#is home window tinting worth it

[clockwayswrites]

A Bird in the building is worth to in the car. Or something. Part 23

yes, I do have too much fun with these part titles masterpost

The efficiency that Danny and the kids were ushered, privately and securely, into the parking garage and the waiting car with was impressive. Bruce gave the order and then in a breath they were at the car. Unable to fight the instinct, Danny had kept his wings around the boys the whole way, as if he could protect them from the world.

Even in the car Danny still wanted to protectively drape his wings around them. He was grateful when both boys let him. He was grateful that Mr. Pennyworth didn’t comment on the wings at all. He just wished Bruce had gone with them.

It was completely understandable for Bruce to have to check on the situation and the people who had been in the building before leaving, but it left Danny feeling on edge. It would be better once Bruce was back in the car, and Danny knew that everyone here was safe. If it had been possible, he would have preferred to wait in the safe room. With the incoming cops that hadn’t been wise.

What felt like too long later, Danny watched Bruce walk towards the car through the tinted windows, flanked by very alert security. The door opening and closing felt very final. Danny let out a breath he hadn’t exactly been holding, but had still felt clogged up in his chest.

Bruce leaned across the center console and part way into the back seat. “Are you all alright?”

“Yes, Father,” Damian said where he was just barely leaning into Danny’s side and cradled by a wing.

“Yeah,” Tim said. “But, B, he was following me. He said he saw me going into the building. He called me a dormouse. I didn’t… I didn’t even notice him until he came into the building.”

Danny carded talons through Tim’s hair, hoping to calm himself as much as Tim or else he might go back and show the Mad Hatter how terrifying he could really get.

Bruce didn’t look any more pleased at that. “We’ll look into it, and I’ll pass along the information too. We’ll have to put some security on you for a bit in case he has others under control who are still after you.”

Tim frowned at that and Danny couldn’t resist leaning over to press a kiss to Tim’s hair, as presumptuous as the act was. “Let us protect you, hummingbird.”

Tim looked up at him. “Hummingbird?”

Danny just gave a little shrug. It seemed to fit. He didn’t think too much about it. It fit in the same way as being able to wrap his wings around them and the need to protect them.

“And what about you?” Bruce asked.

Danny glanced at the other man, tilting his head quizzically.

“Are you alright?” Bruce clarified.

“He was not before the event,” Damian jumped in quickly. “He was obviously fatigued and suffering from either a headache or over stimulation from the noise.”

“Or both,” Tim added. “We thought he might be leaving to go home.”

“I was just leaving to get lunch,” Danny sighed, even though they weren’t wrong about the rest.

Bruce frowned and held his hand out, which Danny just blinked at.

“Hand, Danny,” Bruce explained. “I want to check your pulse.”

Danny froze. He was suddenly, excruciatingly aware that his hand was still tipped in talon and small feathers. He snatched his hand out of Tim’s hair, worried now that his hand alone had been too much, as distorted as it was. He crossed his arms, hiding his hands against his body.

“I’m fine.”

Bruce didn’t pull his hand back. Instead his whole face softened in a sad way that confused Danny.

“We aren’t afraid of you, Danny,” Bruce said. His voice was a comforting low rumble that Danny wanted desperately to trust. “You’ve been nothing but kind to my family and today you kept them safe. The physical changes you went through to do that do not scare me.”

Danny glanced down and away, trying to avoid looking at any of them in the tight space of the car. “They scare me.”

Damian clicked his tongue and leaned further into Danny’s side, further in under the wing. Tim reached for a hand. Not wanting to accidentally hurt Tim with the sharp talons, Danny reluctantly let him take it. Tim wrapped his own fingers confidently around Danny’s.

Bruce still waited with his hand out.

Danny chewed on his lip, an old nervous tick. Bruce waited. The boys stayed close. Finally, Danny let out a huff of air and offered his hand up to Bruce.

“Your pulse is a bit erratic,” Bruce said after he had counted Danny’s pulse along to the ticking of his watch. He didn’t let go of Danny’s hand after it, instead he ran his thumb against Danny’s wrist. The touch almost made Danny shiver in a good way.

“I, ah, adrenalin crash, I figure,” Danny said once he could find his words.

“Are you alright returning to the Manor so that we can keep an eye on you?”

“Oh I get asked this time?” Danny teased. Teasing was easier.

Bruce just chuckled. “Well you are awake.”

“I… yes,” Danny answered. It was less about him being looked after and more so that he could look after the boys. If he went home now, he’d worry all night.

Mr. Pennyworth finally started the car. “Will you be needing medication or any such health items from your apartment, sir?”

Danny shook his head. “I keep some extra doses in my bag. And really, just Danny is alright.”

“Then to home, Master Danny.”

Danny tried not to miss the touch as Bruce pulled away and buckled in for the drive.

[empathicliar]

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀what you deserve ¸.•* eren yeager.

𝟔𝐤. 𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 , 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐝.

༺❀༻ || 𝐬𝟒!​eren , 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐫!eren , 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲-𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤!​eren , college ua , for my caramel babies , eager!eren , she / her pronouns , overstimulation , sweet talker , lots of kisses , multiple orgasm's , strangers to lovas , plot based , no protection , cream pie!! >~< , dirty talk , use of pet names.​

" when you put a lil' umph in it, that's when i lose control. "

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there's only so much you can handle in a day's worth before overstimulation kicks in. rocking in a chair for four hours while getting a new row of ginger bundles sewed in by your auntie is already enough. gossiping about how your uncle is a piece of work can get added to that list too.

the white juicy couture track suit you have on is hugging your curves tighter than normal. you have ymir's 'friend' historia to thank for that. you'd only spoken to her once about how loose your tracksuits were and how badly you wanted them tighter and she got to work, completely redoing the threading to boost your ego a little to much.

eager with your hair to be done, you'd already marked a couple of other errands off the list. your fingers nails are coded with medium length cut-out shaped nails. a white base with some carnation pink painted bows. not wanting it to be to basic, you got some pink and white zebra stripes on your middle and pinky fingers.

your white painted toe-nails are covered by the ugg's you had to throw on due to the weather. you were always saying you hated summer until it wasn't around anymore and the cold had you shivering in the warmest of places.

its something about looking, feeling and smelling good that has you obsessed with yourself all over again. the vanilla scent is leaking off every surface of your body, the oil drops in your purse coming in clutch every time you wanted a refresher.

it's about four pm when your hair appointment is done. its something simple you could always deal with. 18 , 22 , 24 inch hair reaching your plush ass, your back already itching from the prickling nest.

" thank you s'much auntie! " you're exclaiming in her ear, already squeezing her to death with a hug.

you're not even close to being done. this winter break is going to be different. you naively figured you could get everything you wanted done while in college, yet when you finally touched the grounds it's like your shoulders slumped further down into a unforgivable pattern.

you stopped taking care of yourself mentally. you never stopped being a pretty bitch, nothing stops that. you got all the main things done. your hair was always styled, you don't play that. you're always soft and buttery smooth. the pet peeve for any hair on your body making you cringe.

you were always smelling good, it just became apparent you weren't going out of your way to take enough time for everything. by the time five rolls around, your sitting on your phone outside of your homegirl's house, waiting for her to get home.

mirrors by jhene aiko is playing softly in the back, your tinted windows are up and the bag of chick-fil-a nuggies are half eaten to your right. being your passy princess until further notice.

it doesn't take long for nicki to get to her place. she has big shopping bags in her hands, big balling on one of these cold ass afternoons. " you have a key to my house, you could've went in. " nicki reminds you, it slipped your mind completely. you glance at the hello kitty charm that hung in-front of your key fob, your dorm room key and her house key.

the long, black table you'd laid on more time's than your own bed has a ring light above it. a strollie with different lash things you'd never taken a hobby to is on the right side of it and the actually bundle set you asked for sits beside a bottle of water. eating the rest of your nuggets while nicki took a few bites of her salad, you both talked for God knows how long.

it's been a while since you've been in this cozy place. the apartment is on the first floor and in a gated community. you were so proud of nicki, she kept her word on making it big in life.

