, sperm donors, even traditional remedies your grandmother used to whisper about. you bring it up to taeyong one night, half-laughing as you scroll through forums.

“i don’t know what to do,” you admit, looking over the rim of your mug at him. “i’m not seeing anyone. i don’t want to wait until i’m forty. and i want to carry them. i want to feel them growing inside me.”

taeyong goes quiet.

he doesn’t have the answers, but he listens. tells you that you’d make an amazing mother. suggests maybe you could consider adoption, but you shake your head gently.

“i want to be pregnant,” you whisper. “i want them to be mine from the start.”

he nods.

he doesn’t push.

a few days later, he messages you.

taeyonggie👺 [11:13am]: remember our old classmates? they’re planning a reunion trip to jeju. want to go? they said you’re welcome too.

you hesitate, then say yes. maybe a change of scenery is what you need. something about the sea and the quiet and the way jeju always smells like citrus and wind.

you don’t expect to feel so at ease.

you arrive together, him beside you on the plane, headphones shared between you as you both doze off mid-flight. you’re staying at a cozy hotel not far from the beach—modern but warm, all wood accents and soft lighting.

there’s a mix-up at check-in.

“two rooms for y/n and taeyong?” the clerk asks.

“no, just one,” taeyong corrects, glancing at you. “two beds, please.”

you nod. it’s nothing new. you’ve stayed over at each other’s apartments before. this is the same. right?

your room has two full-size beds, a window view of the ocean, and barely enough space for both your suitcases. you joke about how you’ll end up tripping over each other, and taeyong just grins, tossing his duffel onto the bed by the wall.

the first two days are calm.

nakamoto yuta—now a travel content creator, all sun-kissed skin and open laughter—is the life of the group. seulgi, working as a creative director for a fashion label, is effortlessly elegant, always with a camera around her neck. also in the group: kwon eunbi, a vocal coach; hwang minhyun, managing a production company; kim seolhyun, running a podcast on pop culture; and kim hanbin, now a choreographer.

you spend your days exploring the island.

taeyong helps you pick tangerines from the orchard. you braid small wildflowers into your hair, and he snaps a photo when you’re not looking. he buys you honey ice cream and insists on carrying your bag when your shoulder starts to ache.

it feels like nothing’s changed.

but there’s a moment.

you’re inside the hotel lounge, grabbing drinks. yuta and taeyong sit near the back, shoulders low, conversation soft between them.

“you still in love with her?” yuta asks, voice easy but not teasing.

taeyong chokes on his drink. coughs. blushes.

“no,” he says, eyes flickering. “i mean, not anymore. that was...college. i’m over it.”

yuta raises a brow. “you sure?”

taeyong doesn’t answer right away. his fingers tap against the glass, slow. thoughtful.

“she wants a baby,” he says eventually. “that’s all she talks about now.”

“so give her one,” yuta shrugs.

taeyong laughs quietly. like it’s ridiculous. like it’s tempting.

he doesn’t bring it up again.

but something shifts.

you notice him watching you a little longer than usual when you laugh. his gaze lingers on the curve of your jaw, the line of your collarbone, the way you absentmindedly rest a hand over your stomach when you’re lost in thought.

you don’t say anything either.

you’re still just friends.

sharing a room.

sharing a life.

almost.

dinner that night is golden.

the kind that stretches out with laughter, grilled seafood, tangerine wine, and flickering lanterns strung up between pine trees. the restaurant is open-air, tucked near the cliffside with a view of the ocean glowing beneath the full moon.

everyone's a little tipsy by the time dessert comes around. yuta’s telling stories about backpacking in morocco and the time he accidentally ended up at a wedding. seulgi keeps taking pictures of everyone's reactions, cheeks flushed from wine. hanbin and seolhyun are arguing about the best era of k-pop choreography. eunbi sings a soft verse of something nostalgic, and minhyun smiles so softly you wonder if he's thinking of someone he left behind.

taeyong is beside you. always beside you. refilling your glass with something citrusy. resting his arm along the back of your chair. letting his knee bump into yours and not pulling away. the heat from him is steady. familiar. almost too much.

later, the drinks keep flowing back at the hotel. minhyun brings out a bottle of plum soju he brought from seoul, and that’s when it really starts. shots. dares. flushed cheeks and slurred memories.

you’re warm. glowing. a little too honest.

“i mean it,” you say, your voice low, shoulders loose as you sit with taeyong on the floor by the balcony door, away from the noise. “i think about it every night. sometimes i dream about it.”

he looks at you, gentle. “dream about what?”

you lean your head against the windowpane, watching the wind rustle the curtain.

“having a baby,” you murmur. “being pregnant. the little kicks. the soft cries. the weight of them on my chest. it’s so clear in my mind. like… i can almost feel it already.”

taeyong swallows.

you’re drunk. not sloppy, just vulnerable in a way you rarely let yourself be.

“i’ve tried not to obsess over it,” you continue, voice quieter now. “but it’s hard. i want it so much. and i know it’s selfish to want the whole experience—the belly, the pain, the birth. i just… i don’t want to feel like i missed it, like i missed the chance to be the kind of mother i’ve always seen myself becoming.”

taeyong doesn’t know what to say. you can feel it in the silence. his fingers curl slightly, brushing the edge of your sweater.

“you’d be such a good dad, you know,” you say suddenly, eyes half-lidded, smiling gently now as the alcohol softens your words. “like… annoyingly good.”

taeyong blinks.

“you’d be the kind that warms up the milk just right. that kisses tiny foreheads. that always carries extra snacks. that reads the bedtime story even when he’s tired. you'd probably cry when they take their first step.”

he laughs under his breath, a little shaky. your words are melting something in him.

“and your baby would have your eyes,” you add, like it’s nothing. “those pretty lashes. and maybe your laugh. and you’d panic the first time they got sick. and hold them all night until they stopped crying.”

he’s staring at you now. full-on. wide-eyed, a little undone.

“you’d be so gentle,” you whisper. “you already are.”

taeyong shifts. swallows again. his voice is rough when he finally speaks. “don’t say that.”

you tilt your head, confused. “why not? it’s true.”

“because,” he breathes, gaze flicking down to your lips for half a second before pulling back to the ceiling. “you’re drunk. and i’m trying really hard not to do something i’ll regret.”

you blink slowly, the alcohol making everything feel suspended.

you’re suddenly aware of how close you are. how intimate this has always been. not the words. not the night. just you and him.

taeyong stands. runs a hand through his hair, frustrated.

“i’m gonna get some water,” he mumbles, stepping away from the room.

you stay behind, heartbeat thudding, his warmth still lingering beside you.

you meant every word.

but you don’t know if he’ll ever believe that.

taeyong returns to the table with your glass of water clutched between his fingers like it’s something to hold himself together. his pulse is still uneven, the weight of your words clinging to him like sea salt in the air—soft but undeniable.

you’re laughing at something when he returns. yuta’s grinning, telling a story about a disastrous photoshoot in cambodia that involved a monkey, a drone, and his own foolish confidence. your cheeks are still flushed, but your expression dims a little when your eyes catch his, like you can feel the shift. like you remember what you said.

taeyong sets the glass in front of you gently, and you whisper a quiet “thanks” without looking up.

he doesn’t sit down again. instead, he hovers, letting the chatter of the group wash over him, standing on the edge of it all. seulgi pulls hanbin into a debate about concept staging in idol tours, seolhyun’s already half-asleep on the couch, and minhyun is texting someone with a small smile. the night has thinned out. the fire outside has died, leaving only the dim golden lights strung overhead and the soft hum of a playlist playing someone’s nostalgic mix of late 2010s ballads.

by the time the clock hits nearly two in the morning, someone mumbles about calling it a night.

you blink blearily, your words slurring just a bit now, your weight leaning more and more toward the backrest of the couch. taeyong’s already there before anyone else moves, slipping a hand beneath your elbow and helping you to your feet like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“come on,” he says quietly, warm breath by your temple. “let’s get you to bed.”

you nod sleepily, your body soft, trusting. your fingers find the edge of his jacket sleeve as he steadies you, and he doesn’t pull away. the walk to the room is silent, the hallways dim and muffled. your steps are clumsy, and he catches you more than once, his hand curling around your waist like second nature.

inside the room, it’s dim and warm. the faint scent of saltwater and clean cotton lingers in the air from earlier. you collapse on the edge of the bed you claimed the night before, one of two queen mattresses sitting side by side with a single nightstand in between. the tension returns with the silence, thick and cloying. he walks to the dresser and grabs a bottle of water, offering it to you.

you drink half of it. then sit there. watching him.

he avoids your gaze at first. fiddles with the hem of his shirt. looks out the window like he might say something—then stops himself.

but you’re still drunk. and honest. and maybe a little bold in the way you never let yourself be.

“you know,” you start, voice quiet, “i wasn’t drunk when i said you’d make a good dad.”

taeyong turns slowly. you meet his eyes.

you swallow thickly, fingers wringing the edge of your pajama top. “i’ve thought about it before.”

he blinks, lips parting like he wants to ask but isn’t sure if he should.

you continue.

"not just in the abstract. not just... you as someone’s dad. but you as my—" you stop, heat blooming up your neck. you exhale. “sometimes, i think about what it’d be like if you were the one.”

he says nothing, but his expression crumbles—something tender and wounded flickering behind his eyes.

“i mean, we’ve been in each other’s lives forever,” you say, softer now. “we grew up together in every way that matters. you’ve seen me fail and get back up and fall apart again. you’ve never walked away. not once. not even when i was unbearable. i trust you with everything. i always have.”

taeyong doesn’t breathe.

you keep going.

“so yeah. i think about it sometimes. about what it’d be like to have your kid. to raise them with you. to wake up to you and a messy little human with sleepy eyes and your stupid laugh. and maybe i’m insane, maybe it’s just my hormones or my loneliness or whatever—but the thought doesn’t scare me. it grounds me.”

you laugh, a little bitterly, wiping at the corner of your eye. “and that’s the worst part. because i know you don’t see me that way. or if you did once, it’s long gone. and i shouldn’t be saying this—i know that. but there’s something about tonight that makes me feel like i’ll burst if i don’t.”

taeyong moves before you can finish.

quiet. careful.

he kneels in front of you. not touching you. not yet. just there, looking up at you like he’s memorizing every curve of your face.

his voice is raw.

“don’t say i don’t see you.”

you meet his eyes.

“i’ve always seen you.”

your breath hitches.

taeyong lets out a quiet, shaky laugh. “you talk about me being a dad like i wouldn’t spend every second wondering how the hell i got so lucky to build a life with you. like i haven’t already imagined it too. maybe not with words. maybe not out loud. but… i have.”

you whisper, “you have?”

he nods.

“every time you smile like that. every time you bring me coffee with your name scribbled next to mine. every time you hug me like home. yes. i have.”

you don’t move.

he reaches for your hand—slow, reverent, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

“but i never let myself say it,” he murmurs. “because i didn’t want to mess this up. not with us. not with you. and definitely not like this. but if i’m being honest… the thought of you carrying my child?” he swallows. “that doesn’t scare me either.”

the room is silent.

you stare at him, your fingers trembling in his grip.

you whisper, “then kiss me.”

he does.

not rushed. not heated.

just true.

the kind of kiss that feels like coming home after years of wandering.

like maybe—just maybe—you weren’t crazy after all.

the kiss deepens slowly.

taeyong’s hands are warm on your cheeks, cradling you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held. you melt under his touch, your fingers sliding up his neck, into his hair, pulling him closer, closer still—like you’re afraid he’ll vanish if you let go.

he’s the one who gasps first when your lips part just enough to whisper his name. it falls from your mouth like a secret you’ve kept buried for too long, and he swallows it whole.

he pulls back slightly, forehead resting against yours, his thumbs brushing over your flushed skin. you can feel his heart racing beneath his shirt.

“y/n…” his voice is hoarse. “are you sure?”

you nod, soft and breathless. “i’ve never been more sure.”

and there’s something in your voice—something so certain, so full of quiet longing—that makes taeyong inhale like he’s taking you in for the first time.

his lips find yours again, slower now, more deliberate. his touch trails from your face to your waist, pulling you gently into his lap, like he needs you close enough to feel everything—the way your body trembles against his, the way your thighs tighten around his hips, the way your breath stutters when his mouth moves down your neck.

he tastes your skin like a prayer, like something he’s dreamt about in the quiet hours of the night when your voice was the only thing that could calm him down.

you whisper into the space between kisses, into the curve of his jaw, “i want it to be you.”

his breath hitches.

“i want your baby,” you murmur, your hand pressing over his chest, right where his heart is pounding. “i want to carry your child. someone small and perfect and warm, someone who has your eyes… your smile.”

taeyong lets out the softest sound, almost like a whimper, and you feel his fingers tighten on your hips, his body tensing like he’s trying to hold himself back.

you lean into his ear and say it again—this time slower, your voice shaking. “i want your baby inside me, tae.”

his hands slide up your sides, under your shirt, reverent and gentle. “god,” he breathes. “you have no idea what that does to me.”

“tell me.”

he leans back just enough to look at you—really look at you. his pupils are blown wide, his cheeks flushed, lips swollen and parted.

“i think about it all the time,” he says, barely more than a whisper. “what you’d look like with my baby growing inside you. your belly round and soft, your body glowing. coming home to you with your shirt stretched over the bump, your hands cradling it like it’s the most natural thing in the world.”

he presses a kiss to your collarbone, then another, lower. “i want to see you like that. i want to wake up and run my hands over your belly, feel it kick. talk to it. kiss it.”

you whimper, your fingers knotting in his hair. “tae…”

his hands slip beneath the waistband of your shorts, thumbs brushing over your hipbones like they belong there. “i want to fill you up,” he murmurs, voice thick and trembling. “not just for tonight. not just for the fantasy. i want this to meansomething. it does mean something.”

you nod, cupping his face. “i know. it does to me too.”

he kisses you again, deeper now, one hand at the small of your back, guiding you down onto the mattress. the room is quiet, lit only by the moonlight spilling through the window, and everything feels soft. intimate. warm.

he undresses you slowly, carefully, as if every piece of clothing he removes reveals another piece of your heart. your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, pulling him closer until there’s no space between you, nothing but breath and bare skin and whispered names.

when he enters you, it’s slow and deep, like he’s savoring every inch, like he’s trying to memorize the way you feel wrapped around him. your back arches, and he moans into your neck, your name a broken sound on his lips.

you’re both trembling—emotion thick in your chests, tears brimming at the corners of your eyes. because it’s not just sex. not just lust. it’s home. it’s years of friendship and quiet yearning finally coming undone in the safest way possible.

taeyong presses a kiss to your temple and whispers, “you’re perfect. you’re mine.”

you cradle his face in your hands, smiling through the tears. “give me everything, tae. i want to feel you. all of you. i want to feel you stay.”

his rhythm falters, just for a second, overcome by the weight of it all. “i’ll give you everything. i’ll give you a family.”

you tighten around him at the words, gasping.

“i want to make you a mom,” he whispers. “tonight.”

you nod frantically, lips parting, “do it. please. i want to feel it—i want to feel you—when you fill me.”

taeyong groans, hips stuttering, burying his face in your neck. “fuck. y/n…”

you whisper, “put a baby in me, tae.”

he thrusts deeper, harder now, the restraint beginning to crumble. your bodies are slick with sweat, moving together with a kind of desperation that feels like both a beginning and a promise.

when he finishes—inside, just like you wanted—it’s with a gasp, his arms locked around you tight, like he’s scared to let go. and for a long moment, neither of you move.

“i want you full of me,” he says against your mouth, already hardening again. “i want to make sure.”

you nod, dazed. open. warm.

“don’t stop,” you whisper. “please don’t stop.”

and he doesn’t.

he makes love to you over and over again, slow and focused, like each time is another chance to seal your wish into reality. sometimes he holds your hips, watching your face as you fall apart for him. other times he lays you on your side, kissing your shoulder while whispering how beautiful you are, how perfect you’d be with his child inside you.

when dawn breaks, you’re tangled together in silence. your body aches, sweet and sated. your thighs sticky, your heart full. his hand rests on your stomach again, like he’s already waiting.

he is groaning your name, whispering over and over, “mine. you’re mine. our baby. our future.”

you’re crying. he is too.

and when the trembling stops and the world is still again, he kisses your lips, then your cheeks, then your stomach.