" you still going to ymir's tonight? " she asking while scratching the top layer of your lashes. wrong decision. it's like talking through an intense orgasm. your grabbing her hand to stop her to reply. she's only laughing at you the whole time.

" y-yeah girl i am. " your muttering out, your own laugh pouncing off the walls. nicki is a pro when it comes to getting you up and out of her chair satisfied. she snaps a video of the lashes and your making a fake brave face the whole time trying not to chuckle from the silence.

your in your car again by seven o'clock. playing with your hair in your review mirror, tucking the strands behind your ear and letting the multiple fans in your car fully dry your lashes. the song is back to playing at it's last pause while you move your lid's up in a uncomfortable position and let the air hit the base of your water lines.

you've driven to ymir's place so many times from nicki's house, you've gotten familiar with every back road, speed bump and pothole. the potholes brings back a awful memory of damage you wanted no part of remembering.

the weekend commute of straight peace was in motion. you got to ymir's house later than usually and took a joyful stride to your favorite love seat. the comfort makes you stifle a moan. you've done to much today to not get a break.

a song from ymir's recycled playlist is playing, it might be from sza's new album but you aren't to entirely sure. the only thing on your mind is food and weed. in the middle of the table there's snacks. cheddar popcorn, cherry bite twizzlers, some sour gummies and gushers. you opted on the popcorn and two packs of gushers.

on the back, light tan wall is a flat screen tv that's curved more towards you than it is connie and you finally correct your suspicions when you notice the name of the song and artist. i knew it, your thinking out with bunched up arms.

its seems like its been to long since you've been here and genuinely had time to stay.

since college had started in february, you branched out quickly when it came to friend groups. it wasn't a challenge when said friends had been around since high school. ymir, the brown haired girl with freckles and the nicest jaw line known to man offered you weed for exchanged of a pencil in junior year and connie, a surly boy with short, almost balding grey hair and a sleeve tattoo his mother didn't approve of just so happened to be next to you pouting from your win.

only a month into knowing them both, you were already coming to ymir's house and smoking like no tomorrow. connie tagging along some of the days, but he was mostly with his own group at the time. after high school, you figured this was going to be the time you all parted, saying ' i'll see you tomorrow bitch!' and never actually seeing them.

you were more than wrong when you realized you all had been planning to go the same paths.

those year's led up to these moments. now, every weekend ymir would host these little... parties or when it was strictly chill vibes and no one had the time or the energy to run around with don julio in each hand. she would host a small kickback. only inner friends only.

that consistent of you, ymir, connie's dumb ass, a girl named sasha, who connie knew in pre-school, sasha's close friend jean or john. you'd forgotten a little to quickly for your liking. they'd been coming around for months and last and least, jean's friend eren yeager.

eren's... alright. you don't have anything bad to say about the boy. he's always sweet enough to you but it seems like every time you want to engage in a conversation, its over shadowed by whatever else someone is saying. at the end of the day he's still a stranger you hadn't taken the full time to get to know. it's funny how many times you'd shared a blunt with him, lip's colliding yet never learned a single thing about him.

he has a attracting spirit. the kind you found hot to an extent. he's the type to wear strong fragrances to turn heads and its exactly what he does. that skunky scent of lavish soap and expensive cologne he seemed to never leave the house without was a dead give away he was in the area. he's always adorn in sweat pants and baggy shirt's that don't do him any justice.

you could tell he takes pride in his look, well he somewhat did at least. he always has this self-approving look on his face. his fingers are always decorated with silver rings that go well with the skeleton bone tattoo that paints from his left veiny hand to his shoulder.

it makes it hard not to look his direction when he makes such a grand entrance. he's a real eye catcher, a pretty boy you knew shouldn't be anywhere in your area. you don't do good with flirty looks and bed room eyes. they could lead you to a spare bedroom any fucking time.

" |⋆|, ghost face or michael myers? " ymir asks, breaking you out of your mini tundra.

" probably ghost face, he's so fuckable. " connie rolls his eyes, taking a big hit from the blunt he'd been preparing for minutes. the bud is covered in ashes' by the time he pulls away, heaps of smoke coming from his side of the room.

sasha, who got the second best seat in the house sat a few feet away from you. she giggles. " real recognizes real. " you nodded with a smirk and clapped her hand, the noise echo's in the spacious living room.

" you nigga's are just freaky, that's all it is. " you almost let a 'shut up connie.' fall from your lips but the front door opens. in walks the person who was always late. eren. he has his hands in these loose, black sweat-pant pockets, you don't have to see those daring fingers to know he has them covered with hard looking rings. the grey t'shirt he's wearing has a design on the front you cant really decipher.

" what's up yeager. " eren tilts his head up for a greeting and makes his way to connie. his plush lips twist into a confident simper as he daps the two guys up.

eren's speaking again, taking a glance at the table with half of the snacks missing and only two rolls left. " y'all couldnt wait on me? "

" you take forever. " you say, bringing a dark blanket to your chest. " so what? " eren replies with smugness, his green eyes peering at yours with pure coy. you only return it with your infamous eyeroll to kill his dreams.

'i hate a nigga that knows he's good looking. '

" you live the closest. " stating the obvious, eren plops down in the seat in between connie and jean, folding his arms over the back, man-spreading his clothed legs to get some more room. its like he knows you want to look at his every move. he's too damn fine for his own good.

it isn't long before he's changing his seating position and he's reaching at that brown wooden table for a pack of rolls and the weed grinder. he opens the black container – seeing connie left him enough for one blunt. he's taking his win quickly.

finger's making quick toil on folding the creases in, tongue slipping out to seal it. you're face is fuming when he brings the lighter to the end of the blunt and the light reflects on his face. he's so focused on the misty smoke and not wasting the little he has, he doesn't notice the gushing look he's getting from the woman across the room.

'did it just get hotter in here or something?' you take a glance to the thermostat next to the goldish rimmed painting hanging above your head. sixty-seven degrees and no showing of anything getting hotter anytime soon. you chew on your lip. its probably that thick ass blunt ymir made you. it has to be kicking in or something.

speaking of the freckle faced stoner, she walks back into the room, you hadn't even noticed she'd gotten up. she's empty handed, using one of her hands to swipe a strand of hair out of her face. " bro, can we start the movie? i'm tryna' hang out with historia later. "

sasha ooo's like a school girl, wiggling her pale, small fingers teasingly at ymir. " you're always with historiaaa~. " sasha has this silly smirk on her face and the brown skinned girl groans from it, flipping her middle finger in her direction.

usually it takes a while to pick a movie. by this time the weed is hitting all of them and blurring the limit for time. they would often scroll through the same list on netflix and not even realize it.

this time is a little different, ymir is in a real rush to get to this 'friend' of hers. she has the tiny roku remote in her fingers as she continuously flicker through the movies. she ultimately stops on a scary movie and clicks the screen. she sends a look around the room for any concerns then actually plays the movie.

before the credits have even started the pop of a chip bag is already sounding around the room and cheesy flavoring is flooding your senses. sasha's wincing with a pouty smile, not realizing how alerting the noise was.

the first scene is a white girl manually popping corn. the volume is low but the surround sound speakers ymir got installed almost a year ago make it seem much louder. it isn't long before that same girl is killed in front of a big front yard.

by the time the movie ends, everyone is pretty much out of it. heads leaning on arm rest's. the lighters have stopped clicking and the smell of weed isn't prominent as it used to be. you'd grown used to that cozy smell. the foggy room is actually clear for the first time in years.

wiping your eyes like a kid, then realizing you had on lashes. you curse underneath your breath. looking around the quiet room, sasha and jean are sleeping soundly. connie was sleep twenty minutes into the movie. you could hear his loud ass snores. ymir isn't even in the room anymore. the second the movie ended she was gone out the front door but not without giving you a loused side hug.

you figured you were the only one functioning correctly and tossed the blanket to the side. the cold sends chill's down your arms but you don't mind it. it feels sort of good. your painted feet hit the tiled floor with a small 'plap' sound and you glance around the room to make sure it hadn't woke anyone up.

" where you going' ? " jumping, the fabric of your white, zip up jacket is grasped. instead of consoling your fear, the mad-man laughs.

" stop laughing bro, i almost had a heart attack. " you pause, taking a breath. " thought yo ass was sleep. " you explain further, standing up fully and getting a good, well hazy look at eren. his phone light is on dim and he's barely bringing it up high enough to make it known he's awake.

both of his shoulders are pretty much in use by the two boys he's squished in between. instead of looking uncomfortable, it looks like he found slight comfort in them being next to him. it's leaving a smile on your face instead of a panicked frown.

he hum's, dropping the dark phone in his lap. " still didn't answer my question. " you tilt your head, thinking back to said question.

when it finally hits your scuzzy mind, you're letting out a soft 'oh!' " no where, well i don't know. i just want some fresh air. " you're falsely admitting, stretching your body to release any tension.

did you really need some fresh air or were the stirs from connie and jean making it known they could wake up and once again take away the little time you had to get to know eren? it's probably the bud thinking for you at this point.

" you can come with me. " turning on your heels, you almost miss the several groans from jean and connie from being pushed aside. " you that eager nigga? " questioning with the slightest amount of tease, he's right behind you in a heart beat.

" nah. " turning back to look at him, he's already looking at your back side with a smirk. his own limbs being stretched out. he slips on his slides and you didn't feel like putting on your boots, so you opted on stealing ymir's flip-flops she kept by the door.

you didn't really plan this far out. it has to be around eleven or so, your to high to drive home, you actually didn't need any air and you can already tell its cold as hell outside. it was just the perfect excuse to get out of that room and into a more private one with eren, no one was going to interrupt your mission.

men are so easy, your practically nodding to yourself. ymir's back door is opened and closed within seconds, the back porch is nicely clean except for a few leaves and dirt that you didn't really care about right now, you swiped some dirt off the second step and shuffled to the left to give him some room.

eren is sitting down on the first step soon after, without the hassle of wiping anything down. now, its quiet and cold, and there's really nothing to say or do when the wind is speaking.

" how long you been in shiganshina? " he asks after long periods of silence.

" my whole life. " your replying, low eyes blurry with the upcoming mist from the weather. " and you? "

" born and raised. " then its quiet again. your messing with your acrylic's , only looking up when a tree bristles loud enough to sound like it might fall.

" those are really pretty. " quirking your head up, it seemed like you're staring into a bottomless pit of beauty. eren's not even paying attention to anything but you and the way your skin is still so moist in such cold air.

its little details on his face you thought you'd already noticed before that have you feining. you squint your eyes. his nose is pierced on the right side. the actually dot isn't a dot like yours. its a silver star that's small but glance worthy when anyone see's it.

his hair looks so healthy, not only in the sun but also in the moonlight. you're kind of jealous of that. even in its normal state in that low back bun, you can tell he isn't using men's one-hundred in one. the wind casts a breeze in your direction, that's giving you another reminder. the soft smell of lemon and something sweet like pineapple's is hitting your nose. such different smells that go rewardingly well on him.

" gimme' your hand. " your obeying it without question, he chuckles at the haste and you dare to drag your hand away. " i'm playing pretty, i just want to see. "

" why? " asking nicely and still letting him slither those slender, tattooed fingers over your bedazzled nails, he's humming again and not answering your question now.

" hello? " rubbing his thumb over your knuckle gently, the calluses of his own has you quietly swallowing. he perks your hand up finally and actually looks at the nails now. " my bad, my mom does nails. " you frown, still not understanding what that has to do with him looking at your hands like a meal.

giving him a better show, you half curl your hand and lay it side ways in his own. your palms touching and forming heat you didn't know you needed to entirely bad. " so? " you mutter, not returning the eye contact you know he has on you.

" nothing, she could just do better than this. " he flaunting out, stretching those delicate fingers ever so slightly. you don't even realize he brings both of your hands down and resting them on his rough lap, you're to focused on the cute little gesture's he's making.

" you letting me meet your mommy already? " it was cute how he wanted to get his mom some new clients, he must be a momma's boy. eren's nodding instead of laughing though, replying with simplicity. " yeah. "

" what's up with you bro. " you chuckle. " i don't even know your birthday and your trying to let me meet your mom's- "

" march thirtieth. " cutting you off, you almost forgot you had even said anything about a birthday. your brain is realtering itself to remember that date when this high is over.

eren's not ashamed to look at the prize he wants. he's been plotting for fucking months and nothing is going to break him out of this. his low, emerald eyes are falling down the pattern of your silver zipper, falling into your lap. undressing those lacey panties he just knows you have on under those pants.

it has you shying away, wanting to turn around in your respectful seat. that's when it hits you. that grip on your hand wasn't from your other one. it's from his, unmoving and finally locking into those intimidatingly attractive eyes, your glancing at those wet lips he managed to always keep looking mushy.

you know they are the softest lips you'd ever feel. like pillows sent from heaven. you grip his hand, no longer just wanting to feel his sweaty palm, but those fingers- his fore arms, his strong shoulders. everywhere he'd allow you.

" eren... " encaging his fingers into a tight hold, he takes a quick look at his thigh. he isn't able to hide the side smile that's forming. you don't even know why you're calling his name, you just wanted him to say something with that slutty voice of his. – just acknowledge you in every way possible.

" yeah? " your beady eyes are watering from the constant pressure of wind and its becoming so fucking obvious you both don't want to be in the cold anymore.

" what are you trying to do? "

" you want me to be honest baby? " baby... that word has you dripping, squeezing your thighs together to take away that ache in your cunt. you nod. you can't find those confident words anywhere in sight. its hard to say men are easy when you're soaking just from being close to him.

" i wanna take you to a room and make you feel real good. " his head is cocking to the left and those eyes he kept on you are dropping lower. his hand twitches in your grasp and it doesn't take much to know he's putting you in eight different positions in his head.