“i can’t wait to see you grow,” he whispers, resting his head just below your ribs.

you run your fingers through his hair, heart pounding.

you whisper back, “i hope it has your eyes.”

the sunlight pours through the thin curtains like a slow, golden confession. the air smells like salt and lemon shampoo. taeyong wakes up first this time, his arm heavy over your waist, your back pressed flush against his chest. sunlight filters through the cream-colored curtains, warming the bare skin of your shoulder.

it kisses your bare shoulder first, then the soft curve of your waist, then the scattered marks taeyong left across your chest like constellations only he could read.

you’re the first to stir, eyelids fluttering open to the unfamiliar ceiling of the hotel room. for a second, you forget where you are. but then you shift slightly and feel the weight of an arm draped across your stomach, the steady rise and fall of a chest pressed into your back, and the unmistakable warmth of taeyong’s body, still wrapped around you like a second skin.

his breath ghosts against your nape, slow and deep, and you realize he hasn’t let go of you all night. not once.

you smile.

when you turn your head just enough to see his face, it nearly knocks the air out of your lungs. he’s peaceful like this—softer, younger somehow. his lashes rest against his cheeks, and his mouth is parted slightly, lips still swollen from all the kisses you gave him. his hand, large and warm, is splayed gently across your lower belly, protective and possessive in the same breath.

you reach down and lace your fingers with his.

as if he feels it, he stirs, humming sleepily against your skin. his nose nuzzles into your shoulder. “mmm… morning,” he mumbles, voice thick and low, still soaked in sleep.

you twist around slowly in his hold so you’re facing him. he blinks a few times, eyes still heavy, but when they focus on you, they soften in that way they always have—like you’re the center of his world and he’s been waiting all night just to see you again.

“you stayed,” you whisper, thumb brushing his cheekbone.

he smiles lazily, eyes fluttering shut again. “of course i did. where else would i go?”

you tuck yourself into his chest, your nose against his collarbone. “you feel so warm…”

his arms tighten around you instantly, drawing you closer until there’s no space between you. “you kept me warm first,” he murmurs, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “i didn’t want to let go.”

you stay like that for a while. breathing together. existing.

and then you feel him shift, one hand still resting over your belly, thumb drawing lazy, absent-minded circles over the skin there. he hums, low in his throat. “do you think… do you think it worked?”

your breath catches.

you look up at him, searching his face. he’s watching you carefully now, no longer groggy, eyes wide open and impossibly tender.

“i don’t know,” you whisper. “maybe.”

he leans in, kisses your forehead. then your temple. then the spot just below your eye. “i kind of hope it did.”

you feel your throat tighten with emotion.

“you do?”

“mmhm,” he nods, nudging his nose against yours. “i kept thinking about it last night… the way you’d look months from now. the way i’d get to take care of you. rub your back. cook for you. kiss your belly every morning.”

you let out a small laugh, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand.

“i’d be so annoying,” you murmur. “always crying. craving weird stuff. complaining about everything.”

he smiles, brushing your hair behind your ear. “you’d be perfect. i’d love you more every day. and our baby… our baby would be lucky.”

you bury your face in his chest, overwhelmed by the sweetness of it. the certainty.

he strokes your back gently. “and if it didn’t happen this time… we try again,” he says softly. “no rush. no pressure. just us. just love.”

you pull back, tearful and smiling all at once. “you want to try again already?”

he grins, lips brushing your cheek. “i want to make love to you every morning for the rest of my life. but yes… also for the baby.”

you laugh, breathless, and he kisses the sound right out of you.

his hands start to wander again—slow, exploring, remembering. he murmurs against your lips, “can i stay inside you today too? just like this… all day?”

you nod, whispering, “don’t leave me empty.”

and he doesn’t.

he makes love to you again—this time slow and languid, under the weight of sunlight and morning warmth. he kisses your face like you’re already glowing. like you’re already carrying a part of him.

when he comes again, deep inside you, he doesn’t look away. he holds you through it. kisses your tears. whispers your name like a promise.

afterward, he pulls the blanket over your bodies, still tangled. still joined. he keeps his hand on your belly, and you both stay quiet, smiling softly.

as if the future is already there.

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ IS IT OVER NOW? (IT ISN'T) ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: all good things come to an end, including your relationship—but don't worry, broken hearts can be mended, but only if you're both willing to try.

contents: fem!reader. you two break up and make up! you guys fight/break up over something that coulda been resolved with better communication. kinda suggestive ending, maybe i'll drop a part two if this does alright. satoru announces your break-up on his stream. longest fic i've posted so far, 4k words (kms).

author's note: the long awaited angst has finally arrived.. big thank you to @screampied for beta-reading!! tagging @yunymphs who read it early and @sutorus + @kentopedia who i both miss very much!!

ever since you first joined satoru on his stream, it’s gotten way more popular than either of you could’ve ever expected. before he brought you onto his live, he was averaging about eight thousand views per stream. now, his average was well over fifteen thousand—and that wasn't even including the publicity he got from other websites. when satoru accidentally left the camera on while you two made out, you two went viral on twitter. and when another user tried to swipe him away, the clip got over a hundred thousand views on youtube.

at first, satoru didn't mind the change his stream was going through—in fact, he welcomed it. but lately, things have been… different.

last week, while satoru was playing in some competition, he won first out of hundreds of equally proficient players. had it been anyone else, their comments would've been filled with congratulations and good job's, but in his case, all satoru got were messages asking where you were. that wasn’t the first time—ever since that very first day, when you showed up on his stream, satoru’s audience has entirely shifted. and honestly, if you were in his position, you'd be a bit annoyed. anyone would be. 

but you had never expected that it would be so big of a deal that you and satoru—the "cutest couple on the internet"—would break up over it.

you walk along the chilly, suburban sidewalk up to your boyfriend’s house. satoru had just sent you a message asking if you could come over, and like always, you answered with an immediate yes. a flock of crows fly by, raven feathers providing a stark contrast between them and the pale gray sky around you. it’s gray and gloomy, but not unpleasant. 

a sweet, romantic song plays in your ears as you knock three times on satoru’s front door. his familiar voice calls out “coming!”, and you can hear his footsteps grow louder and louder until he swings open the door. satoru smiles down at you, cheeks already rosy from the cold winter air. “hey.”

you tilt your head and smile back at him. “that’s all i get? hey?” you huff, walking into his living room behind him as the door closes behind you. “d’you have any hot chocolate? i’m freezing,” you say, licking your lips. satoru turns and pauses, an unreadable expression on his face. “satoru?”

after a moment, your boyfriend snaps out of it. “oh, yeah, sorry,” he says ruefully. satoru rubs his eyes with one hand and uses the other to open the door to his bedroom, and as you follow him in, you’re hit with a blast of warm air. “i’m just kinda tired, but yeah, i have some hot cocoa in here. c’mon.”

“anything i can do for you?” you offer, sitting down on the corner of his bed. you’ve been to his house so many times that it feels like home—maybe even more so than your own place. everything about satoru’s room is comfortable, from his plush chairs to the faux-fur blankets draped over every single piece of his furniture. you could probably fall over at any given point and it wouldn’t actually hurt—you’d just land on something soft and/or fluffy.

but that wasn’t all that made you so in love with his home. it was just the way it felt—words couldn’t describe the way everything was just so right and just so perfect, and you really did hope that you’d never have to see a time where you wouldn’t be able to spend time with your boyfriend here.

it really is a shame that all good things had to come to an end. at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as satoru finally told you why he called you over. unlike nearly every other time, it wasn’t because he missed you or wanted to cuddle—it was quite the opposite, really.

“i don’t think this is working.”

six words that shattered the life you had come to know and love.

“is this a joke?” you try, an unnerved smile spreading across your lips against your will. he doesn’t reply instantly, which is so out-of-character for him that it makes you stiffen up. “satoru, this isn’t funny—”

“i’m not kidding,” satoru murmurs, looking away. he refuses to meet your eyes, and some part of you is still desperately trying to find reason in the chaos that’s slowly taking over your mind. how could it be that everything was just fine two minutes ago and now it’s anything but that? did something happen? did you say the wrong thing? did you—

“it’s not funny,” you insist, still somehow clinging onto your slowly-dwindling hope. maybe you’re in denial, but still, you were sure that everything was fine—no, that everything is fine. there was no past-tense, right? how could the glass home you’d built with your bare hands just crash down at the throw of a pebble?

satoru finally meets your eyes, and your breath catches in your throat. there’s no amused glimmer in his eyes, no “just kidding” in sight, and even worse, you can’t even see an ounce of the love or adoration you’d come to grow so attached to in just a couple months.

“what happened?” you whisper, miraculously managing to keep yourself together. you’d never forgive yourself if you just started crying over a breakup you weren’t even sure was happening—what little’s left of your pride is holding on. you allow yourself to wrap your arms around your chest, curling into your own embrace. 

satoru doesn’t reply for a long second. right when you’re sure he just won’t reply, he does, and it all comes spilling out in a messy stream of words. “it’s just… i can’t do this anymore. i can’t keep going online and seeing everyone on my stream talking about you. i love you, i really do, but it’s just—” satoru shakes his head frustratedly. “i don’t know how to say it, but you know what i mean, right?”

your eyebrows furrow and you shake your head. “you’re breaking up with me because you’re tired of seeing me?”

“no, fuck,” satoru groans, running a hand through his hair. his previously cool and collected demeanor starts to fall apart as he takes a step back. “i don’t know how to explain it, but— shit, you wouldn’t understand.”

you swallow and start to stand up, still willing to try. “then help me understand, satoru, i—”

“you’ve seen the comments, and you’ve seen all the posts on twitter,” satoru says, tilting his head back and glaring at the ceiling. “it’s not your fault, but i really just can’t stand everyone disregarding me and turning my own stream into a youtube channel starring you.”

his words sting like alcohol in an open wound, and you fight the battle of your life to prevent the thousands of tears hiding behind your eyes from being visible. even so, your voice wobbles ever so slightly as you say “that’s a bullshit reason to break up, satoru—”

your boyfriend—is he even still your boyfriend?—scoffs and shakes his head, stumbling back and falling into his chair. "for you, it isn't. you wouldn’t understand. for me, it's like everyone's just... invalidating the three years i've spent on this shit. and i can't do it anymore, i just can't."

you blink slowly, backing away towards his bedroom door. "what does that mean?"

satoru exhales a bitter laugh and turns away, the back of his chair facing you. you think you can hear him take a soft, shaky breath as the room falls silent. neither of you make a sound before satoru turns back toward you, a blank look on his face.

he looks up at you, azure eyes devoid of the sparkle you've become so familiar with. satoru smiles sadly, but to your dismay, there's no real emotion behind it. it's almost like he's already accepted it when he says, "it means we—" he pauses and looks away. "this is over."

you reach out toward him, desperate to hold on to him—to the invisible string that ties you and satoru together, but he's just out of your grasp. "satoru, it isn't even that big of a deal, why are you—"

satoru turns and fixes you with a stern glare, and just like that, the string that kept you and satoru together for months, maybe years snaps, and you're left with a limp strand of what it once was. taking the hint, you walk out of his room in a daze, hardly noticing the way he says "i'm sorry".

and the worst part? he said he still loved you. but apparently that wasn’t enough.

satoru has every right to be annoyed that his stream is only growing because of you—his stream was the way he made money, and after all, it was never meant to be about you. 

and maybe he was never meant to be for you either.

the walk home is cold and lonely. you slip a hand into your pocket—the pocket of satoru's hoodie, which you should probably return to him—and extract your earphones. it probably isn't a good idea to wear both outside as you walk home, but you do it anyway—this day can't possibly get any worse.

a soft voice murmurs words of sorrow and encouragement in your ear as the music takes you to another world. maybe this—the breakup—was meant to happen. maybe it was a mistake to date a boy with thousands of fans.

as soon as you get home, your phone dings softly. you pick it up and frown when you see it's from toru. you'd have to change that name later.

toru: idk if u blocked me already but i still have a lot of ur things, do u wanna come pick them up later?

toru: or i can drop them off tmrw ig

you miss the way he used to text you—with an obnoxious amount of exclamation points and an even worse amount of emojis. now, it's like all of the flavor's gone from his words, and it hurts. that's when it actually settles in, that this is really over. it hurts like an icicle being driven straight through your heart, and it stings like one, too.

satoru's texts are left on delivered for five whole minutes before you reply, and it's only with an "i'll come by tmrw". he likes the message less than a minute later, and you're left to wallow in your misery alone until you finally drift off to sleep.

the next morning, you open your phone to a notification alerting you that satoru’ll be live on stream in ten minutes. curiosity kills the cat, but in this case, maybe it’d be worth it to see what he tells his viewers about your breakup. after all, there’s no way he wouldn’t tell them—he always had something to say about you, and he’d probably rather tell them for sure rather than let them come up with ridiculous theories on their own.

so you hastily make a new account using some email account you haven’t touched since middle school, trying a couple different passwords until you remember the one that works. the website hits you with a hundred questions, asking you about your favorite games and who’d you like to subscribe to first. you choose satoru, albeit after a second of hesitation. two minutes later, sparklingzebra672 joins your ex-boyfriend’s stream. you wait a second, holding your breath as the live loads. a brief moment later, satoru’s painfully familiar face appears on your screen.

“hey guys,” satoru says, forcing a smile on his face. even from behind a screen, you swear you can feel his eyes on you. “how’s everyone today?” 

the already unstable smile on satoru’s face falls when he opens the comments and gets greeted with a flurry of where’s your girlfriend’s. had you been anyone else, you probably wouldn’t have noticed the way satoru’s eyes dulled ever so slightly or the way he curled into himself, but being the girl who once knew him best, you could tell.

“oh, she won’t be back on here for… a while,” satoru starts, dancing around the topic. he leans back against his chair and tilts his chin up, azure eyes focused on the ceiling. “we broke up.”

nothing could’ve prepared you for the way satoru’s comments explode. it’s almost like you can hear the shocked gasps coming from all fourteen—no, twenty thousand viewers as the words nobody thought would ever they’d hear from satoru are spoken.

suguru-geto: holy shit im so sorry 

toji-fushiguro: wait wtf r u kidding?? that's fuckin crazy

yuuji-itadori: omg i thought u guys were together forever :(

inumaki: chat is this real??

satoru shrugs, averting his eyes from the hundreds of comments pouring in, but you scroll through and read them all. everyone, even satoru’s haters, seems genuinely shocked. in fact, had this not been your own breakup, you would’ve been one of them, begging and pleading satoru for more details.

“yeah, we did,” satoru murmurs, eyebrows furrowing just enough for you to read his expression. now that you’re looking closer, you can see the subtle redness underneath his eyes—had he been crying too? and maybe you’re imagining it, but his hair seems a bit dishelved too. your ex-boyfriend shrugs, forcing his face back into his usual lighthearted expression, but it’s not fooling anyone.

satoru scowls at the new flood of comments asking him why you two broke up. some people are already hypothesizing—maybe it’s because you got jealous of his fame, or maybe he got sick of you. maybe you left him to go date some other streamer, or maybe—

“i’m actually gonna end the stream here, ‘cause i don’t really want to deal with all of this right now,” satoru says with a frown. his eyes are narrowed irritably as a couple users protest, still begging for more details. “you guys know that i’m a real person with my own life, right? fuck off.”

and just like that, the stream ends. you’re left with a blank screen and a message saying that satoru’s ended the live, so you shut your laptop. your stomach turns as you groan, just remembering that you have to go over to his place later to retrieve your things, and somehow, you’d have to pretend that you didn’t just stalk his stream to see if he’d say anything substantial about the breakup.

a couple minutes after the stream ends, your phone blows up—every mutual friend you and satoru have is messaging you about what he said, but you can’t bring yourself to open any of them. except for one.

suguru: r u ok?

you: yeah ig

suguru: do u want anything?

satoru’s best friend’s question catches you off-guard—there are a lot of things you want. you want this whole situation to go away. you want the world to disappear. and most of all, you want satoru back, without the online world attached.

but suguru can’t do any of those things, can he? so you leave him on read. 

somehow, you fall back asleep, tossing and turning in your bed without satoru’s steady arms to accompany you. a couple hours later, you wake up again, wincing from the dim sunlight that pours through your windows and directly into your eyes. it’s just past five, so you figure that you might as well go down to satoru’s house and get your things. better to do it now than drag it out for an uncertain amount of time.

the walk is shorter than you remember, but maybe it’s just the absence of music pouring into your ears that makes it seem that way. you watch the wilted autumn leaves flutter in the wind, falling down onto the sidewalk like pieces into place. once upon a time, you had walked these very streets with satoru—it’s a fond memory you remember only all too well.

when you finally step onto your ex’s doorstep, the door opens before you even have a chance to knock. and there he is—the boy who’d once been the love of your life. satoru looks down at you with an unreadable expression. “hey.”

you think you’ve seem this film before, and you didn’t like the ending.

satoru spares you from having to reply by opening the door wider and beckoning you inside. “i already put most of your stuff into a couple boxes, but i thought you’d wanna check on your own. just in case i forgot something.”

you nod and walk past him, not trusting your voice to be steady. this was harder than you expected—much harder. in fact, you’re practically on the verge of breaking down when you step into satoru’s room and look around and see just how different it looks without the touches of you everywhere.

the fortnite poster you’d given him as a joke for the second anniversary of his stream was gone from his wall, and so were the two mini succulents that used to sit on the corner of his desk. the white cat plushie that used to rest on his pillow was gone, too—probably stuffed somewhere in one of the boxes outside his bedroom door.

after nearly a minute of looking around, you decide that whatever satoru possibly could’ve missed wasn’t important enough for you to have to stick around any longer.

you turn and start to exit satoru’s room so fast that you nearly crash into him when he suddenly appears in the doorway. “shit, sorry about that,” you mumble, trying to walk around him. but of course, because the universe is actually praying on your downfall, you and satoru both walk the same way at the same time. you awkwardly try to go around each other, and eventually, the humiliation is over.