" we don't even have to fuck, i just want to eat your pussy. "

your mouth lathers with saliva, and your standing up to entirely quick. eren is laughing behind you and your so horny you don't even tell him off. you don't care about the three people on the couch sleeping good. you want to take this pretty boy up on his offer.

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folded up, knees to your chest. the air is hitting your warm pussy. your panting from the littlest touches to your body. plush form being demolished by the stronger man keeping you still. eren has his hands in the bottom creases of your knees, applying pressure that only gives you minimal lay away to move around.

your pussy is leaking on the sheets, all type's of fluid leaving a stain you didn't care for. he's mouthing on your cunt, his spit coating your pussy in a new layer of slick. eren kept his word. he didn't need to fuck you to feel good. he made that known when he took a long lick from your entrance to the top of your cunt in a slow strobe, whimpering hard.

" stop squirming baby. " he's muttering into your pussy, kissing your puffy clit. face full of your cum and arousal. he's so deep in between those legs he can barely breathe. his stubbled chin constantly coming in contact with your needy, waiting entrance.

you cant keep your hands from gripping at any and everything. your holding onto the spare room pillow, covering your face and mouth to keep the others from hearing the total mess you're steady becoming.

" nah, move that. " you don't listen, your voice pouty and muffled in the pillow. eren doesn't have time to play games with you, he's been doing that for months. he snatches the pillow away himself and throws it at the wall.

" i wanna hear you. fuck them. " your spasming on his tongue again before you can speak. weeps of moans falling on deaths door from the amount of pleasure happening on your pretty pussy. your hiccupping from the lack of air entering your lungs, to caught up on the way eren is twisting his tongue over your sensitive clit.

eren's been licking, flicking and sucking on your clit for almost a hour. he just can't get enough of you. you taste so sweet and tarty, its like a fucking desert he can only indulge in. anything your body is willingly to push out for him to taste he's sucking it up.

fucking his tongue in and out of your tight hole, eyes open the entire time to watch you come undone. your hair is sticking to your face, the ginger bringing the caramel out of your skin and aiding your beauty. he didn't think you could get any more sexier.

" fuck baby, " smacking your inner thigh, he gets a breather before he actually dies in the best way possible. " pussy to damn dangerous. " he's huffing and hitting those soft, thick thighs, wanting nothing more than to leave his marks on your skin.

your cute little face scrunches and yelps fill the room, his mouth falling back on those fat lips to get another sample, tasting that sweet juicy fruit. his jaw is hurting and damn near begging for it to end but he doesn't give a fuck. he wants to make you feel good, too good.

your to much of a pretty girl to not have someone in between these legs every day. " 'ren! " eren speeds up, ignoring those pleas. " 'ren, baby please. " you're begging, the knot in your stomach forming from the endless pleasure. you don't know if your begging because its too much or he's to damn good at this and you need to repay him somehow.

– between the base of your thighs being smacked and the vibration of eren moaning, a shock ascends throughout your body. cumming for the third time that night. stars are forming in the far corners of your eyes. it feels like eren has full control of your body. he's keeping you still with only two arms and smirking from how fucked out you already look.

your body is still twitching and it takes a army and every working limb you have to pull him off of you by his hair. he's raspy and to happy for someone who could've died from being to pussy drunk. your chest is heavy and it feels like you can finally inhale properly.

" my bad. " sheepishly apologizing, he plants a soft kiss to your abused clit and toothily smiles when you give him a death stare. gently bringing your knees from your squished chest down, he's kissing your sore knee-caps, wetly sucking on the frontal part of your thighs.

somethings bothering you heavily and its making your chest warm unnaturally seeing him care about every aspect of your body. " why are you taking care of me? "

" whatchu' talking about? "

" this. " you lazily point at his hands that sting a way into your pores. " you kissing on me like you love me and shit. "

" wouldn't go that far. " your rolling your red eyes again and dragging a hand down to your tummy, letting it rest for the time being. " this is mandatory though. you just fuck with the wrong boys. " you want to take it as a stray but actually process it. have you really been messing with guy's who didn't think to care for your body?

it has you recurring every misaligning person you let into your safe space and have a way with your figure. " hey, don't think about it " eren snaps in your face. " that's why i'm here, ima take care of you baby. promise. "

biting your lip, your pushing everything away because he asked you too and something about that foreign feeling doesn't feel to damn bad. you don't have it in you to talk or ask him for anything else, but you spread those legs of yours and beckon him to come here. how can he ever say no to you.

he's shuffling in-between you, applying his hand on one of the pillows next to your head. you stare into his alluring eyes, raking your hand from your own stomach to his. he's gulping, his adam's apple plumping with nerves.

" you wanna fuck me yeager? " he feels like a virgin when you speak like that. anxious and scared to disappoint, he's nodding, bring his head down to plant a soft kiss to your plump lips. just like you thought, they're so pulpy and flush. he kisses like butter, like a piece of bubble gum that's so slinky you almost want to swallow it.

the kiss is deepening with the mood, the fist in his hair is keeping him from cumming in his pants. he almost doesn't want to pull away but he can feel her dripping under him and there's only so much his dick can take before it's begging to be buried inside that soft cushion.

he's making quick work with his clothes. sitting on the balls of his feet, he's tugging his shirt over his head. the sight of his toned chest has you gawking. it's a good thing he only wore comfy clothing, you would've pounced on him the moment he walked into this house.

" take your time... " you joke, casting your surly eyes to the space below your plush tummy. tapping your nails on your stomach. he's already groaning from the sight. you didn't think he could get any faster, he's slipping out of pants and those tight boxers in second.

to say you were disappointed never crossed your mind. you're actually fucking nervous. he's thick, with a healthy pink tip and some inches that make you squeeze your stomach in.

" don't go getting scared on me pretty. " stroking his length, he's bringing your left leg up, kissing the base of your ankle sloppily. his dick is leaking with pre-cum, slouching his tip on your clit. you both let out a soft gasp.

the feeling is euphonic, sensitive clit being brought back to life with one little swipe. your grinding lightly on his tip and he's hissing from how wet she is. " yeah baby, mhmm... you know how to do it. " he praises, his teeth biting into his cheek.

" put it in 'ren. " lifting your hips, you get so close to pushing his dick in and he aids it, his brows knitting, mouth falling open when he aligns it right, sliding into your entrance with ease.

the moan's fall off the wall. he's stretching you so well. the pain almost feels too good. your mouth shaped into a 'o and your hands are fumbling for something new to grab. eren has his head draped down to watch him slip inside of that pussy that cant help but suck him in.

he's whimpering when you clench- moaning when you're folding your legs around him to push in deeper. it's like he can cum from this alone. you just hugging him in has him gapping.

" pussy to fuckin' wet, fuckkk. " he's groaning out in between deep thrusts, pace picking up fast as fuck for someone on the verge of tapping out. your body is following his orders, back arched with intent to make him feel good. eyes rolling from the captivity of his being.

its almost to much when he pushes in to deep, hips runting into your poor cunt like she hadn't been through enough. his tip is ramming into that gushy spot inside of you that has your brain shuttering to working. your mewling loud -- unable to form a single coherent word.

legs pulled tight to hold him in, cunt tightening on his dick making his steady thrust sloppy for mere seconds before he's back to putting in work. dainty fingers coming to rest on his v-line, not pushing but not letting him reach that spot that makes you go fucking crazy. he's silent with how bothered he is about that hand, he knows you're still sensitive and recovering from those heavenly orgasms, but he's to entuned to stop when he knows it'll make you feel so, so good.

" move it. " he's stating with attitude, you refuse to and he only slows down. you whine from the loss. your moaning his name pathetically, lifting your own hips to get that feeling back before its gone. he holds your supple hips down, leaning down to kiss and fondle with your brown nipples.

" e'ren, come on! "

" you gonna keep that fuckin' hand down? " you nod, panting, surprised you were even able to speak in the first place. he's returned that pace little by little, watching your fingers retreat to one of the blue pillows behind your back, eyes closed.

head hanging low, hair coming out of that bun from all the tugging, he almost looks like a greek status above you- one hand on your tummy, squishing it down to feel the cave his dick is making, the other bringing your left leg back to his lips, folding you – he's to caught up in how response you are to his touches.

propping your ankle on his shoulder, leaning down to look you dead in your watery eyes. you cant shy away from nothing now. he's thrusting in deep, pussy gushing all over the sheets and his length. eye's faltering when it comes to keeping that contact.

" i'm so close baby. " he's warning you and your nodding to agree with him, your arms lifting to his neck, dragging him down for a kiss. tongue lacing with his like second nature – eyes shut when that knot in your guts is on the verge of breaking and broken cries are falling in between the kiss.

" gonna cum in you baby, you don't mind that d-do you? " to head-struck, your nodding like a idiot in heat. that gives eren a new goal, he's stroking in like a wild animal, biting his lip so hard it bleeds when you squeeze him.

trying your hardest to keep your moans in, eren pushes in one last time and hits that blurry spot that renders you brain dead. your moaning, clawing on his v'line with that new set to keep him from moving. cunt completely spent and aching again when eren is painting your walls white.

the warm feeling only making it worse, now he cant move or you might regret it. eren's heaving, one hand on the headrest to puff out and rush in the smell of sex, vanilla and shea butter.

" fuckkk i gotta' get you a plan b asap. "

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀

©𝙀𝙈𝙋𝘼𝙏𝙃𝙄𝘾𝙇𝙄𝘼𝙍 any sort of stealing or modifying is prohibited, mess with your momma not me.

[mead-iocre]

La Castanyada | Alexia Putellas x Reader

synopsis: alexia invites you to meet her extended family

warnings: it's a longgggg one

wc: 7.2k words

The late autumn sunlight filters through the mildly tinted windows, casting shadows that danced across your face. You welcome it, deciding to savour whatever little warmth is left before the arrival of the cold in the upcoming months. The only sound coming from inside the car was the mild buzz of the engine, and the low hum of Alexia’s favourite radio station reporting the latest sports news. The car smells of herbarium berries thanks to the overpriced car perfume you purchased a few months ago. Cool notes of fresh-picked blackcurrant berries mingle with flowery rose accents prick your nose. You mentally remind yourself to buy another car diffuser, but maybe not one tagged with a fancy label like this one. 

You gaze out the window to a serene scene of fallen leaves and autumnal charm. You had never been so far away from the city before. The journey was worth it though, full of new sights and sounds; with patchwork of amber and rust-coloured trees, charming villages, and vineyards against backdrops of evergreen pines. As you drive further, you past towns surrounded by vibrant landscape of rolling hills and dense forest. Living in the city for so long made you realise just how you missed being around the natural wonders of the world. The car stops at a red light and you glance over at the rusted cobbled pavement, watching as a gust of wind sends a pile of leaves to swirl and dance in the air.

The realisation that you were nearing your destination made your palms sweat and your heart race. Alexia was taking you to meet the rest of her clan. Today, you will officially be meeting her extended family. Alexia’s grandparents had invited everyone to stay at their estate, a home that Alexia had told you countless of stories about. Stories of mornings that start with churros on the breakfast table; Sunday lunches on a long oak table, beautifully set with fine china and crystal glasses; and playing hide and seek with her cousins around the family vineyard until the sun set. 

A warm palm clasping your knee startles you out of your daydreams. When you turn your head, warm hazel eyes meet yours. “Cómo te sientes? You okay, amor?”

You hum, nodding your head, placing your hand above hers. She slows down as the car approaches traffic, using the opportunity to focus her attention back to you. You watch the way her eyes study your face, probably looking for any sign that you might be holding back from saying what you were really feeling. She entwines your fingers together before tugging it towards her lips to place a kiss on the back of your hand. 

“Are you…ansioso?-- nervous?” She asks, focusing her attention back on the road now that the stoplight has turned green. She keeps one hand on the steering wheel, her other hand entwined with your own. 

“Maybe a little bit�� You admit. You had met Alexia’s mother and her younger sister, Alba before and that went well. In fact, it went so well it turned into regular visits from her mother and weekly brunches with her sister. But this time it was different, not only was Alexia's mother and sister not due to arrive until tomorrow, you were going to be meeting her grandparents. She spoke so highly about them all the time. Her voice would soften and her eyes would glimmer every time she recalled stories about her childhood growing up in her grandparent’s home. If they didn’t like you, you fear Alexia might just leave you.

“Meeting your whole family, it’s a lot. What if they don't like me?”

Alexia shot you an incredulous look, as if the mere thought was unfathomable. “Impossible.” She proclaimed, so confident, so assured. “They’re going to love you. Besides, mi abuela has already seen your picture a hundred times. She thinks you're ‘muy guapa’.”

Your cheeks flushed. “Yeah, but a picture is different from meeting in person.”

She lifted your entwined hands, giving the back of your hand another kiss. “Mi amor, pictures do not do you justice. They’re not expecting perfection. Just be yourself. They are not scary, I promise.”

That helped, slightly. You sighed, looking out the window as the olive trees and vineyards passed by. “I just hope my Spanish doesn’t embarrass me…”

“Your Spanish is great!” Alexia exclaimed, squeezing your hand. Along with weekly Spanish online classes with a tutor, you encouraged Alexia to speak to you in spanish regularly so you can pick up the language quicker. “But if you want to speak English, that is fine too. I will help you. No te preocupes”

You wrap your other hand around her arm, picking at the soft cashmere coat she was wearing with your fingers. You had bought her this coat, convinced she would look really good in it as soon as you saw it in the store. You were right.

"What if I mess it up?"

“You cannot ‘mess it up’” The last bit was said accompanied by finger quotations. She briefly detangles her fingers from yours to make finger quotes in the air, before promptly entwining them again. Alexia’s voice was soft, but full of conviction. Her hazel eyes were earnest, almost pleading with you to trust her word. “Just be yourself. You will be fine.”

You wanted to believe her. You really did. But the nerves didn’t go away. Instead, they settled deeper, twisting into a tight ball in your stomach. You had never met your partner’s family before, not like this. This wasn’t just dinner with their parents. This was Alexia’s whole extended family, in a different country, in a language that you weren't fluent in.

Looking out of the window, you tried to focus on anything but your growing anxiety. You caught a glimpse of an older couple seated outside a cafe, a group of children chasing a ball down the narrow street and a man leaning against his bicycle, deep in conversation with a shopkeeper outside of a flower store. The scene was peaceful, unhurried, like time itself had slowed down for everyone else but you. 