“so, you got everything?” satoru asks, walking beside you with his hands in his pockets. you nod, bending over to pick up one of the two boxes. it’s pretty heavy, but not unmanangable. you just don’t really seem to know if you’ll be able to carry both back home at once. 

“oh, uh, i’ll be right back,” you say tentatively. a flash of confusion appears in satoru’s eyes, so you clarify, “i’m gonna go grab my car. that’ll make it easier.”

satoru’s eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head. “no, it’s alright. your place isn’t far from here at all, i’ll just take the other and walk back with you.”

“no, really, it’s alright.”

“it’s the easiest option, ba—” satoru cuts himself off, stopping himself from calling you baby for the first time since you two had started dating. “sorry.”

“let’s just go.”

the walk back to your house is brutal. you walk side by side with satoru since the path is wide enough for you to do so, and you two just keep bumping into each other. had you still been dating, satoru probably would’ve dropped the box and scooped you up instead, kissing your cold face to warm it up. of course, that would’ve added five minutes to your walk, but it would’ve been better than the tense silence dividing you and satoru right now. 

the wind whistles around you, brushing at your skin and making you shiver with every gust—there’s nothing more you’d like than to go home, plop on your couch and cry while watching the titanic for the hundredth time. 

after what seems like three hundred awkward hours later, you and satoru finally make it to your house. “thanks,” you say quietly, setting down your box in front of the door. 

satoru places his next to yours and slips his hands back into his pockets. he nods and replies, “no problem,” but still doesn’t leave.

you cross your arms, and tilt your head, meeting his eyes hesitantly. “umm, do you need anything else?”

satoru coughs tensely and shrugs. “oh, uh, not really, just—” his eyes drift down to your top, and your face grows warm when you realize you’re still wearing his hoodie. 

“shit, my bad,” you mumble, internally cringing and resisting the urge to say every curse word you know. could this day really get any worse?

well, at least satoru looks equally as embarrassed. he shakes his head and gestures for you to keep it on. “it’s fine, it’s kinda cold anyways. keep it.” satoru hesitates, shuffling his feet before continuing, “if you want something… to remember me by.”

what you say next was done entirely against your will. “do you still love me?” you ask suddenly, not sure what otherworldly force prompted you to do so. you instantly regret it when satoru’s face goes even redder, and you can tell it’s not from the cold the way his blush spreads to his ears.

“i— uh, i mean—”

“answer me, satoru, i think i have a right to know.”

he looks away and mumbles something about needing to go back home, to feed his fish or something (he doesn’t have a fish), and you grab his hand just as he starts to turn away. “please, satoru, i need to know,” you breathe, squeezing his hand harder when he flinches. 

ten silent seconds tick by, but you still don’t let go. so satoru sighs, a soft white puff of air coming from his lips. “yeah.”

your heart breaks again.

“then why did you—”

“because i don’t know how to do this,” satoru says, blue eyes darting all over the place. “i love you, i really do, but i just can’t— i don’t like having thousands of people thinking that i’m only worth looking at if i’m with you, it’s annoying and it pisses me off and i don’t want to accidentally take it out on yo—”

you cut him off with a kiss, ignoring the way he yelps a little in surprise. but thankfully, he doesn’t push you away—instead, his arms instantly wrap around you and pull you closer into his warm, warm chest. satoru’s lips are a little dry, but still minty as ever from the peppermints he’s constantly munching on. he kisses you back like a man starved of affection, and when you two finally break apart, his eyes are just as hungry.

“you idiot,” you whisper, trailing your fingers through his hair as tears prick at the corner of your eyes. “you shoulda just talked to me about it first.”

“i know,” satoru mumbles, looking down bashfully. “‘m sorry.”

“you should be.” you pause, watching satoru’s lips curve into a pouty frown. “i’m sorry too,” you murmur, and he looks up, confused. “i should’ve seen this coming.”

satoru shakes his head and presses his lips to your forehead, lingering for a couple seconds before pulling back. “i missed you.”

“i was gone for less than a day, satoru.”

“oh, so you didn’t miss me?”

“i did,” you admit, exhaling a puff of air when satoru smiles smugly. “shut up, it’s not a competition!”

“yeah it is, but fine, you win,” satoru gives in with a dramatic sigh, reaching down and twining his fingers with yours. his hands, which are significantly bigger than yours, instantly warm you up. “but only ‘cause i don’t want you to break up with me next.”

“i hate you, y’know that?” you grumble, leaning into his side and letting satoru kiss the top of your head. he hums in agreement, reaching out and opening your front door. 

“i’m sure you do, baby. now c’mon, let’s get inside n’ warm up. i wanna make it up to you,” satoru says with a grin, bending over and scooping up both boxes. 

“oh, yeah? how do you plan to do that?” you challenge, going inside first and holding the door open for satoru. once he’s inside, you close the door and instantly get pinned against it by satoru, whose hands are already creeping underneath your clothes. “satoru, your hands are col—”

he cuts you off by pressing his equally cold lips to yours, smiling against your mouth as he tugs at your clothes. “i know, baby. but i’ll keep you nice n’ warm for the rest of the night, i promise!”

[a-hound-will-die-for-you]

A Bath for the Hound

Masterlist | img source

Summary: Sandor Clegane is injured. And dirty. Some healers try to help him, but he's a gruff man who won't let anyone touch him. That is, until you show up at his door. Word count: 3200 Notes: Well! It ended up taking me more than a month to write this fic!! But here it is, and with an ending I didn't expect myself. Warning: Highborn f!reader x sandor clegane; Cocky reader; Grumpy Sandor; Beauty and beast vibes and reference; Nakedness and descriptions of underwear; Nothing explicit; Suggestive; Banter; Almost a kiss; Confessions of love; Sandor calls reader little dove. English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes I might make. Constructive feedback is welcomed, I am here to share and learn <3

You barely lifted your eyes from your book when four burly men shuffled into the room - three of them rubbing their sides and the last running a hand over a nasty bruise on his jaw.

"How is he?" you asked, turning the page calmly.

"I-I… don't know, my lady…"

You lifted your gaze and set the book on the silver tray beside you.

“You don't know?"

"No, my lady," the leader of the group answered. "He is… he's a…"

"A complicated man," Tyrion finished for him.

You knew that would happen. Not even a group of strong, experienced men was enough to deal with him.

"I'll go," you sighed, rising from your seat. Your two ladies-in-waiting stood up too, but you gestured for them to stay.

“Are you sure, my lady?” Tyrion’s small hand gently grasped yours. “I don’t think it is the most appropriate.”

“Tyrion,” you smiled at your friend, "I'm good with dogs, I know how to handle them," you added looking into his almond-shaped eyes.

The Hand of the King studied you for a moment. You were a stubborn woman. Nothing he could say or do would make you change your mind. And besides, he knew that you carried the weight of what had happened.

"Very well," he finally said, his smile tight as he released your hand.

You dipped your head briefly and, beneath the wary stares of your ladies-in-waiting, slipped out into the dim corridors of the Red Keep.

*******************

The king’s sword had his quarters in the same wing as the royal chambers. Close enough to reach the king in an instant should danger arise. But unlike the luxurious, sunlit chambers of the nobility, his were in the dark corridor reserved for guards and hired steel. 

You stopped before a heavy, dark door, flanked by two unlit torches. Almost instinctively, you smoothed down your crimson dress, adjusting its square neckline before tapping lightly on the wood with your knuckles.

“GET THE FUCK OFF!!” a rough voice barked from inside.

You smiled to yourself. Exactly the answer you expected.

“Sandor…” you said, keeping your voice calm.

After a moment of silence, heavy footsteps approached the door, stumbling over something metallic that rolled across the floor.

“Fucking seven hells…”  he cursed, and you smiled again.

One, two, three locks clicked open, and the large door moved just enough to reveal a nearly seven-foot tall man scowling down at you. His face was stained with dried blood and dirt.

“Gods, you look awful,” you said. 

The Hound pushed the door open further so his body loomed over yours.

“The little dove shouldn't be here,” he rasped. His gaze roamed unabashedly over your neck and collarbone, just as he always did.

“I know,” you lifted your chin at him, unbothered, “but you kicked out the healers, and someone has to take care of you.” 

His dark eyes darted between yours with a special shine, but his mouth twisted reluctantly. 

“I don't need help.”

Before you could protest, he grabbed the door and tried to slam it shut in your face, but as he did his bulky body staggered to one side. You reacted quickly and caught him by the shoulder. He was a giant of a man, you could not carry him, but at least you gave him some support until he found his balance.

"Let's go inside," you whispered. To your surprise, he bowed his head in a silent nod, letting his black hair fall over his eyes to hide his shame.

Sandor Clegane could afford better as the king’s sworn sword, but he was no man of luxury. In his room, there was little more than a simple wooden chair, a table cluttered with bloody bandages, and a fireplace that looked like it had never been used. You stepped around his battered armor scattered across the floor and helped him sit on the chair.

"Let me see the wound," you said as you lightly tugged at his linen tunic. It was the same he usually wore under his chainmail.

With a grunt, he pulled it off and threw it aside. Before you, a broad chest came into view, strong and covered in dark hair. But it was the blood-soaked bandage around his abdomen that caught your eye. You peeled it back and had to force yourself to stay composed. Jagged cuts tore through swollen, reddened flesh, the crude stitches binding the torn skin in a hasty, careless job. He had lost a great deal of blood, which explained his weakness.

"It’s not infected, but we need to clean it,” you said, so focused on examining the wound that you barely realized you were alone with a man in nothing but his breeches. What would your father say?

The man just grunted, staring straight ahead while you bent down to take a closer look at the wound.

"I’m going to bathe you," you added with all the seriousness the moment allowed.

He shot you a glacial glare. 

"No bloody chance you’re bathing me.” 

"You stink like a dead horse, Sandor. I’m going to bathe you whether you like it or not."

He opened his mouth to argue, but before he could you had already stepped into the hall in search of a servant.

"Hot water, towels, and soap," you instructed.

Several men and women dragged in a wooden bathtub and hurried to fill it with hot water. The tub was large, made for someone of his height, and it took several trips for the servants to finish preparing it. As they worked, you helped Sandor remove the rest of the bandage, stuck to the dried blood. He did nothing but grumble and curse the entire time. Once the steam and the pleasant scent of lavender soap filled the room, you were left alone again.

"I’ll help you get in," you offered him your arm.

"This is nonsense," he stared at the bathtub like a dog refusing to go into the river. "I can fucking wash myself."

"You could if you could stay on your feet," you retorted.

You thought he’d grumble again but instead, he let out a loud huff and pulled his breeches down. You quickly averted your gaze, keeping your arm steady to support him. The fabric crumpled around his ankles, and you felt the weight shift as he stepped into the tub with a soft splash. Yet, for some reason, he didn’t lower himself.

“Sit down, please,” you said, still politely looking away.

“Water’s bloody hot,” he rasped.

“It’s warm,” you said.

“It’s too damned h-”

“JUST SIT IN THE BLOODY BATH, CLEGANE,” you snapped. Your neck was turned so far away it might snap, and you couldn’t take this ridiculous standoff another second.

A brief silence followed your order until, with a reluctant grunt, the towering man relented and lowered himself into the wooden tub. Once the water was up to his waist and the foam concealed his nakedness, you knelt next to him. Moisture clung to your neck, so you gathered your hair into a high knot before taking the cloth and soap left at the tub’s edge. Then, you lathered the fabric thoroughly, dipped it into the warm water, and pressed it lightly against his wound.

“Seven hells, woman, warn a man before you start poking at his guts!” The man cursed and flinched, sending water sloshing over the sides.

You frowned.  "If you held still, it wouldn't hurt so much."

He leaned toward you, teeth bared. 

“If the little dove hadn’t run off, this never would’ve happened.”

“Well,” you squeezed the cloth, “if you hadn’t scared the little dove, she wouldn’t have run!”

Your eyes met his, and his scowl deepened, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of looking away. As you held his gaze, you took a small bottle of ointment and applied it to his wound, more carefully this time. He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned his head forward, jaw so clenched it might break.

"How many were there?" you asked, trying to distract him from the pain.

“Six,” he muttered.

“And where are they now?” 

“Dead.”

You clicked your tongue in silent reproach.

“Seriously?” He turned to you. “They were going to rape you bloody. Would the little dove have preferred I brought them back for supper?”

A chuckle left you, but you didn't answer. You just got up, walked behind him and knelt at his back while he stared ahead, more sullen than ever.

"Here," you curled your fingers around his unshaven chin, gently guiding his head upward. He allowed it, but the moment you poured clean water over his head, he jerked back dramatically.

“Sandor, it’s just a bit of water," you laughed, "I doubt it’ll drown you." 

He was ready to strike with something sharp again, but the words died in his throat as your fingers sank into his hair, tracing slow and soft circles over his scalp.  

His dreadful scars became even more visible beneath his soaked hair, and the man hunched forward, embarrassed. But you had long since lost your fear of his ruined skin. Your fingers ran through his hair, raking through his locks and gently untangling each knot they found. An almost imperceptible, shaky breath left him, and you could almost say he was enjoying it. But when your hands pressed too close to his scarred flesh, he stiffened and pulled his head away.

"It's alright," you reassured him, carefully guiding his head back.

He remained still like a rock while your fingertips slowly wiped away the dried blood from his burned cheek, treating the folds around his deformed ear with the utmost care. Then, you brushed his hair aside and pushed his shoulders forward. The gesture made his muscles tense under your touch, accustomed only to blows and punches. His back was painted with bruises, stiff with countless knots. You pressed your thumbs where he needed it most, kneading until the tension in his shoulders slowly loosened. Unconsciously, he leaned forward to grant you better access. When you traced his spine from top to bottom, a low moan escaped him. He quickly cleared his throat in an attempt to cover it up. The effort only made you smile. 

There he was, one of the most dangerous men in the Seven Kingdoms, crumbling beneath your touch.

"All done here," you said as you moved around him. 

His eyes followed you as you knelt beside him again and reached out to wipe his chest. But he was so broad that you had to bend over, wetting your sleeve and the front of your dress.

"Sandor, turn toward me as much as you can," you asked.

He didn't. 

His mouth twisted into a grin as he shot you a defiant look that you recognized instantly. It was the same one he wore when a man tested him in the training yard. He was trying to regain some control after his previous moment of vulnerability, and you knew he wouldn't give in this time.

"Fine," you huffed, standing up. You weren’t going to waste more time. 

Your fingers reached for the front laces of your dress and tugged furiously until the gown slipped from your shoulders and fell at your feet. Sandor's eyes widened, but you paid him no mind. You clutched your undershirt in your fists, tore it over your head, and let it fall carelessly to the floor too.

The man was now fully turned toward you, watching with keen interest how your delicate corset cinched enticingly around your waist. His piercing stare didn't stop you. You yanked down your underskirts, lifting one leg to step into the bath. Only white thigh-high stockings with silken ribbon garters covered your thighs. A foolish choice, perhaps, for that day.

"Gods, woman…” the man leaned forward, thick fingers tugging at your garters as if unwrapping a present. “…a true little dove…."

"Sandor!" You slapped his hands away. But he ignored you. As you shifted your appetizing thighs in front of him to get into the water, his large hands cupped them.

“No! Hey!” You seized his wrists and pushed him back. “No touching, alright? Behave.”

"Must be fucking kidding me…," he gave a sharp, annoyed huff, eyes still glued to your thighs as he let his back fall against the bath.

You lowered yourself onto the opposite side, trying not to be intimidated by the sight of the sturdy, soaked chest before you. The steam pressed against your skin, and you ran a hand over the back of your neck, dampening a few stray strands that fell down your back.

You retrieved the cloth and dipped it back into the foamy water. Your hands found his calves, hard as rocks, and you started to scrub them. You kept your gaze down, perhaps because you felt a little vulnerable as he drank in the curve of your neck and down your cleavage. You continued rubbing his knees and began to slide it up his thighs. Higher and higher. Until you stopped abruptly halfway.

“Scared of what you might find?” he taunted, voice rough as sandpaper.

“Oh, Sandor, I know exactly what I’ll find,” you said, pulling the cloth from the water to repeat the process on his other leg.

His chest shook with a deep, throaty laugh that you were sure could be heard from the hall. You rolled your eyes and sat on your ankles, steadying yourself with one hand on the tub’s rim. As you leaned in to scrub his chest, the soapy water slid slowly down his ribs. He leaned back in the tub, arms resting on the sides. You could feel his pupils fixed on you, hungrily.

"Stop looking at me like that," you grabbed his chin and turned his face away.

“Ah, no," his deep voice rasped. "You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. Let this beaten dog enjoy a bit.”

You clicked your tongue at his words but the warmth creeping up your cheeks betrayed you. Gods, who would have thought The Hound’s flattery could make you blush?

“Sandor…” You said, running the cloth over his neck, thick with dark hair that climbed up to his beard.  “Yesterday, when you were chasing me through the woods… why?”