“I’m just… worried,” You finally admitted, your voice small and slightly shaky. You hated feeling this way, not being in control, not knowing what could happen next. “I don’t want to let you down.”

All of a sudden, Alexia swerved and pulled the car to a stop by a street lined with rows of charming little shops. She turned fully to face you, her eyes soft and understanding. “Amor, look at me.”

Rather reluctantly, you met her gaze.

“You could never let me down. Eres mi todo and my family knows, ” Alexia's words were steady, filled with the kind of reassurance that you desperately needed. “And if anyone has a problem with that, they will have to fight me.”

You chuckled weakly, the tension in her chest loosening just a little. “I hope you’re right.”

“I am.” She smiled, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “Te quiero mucho. And that’s all that matters.”

Her eyes scan your face, probably sensing your lingering doubts. She cups your face, her palm warm against your cheek. She brings your face closer to hers. “Eres perfecta,” 

Pretty hazel eyes meet yours, all love and affection. She leans in to kiss you, her lips soft and plump against yours. Pulling away slightly, just a breath of distance between the two of you, before she murmurs. Her voice low and hushed , “You know what that means, Si?”

You hum, your eyes fluttering closed, still partly consumed by her kiss. Of course you knew what that phrase means, it was one of the first Spanish phrases she ever translated for you. You tilt your head towards her, leaning into her space, greedy for another kiss.

“Mmhmm. Perfect.” She mumbles in english, her tone is teasing, enunciating the word with perfect pronunciation. Although it is slightly jumbled by your lips being pressed against hers again. She smiles against your lips, no doubt feeling your desperation. Your yearning.

Her hand tilts your face to the side, fingers pressingly lightly against your neck, urging you to succumb to her lead completely. Like all she wants you to do is just close your eyes, kiss her back, and she will handle the rest.

Eventually she starts to pull away, but not before she leaves a teasing bite to your bottom lip, a cocky smile perched on her lips at the sight of the dazed look on your face. You open your eyes half heartedly, your gaze immediately zeroing in on her plump bottom lip still wet from your kiss. “Later” She promises.

And Alexia always keeps her promises. 

She tucks your hair behind your ear and squeezes your knee as she leans back into her seat. Both of her hands back on the wheel. “Vale. We’ve still have some driving to do.” 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The countryside was a picturesque scene of rolling hills, vineyards that span miles and miles, and tall, slender cypress trees. The leaves had begun their slow descent, carpeting the roads and pavements in hues of amber, crimson, and goldenrod, creating a soft crunch beneath the tires. The scent of earth and woodsmoke wafts in through the slightly cracked window. You noticed it earlier, but it’s a lot stronger now. As the car navigates the winding roads, you catch glimpses of traditional stone houses, with their windows framed with charming flower pots that still hold the last few blooms of summer. 

As you wound deeper into the heart of Catalonia, the landscape became more secluded. The occasional farmhouse dotted the hillsides, their red-tiled roofs peeking through the autumn foliage, and their silhouettes softened by the setting sun.

And then, as the car rounded the final bend, the mediaeval town of Peratallada came into view. Peratallada with its ancient stone walls and narrow cobblestone streets. The town was full of charm, its streets flanked by ivy-clad beige and gold stone, the weathered facades only adding to it's history.

Eventually, Alexia slowed the car down, allowing you to take in the new surroundings. You take out your phone, snapping a few pictures of the pretty sights. The cobblestone streets were narrow, twisting through archways and past old stone fountains. Vines clung to the walls, leaves now tinged with the colours of autumn, while small terracotta pots with trailing ivy and late-blooming flowers adorned the windowsills of homeowners. Every corner and alley seemed to hold a secret passage—a hidden courtyard, a glimpse of a garden, and even a cosy café where a few villagers sat outside, sipping wine and chatting quietly.

The smell of roasting chestnuts filled the air, carried by the breeze from vendors setting up stalls in the main square for the evening’s festivities. The town was quiet, peaceful, but you can see preparations are being made for the upcoming La Castanyada festival.

As you leave the narrow streets behind, the road opens up, leading you deeper into the countryside. The car continues to meander through the occasional quaint shop-fronts and cobblestone paths until the road begins to slope upward. You sit straighter in your seat.

The soft crunch of gravel under the tires announced your approach to Alexia's family estate, hidden behind tall stone walls and ancient oaks. Gradually, the estate came into view, as the road curved around a hillside, revealing tall gates surrounding the property. You had never seen anything like it. 

Your eyebrows rose in surprise as the large dark, wooden gates swung open automatically just as the car pulled up. The car drives through and you spot what looks to be some sort of wooden sign announcing the estate's name, beautifully carved in dark wood. It was like Disneyland.

You knew Alexia came from a well off family, but you were definitely not expecting a family-that-has-a-fancy-sign-outside-of-their-gated-estate kind of rich.

Alexia turns to you, biting her bottom lip. Her eyes were bright with excitement, she was practically buzzing in her seat. This was the most excited and awake you have seen her in the last hour of the drive.

She points to your window. “This is my family's vineyard”

You lean forward and sure enough there was a vineyard. The estate was perched high on a hill, offering a panormaic view of the property. The vineyard itself looked like something out of a painting, the grapevines, heavy with the last of the season’s fruit, stood in neat rows, aligned against the backdrop of rolling hills. Beyond the vineyards, the estate was flanked by tall trees offering privacy from the rest of the world.

“Wow, this place is beautiful,” You were in complete awe at the scenery.

Alexia's cheeks flushed with warmth. She quickly removed her green cap, brushing out her hair. “My grandparents have lived here for years."

The car continued to drive on. Soon enough an impressive structure came into view. The house--mansion(?) itself was breathtaking— a lavish stone manor with its ivy-covered walls, grand arched windows, and terracotta roofs. Even though Alexia had prepared you for her grandparents’ “big house”, nothing compared to the real thing.

“We’re here,” Alexia said softly, pulling the car to a stop at the front of the estate. She shut off the engine and unbuckled her seatbelt. She then turned to you and did the same, unbuckling your seatbelt for you out of habit.

As you both stepped out of the car, the cool autumn air enveloped you completely, crisp but not biting. You just stared for a moment, your breath catching as you took it all in. The courtyard was paved with smooth stones, lined with tall, iron lanterns leading towards the grand entrance of the house. The doors, massive and intricately carved, stood closed. Almost intimidatingly.

“This is your grandparents' place?” You asked, still in awe. Who did you know had multiple 2ft tall cast stone vases lined up by the entrance of their homes. No one-- at least until now.

“It’s home.” She took your hand, guiding you toward the entrance.

You felt a flutter of nerves in your belly. You had been excited about the trip initially, but now that they were here, the reality of it all weighed on her.

Would they like you? Would they understand your broken Spanish?

Before Alexia could reach for the doorbell, one of the doors opened.

Alexia’s grandmother, Abuela Carmen, was the first to greet you at the door, her face lighting up with a warm smile. Her silver hair was pulled into a loose bun, and her dark eyes twinkled as she wrapped her granddaughter in a tight embrace before turning to you.

“And you must be Alexia's girl,” she said in English, her accent thick yet soft. She took your hands in hers, giving them a gentle squeeze. You introduced yourself and she repeated your name back to you with such fondness, as if she had known you your whole life. “Welcome to our home.”

“Thank you. Gracias" You replied, your nerves easing as Alexia's grandmother pulled you in for a hug. Alexia was about to say something about the luggage in the trunk, but her grandmother just flapped her hands away dismissively, instead ushering you both further inside her home.

The house was as grand inside as it was outside. The foyer welcomed you inside, its walls lined with decor and tall paintings. Towards the end of the foyer you could see an expansive living room that you swear is bigger than your entire apartment. A large fireplace dominated the room, its flames reflecting against dark wood beams. Terracotta tiles stretched across the floor, complemented nicely by the intricately patterned rugs.

The walls were painted in soft, creamy tones, adorned with vibrant mosaic tiles. Large arched windows lined the walls, with the wooden shutters thrown open to let in the last rays of the setting sun, bathing the room in a golden glow. The windows framed picturesque views of the vineyard and rolling hills beyond. You were still in awe.

Exposed wooden beams crisscrossed the high ceilings, while wrought-iron chandeliers hung gracefully, the warm light casting shadows across the room. Plush sofas and armchairs upholstered in rich fabrics, blend with the dark wooden tables and cabinets. The sofas were lightly dented and the rugs weren't perfectly brushed out. You could tell that each piece in this room was meticulously chosen with the purpose of making this house a home.

"Show our guest around the sala, Alexia. Then come to the kitchen for some merienda after" Abuela Carmela practically orders her granddaughter. With you, she just sends you a quick wink before nudging the both of you away as she saunters over to where you assume the kitchen is. It’s hard to tell with a house as big as this. 

Alexia leads you through the main hall, where a large stone fireplace crackled with a burning fire. Above the mantel, an intricately carved wooden mantelpiece held an array of family photos, a reflection of the generations that had lived and loved in this house.

“We gather in this house every year,” Alexia said, her voice filled with affection. "It's my favourite time of year. It's the only time I get to see all of my family in one place".

Alexia waves you over, closer. You stand on your tiptoes as she points out herself and her sister in the photos, whispering stories of her childhood for every single one. The smile that lights up her face as she tells her stories is infectious, like she was experiencing every happy memory all over again. Stories of bike rides around the town, muddy boots around the vineyard, and summers spent sunbathing at Poseidon Calella beach.

She leads you into the next room, your hand in hers the entire time. The dining room was an expansive room with a long, polished wooden table perfectly set for the occasion. 

"Wow. This is the fanciest table setting I have ever seen..." The table was adorned with what looked like hand-painted ceramic plates and bowls, surrounded by intricate silver cutlery and crystal glasses that sparkled in the candlelight. The centrepiece was a beautiful arrangement of autumn leaves, chestnuts, and candles.

"Oh no, this is not where we will be eating," Alexia tugs your hand, leading you around the fancy dinner table and towards a set of French glass doors framed by lush cerulean curtains. She points outside.

"There is where we will be eating"

An expansive terrace has been transformed into a breathtaking outdoor dining space. Under the pergola draped with twinkling lights, a long wooden table stood as the focal point of the evening’s festivities. From where you were standing, you could see hints of colourful glassware, candles, ornate table centrepieces, and neatly folded napkins.

You turn to face Alexia, playfully mouthing a "holy shit" -- one of the first English phrases she picked up quickly-- to which she just rolls her eyes at you. But you can see the corner of her mouth tugging upwards.

"Vale. Let's go to the kitchen. My abuela is probably waiting"

As Alexia led you into the kitchen, you marvelled at the sights before you. The kitchen was any chef’s dream. The floor was laid with terracotta tiles which were noticeably worn smooth by generations of footsteps. You could tell the family spent a lot of time inside this part of their home.

Stone countertops, big windows, wooden cabinets, and a large farmhouse sink. Stainless steel pots and pans hung from a wrought-iron rack above the island, and the glass cabinets were filled with an array of colourful ceramics. Alexia’s stories of how her grandma would cook her infamous Gazpacho whenever she was sick filled your head at the sight of a large, stone fireplace by the corner. 

There was a smaller table, placed near the fireplace, looking to be made from reclaimed barn wood. It was surrounded by mismatched chairs, their cushions upholstered in colourful, patterned fabrics. The table was set with a simpler table setting compared to the one in the dining room and the terrace. You could imagine the family using this smaller table whenever they are rushing in the morning and only need to stop for a quick breakfast before school or work.

Alexia's grandmother was busy at the stove, stirring a pot of something that smelled divine. She greeted you both with a warm smile. “Ah, there you are! Just in time to help,” she said, clapping her hands.

Alexia's grandfather, Abuelo Miguel, appeared carrying a tray piled high with steaming chestnuts. His face, weathered with age, split into a grin as he saw Alexia. “Ah, mi nieta,” he said, his deep voice warm with affection. He set the tray down before giving Alexia a big hug. The kind of hug only a beloved grandfather can give.

Then, turning to you, he gave you a welcoming nod and extended his hand. “And you must be the woman we have all heard so much about.”

Taking his welcome, you smiled back– albeit a bit awkwardly, but the wrinkles around his eyes as he smiled at you put your nerves at ease.

"Vale. Keep doing what you were doing" He gestured playfully to the controlled mess around the kitchen, making you all laugh. There were dishes and casseroles everywhere, stuff cooking on the stove and oven. No counter space was left unused. 

“Chestnuts are always the centrepiece,” Alexia whispered to you, pointing about the growing pile on the kitchen island. “Traditions say they were eaten back in the day to keep warm during the colder months. These days, we eat them to remember the souls of the departed.”

You watched as Alexia's grandparents moved with an easy grace, tending to the chestnuts roasting in the open hearth. Abuela Carmen was masterful, her wrinkled hands moving deftly as she placed a fresh batch of chestnuts into the iron skillet over the flames. She gave them a gentle toss, and the warm, nutty scent wafted through the air. You swear your stomach grumbled at the smells alone. 

You and Alexia got stuck in, plating dishes and gathering the cutlery. Abuela Carmen called you over to watch and observe her roast the chestnuts and Abuelo Miguel showed you how to make authentic Sangria. As the final preparations were completed, you and Alexia helped carry the food out to the terrace. After a few back and fourths, you make your last trip to the terrace carrying a pitcher of the Sangria that you had made. You place it in the corner of the table, stepping back to admire the setting.

The table was made from rich, dark wood. It was long enough to accommodate the entire extended family, with matching sturdy chairs situated on each side. The natural grain of the wood is complemented by a table runner that runs down its length—a delicate fabric adorned with intricate patterns in shades of gold, dark blue, and deep red.

"Barcelona colours. You see?" Alexia points out with a wink as she passes you to put down a platter of cured meats. You roll your eyes at her. You can take the woman out of Barcelona, but you can’t take Barcelona out of the woman.

Each place setting thoughtfully arranged, with ceramic plates, polished silver cutlery, and neatly folded deep burgundy linen napkins held together with rustic twine and a sprig of fresh rosemary. Above each plate were crystal glasses ready to be filled with the finest wines-- to which Alexia pointed out to you that there were separate glasses for red and white wine. You did not know that beforehand. 

An arrangement of autumn leaves in hues of gold, orange, and crimson was interspersed with clusters of chestnuts, pomegranates, and small gourds. Among the foliage, candles in glass holders flickered softly, their flames bouncing off of wine glasses. Along the table were small bowls filled with olives, marinated in garlic and herbs, and plates of freshly baked bread, still warm from the oven. Ceramic bowls filled with olive oil and balsamic vinegar sat within easy reach.