“Following orders,” he said, voice flat. 

You hummed, your touch drifting over his collarbone without thought. He exhaled, long and slow. 

“You were meant to go meet your future lord husband. No one told you?” His eyes sought yours, but you kept them downcast.

“Is that what you want?” You asked, fingers idly toying with the soap. ”For me to meet him?” 

“That’s what highborn ladies do, ain’t it? Marry fine, proper lords.” The scorn in his gruff voice made you look at him but something in your gaze made his own soften. “No, little dove… I don’t want you to meet him,” he sighed.

“Why not?” you asked with round, innocent eyes.

He stared right into you. 

“You fucking know why…”

Silence followed his words, so heavy that you feared he might hear the wild hammering of your heart. 

What a foolish thing to ask.

You tore your eyes away from his, gripping the cloth so tightly that the soapy water ran down your wrists and forearms. His fingers brushed against your wet skin, trying to wipe it away. You shuddered. 

No touching, you had said

"You’re not mine to have, are you?" He continued, his hoarse voice weighed down with the same sadness that darkened his eyes. "Damn foolish of me to have even thought of it."

Your hand clasped his and pressed it against your flushed cheek.

No touching. 

To hell with that. 

Water spilled over the edges of the tub as you rose onto your knees. Your trembling hands found support on his shoulders. His own wandered roughly over your back, sliding up your neck until his fingers tangled in your hair, gripping it in fistfuls. His heavy-lidded eyes flickered down to your mouth. Your parted lips throbbed with want. You weren’t sure if you had leaned down or if he had pulled you in, but there was nothing between you except unsteady breaths and heat. A rough hand glided through the back of your neck. His dripping beard hovered close, almost grazing your chin.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“My lady?” 

You both jolted as a voice called from the other side of the door. You turned your head toward the sound, while Sandor dropped his own forward in defeat.

“Yes?” You raised your voice so the servant could hear.

“Lord Tyrion sends word, asking if all is well.”

You swore you’d strangle Tyrion the next time you saw him.

“E-everything is perfectly fine, thank you!”

“He also asks that you come to the Great Hall with all due haste. Your betrothed has arrived and is eager to meet you.”

You closed your eyes and drew in a deep breath before answering.

“Very well, thank you.”

When you opened your eyes again, Sandor’s mask of indifference was barely holding together.

"I should leave," you said, quickly brushing your hand over his wet beard. He nodded briefly without looking at you.

Stepping out of the bathtub, your eyes lingered on the discarded clothes on the floor. Your silks tangled with his rough garments felt strangely complementary. You gathered your gown and pulled it over your moist skin.

"Can you finish on your own?" you asked, fingers quickly tying the laces.

"Aye," he muttered, still not turning to face you.

You swallowed hard and moved toward the door, leaving him to brood in silence. But just as your fingers brushed the handle, his voice stopped you.

“Little dove.”

You turned. His gaze was fixed on the water.

“I'm going to kill him. I'll rip out his guts in his sleep and strangle him with them.”

Your lips twitched. 

"Tyrion?"

"No..." He lifted his eyes to yours. "The fool who thinks he deserves you."

You left the room before he could see your smile fade. Leaning your back against the wood, you placed one trembling hand on your chest. Your heart raced frantically. You needed a moment. A moment to breathe and calm that wildness that gripped you inside. But they were waiting for you. As much as you wanted to go back to that room, you couldn't. You had to do what you were supposed to do. In that, even a highborn lady was no different from a hound. So you squared your shoulders and pushed yourself away from the door.

Beneath your dress, your soaked stockings stuck uncomfortably to your thighs as you made your way to the Great Hall.

...............

Thanks for reading! <3

What do you think? A comment would give me life, and encourage me to write more :)

[fluentmoviequoter]

I'm Closer

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!reader

Summary: During a string of break-ins in your neighborhood, you have to stay home alone while Tim works a night shift. When the intruder gets close to you, you remember Tim is always closer.

Warnings: depictions of breaking and entering, anxiety/fear, vague threat, fluff and comfort

Word Count: 1.8k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Rules

When Tim returns home, you’re sitting in the corner of the couch with your knees pulled up towards your chest as you type on your phone. He sighs and locks the door behind him.

“Where?” he asks, moving to stand behind you before he lays his hands on your shoulders.

“Two streets over,” you answer. “The Clarksons.”

You click the power button and toss your phone aside before you stand on the couch. Tim’s hands fall to your hips as he tilts his head back to look at you.

“How many is that?” you ask softly.

“Fifteen,” he replies. “There was one yesterday afternoon, we were investigating it all morning. Seven detectives and not a single lead between them.”

Leaning forward, you place your hands on Tim’s shoulders. He lifts your hips and pulls you carefully over the back of the couch. Before your feet touch the ground, you move your arms around Tim’s shoulders and hug him tightly.

“What if we’re next?” you ask against his neck.

Tim doesn’t answer right away, opting to tighten his grip on you as he moves one hand to smooth over the back of your head. He understands your concern. You have both been on edge since the second reported robbery. Fifteen break-ins in your neighborhood in less than three weeks is more than enough cause for concern. Each report makes Tim more eager to get the thief in cuffs but simultaneously discourages him from leaving you home alone. You’ve been triple-checking locks even when he is home, so he can’t imagine the weight you’re carrying when he’s gone.

“I’ve been driving by every few hours,” Tim tells you. “And Wade has patrol officers all over this area. We’re going to catch him.”

You nod against Tim. You desperately want to believe him but refuse to let your guard down. Tim mumbles something against your hair, and you pull back just enough to tilt your chin up.

He sighs, then says, “I have to work the night shift tomorrow. If you want to go stay somewhere else, I get it.”

You shake your head and take Tim’s hand, leading him toward your bedroom. “There really haven’t been any leads? Not even what kind of house they’re targeting or anything?”

“Nothing,” Tim laments. “Whoever this is, they don’t seem to be picky.”

“Comforting.”

Tim chuckles at your tone, then wraps his arms around you again. You never feel safer than when you’re in Tim’s arms. Neither of you are the kind of person to run from a fight, so you will stay in your home tomorrow, alone, and trust Tim and his fellow officers to find the bad guy before anything else happens.

“I could ask Smitty to park his car in the driveway for his hourly naps, try to scare anyone off with the sight of a police car coming and going,” Tim suggests.

“That would work great until they see the donut-hungover cop in it,” you joke.

“Call me tomorrow night, okay? For anything.”

“I will,” you promise. “I love you, Tim.”

The following night, after you kiss Tim goodbye and promise again to call him if you need something and to check in often, you walk into the kitchen and begin cooking yourself dinner. You aren’t hungry, you're too concerned with checking each car that drives by the window and ensuring no one can see inside the house. You walk through the house and check the locks as your food cooks. Everything is fine, you remind yourself as you carry your food to the couch. You turn on the television, hoping it will serve as a welcome distraction until you’re ready for bed.

Tim looks away from the computer monitor before him to check his watch. You’re probably getting ready for bed, and your last update was only a few minutes ago when you said everything was fine and the closest neighbors were home from work.

“Grey,” he calls.

“Two patrol cars are circling now,” Wade answers without looking up from his folder. “Everything’s quiet.”

Tim nods to himself, then clicks his keyboard to resume the security camera footage. Lucy yawns beside him, and Tim resists asking Wade which officers are in your neighborhood. If something were to happen, you’d be more likely to call Tim than dispatch, and he’d like to know who is close.

“She’ll be fine,” Lucy assures him softly.

“She better be,” he responds before watching a man in a bright red tracksuit enter a gas station with a gun in his hand.

You enter the guest room across the hall from your master suite with your phone in your hand to ensure the windows are locked. The windows on this side of your house aren’t very easily accessible, but you check them regardless. In your pajamas and ready for bed, you tug on the window latch and nod when it doesn’t move. Raising your phone, you open your text thread with Tim and begin typing a message. You pause when something makes a scraping noise outside. It goes silent, and several seconds later, you resume typing.

Just before you hit send, a loud pop echoes through the hallway before the undeniable noise of a window sliding open reaches your ears. Two soft footsteps follow soon after, and you begin to panic. You look around for something to defend yourself with, then suddenly remember that Tim told you to take cover first and then defend yourself only if necessary in a situation like this.

The closet door is open, so you grab the nearest object before sliding onto the floor beneath the extra clothes. Carefully, quietly, you pull the door closer to the jamb, then sit back in the dark corner and call Tim.

Tim pauses the surveillance video, zooms in, and gets a clear image of the suspect’s driver’s license as he removes his wallet to pay for a Red Bull. He rolls his eyes at the criminal’s stupidity but mentally thanks him for saving Tim some time finding him. Tim’s phone rings, and Lucy jerks as if she had been asleep.

“Hello?” Tim asks, pushing away from the desk as he waits to hear your voice.

“Tim,” you whisper, clearly panicked.

He stands immediately and lowers his voice to ask, “What’s wrong?”

You take a shaky, shallow breath that tightens Tim’s chest before you say, “Someone’s in the house. I was checking the windows, and then there was a pop in out bedroom I think… Tim, I can hear their footsteps, please come home.”

Tim jumps over the desk he’d been seated at, ignores the calls of his coworkers, and runs through the station to get to his truck. He knows he should alert Grey, dispatch, or anybody, but his thoughts are on getting home and ensuring you’re safe.

“Talk to me,” Tim requests as he slams the door of his truck closed and starts the engine.

“Tim,” you whimper, clutching your phone as your hands shake. “I think they’re going down the hall.”

“I’m on my way,” he promises. The radio in his truck lights up, and he hopes someone saw something and the officers in your neighborhood are on their way.

You murmur something that Tim can’t decipher but remain silent when he asks you to repeat yourself. The truck’s transmission revs as he presses the accelerator to the floor, fighting to keep his mind away from the worst-case scenario. As he turns onto your street, setting a new record for how fast the commute has ever been driven, Tim slams the gearshift into park several houses down. He leaves the truck running with the door open as he runs down the street and unlocks a side entrance to enter.

“I’m here,” he whispers to you before entering the house. He puts his phone in his pocket and raises his gun as he moves carefully through the house. You’re hiding somewhere but thought the unwelcomed visitor was coming toward the main part of the house. A door clicks somewhere down the hall, and Tim abandons his goal of clearing the kitchen to find you.

In the guestroom closet, you hold your phone to your ear with one hand while pressing the other to your mouth to muffle your breathing. The door into the bedroom clicks as it is pushed open farther, and you push yourself against the wall behind you. Tim is in the house somewhere, but your mind is racing with panic and fear. You peek through the gap in the door and see a masked intruder moving carefully through the room. Suddenly, he turns toward the closet, and you close your eyes.

Tim looks into your bedroom, where the window latch has been blown off by a small explosive device, but sees no evidence of anyone currently inside. The door across the hall, however, stands wide open. With his gun ready, Tim crosses the hall and presses his back to the wall before stepping inside.

“LAPD, stop where you are,” he demands.

The masked man stops, halfway between Tim and the closet. Tim sees the closet door isn’t completely closed and wonders if that’s where you are. Sirens sound outside, and Tim takes another step into the room.

“Hands up,” he instructs. “Interlace your fingers and place them behind your head.”

“You’re too late,” the man taunts.

Tim ignores him, and how his stomach rolls at the idea that anything could have happened to you while his phone was in his pocket. “Kneel.” Once the man is on the ground, an officer announces his presence downstairs, and Tim shoves the man unceremoniously toward the hallway and yells his location and that there is one in custody.

Then, Tim abandons his duty to keep the suspect secure as he turns toward you. He opens the closet door carefully, then drops to his knees. When you see him, you lower your phone and reach for Tim. He takes your hands and pulls you closer, whispering promises that you’re safe and he will never put you in this position again.

“When I said to always have something to protect yourself, I meant something a bit more substantial than a bowl,” Tim says, reaching for the jewelry tray you grabbed before hiding.

“It’s heavy,” you defend weakly.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

“You’re here now.”

Tim pulls you closer, blocking out the noise of the officers apprehending the intruder, and your adrenaline wears off as you realize you can feel safe at home again.

“How did you get here so fast?” you ask as Tim helps you stand.

“Don’t tell Wade but I broke a few laws.”

You laugh and then furrow your brows. “How did he get in?”

“Right,” Tim remembers. “We need a new window.”

“He was really close,” you murmur.

Tim gently holds your chin as he kisses your forehead. “I’m closer,” he vows before cupping your cheeks and kissing you.

[nerdygirlramblings]

Hello! Ive been binging poly!141 and I keep coming back to your writing for my fix (because by now its basically an addiction😅)

I had this idea that the 141 are together with a civilian reader. And civilian reader works in retail, part time, and is mostly at home. Normally, they would be home by the time their boys came home, welcoming them with open arms, a hot plate of food, and time to rest and relax. But this time, the 141 get home early and realize where reader works: Walmart (or equivalent). Reader has been keeping this a secret cause they know its not cute like a coffee shop or cool. Its just their job. And now the most important men in their life know. Im thinking the 141 found out because they went grocery shopping and happened to come across reader or something similar to that.

I work at Walmart and it sucks🥲 thought that maybe something like this might help😅

Tysm, nonny! So happy to hear you like the writing. I hope this does your idea justice. (Walmart doesn't have stores in the UK, but they own ASDA.)

Also, thank you for my first request! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

pure fluff, bad accents (per usual)

Your boys find out you work part-time at ASDA on a random rainy Thursday in March.

You don't really need a job. All four of your lovers are officers with the British army. Prior to you, they all lived in base barracks. Prior to you, they lived fairly Spartan existences. Prior to you, most of their income sat in the bank, quietly accumulating.

They have plenty of money saved up that they love using to spoil you, when you let them. You know that if you asked, they'd give you everything, but you draw the line about asking them for an allowance like some tradwife. You want some pocket money of your own. Thus, the part-time job at the ASDA in town.

You're a people person, good at handling big personalities. You need to be to keep up with your boys. Between John's need for control, Simon's stoic dominance, Johnny's aggressive enthusiasm, and Kyle's blinding charisma, you aren't some shrinking violet. Within a week of your hire, your manager watches how you weather a nasty piece of work trying to demand concessions you aren't permitted to give and immediately puts you in customer service.

You're nearly unflappable in the face of frustrated pensioners and harried parents and entitled young professionals. Over and over, you're the one they call when a customer is going spare. Which is how your boys find out about your job.

They've been deployed for over two weeks, and you have no idea when they'll return. John had originally said they'd be gone for at least a month, so you aren't expecting them home any time soon. However, they'd come home much earlier than anyone thought, and they wanted to surprise you.

You're always so good about making the house feel like a home, with your bright smile and warm laughter, your home cooked food and soft touches in decor. You make them feel like people, not weapons, and they want to return the favor. This last deployment had been hard, and all four of your boys were missing your sweet voice and tender care. They wanted to show you that they loved and cared for you the way you always showed your love and care for them.

It was Johnny's suggestion to prep a meal for you as both a surprise and a thank you. After debrief, they pile into the car and decide to stop at ASDA for everything they need before heading home to surprise you. It's John who causes the code call.

You hear Susan's voice over the store-wide address system. "We could use a little Sunshine in the floral department." That's your cue. You finish with the pensioner at your till as Jacob, your manager, comes over to relieve you.

You take a deep breath and square your shoulders. In your experience, a Sunshine call in floral is a man angry the store doesn't have the fancy arrangements listed on the website. You wish the signage on the site would be more clear that the beautiful bouquets are online orders only. It would save you having to explain why the offers in store are so limited.

You hear him before you see him, smokey voice grumbling, "But if they show the bloody thing on the site as available, you should have it hear." You'd recognize the voice anywhere. He's not angry, not really, but Susan doesn't know that. Add in the sheer size of him, and Simon looming over his shoulder, it's no wonder she called for support.

You have never wanted to walk away from a situation as much as you want to right now, but before you can make an escape, Susan notices you over John's shoulder. Her little wave is enough for your men to notice, and they turn as one to see you coming towards them. Immediately their demeanor shifts. Simon's back sags as though his strings were cut, leaving him loose-limbed. John stands a little straighter, chin up as if to impress you. They've both broken out in smiles, though Simon's are only evidenced by the laugh lines you know to look for. It's only as you get close do they zero in on the badge on your shirt.

"I've got this, Susan," you say to your co-worker. "Jacob's on my till. Can you cover?"

Susan wrings her hands. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay and-"

"They're nothing I can't handle," you tell her, cutting off her worried rambles. There's a cheeky glint in your eye as you flick your gaze at your men. You clap your hands together and say, "Right, let's get this settled, then."

Susan takes one quick look between you and the now slightly less intimidating men and heads towards the front of the store.

Once she's out of earshot, John's face breaks into a frown. "What're you doing here, love?" He glances at your name on your chest again. "You work here?" He sounds almost hurt by the revelation. You can tell Simon wants to reach for you, and the only thing stopping him is you working.

You hear heavy footfalls behind you as Johnny's Scottish lilt reaches your ears. "Och, Cap! Ye said ye'd only be a moment. Gaz and I had a hell of a time getting the trolley on its lift ta find ye. How hard is it to buy bon..." His question dies on his lips as you turn around. "Bonnie?" He, too, sounds hurt to find you working here.

You can see Kyle over Johnny's shoulder, confusion written across his features. This is not how you wanted your boys to find out about your job, if you ever wanted them to actually find out. You thought maybe you'd surprise them with tickets to Hereford FC's opening game in a few months. And if they asked how you afforded them, you could handle this conversation then, but it's out of your hands now.

And as much as you don't want to have this conversation, especially not in the middle of the floral department, you can't stop the wide grin at seeing your boys again, home and whole.

"Hi, boys," you say, opening your arms. Disappointed he might be about finding you here, Johnny's no fool. He immediately steps into your embrace, and the others quickly follow suit. You're swallowed up by the smell and feel of them. The hug lasts one minute. Then two. Then they all slowly step back.

You can see the questions and cut them off before they get started. "I have another three hours before I'm off. We can talk at home, and I'll tell you anything you want to know."

John nods first. He recognizes your tone. You won't let them derail you for answers now, and they would be wasting their breath to try. "You heard the lady, lads. Let's get home."

They start to walk away when you tease, "Captain? Was there a reason you were arguing with Susan about the flowers?"

He halts his steps and turns to you, flush creeping up his neck. He brings his hand up to rub it as he says, "Er, I, we, wanted to get ya something nice, but they don't have the same ones as online."

You melt a little, watching the way your men shift nervously behind their captain. You smile softly and reach over, plucking a bouquet of rainbow poms from the rack. "These are what I usually get for myself when you're away."

John takes them gently from your hand and passes them to Gaz to put in the trolley. "We'll see you at home, love," he murmurs, leaning over briefly to kiss your cheek. Simon kisses the top of your head, fabric brushing your hair. Johnny pulls you in for another bruising hug and kisses your other cheek. Gaz puts his hands on your waist, drinking in the sight of you, before taking your hands in his and kissing your palms.

You watch them leave, wondering how you'll make it through the rest of your shift.

Three hours and fifteen minutes later, you cross the threshold of your shared home to the most delicious scents wafting from the kitchen. After slipping your shoes off next to the piles of boots at the door, you follow your nose back to the kitchen and the spread laid out on the large wood-topped island. There's a roast and mushy peas and mashed potatoes and stewed carrots and battered cod and crisps and spinach all surrounding the flowers you'd suggested, nestled in the vase you love most, the Caithness one Johnny'd bought you on your first trip with them to Scotland.

At the table, your men sit, plates made for everyone, waiting on you. They've changed since you saw them. Gone are any traces of fatigues and tactical gear. Instead they're all in casual civvies, truly home for the first time in nearly three weeks. Simon stands as you come in and pulls out your chair, smile on his scarred lips. "Come sit, doll," he tells you, not quite an order.

You look quickly around. "Let me change," you say, tugging at your uniform top. "I won't be but a minute." You back out of the room before they can stop you. You hurry to your bedroom, pulling your top off as you go. Once behind the door, you slip from your trousers into comfortable leggings and a large jumper, one of Kyle's you think.

By the time you make it back to the kitchen, your men are more than a little antsy. Simon's smile is a little strained, Johnny is fidgeting, Kyle keeps glancing between you and John, and John is staring at you. Your chair is still out. He waves a hand at it, and gently says, "Come sit, love." It's couched as request, but you know a command from your lover when you hear it.

You take your seat at the table. "Listen-" you start, but John cuts you off.

"Are we not providing for ya, love?" You see the hurt in his eyes, how much it bothers him to think he, they, aren't doing enough for you.

"Oh, John, dear, no!" you reply, putting your hand over his on the table. "It's not that at all."

"Then what?" Simon asks.

You look at them all, the expectant faces waiting to hear how they failed you. "I get restless sometimes. I love you, and I love our life. I'm happy to take care of the house and make sure you're all fed after a long day. But I wasn't built for sitting around doing nothing. I like people; being home on my own all day can get lonely. Especially when you're deployed. I also like having my own pocket money."

John opens his mouth, and you know what he's about to say, so you continue. "I know you'd give me any money I need or want, but I like having my money. Money I earned myself." You look around at them, willing them to understand. "It's only part time. Helps me keep a little busy and have a little extra to spoil you and me with."

Johnny is frowning, but you see Kyle, head cocked, looking at you as a puzzle. "I think I understand," he says softly. "You were making you way just fine before us, and you gave up everything for us."

At his words, the crease between John's brow deepens, and you're sure he's remembering the job you had, that you'd somewhat enjoyed, when you'd first met them. You'd been working at RAF Lakenheath, living in a cozy flat in Cambridge, near The Backs, when the 141 had been coming through the base after an op. An injury had put Kyle in the med center for a week, and while he could have been transported to Hereford once stable, Laswell had worked it out for the whole team to have some R&R near the base.

You'd quite literally run into John one day, rushing to your office, after which he suggested lunch as an apology. You quickly became close with all four, smitten with them from the start. In turn, they fell hard for you. They wooed you over the course of several weeks, stopping through Lakenheath on deployments to spend some time with you. Six months in and you were completely gone on all four of them, so when they'd asked you to move to Hereford, you did without ever looking back. But it meant giving up the life you'd led.

Somewhere along the way, your happiness overshadowed all you'd left behind. After a few weeks, being home alone while your men worked started to feel isolating. You liked being a little busy, and there weren't enough projects around the house to keep you busy enough. You'd always been independent, but you didn't want to be stuck in a job with long hours anymore. You wanted to be home for your men. So you'd found the job at ASDA.

Kyle reaches over to where you hand is still on John's. "I'm sorry we didn't ask how you were coping us being gone all day," he says. He looks you in the eye as he continues. "I understand wanting to do something, wanting to be a little busy, and if this makes you happy, then I'm all for it, doll." He gives you a small smile and squeezes your and John's hand.

"Gaz is right," Simon rumbles. "We were so happy to have you here we didn't think about what you did all alone all day." He puts a heavy hand on your thigh, the warmth of him seeping through your thin leggings. "'m glad you have something to keep you from getting lonely."

"Sorry, hen," Johnny murmurs, just above a whisper. "We didnae think a' ye enough." You smile widely at him.

"Johnny, you think of me all the time. This isn't about neglect at all!" You try to catch his eye, but he's looking hard at the table in front of him. "You did nothing wrong, love," you tell him gently.

He looks at you, blue eyes bright. "Ye sure?" You've never seen him this nervous before, and you break a little.

"I'm sure love."

He smiles then, a little smile, but it brightens his face and shifts the mood in the room. You look at John who's been surprisingly quiet this whole time.

He's smiling, but it's a little sad. "I know ya said we didn't do anything wrong, but we feel like we did. We didn't notice you were bored, didn't ask if you were lonely." He flips his hand over under yours and threads your fingers with his. "Yer giving us a gift by not blaming us, and we'd be stupid not to take it, even though it feels like yer giving us an out. Thank you." He brings your hand to his lips and kisses it softly.

"Thank you. I was worried you'd be mad," you admit.

"Never could make us mad with something like this, hen," Johnny reassures you. "I'm sorry we had to spoil your day is all."

You turn back to look at the food on the island. "You didn't spoil my day. You made it. You're home early, and you made such a lovely spread. I think we should tuck in, yeah?"

Simon chuckles. "Point made, doll," he says, scooping a heaping helping of mash onto his fork. The rest take it as a sign to start eating too.

The room is silent save for the sounds of food savored until John pipes up, "Why'd ya come to florals, love? We might have missed ya altogether if not for that."

You giggle. "The sunshine call, John."

"Yeah?" He clearly doesn't understand.

"It's the shop call for a difficult customer. When I'm on shift, it's my job to handle those." You look at each of your lovers in turn. "Seems I've got a knack for dealing with muppets," you tell them with a smirk.

main masterlist

[anastasiabowe]

𝙍𝙄𝘾𝙃 𝙂𝙀𝙉𝙏𝙇𝙀𝙈𝘼𝙉 — As a broke college student, it’s not wrong to want a rich boyfriend! That doesn’t mean you’re a gold digger, or will stoop so low you will ruin your worth, it just means you want a man who will take care of you, and guess what? You found him.

note: this will be a 3 part series! First one I’ve ever made and may be my last! So please not too much on these writings! Luv you!

𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙏 𝙄 𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙏 𝙄𝙄 𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙏 𝙄𝙄𝙄

Content Warnings: language, suggestive content

Nanami is a man of morals. He usually keeps his hands and eyes to himself, he holds the door for anyone, women especially, he respects boundaries, and if anything that causes him to think inappropriately he will kindly excuse himself to make sure he doesn’t seem like a creep. But Nanami is just like any man.

Nanami longs for a lover, a wife. He desires children, a family. But in this cruel, sick world, he can’t find a woman who wants him for him. Nanami is one of the top 10 richest men on the planet, he not including himself, but his company in that title.

Every woman he has attempted to date tries to put on their best “I love you for your heart not your money!” act, but it slips the second they tell him “oh no! I forgot my wallet!”

Nanami knows every trick in the book, he knows the look women give him when they are impressed by his wealth, he knows the lip biting they do to show interest in his looks, he knows the voice and excuses they say to make him fall down to their feet, which he never once has done nor will do. He knows it all. So dating people that have seen him before he’s met them makes it all the more boring.

So, when Nanami’s friend, Haibara introduced him to dating apps, he obviously was shook.

“You really had no idea there were dating apps?” Haibara blankly looked at him. Nanami bit his thumb in uncertainty.

He grumbled a little “no.” And his friend smiled. “Then sign up! What can you lose? They don’t have to know what you look like.”

Nanami hated that idea. “No, I want them to know who I am.” His firm voice erased that idea completely from his friends plan.

“Well, 80% of this world knows who you are, that wish you want isn’t going to happen.” Nanami sighed knowingly, just tired from his sad lonely life.

“Haibara, thank you for this..” Nanami thought carefully of his words. “Great discovery, but I think it’s best you head home and I sleep on it.” Haibara understood, and firmly grabbed Nanami’s shoulder on his way out.

“You’ll find her, I know you will.” Nanami placed his hand firmly on Haibara’s in a thank you, and Haibara left.

After Nanami heard Haibara leave, he hurriedly sat down on his couch and opened the dating site.

“RICHTON THE DATING APP FOR THE WEALTHY!”

Nanami quickly laughed at the cringe advertisement, but it was a popular app, so something was working.

Nanami put in his information and had to choose which photos to put on his profile. He chose the first decent ones he could find, not caring too much about perfection, and he was brought up with the interests slide.

He clicked three random ones and pressed continue. The app asked to use his camera to verify his age and photos. Nanami positioned the camera to where it said to and he was verified. The app welcomed him to a very ugly woman.

Nanami had skipped the tutorial at the beginning and just swiped towards the X like he has seen on TV. This app was the definition of a gold diggers dream. Rich men pay to speak with women that aren’t even all that.

Nanami swiped and swiped towards the x. No woman looked like a decent women. They all looked like they seduce men or are prostitutes, maybe both. Nanami frowned seeing all the half naked women.

“Should I really be on this app?” He thought to himself. He continued to swipe, heart sinking each swipe to the left seeing women who don’t know their worth. Ass in the camera more than their face just to get a quick buck. Nanami swiped one more time ready to turn his phone off, and his thumb froze.

A girl with straight hair smiling in what seems to be senior photo. She was in a white summer dress posing in a daisy field. The beach was calm behind her and he couldn’t help but stare at her smile. She seemed so pure, so innocent and that was exactly what he was looking for. He swiped right on her profile and it opened up a message saying:

“YOUR FIRST MATCH! SEND HER A MESSAGE WITH THE AMOUNT YOU WOULD LIKE TO SEND!”

Nanami saw a text box and a drop box. The drop box has let Nanami type in the amount he would like to send. The minimum was 5 dollars. He typed in $100 and pressed on the text box.

His thumbs again froze. What should he say? Should he compliment her? Introduce himself? Nanami combined them. He typed.

“Hello, my name is Kento and I couldn’t help but be in absolute awe seeing your photos. You are absolutely beautiful.” He sent it without looking back, this was already hard enough.

Nearly instantly you saw his message and typed.

Y: “Oh my god, you did NOT have to send that much money!”

He imagined your voice as he read your message. He chuckled to himself like a madman and he started typing back.

N: “I wanted to, you are so beautiful, I couldn’t help myself.”

He nervously tapped his thumbs on the side of his phone waiting for your response.

Y: “I really do appreciate the compliment but $100 is too much, I can’t accept that!”

N: “Too late, I want you to have it, I want to talk to you.”

Y: “You can’t talk to me for free!”

N: “That’s not how this app works..?” Nanami was confused.

Y: “Oh, right.. I forgot you have to pay to chat.”

N: “Please don’t be alarmed by the money, I’m not running out anytime soon😂”

Nanami cringed at himself for using such an emoji, but he wanted you to feel at ease.

Y: “Thank you, you really didn’t have to though. I won’t stop saying that.”

N: “Then let’s change the subject. Why are you on this app?”

You saw his message but didn’t text back. Did he ask a triggering question? You soon started typing, and his nerves came back.

Y: “You know, a broke college student who needs a little extra cash😅”

He chuckled, for a girl who didn’t want a hundred bucks, that’s sure what she was looking for.

N: “Haha, so you won’t mind if I send more?”

Y: “Don’t send more! I’m not that broke😭”

Nanami smiled. He smiled as if you were really there. He imagined having this conversation with you and how hard you would make him laugh with your silly remarks.

N: “Don’t worry, I won’t 😂, but it’s not like you’re going to stop me.”

Y: “I’ll send it back😜✌🏾”

N: “I’ll send it back!”

Y: “And I’ll send it again, it will be a whole thing if you make it💀”

The fact you both were arguing over money is crazy, Nanami never argued with a woman about sending them money. They usually do a “oh no you don’t have to do that!” But will eventually accept. You on the other hand are just outright refusing. Nanami is now intrigued by you.

N: “If you won’t accept my money via here, how about dinner? I’ll pay, and I won’t argue about it when we get there.”

You again took your time typing, very obvious you are unsure.

Y: “Okay… but where are you tryna take me?”

N: “I was thinking…. Hermes?”

Y: “You’re joking!”

N: “What?”

Y: “I can’t afford that!”

N: “You’re not paying.”

Y: “Still, I can’t make you pay for that!”

N: “I want to pay for it, I eat there all the time.”

Y: “Not for two☹️”

N: “I’ve paid for 10.”

Y:“Kento..”

N: “Y/n, please. I want to meet you. You intrigue me, I’ve never met someone like you. I don’t want to seem like a begged, nor do I want to pressure you, but I would love to meet you and enjoy a nice dinner with you.”

Nanami felt desperate even though he just met you not even an hour ago.

The long response time again happened, and Nanami felt like he blew it. The once time he felt like he actually found someone worth the time, he blew it.

Y: “Okay.”

Nanami’s heart fluttered seeing your message.

N: “You will have dinner with me?”

Y: “Yes! I’ll have dinner with you😂”

Nanami felt like a little boy again. He hadn’t felt this excited to ask a girl out since never and it felt good.

N: “How does tomorrow sound? I know that’s soon, but it’s the only day my schedule isn’t busy.”

Y: “Yeah, tomorrow would be great!”

N: “Alright, I’ll see you then!”

Y: “See you!”

+

The next day Nanami felt different. His head was somewhere else, somewhere lighter, happier. He felt… excited? He wasn’t sure, he hasn’t felt this way until his first client offered him half a million dollars as he started his journey in this company.

Nanami played more upbeat music, very different from his normal taste, and he swayed and stepped with every beat to the song as he ironed his clothes. He had opened windows and instead of wincing from the sun hitting his eyes, he smiled.

“What a beautiful morning.” He thought to himself. Nanami must have been in a different place that he didn’t even know was so negative until now. He was looking forward to a dinner with someone. He hasn’t felt that way in years and he just wishes he could meet you right then and there.

Nanami nearly put on his freshly ironed clothes and grabbed his briefcase and blazer. He locked his garage door and headed straight to his black Porsche that he usually doesn’t drive, but today, why not?

Nanami drove to work with a smile on his face. Haibara greeted Nanami as he stepped out of his car and a valet stepped in for him.

“Good morning.” Nanami smiled and Haibara walked beside him.

“Good morning…” Haibara stared at Nanami’s face.

“Did something happen?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you win the lottery? What’s got you so happy?”

“Haibara.” Nanami stopped and turned towards his friend, “Thank you.”

Haibara wanted to laugh, he didn’t even do anything, right?

“for what” Nanami smiled at Haibara.

“For showing me that ‘app’. I’m going to meet someone for dinner tonight.” Haibara smiled at Nanami.

“That’s great, Kento! What’s her name?”

“Y/n.”

“Hm, is she pretty?”

“Beautiful.”

“Is she rich?”

“Eh..”

“Is she young?”

“Kind of.”

“What do you mean by ‘kind of?”

“She’s… 20..” Nanami purses his lips waiting for Haibara’s reaction.

“20?!” His eyes were wide and he laughed. “You’re 34!”

“She’s very aware of my age.” Nanami said not amused by his friends reaction.

“I mean, hey, if a woman 14 years older than me asked me out, and she was hot, I’d go out worth her too.” Haibara threw his hands up in a ‘what can I say’ pose and Nanami rolled his eyes.

“We meet at 6, so I just need to get through today.” Nanami said more to himself. The happy facade started to break, and he felt the butterflies pool in his stomach.

He was nervous. He hasn’t been on a date with someone he actually wants to meet in over 10 years. He doesn’t remember how to be charismatic, he doesn’t remember how to be enticing and interesting. Work has been the only topic that’s been keeping his conversations alive. He doesn’t talk to anyone about anything personally other than Haibara and that is hard enough.

Haibara saw Nanami. He knew Nanami for nearly 6 years and this was the look of nervousness. He’s seen it countless times, but that’s only because he knows him. He can tell from the slight twitch in his jaw and the subtle fidgeting with his hands.

“Come on Nanami, let’s go to my office.” Nanami nodded and followed Haibara.

+

In Haibaras office, he gave Nanami tips.

“Now I have met countless women. Hard to believe, I know, and I know how to get them wanting more.” Nanami cringed at the thought of his good friend seducing women.

“I’m not trying to get anything from her, I just want to hold a conversation and hopefully get to know her more.”

“Alright, I got you.” Haibara walked over to his whiteboard and wrote “NANAMI’S FIRST DATE”

“This isn’t my first date, Haibara.”

“I know, but you’re acting like it is.”

Nanami nodded in agreement, and Haibara clapped his hands together.

“I have cancelled all meeting that require you to be there, and will have your secretary fill in for the ones that don’t. We have all day to get you ready for your date, alright?”

“Ok.” Nanami replied. Nanami felt silly sitting in the chair and listening to his younger friend teach him how to act right on a date. Nanami usually lets the women talk since he usually doesn’t care too much about them. He usually just lets his colleagues recommend a woman and set up a date. Nanami regrets every single dollar he wasted on the money thirsty women. But he wants to try with you. He wants to talk to you and let you talk. He wants to actually get to know you, maybe even go on more dates and hang out.

“Ok, first step. Do NOT let them talk the whole time. Even if they ramble, try and have a mutual conversation. Sometimes when they ramble, they think it’s because you aren’t interested and they will want to make sure you're still intrested” Haibara took in a huge breath, “OR they are nervous.”

Nanami nodded.

“You just have to read their body language.”

“Well, how will I know if they are nervous or not?”

“You’ll know. If they look around when talking, when they cover their face when talking, when they hold their hands in their lap, if they look tense, come on, you know what nervous looks like.”

Nanami nodded again.

“Use your words, this is practice. Don’t just nod your head,” Haibara mocked him by aggressively nodding his head “say things like ‘I agree’ or ‘I’m listening’ or ask them about whatever they’re talking about so they know you’re listening.”

“Okay.”

“And don’t just say ‘okay’.” Haibara mocked again. “Try and be more creative! Let’s practice.”

Haibara sat down in his seat and tried his best to look more feminine.

“So yeah, me and my friends went mini golfing and I didn’t know what to do so I just sat and watched them play.”

Nanami sat there. What did Haibara want him to say? Haibara looked at him, waiting for a response.

“Oh, well that is very sad.” Nanami said unsure. Haibara sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Yep, might as well pay the bill and leave.” Nanami sat there dumbfounded. What was he supposed to say?

“What should I have said instead?”

“Nanami, I can’t tell you what to say, but that would have sent her home crying. You sounded like you didn’t care. You should say something along the lines of ‘did you ever end up knowing how to play mini golf?’ That will at least let her know you’re listening.” Haibara stood up and sighed.

“We have a lot of work to do.”

+

After many hours of preparing, Nanami’s watch chimed. It was 5:30 and he needed to head home and change.

“Thank you Haibara, this was very helpful.” Nanami shook his friends hand and headed towards the front of the office.

“Don’t try too hard! Just let it come out naturally!” Haibara cakes out to Nanami. Nanami smiled back at his friend and Haibara sighed.

“Please don’t screw this up.”

[thefandomthings]

❝𝐀𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐢 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬❞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Aomine Daiki x f!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Suggestive (It's Aomine, duh), fluff

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: I need more knb fics, pls. This is my first time writing for Knb, so I hope it's okay

Masterlist

 It will take a lot for Aomine to get into a relationship after his last one, he’ll never admit it but he’s afraid of getting hurt. (Again)

 So consider yourself lucky my dear.

 Daiki is a person who loves something or someone quietly.

 He’ll never really say he loves you out loud unless you haven’t seen each other in a long time or if you/him are having a bad day.

 His love language is physical affection and quality time. He’ll always be touching you with an arm around your shoulders or holding your hand or his hand on your tit.

 Speaking of boobs, well all know he’s obsessed with them. He’ll constantly try and catch you changing, or put his head under your shirt while cuddling just to be near the girls, as he calls them.

 Daiki is also extremely protective over you. He wants to keep you safe all the time. He’s lazy af, but whenever you want to go out just to run and errand he’ll be on his feet ready to go. My man will deck someone for looking at you wrong even in the slightest way.

 He calls you Idiot, dummy, and moron if you do something stupid or dumb. He does it out of love cause he doesn’t want you to get hurt.

 Aomine only uses your first name if you two are having an argument, or having an important conversation. Other than that your are usually called Babe or Baby.

 Your nicknames for him are Bubby/Bubba, Dai, Baby, and Kiki to annoy him.

 You two go on arcade dates at least once a month. Or you two go and kick it at the hoops downtown. Aomine plays a lot of street ball and knows a lot of guys down there.

 If you don’t know how to play basketball, he’ll gladly teach you how.

 If you already know how, you play 1 v 1 all the time, Aomine always ends up winning. But he will help you improve your skills.

 Teases the crap out of you any chance he gets. Loves seeing your flustered face.

 Aomine is totally the type to whisper dirty things in your ear while out in public. Not to mention he will just randomly grope your chest or butt whenever he feels like it.

 He’s also the type to rest his arm on your head not matter your height. He will also mess up your hair and use your head as a joystick whenever you sit between his legs.

 Daiki is a pervert at heart, whenever you are wearing a skirt and come to see him while he sleeps on the rooftop he’ll sneak a peak underneath.

 I feel like he’s a boob and thigh guy all the way. He will happily die between your glorious thighs and tits.

 Randomly leaves bite marks anywhere he wants. Adores when you have hickeys on your neck, fills his ego to the brim watching people comment on the purple bruise on your neck.

 Fucking loves when your wear his extra jersey to his games. It’s the motivation he needs to get going. Will completely crush his opponents just to watch you cheer for him.

 Pouts when you don’t give him his morning kisses or if you get up during your 2hr cuddle sessions when he wakes up.

 I 100% believe he is half Hispanic. He definitely knows Spanish and will call you names like Puta or Pendeja.

 If his mom here’s him call you that just know he’s getting a tongue lashing and the chonclas getting thrown at his head.

 He gets his accuracy from his Mom.

 It takes awhile for his mom to like you, she doesn’t want anyone hurting her baby boy.

 After awhile, she’ll treat you as her own daughter, and even teach you Spanish.

 Bonus if you already know Spanish, that’s a +1 with his mom.

 His dad liked you instantly, you were a lot different then his old girlfriend and welcomed you with open arms.

 Daiki has his dad’s ego, it’s like looking at the same person anytime they compete with each other, which is almost always anything they do.

 Aomine will totally be at any of your games/meets if you play sports. Even if he is late, he’ll be there cheering you on.

 Get’s jealous easily, especially if you talk to Kagami. If looks could kill, Kagami would be dead.

 Will have you against the door of his room, or pinned to the bed whenever he gets jealous. He makes sure you know that you are his and only his.

 His room is a disaster, clothes, old school papers, blankets etc.

 He try’s to clean his room up a bit before you come over. It’s adorable, it usually doesn’t look to much different just the floor was clean cause he moved everything to the corner of his room and covered it with a blanket.

 Loves to get you small gifts. He saves up for months to get you a beautiful promise ring. And what made it even better, you got him a promise bracelet that he wears absolutely everywhere.

 He makes sure to take it off before a game or when does anything that could break it.

[r0-boat]

Welcome home Masters!

7 Kings X Gn!Maid Reader

Hello this is my contribution too @mammonsmaster's WHB Collab!

Synopsis: Maybe working at a maid cafe in hell it was a mistake....

Cw: No sex but still smut because very suggestive, mentions of drugs, gambling, stripping, workplace harassment, workplace sexual harassment, MC is gender-neutral with feminization they are in a maid dress people, Reader is so fucking done, long as hell, mostly crack, silly fun

Enjoy Masters~!

Just a week ago, was the final nail in the coffin to get a job in hell.

The very idea of you working a job was heavily frowned upon by the Seven Kings who doted on you and 65 of their loyal servants who shared their very opinions. Even the money loving Bimet whose words you can still hear now that you type your resume "Don't soil your hands with work of the common when there are so many more ways that you especially could earn money." With the look of jealousy that would make even Leviathan impressed.

As much as you did here where they were coming from. About sudden angel attacks and hell still being dangerous. Becoming $1 million in debt because a devil at an Abyssos casino challenged to a game of poker was something. Instead of losing gold coins, the currency of Hell, and something you never had, the logical course of action was to go for the money in your earthly wallet. It was fucking traumatizing! You swore to yourself that would never happen again. As much as you are grateful for all seven of those kings to work for you to pay off your debt, the eye candy is so graciously enjoyed. You could still feel poor peepaw Solomon rolling in his grave every time you think about the $1 million you've never had that you lost.

The best thing about job hunting in hell Is that as soon as your resume hits the internet businesses from giant conglomerates in Tartaros to small Mom & Pop shops in Gehenna from cozy diners to strip clubs and bars flood your inboxes with messages offering you any amount of money with the greatest hours anyone could offer just for you to work under their roof. Because these devils knew that you were pretty much a celebrity, and wherever you went, potential paying customers would follow. So there you were, sitting on your bed, your golden laptop (gifted by You-Know-Who). You scroll through the plentiful options this job listing website has offered you.

You had no interest in corporations in Hell if they were anything like the ones on Earth, nor did you care enough to find out. Whether it's office work or on-site work, you are not working there, which was about 19% of applications you had to delete. You'd rather work somewhere smaller and less corporate.

You were not working in a place that worked with produced or was known for sex, adult toys, drugs, and alcohol. If you were already saying that just by walking down the street You did not even want to know what it was like working at a club or whatever Hell's equivalent of a Spencer's was!! And that was about 80% of the applications!!! Even some of the big companies fall into this category!

At the end of your mass deleting session, you were left with about 10 options that were currently hiring and had messaged you, at least one from each of the seven kingdoms.

Scrolling at the bottom and refreshing a page, another one pops up. That one caught your eye. It didn't have a lot of hours, but honestly, those were the ones you were looking for since you were trying to hide the fact that you even had a job. But it was also in Abyssos with morning hours, 3 days a week on weekdays. A humble cafe located at the end of a street corner, away from the large casinos and theme parks. As much as you were a little bitter at Abyssos for being the architect of your financial doom, this was the best choice. Out of all of the Seven Kingdoms, demons from Abyssos care about fun and in the moment more than anything else. The chances of you running into Beelzebub were far lower than in other countries; even if he was in this Kingdom, he wouldn't be there for long. Even if he did see you He would probably forget that you worked there after he left.

As much as you loved Gehenna, the chances of you running into Satan were very high; he knew everyone and was really popular with the devils who lived there. Satan, along with Mammon and Leviathan, were against you getting a job the most. So, who knows how mad he would be if he saw you on your shift? And his regular shenanigans are not really ideal if you just want peaceful shifts. Plus you can't imagine what kind of Karens the Kingdom of Wrath hosts.

Tartaros was a firm no. If you wanted to avoid large companies and corporate greed, honestly, you would stay 100% clear of Tartaros when it comes to looking for a job.

Hades sounds fine until you realize you will be working with envious devils. You can't imagine how bad the workplace drama could be. Not only that, the chances of Leviathan finding out are 99.9% which will lead you to a force transfer to his department, and by department, I mean wherever the fuck he feels like.

To work in Paradise Lost, you would need the permission of its king, and Lucifer would only agree for you to work there if it was underneath him directly. As tempting as it was, working in the medical department is terrifying, and you're not sure about working with a boss who you also bang.

Even though the chances of meeting Belphegor during your shift are lower than those of Beelzebub If you worked in Niffleheim, you would never have a break, a vacation, or even the day off; you can practically already hear the micromanaging. Belphegor was so eager at the idea of you working. He immediately offered, to his credit, a high-paying job to work in his castle, the benefits being "I don't fucking know..." And hours being "Forever I guess..." The job description very ominously being "Everything I need ya for Sugar. "

Abbaddon...

You let out a heavy sigh, lift your head out of your hands, and stare back at your screen. Your mouse had been hovering over the Cafe job listing for too long. Finally, you decided to bite the bullet and respond. The owner responded immediately with a casual and friendly tone. You're not sure if the lack of professionalism was refreshing or concerning. Is it a hell thing or an Abyssos thing that job interview didn't exist? But it was too late to contemplate now because the person who you assume was the boss pretty much hired you immediately over text. And informed you but in a couple days Wednesday You would come in at 12:00 And they'll teach you all that you need to know!

The cafe was "themed" after the ones on Earth They even had special events that lasted for a week every now and then. The owners were a middle-aged looking married couple. The husband who had slicked back hair and in undercut shook her hand very enthusiastically. Expressing his excitement to see a human in person. He had this innocent look in his eyes that made your heart melt He was probably hundreds of years older than you but he greeted you with such gusto. As he was yapping and rambling about his life in Hades and his dream to start a business blah blah blah- something from the back caught your extension. What you assume was the wife came practically stumbling out of the back room, You have the look of a cold-blooded killer on her face. She snarled when her blood red eyes landed on yours She didn't even say a word when she walked toward you before extending her hand, pinching the bridge of her nose her whole face scrunching up as if she was in pain. The husband beamed at his wife as if she was the most beautiful thing on earth. "Oh! That's Camilla! My beautiful wife! Sorry for her scary face She's nursing a hangover... Her old mates from Gehenna wanted to drink with her. She may look scary but I promise she's a sweetheart!"

Pink dusted her cheeks as she glared at her husband before muzzling his cheek, She put a hand on your head gently patting it before going to the back room.

You met the other part-time workers: a Young devil studying in a university in Tartaros, who seemed to be attached to you by the hip, her bright blue eyes looking at you like you were the most interesting thing in the world, Just buy her expensive jewelry you could tell where she was from. Her style was very up-to-date with Tartaros fashion with her golden name tag reading Xiulan. She mimicked you and every move you made with wide eyes and a big smile She was shy and didn't talk much but for some reason when it came to you suddenly she was just as talkative as your boss.

And an older man from Niffleheim with a lopsided name tag reading Kenji, who was the cafe's chef, who to this day you are unsure if he liked you or not. Every time he would see you running up to him with a big smile he would audibly grumble "Oh God, not you again..." But at the same time he would baked cook and feed you special dishes he made to ask how it tasted. But honestly did more micromanaging than Camilla and Lucian combined.

And all was well...

Until... The Day of reckoning...

A month into your job, your first event, Lucian your boss and Camilla's husband summoned you and the other part-timer as well a silence as ever Camila. "Okay this is very special! We all heard about The rulers of hell working as butlers at a shop on Earth". You tried to stop yourself from cringing when he mentioned.

"I think we should do the same! Instead of butlers, we can do maids!" Lucian said. Camilla smiled at his enthusiasm, with Camila taking measurements and Lucian with the shopping, You and Xuilan forcing Kenji to wear his goddamn maid outfit.

Besides Xuilan and Kenji getting into another fight during your lunch break when Kenji attempted to hand feed you only for Xuilan to Huff and bite it out of his hand, you yelled at both of them, and now they're sulking for the rest of their shift. You smiled as the bell above the door rang and two new customers entered. You skipped over to the new customer with your sweetest voice. You said, "Welcome home master!"

"oh~Is this some kind of roleplay?..." A familiar voice purred. Your eyes shot open... Oh fuck no.

You look up to see in all your horror. Not just one but two Leviathan and Beelzebub.

Leviathan's expression was unreadable. He looked down at you with wide, unblinking eyes, and his lips parted slightly.

Beelzebub's shocked expression faded instantly, replaced by a smug smile. "Aren't you going to see your masters?" He purred making you clench your fists. Hissing through your teeth, you respond, trying so hard for your customer service switch to flip. "Yes! Of course right this way." As you led them over to their table, you could feel holes being burned into your backside. As soon as you sit them down, that fake smile fades as you lean against the table to the both of them. Whisper screaming "What the fuck are you doing here?!"

Leviathan was oddly silent as Beelzebub spoke up for him, wrapping an arm around Levi. "Taking grumpy shut-in for a walk! Thought something That didn't have a lot of people was good for him. Could be asking you the same thing." You try to ignore Beelzebub leaning heavily to the right trying to get a better look at you.

You wanted them out now! And why the fuck is Levi so quiet... Usually, he's spitting poison or telling you how worthless you are, but he's just sitting there silently. His eyes never leave you, not even for a second, as you walk to grab a pen and notepad. Honestly, it's creepy as fuck the feeling that somebody is watching your every move, and you prefer when he's threatening to kill you.

In classic Beelzebub fashion, He orders one of everything on the menu. One. Of. Everything.

"And for you, master?" You turn to Leviathan, who just covers his face with said menu. You sigh, taking that as a no. As you head to the back, the burning sensation in your back does not leave. Kenji is there waiting for you on the other side of the wall. "Is that his majesty?" He whispers, and you finish this sentence with your palm and your hands as you give him the piece of paper with their order. "Leviathan and Beelzebub... Yea..."

Kenji looks at the paper in his eyes go wide. "Am I reading this right?"

"One of everything?? Yes."

Kenji rubs his eyes and he looks again.

"It's not changing Ken..."

"shit, I don't know whether to be excited or scared?" Despite his beefy appearance, the many scars on his body, and the fact that he looks like a yakuza member, Kenji takes pride in his cooking. Honestly, the only thing helping your anxiety-riddled mess is the fact that a muscular man like Kenji is in a frilly maid dress complete with a fake magic tail and ears that move.

Xiulan had already gone home since she usually opens. You saw Kenji going to the kitchen with Camilla. Kenji and Camilla looked so excited to get started. It seemed that they genuinely loved cooking. And when you tried to talk to Lucian, he just gave you a dismissive, "I don't care much for Hell politics... Whether they are kings, royals, or nobles, we treat all our customers like our Masters!" Lucian is way too committed to the bit.

The first five dishes come to their table, and Beelzebub's mouth waters at the smell. He takes a bite before you can see an idea popping into his head, and his lips curve into that signature shit-eating grin.

Oh no it begins...

"Miss maid, can you feed it to me~" Beel purred with the spoon still in his mouth. Which finally seemed to have awakened His majesty asshole of Envy. "You've already ordered everything on the menu fatass! Must you bother them even more?" Levi snarled.

You turn back to see Lucian, his eyes wide with sparkles, watching this whole thing. 'I thought you said you weren't interested in hell politics... ' You said internally before returning to Beelzebub. Taking a spoon out of his mouth, you scoop up some rice from the curry he ordered with the sweetest smile. "Open wide, Master!" Beelzebub is making sure to stick his tongue out,, too. Before he could take it off the spoon, Leviathan practically shoves him, putting it in his mouth instead of taking the food off that utensil. "Seriously, how annoying can you be? How is anyone supposed to eat if your hand feeding it?!" He glared at you, finally gently slapping your shoulder with the menu he had been holding onto this entire time. "Just get me one of your sodas!"

"Levi, if you wanted some food, you could have just asked..." Beelzebub said with a noticeable amount of annoyance. Whatever it was, it wasn't your problem as you tried so desperately to hide your exhausted side before you retreated back to the other side of the counter.

Around the afternoon, the cafe wasn't supposed to be as busy since The Abyssos nightlife was starting to kick up, and most devils were beginning to go bar hopping, clubbing, or gambling. Other than the two royalty on the side of the room, you were trying desperately to ignore. You served another table of regulars.

You smiled and greeted them with your usual soft tone, not forgetting to add 'Master!' at the end of it.

Leviathan's eyebrow twitched as he watched the whole interaction. Beelzebub had already cleaned his first round of plates while waiting for the other round of food. He was on his phone, texting. Leviathan stared at the hardly touched cup of cream soda. He slid his arm against the cup, slowly knocking it over the edge, some of that liquid splashing on a thigh. Hearing the noise, his head whipped around, immediately abandoning his current task and running to the King's (TM) table.

"Oh my goodness are you okay master?!" You ask You're so glad you keep a clean rag in your pocket. Levi's breath hatched when he felt your hands on his thigh pressing the rag against his pants. Staring down at you his pupils blown wide, How long have you been wearing this? How many more people had their eyes on you all day? 10? 20??

If it were up to him,, you would be serving only him. Dressed like this 24/7, with that sweet smile only for him, as you obediently cater to his every wish.

You press your rag harder on his thighs trying to soak up as much soda as you can. When your eyes dirt back up at him he grabs his teeth hoping you don't see the tent beginning to form in his pants. Once you are satisfied you move the rag to the table and then floor wiping up the rest of the spill. "Would you like me to get you more soda master to replace the one you spelled?"

Your voice snapped him out of his fantasy " what do you think? and be quicker this time You're as slow as you look " Leviathan huffed. You tried so hard not to grab the customer by the collar. As you left to go get a clean rag.

Coming back to the table your voice was sickly sweet as you hiss through forced smile "Oh my master is so clumsy~! Here!"

With enough force, you can slam down a sippy cup to make this table shake with a loud bang. Levi's eyes went wide, the loud noise making him jump back in his chair. His cheeks were dusted pink. He begrudgingly accepted the sippy cup without another word as Beelzebub busted out laughing.

When you finally finished serving your regulars You heard the bell on the door ring again this time It sounded like a whole group of people came in. When you rush to the door you wanted to jump out of your skin.

What the fuck.... Mammon and Satan?! Mammon hummed his eyes trailing up and down your body before giving you a whistle.

"Not sure which I'm more angry about, The fact that you went against what I said or the fact that you didn't tell me about it!" Satan raised his voice hissing through his gridded teeth but Mammon puts a hand in his shoulder. "If you don't like it then you can just go home, Beelzebub invited us to dinner, we should at least enjoy the food while we're here as well as the other services."

"fuck no I'm staying!" Satan growled smacking Mammon's hand off his shoulder.

Beelzebub You bitch! You internally scream as you whip your head around to see the man of your reckoning wave from the table they were seated.

"T-this way master..." You stuttered as you tried hard to regain that cheerful, ready-to-please attitude. "Master? I can get used to that!" Satan smiles wrapping an arm around your waist to feel how the dress compliments your body. Before walking ahead to his table, Mammon follows in tow but not before fully groping your ass on the way making you squeak at that moment, wondering if there is a hotline in hell for workplace harassment.

When they sit down you hear Satan, "Leviathan why do you have a sippy cup?"

"shut the fuck up short shit..." Leviathan mudders putting the cup up to his lips.

You wish your boss and coworkers could do more for you, but the fact is that they are kings, and there isn't a whole lot they could do about it... You didn't even bother bringing out menus as they were probably just going to eat whatever Beelzebub ordered prior.

You go to the back room to see if the second serving of food is ready, You look back to see all four staring at you; despite being clothed, you've never felt so naked as they undress you with their eyes. You knew exactly where Mammon was shamelessly staring. And they weren't exactly quiet either you could hear their shameless conversation.

"the maid outfit is nice... But... It seems a bit long and flowy. Something tighter around the waist... Hmm... Perhaps something to show off a little more assets?"

"lace?"

"ah yes! I didn't know you had such great tastes Beelzebub! "

"I pay attention where it counts!"

"It doesn't matter what they where everything is going to go on the floor anyway... "

"tch... No sense of style... No wonder you dress like that."

"SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH YOU'RE DRINKING OUT OF A SIPPY CUP!!!"

You knew these were devils but come on... You're on the clock... Surely they'll cut you some slack on the clock right?? When you walked past the door, Lucian ran up to you, holding your hands in his. "Which one is your boyfriend?" He said with a big smile on his face. "I- What?" You are so cut off guard by his question. "So if you are Solomon's descendant are they all your boyfriends?!" Lucian continues. You didn't like the excitement in his eyes. " Hold on honey Wait here! "

He smiles as he runs to the kitchen with a skip in his step. He comes out with the fake tail and cat ears That was on Kenji before. Looks like he was more than welcome to give those up. Lucian hum does he replace your maid headband with the cat eared one and hooked up the magical tail right to the dress. "There you go dear aren't you the cutest kitten!! Now since today is going to get slower for the rest of the day now go out there and make your boyfriend happy! "

He smiled pushing you back out the door as you were wondering what the hell just happened. Did your boss just sell you out? You can't tell if he was supportive of your love life or a bad boss for subjecting you to more horrors. He sounds less of a boss and more of a nosy grandma. You made the mistake of looking back to see half of lucian's face peeking out from the other side. You say as you walk back to the table. Mammon's eyebrows perked up when he saw the new additions to your outfit. "hm... Better... But my point still stands." He smirks his arms cross.

Beelzebub whistled "Can you give us a little twirl?"

Ignoring their comments you smile "I'm sorry It will be a little longer till your food. If there's anything else you would like please let me know."

Satan gave you a toothy grin patting his lap "Aren't you tired from standing up all day? Why don't you set in my lap?"

"S-sorry You're not allowed to touch the Maids." You stutter again You could feel your face getting flushed, You've gotten attention from customers before but with the kings it was another level, if this was on earth this would be sexual harassment.

"Sorry doll face but I think we already broke that rule. "Satan purrs.

Beelzebub seems to finally notice what you said about the food leaning on his elbow "Don't worry about the food, we're waiting for more. "

"M-more?" Your eyes widened

"Oh yes, more." Mammon grins. "You're not just going to get a job as a cute little maid and expect us not to want to see it."

"You're welcome pretty." Beel chimed in making a kiss motion with his lips.

By the time your next break came around you sat in the break room your head in your hands, You swore this whole day was going to make you lose 5 years of your life. And it was about to get worse.

You could handle Lucifer and and Belphegor.

But... The devil you feared the most...

'The creature.'

There was no way 500 years he would miss the opportunity to see you in a maid outfit.

As much as he was sexy as fuck. That beast is terrifying.

But what you didn't think is how fast they would come in. Your 15 minute break ended. And you wanted to scream when you saw a Asmodeus walking in with a smile on his face coming from a portal carrying Belphegor piggyback. Lucifer following behind His eyebrows slightly raised as he looked around with interest.

By work policy you had to greet them.

Come on... Think about the paycheck, think about the paycheck, think about the paycheck, think about the paycheck, repeating your head like a mantra that would rival the Seraphim.

With a dead look in your eyes Your cat ears and tail which made Belphegore perk up from his nap and a curtsy that made Asmodeus bite his lip. "Welcome May I take you to your table?

'Oh God it's moving...!'

Asmodeus smirked smelling smelling fear.

"Aww No 'welcome home Master'~!"

You grit your teeth biting back the urge to strangle.

"He is correct you know. Aren't you supposed to be in character?" Lucifer unexpectedly chimes in.

'Lucifer you traitor!!' You sob internally

Belphegor resting his head on Asmodeus's shoulder, sneers "Aw ain't ya a shy kitty."

Your face red utterly shaking as you try so hard to summon every last ounce of fucks to give.

"welcome home, Masters~!" You gave them a cute smile.

The devils were too stunt to speak. Lucifer took a white handkerchief before pressing it to his nos. You saw a little bits of red staining the handkerchief when he folded it before threw it away into a nearby trash can when they walked over to their table.

You know in a fucked up way despite the torture and the more torture to come it was kind of nice seeing all the kings hang out like old friends. despite the abysmal difference in what's legal or not and the lack of overall morality they're no different from any other close group of friends

"Yup I'm definitely beating it tonight!" Asmodeus says with confidence Immediately tanking the mood.

"Honestly same." Belphegor mutters as he got off Asmodeus's back to sit in a chair.

There they were all Seven Kings... All eyes on you. A pack of hungry wolves watching a defenseless deer.

Levi grit his teeth at the empty sippy cup in his hand when you walk over to those same regulars who had been sitting there for a while now. Satan was grinding his teeth staring daggers at those poor devils

"um... Descendant of Solomon..." One of them asked his face red as he plays with his fingers a shy smile on his face His puppy love for you made your heart melt as his friend tried to hype him up. Leviathan rose up from his seat like a corpse from the grave, Satan's nails digging into the table looking like he was about to lunge like a feral animal, only to both pause.

"May I get a picture!" Your cute smile makes Satan grip the table his hand shaking trying so hard not to flip it. "Yes you may but you know the rules!" You practically skip over to a shelf grabbing the deck of cards.

"win against me in a game of poker! And you may get your picture!"

Poker might seem like a bad idea... Given that it was the main reason why you were here in the first place.

But you have changed since then... Countless nights mastering the game, all the harsh and painful lessons from your former poker Master Jjyu. Your hand still hurt, remembering that he would slap your hands with a sandal if you were to get sloppy.

Solomon would be proud of how quickly you destroyed those poor devils letting them leave dejected.

As you clean the cards back up You have made the mistake to turn your head around back to the only devils in the cafe now...

You did not like the look in their eyes....

......

You have trained for this moment... As they cleared off the table with empty dishes and freshly cooked food to place on another table nearby. All seven devils plus you. Playing a round of poker...

Each of the seven devils gets one chance, whoever wins. It is he who gets that photo.

[darkwitchoferie]

Train Ride - Chapter 2, Jeongin

A/N: Apologies, this is later than originally intended. During my proofreading, I realized I kept flipping tenses, which – annoying. But that meant I had to do a little more heavy editing than I intended. Do you ever just look at a word while proofreading and think ‘that’s not a real word’, but it totally is and is in fact the correct word you meant to use? Yeah, happened a few times. Please lmk if you want to be added to the taglist.

To my new followers – hello, welcome. My fic ideas are few and, sometimes, far between. But I hope you continue to enjoy this one. Oh, that said, don’t think I won’t finish this one. This one is already more than half finished and the half that isn’t written is outlined.

Cw/tw for this chapter: vaginal fingering, nipple play unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (m & f receiving), “accidental” exhibitionism, threesome

wc: 2.7k

Master list

Over the next week, the pair of you discussed your boundaries. Mostly they vary based on what the other individual guys might like or want, but there were hard lines for both of you. Mostly for you, and mostly centered on things you just didn’t like to do sexually. Though you did include things like allowing them all to have you with no additional protection since you had an IUD. As long as they were comfortable with it, you already knew they were all clean. The one hard rule was that if, at any time, you or Chan realized this type of sexually-opened, hopefully fully polyamorous, relationship was no longer working for you as a couple or as individuals, you’d say something. You two would keep talking about it, and include the others when and if they decided to fully be in a relationship with either of you, to keep making sure it was still a healthy relationship for all involved.

Then the conversation turned to how to invite the other seven members. You suggested posting a pic or short video of yourself masturbating into the group chat and inviting anyone who wanted to to come over and play.

Chan groaned, then laughed. “I think you’d give more than one of them a heart attack if you tried that. But definitely hold onto that idea for later.”

You then agree that they should be approached one-on-one, with each method to be different, depending on who you’re approaching. You suggested Jeongin first, seeing as he’s Chan’s roommate. You figure, and Chan agrees, that’ll make him the easiest target.

You specifically chose a day he has a schedule without the others, a photo shoot that was just him. Chan invited you over after he’d already left, letting you know that, as long as nothing went wrong, I.N would be back to their apartment by 3:30. You tried to keep yourselves distracted, not wanting to get started too soon. After all, it wouldn’t look like you’d accidentally forgotten what time he’d be back if he walked in after you were finished. Still, the anticipation and desire was making you both squirmy.

Finally, Chan’s reminder alarm goes off. You couldn’t help it, the second he looked at you after silencing it, you started giggling.

“Baby?”

“Sorry. Just, ya know, us – scheduling sex.” You laughed harder and he joined in this time. Your giggles continued, even as he gripped your hips and pulled you against him, dipping his head down to press open mouthed kisses to your neck. Chan makes quick work of your clothes, leaving you completely naked in no time.

“Already so wet, baby girl,” he muttered against the skin over your sternum as he runs a finger up and down your slit.

“Like you haven’t been hard for the last hour,” you countered. He only hummed, not denying it. That caused another gush of arousal from you – knowing he wanted this as much as you.

He laid you back on the couch, steadily kissing, licking, and sucking his way down your body until he got where he wanted to be. The flat of his tongue pressing against your clit had you arching your hips toward him and reaching down to grip his hair.

Despite inviting Jeongin to join you being the whole point, neither of you noticed right away when he walked in. It was when you heard his bag drop to the floor that you looked up and caught sight of him, flushed and staring at you. You were facing the front door and Chan had his back to it so, if not for your boyfriend blocking his view, he’d have a perfect view of your wet cunt.

“Innie,” you whimpered, reaching out toward him and digging a heel into Chan’s side. Chan pulled away, the bottom of his face coated in your arousal.

“Shit, sorry, Iyen-ah. Didn’t realize you’d be back already.” When he didn’t respond, but his eyes drifted down and locked on your pussy, the pair of you grinned at each other. “Iyen-ah?” Chan worked to hide his amusement as he waved a hand in front of the other’s man’s face.

That seemed enough to jolt him back to what was going on. He dropped his face, cheeks flushing deeper with the embarrassment of being caught. “Shit. Sorry, hyung. Sorry, noona. I’ll just, uh…. Go, yeah, I….”

“Innie, do you want a taste?”

His head snapped up and gaze locked on Chan’s face so fast, it almost gave you whiplash just from seeing it. “What?”

“I know how good she looks, spread out like this. And I can see you like what you see,” Chan nodded at the noticeable bulge in his pants. “Do you. Want. A taste?” He repeated his question, just a little slower.

“I… uh…. I mean –”

“Innie, please,” you pleaded, holding out your hand to him again. Slowly, nervously, Jeongin made his way over to you, eyes fixed on your face with a look that said he was waiting for someone to say you were just teasing him or you’d changed your mind. When he got close, you popped up just enough to grab his shirt and pull him in toward you. He stumbled a bit, but caught himself by bracing one hand on the back of the couch and the other landed just barely under you. “Do you wanna kiss me?” You asked softly, lips already close to his where he hovered over you.

“Yes,” he whispered, nodding. You grinned and pulled him fully into you. The small moan that escaped him as your lips connected had you clenching around nothing in anticipation. Chan, from his new vantage point sitting on the floor beside the couch, had a perfect view of it and reached out to squeeze your calf.

You weren’t sure if he realized then that you weren’t joking with him, or if he’d just decided to take advantage for as long as he could, but Jeongin quickly took control of the kiss. He tugged his hand out from under you, cupping your cheek and tilting your head for a better angle to deepen the kiss. One knee came down between your spread thighs to better hold himself up. His hand came off the back of the couch, fingertips grazing down your side, from shoulder to hip.

“Tease,” you muttered, pulling away just enough to speak, but your lips still touched his as you spoke. This time, as that same hand travelled down your side, his thumb brushed over your nipple causing you to gasp against his lips. This seemed to be all the encouragement he needed as his touches became a lot firmer and more deliberate after that. He shifted so that the hand that had been cupping your cheek was now holding your hip, thumb gently rubbing against the skin there. Starting at your jaw line, he began pressing open mouthed kisses across your jaw, under your ear, down your neck, and over your collar bone. You tangled the fingers of one hand in his hair, not letting him move too far away from your skin.

The hand on your hip slid over and two of his fingers gently pressed into you at the same time he wrapped his lips around one of your nipples. You moaned, arching into him and feeling him smirk against your nipple at your reaction. You whimpered, moaned, and writhed on the couch under Jeongin as he played your body as if he’d been taking lessons for years. He alternated sucking and licking your nipple, while his free hand pinched and rolled the other, then he switched sides. Meanwhile his fingers in your cunt were moving at the perfect speed to get you to and keep you on the edge of an orgasm without tipping over. Occasionally, his thumb would press on and gently rub circles against your clit. Again, just enough to not let you cum. It was maddening, but you loved it.

On the floor, Chan unzipped his pants with one hand to relieve the pressure while his other hand smoothed up and down the back of your calf, grounding himself and making sure you knew he was still there. He pressed a kiss to the top of your knee, causing you to jolt a little at the unexpected feeling.

“Forget I was here, baby girl?” Chan chuckled. You felt Jeongin twitch at Chan’s voice. “Clearly not the only one who forgot. Oh no, Iyen-ah,” Chan said as he started to back away. “Don’t stop now. She hasn’t cum yet, and you haven’t even had a real taste of her.”

Jeongin groaned, dropping his forehead to your chest. But his fingers didn’t stop. Instead, after a moment, his mouth started traveling down again, pressing open mouthed kisses to your tummy, licking or nibbling on the soft, smooth skin. He looked up at you, lips hovering over your cunt.

“Please, Innie.” Gently, you tugged at the hair you still had your fingers tangled in. He dropped a chaste kiss against your clit then wrapped his lips around it, flicking his tongue against the bundle of nerves, pulling matching moans from the pair of you. Chan’s grip on your calf tightened as he watched his friend finger you and suck on your clit. There was something about hearing the oh-so-familiar sounds you made when he wasn’t the one causing them that was driving him crazy in the best way.

You felt Jeongin’s tongue slip down to join his fingers, pushing into your cunt and thrusting a few times, before flicking up again to press against your clit. Your legs, that had been just spread on either side of him, came up to rest over his shoulders and hold his body against you as you grew closer to your orgasm. Finally, with a crook of his fingers and a particularly harsh suck of your clit, the coil in your belly snapped.

You arched up with a moan closer to a scream as you finally came. Jeongin kept working his fingers in you, letting you ride out your high on his digits. His fingers slowed to a stop as you came down from your high.

“Innie?” You asked, still trying to catch you breath.

“Hm?”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course, noona.”

“We didn’t forget when you were coming back home.”

“What?” He looked from you face to Chan’s, sitting up and pulling his fingers out of you as he did, causing you to whimper at the loss.

“When I said we didn’t realize you’d be back already, I lied,” Chan elaborated. “We planned for you to be home.”

“I don…. I don’t understand.”

You sat up beside him, tossing one of your legs over his, but let Chan explain. “Baby girl here has a fantasy.” He explained the whole situation.

“Hang on, is this why you were distracted last week?” Chan nodded.

“Listen,” you started off, starting to feel a little guilty about lying, or at the least misleading, your friend. “If you don’t want –”

“Oh no, I want. You’re not backing out, are you Y/nnie?” he asked with a sly smile.

“Not a chance,” you grinned, tugging up his shirt then pulling him to you by the back of his neck after he’d pulled the shirt all they way off. He kept moving forward until you were lying back on the couch again and he could slot his body back between your legs. You let your hands wander his torso, tracing the ridges of muscle as he reclaimed your lips in a hungry kiss.

His lips trailed down your neck again, this time biting and sucking a mark into the skin of your neck and another just below your collar bone. You scratched your nails over his abs, delighted when they twitched under your fingers. Then you reached down, gripping the waist band of his jeans with one hand and popping the button on them with the other. You felt him smirk against your skin, even as he helped you get him out of his pants and briefs.

You reached down, wrapping your hand his cock and stroking a couple times before shifting so you could press his tip to your entrance.

“Impatient, are you?” he teased.

“She usually is,” Chan agreed. “Even though she’s already cum twice.”

“Twice?”

“Mm. Once just before you walked in.”

“Enough talk, fuck me now,” you demanded, rolling your hips up. Jeongin laughed but didn’t deny you. Instead, he gripped under your knee, bending your leg up and slightly out to open you up to him better. As he slid into your warmth, his free hand groped for yours in an effort to keep himself grounded. When he bottomed out inside you, he held still, both of you breathing heavy.

You vaguely recognized the look on his face as similar to the look Chan got when he was doing his best to hold back and not come too soon. Instead of saying anything, you brought your hand that was holding his up to your mouth and wrapped first your tongue then your mouth around one of his fingers. With a groan, he flexed his hand, allowing you to trap two of his fingers between your lips. As he finally started rolling his hips, he copied the movement with his fingers in your mouth. You moaned around his fingers, sucking them as he went.

There was something soft in his eyes, just for a moment, as he looked down at you sucking on his fingers. Then it was gone and he’s pulling his hand out of yours and away from your face as he sat up on his knees. Using both hands on your hips to hold you in place, he pulled nearly all the way out then thrust back in, setting a fast, but not too rough, pace and pulling little ahs and moans from you every time he thrusts back in.

Over his shoulder, you catch sight of Chan, standing up and having rid himself of his pants and boxers. Reaching out to your boyfriend, you shift a bit so your head is hanging just slightly off the side of the couch. At Chan’s raised eyebrow, you just open your mouth while holding eye contact.

You lose yourself in the absolute pleasure of being fucked in your mouth and pussy at the same time. There’s something indescribably wonderful for you about the familiar sensation of Chan in your mouth and the new sensation of Jeongin in your cunt that makes it so, even if you tried, you’re not sure you could keep track of anything. You’re pretty sure it’s Chan whose mouth is wrapped around your nipple now, but you couldn’t say for sure, lost in the haze of your building orgasm. Someone’s fingers find your clit and apply just the perfect pressure to have you arching off the couch, scream muffled by Chan’s cock. Seconds later, you feel warmth flood your cunt as Jeongin comes, followed by a grunted warning from Chan before he’s coming down your throat.

Chan collapses to the floor, head on the couch beside you. Jeongin tries to stay sitting up for a second, but gives that up and lays down with his head on your chest, his own chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. You reach out to both of them, toying with their hair as your breathing slowly returns to normal.

“Okay baby girl?” Chan asks.

“So okay,” you reply in a raspy voice.

“Shower or tea first?” It was one thing he always insisted on when he used your throat like that – soothing tea after.

“Sleep.”

“Nu-uh, that’s not one of the choices.”

“Ugh,” you groaned.

“Why don’t you take her up to the shower and I’ll bring tea?” Jeongin suggested.

You both agree, but it still takes a few minutes before anyone moves. A while later, you’re curled up with your head on Chan’s chest and Jeongin’s arm around your waist as you drift off to sleep.

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Taglist: @skzficpriv @strayk1ds143 @vegetablesarefuntables

[its-a-me-mango]

Oh hey... it's been a while Telly...

Everypony, this is URGEN, and I need your help, I have a sad TV that needs cheering up, can you help me? You guys think you can help me? Pretty please?

THIS IS A FUN LIL OC/SONA DRAWING/WRITING/WHATEVER EVENT THINGY AND YOU'RE INVITED TO TAKE PART!!!

INFO BELOW THE READ MORE!

Hi welcome to below the read more, nice down here innit.

THIS IS NOT AN EVENT WHERE YOU SUGGEST THINGS TO ME, THIS IS FOR YOU TO DO, I WILL BE IGNORING ANY ASKS RELATED TO REQUESTS FOR ME TO DRAW!

Anyway so as I said, you're invited to have your sona, your OC, your AU or heck even one of the SMG4 crew help cheer up Telly! You can do this in anyway you like, wethers it's taking them out somewhere nice like a park or city, to playing games with them, or just hanging out with them! You're in charge of picking out something fun for your character of choise and Telly to do together! They love doing anything as long as its with friends so you're welcome to do pretty much anything!

You can also make this in an medium you'd like, be it art, comics, writing, or anything else you can think of, there is no strict medium this has to be done in so go wild and most importantly have fun!

For the sake of keeping things clear in the SMG4 tag, you can use #SMG4CheerUp as the tag for this event, you are obviously free to @ me but if not, I will check the above tag instead.

Before I go any further, just want to make this clear:

THERE IS NO PRIZE! THERE IS NO DEADLINE! THIS IS JUST FOR FUN!

THIS IS NOT A COMPETITION

Just saying this as I don't want people expecting anything from me in return for this, nor do I want people putting themselves down or comparing themselves to others, I want people to have fun for the sake of having fun.

I'm obviously not super stricks on rules as this is for fun but I do have a few requests:

No just straight up brining Mr Puzzles back, that kinda defeats the point. You're more than welcome to use your AU or OC version of Mr Puzzles for this, but no actual Mr Puzzles, let him rot in prison for a bit please.

I know I said you're welcome to do pretty much anything but please keep your work age appropriate! Telly is meant to be no older than 10 at max so nothing too outrageous please! I don't mind a bit of angst or anything like that but you know, be nice to the kid alright, I will kill you otherwise /j

Also for this please don't use their teen/adult design, this is focused on them as a kid so please keep them as one, no aging up to do anything not age appropriate please.

Please keep in mind that Telly is mute and cannot talk! They can write/type to talk (as they don't know sign language yet) and they can make static noises, but no actual speaking for them!

TELLY USES THEY/THEM PRONOUNS AND NOTHING ELSE, PLEASE JUST REFER TO THEM AS A CHILD/KID

That's all I could think of lol, will add more if I think of anything else.

TELLYS REF IS HERE FOR ANYONE WHO NEEDS IT (it is also linked on my pinned post at all times) I'm not overly strict on design so feel free to add your own lil details to them, I think it's fun! :3

My media asks are off for now, as I'd rather people make their own posts, it's what Tumblr's for and I wouldn't want anyone's amazing work to sit and rot in my inbox! I will be reblogging everything I promise.

You're welcome to ask me any questions but my response will likely be either "yes" or "if it's fun for you go for it!"

There is no deadline as stated, but I'll say this is open for at least a month-ish, or at least until Mr Puzzles comes back or something lol (watch that be, this week! wow how short lived /j)

ANYWAY WITH ALL THAT OUT THE WAY, GO FORTH AND ONCE AGAIN, HAVE FUN ABOVE ALL ELSE!!! :3

[cosmowgyral]

"Beast in Office"- April Fool's Short AU Story

This is a fan translation so please don't expect it to be 100% accurate. Creative liberties have been taken. All content belongs to Cybird. Reblogs are appreciated. Hope you enjoy!

GVO Group

Until corruption and deceit vanish from the world—the GVO Group will lead us toward a tomorrow free of conflict.

This spring, I am changing jobs.

For the job interview, I made my way to the top floor of a gleaming, jet-black skyscraper—

Gilbert: You’re hired.

Emma: …Huh?

Gilbert: You’re my secretary now, so I’ll be counting on you starting tomorrow, okay?

Luke: Hey hey, hold up! She hasn't even stepped in and said a single word!

Gilbert: She doesn’t need to say anything. She is hired.

Sariel: Sir Gilbert, I think you’re being a bit hasty. She does seem quite taken aback.

Sariel: Besides, a job interview is also meant for the applicant to decide whether our company is truly the right fit for them.

Sariel: If you declare her hired without giving her a say, people might start questioning your sense of judgment.

Gilbert: What’s this? Since when does a tax accountant get to have a say on things like this?

Gilbert: Or is it something else? Maybe the company backing you told you to block any talented hires from getting through?

Sariel: You must be joking. It seems like Sir Gilbert is always suspecting me of being a kind of corporate spy…

Sariel: As you can see, I merely offered a suggestion in my capacity as an ordinary employee.

(The atmosphere is intense!)

(I checked the company website beforehand, so I know—the guy with the eyepatch is most likely the president.)

 (And the one sitting to his right must be the tax accountant.)

(The one by the window—big build and a serious vibe—he’s probably the president’s personal bodyguard.)

(And then---)

Kagari: You want a dorayaki?

Kagari: I’m the company’s official dorayaki vendor. Got a solid rep for flavor.

Kagari: The president downs about a hundred a day so business is booming.

Kagari: What say?

Emma: Then… I’ll have one please.

Emma: Wow, this is amazing! I wasn’t expecting it to be this good.

Kagari: Approved. I’m with the president—anyone who loves dorayaki can’t be bad at all.

Gilbert: I don’t like that you’re sneakily boosting your approval rating all by yourself—but since she’s clearly enjoying herself, I’ll let it slide.

Luke: Emma, was it?

Luke: So why’d you choose our company? You’ve figured it out by now, right? The boss is totally nuts.

(Here it comes, the reason I applied…. I’ve thought it through so I’ll be fine.)

Emma: You company is a leading name in the public safety industry—it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say you’re responsible for all the nation’s security operations.

Emma: I was deeply moved by your philosophy—preventing crimes before it happen and creating a world where no one has to suffer, as a stepping stone towards global peace.

Emma: That’s why I applied, to see if I could be a part of that mission and contribute in any way I can.

Luke: …Don’t buy into that. That’s just a pretense—

Gilbert: Mhm, I like it. If you’re interested in world peace too, then you’re more than welcome here.

Gilbert: I absolutely despise corruption and deceit, but you seem like someone who’s got nothing to do with any of that.

Luke: You serious…? You’re really gonna drag a regular person into a workplace where assassins show up daily?

(Huh? Assassins?)

Sariel: I’m worried too. Becoming Sir Gilbert’s secretary practically guarantees getting caught up in trouble……

Gilbert: I don’t recall hiring anyone incompetent. As long as everyone does their job properly, there’s no problem at all.

Gilbert: More importantly, do you really think I’d ever allow such carelessness?

Luke • Sariel: …………

(This conversation’s getting way too sketchy! Don’t tell me… is the GVO Group actually some kind of shady organization..?)

Kagari: Do you want some more dorayaki?

Emma: Y-yes, please.

Gilbert: Well then, we already have the employment contract prepared.

Gilbert: All that’s left is for you to sign right here.

Gilbert: Everyone else can say what they want, but in the end, it’s your decision.

Gilbert: I’ll respect whatever you decide, okay?

(There might be a hidden side to this company that the world is unaware about.)

(But still, my desire to join this company remains unchanged.)

(Even if they are operating secretly behind the scenes, they have achieved real results in protecting this country’s peace…)

(I won’t know anything until I see it with my own eyes.)

Emma: Thank you very much. I’ll do my absolute best in this role.

Luke: Ahh, another poor soul has been added to the list.

Sariel: …In that case, it’s up to us to protect her now.

Kagari: From enemies? I’m good at cutting them down so leave it to me.

Gilbert: Heehee, let’s work hard together—for the sake of world peace, okay?

While Sariel and Luke buried their faces in their hands, Kagari remained expressionless, and President Gilbert greeted me with a dazzling smile—so radiant it was almost blinding, brimming with charm and confidence.

And so, I took his outstretched hand.