Personalised name cards, handwritten on small pieces of parchment, were placed at each setting. You round the table, eyeing each name card, and pausing when you see one addressed to you. Yours was next to Alexia's, handwritten in beautiful calligraphy just like the rest of the family.

Soon your ears pick up on the muted sound of gravel crunching under tires. One by one, cars pulled up to the grand estate, and the echoes of greetings pierced through the silence. You take a deep breath, looking down at your outfit to make sure you didn't have any balsamic stains on your cardigan or any suspicious crumbs on your trousers.

The first to arrive were Alexia's uncle Javier and his wife, Elena, along with their three children. Javier, a tall man with a warm smile, embraced you with a hug. Maria, a graceful woman with kind eyes, kissed you on both cheeks, her greeting rolling off her tongue easily. She had a nice voice, you thought to yourself, but that could just be the nerves forcing you to focus on anything but your growing anxiety. 

The children, two boys and a girl, darted past their parents, racing each other to check out the table and all the colourful decorations.

“Alexia, it’s been too long!” Javier exclaimed, shrugging off his blazer and draping it over his chair. He turns to you. “And I'm glad you finally brought your girl home. Welcome to the family, hija.”

Next came Tia Isabel, Elena’s great-aunt, a sprightly woman in her seventies. She arrived with her husband, Roberto, and their son, Carlos. Isabel, wearing a vibrant yellow shawl greeted everyone with enthusiastic hugs and kisses-- including you. In fact, you swear she gave you an extra tight squeeze when she came to hug you.

Soon after a car pulled up with Alexia's cousins, Maritza and Sofia. Their partners trail behind them with their bags and bottles of wine. Maritza comes strutting onto the terrace, her high-heel shoes click clacking, announcing her arrival. She greets you, complimenting your cardigan, and practically steals you away from Alexia to chat. She leads you to the table, sneakily swapping the name card to your left with her own so you can sit together and talk more.

Meanwhile Sofia, who Alexia mentioned is an artist, carried a canvas bag filled with small gifts she had made for the family. After yelling her greetings to everyone, she goes straight to the table and starts picking out wrapped objects from her bag, placing them by the corresponding name card. Everyone immediately goes to open their presents, revealing handmade pottery. There were mugs, bowls, and small plates, each glazed in vibrant colours and decorated with unique patterns and designs. She takes out the last one and walks over to you, holding it out. "This one's for you. Alexia said you love the colour pink and anything with cherries on it"

You stand up, thanking her and unwrap your present. You start to apologise for not having brought anything for her in exchange, but she just waves your apologies away, urging you to focus on unwrapping your gift instead. Underneath the wrapping paper revealed a ceramic white mug with red cherries all over, sweet and dainty. Perfect for your daily cups of coffee. "Wow. This is beautiful. Thank you, Sofia"

Sofia smiles proudly, accepting the shouts of praise directed at her from the rest of the family as well. She bows exaggeratedly before she threatens everyone that they must use their gifts or else. 

As the last few family members continued to arrive, the atmosphere grew even more festive. From your view from above, the courtyard was abuzz with activity—children playing tag around the lanterns, and adults catching up, their hands already occupied with their beverage of choice or nibbling on some tapas. 

Soon enough Abuela Carmen called everyone to come to the table. It was time to eat. Everyone gathered around, their faces lit by the warm, golden light. The terrace offered a breathtaking view of the vineyard below, the rows of vines now bathed in the silvery light of the moon.

“Come, come, sit,” Abuela Carmen urged, gesturing for you to take your seat. You take your place, feeling Alexia slide into her seat right next to you. She takes her napkin, unfolds it, and lays it across her lap. You follow suit. “I hope this is enough food for your first La Castanyada.”

Alexia chuckles from beside you. She gestures at the feast before you. "It's more than enough, Abuela. Te lo juro"

"Muy bien. Good. I want your first La Castanyada to be perfect" Aubela Carmen looks down at you fondly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear when a light breeze blows by. She gives your shoulder one last squeeze before she walks over to her own place by the head of the table.

You had heard of the Catalan tradition before. Alexia had not only explained it to you countless times before, but you also took the liberty in doing some research before coming. According to your research, La Castanyada is a celebration held in late autumn to honour the dead. The tradition is rooted in the whole family coming together to enjoy seasonal treats like roasted chestnuts and tiny almond cakes.

Between courses, music filled the air. Abuelo Miguel strummed his guitar, leading the family in traditional Catalan songs. Alexia's cousins joined in with their singing, encouraging everyone else to clap and sing. Even the children took turns dancing and performing.

The table was a feast for the gods. At the center of the table, a large platter showcased roasted vegetables fresh from the estate’s garden. Beside it sat a carved wooden bowl overflowing with mixed greens—arugula, radicchio, and delicate frisée—tossed lightly in a vinaigrette of lemon, olive oil, and herbs. 

A large paella pan sat ready at one end of the table, brimming with golden saffron-infused rice. It was piled on with prawns, mussels, and pieces of chicken, with slices of chorizo nestled among the rice. Fresh sprigs of parsley were scattered over the top, and lemon wedges lined the edges. Next to the paella, a warm loaf of crusty artisan bread sat on a wooden board. Nearby was a selection of spreads and dips; including a rich, roasted red pepper romesco, and creamy whipped feta with herbs. 

Right in front of your plate sat a dish of patatas bravas. The fried potato cubes were smothered in a spicy tomato sauce and drizzled with a swirl of garlicky aioli. Plates of jamón ibérico were carefully fanned out beside it, the thin, ruby-red slices almost translucent. The seafood continued with grilled octopus, charred lightly at the edges and served on a bed of roasted chickpeas and fennel, dressed in a lemon and caper sauce. 

Abuela Carmela lifted her glass, her eyes sparkling with affection as she looked around at her family. “To La Castanyada,” she began, her voice warm and steady. “To our loved ones, present and remembered, and to the blessings of family.”

Everyone echoed her toast, glasses clinking, blending with the crackle of the fire nearby. With that, the meal began. You picked up one of the roasted chestnuts, still warm from the cazuela. You took a tentative bite, and immediately, a soft sweetness spread over your tongue. The texture was velvety, almost creamy. You did not know chestnuts could taste like this.

Alexia watched you chew, your face screwed up in thought. When you turned to her with a big smile on your face, she subconsciously released the breath she was holding. While you were busy scooping another mouthful of the chestnuts, Alexia secretly raised a thumbs up at her abuela. Abuela Carmen replied back with a quick wink and a satisfied smile. 

When the large pan of paella, Alexia used the serving spoon to scoop a generous serving of the rice, with prawns and chorizo, and placed it on your plate for you. She then served herself before passing it down the table. 

You pile your fork with the paella, bringing the fork to your mouth. Immediately, the layers of flavour bloomed in your mouth: the smoky paprika from the chorizo, the sweetness of the prawn, and the aromatic saffron that tinted the rice. You chew some more before tucking into your plate again. Gathering another spoonful of paella into your mouth, you were practically dancing in your sea. In the middle of chewing, you turn to Alexia with wide eyes. 

She thumbs away the little bit of sauce on the corner of your lip, patiently waiting for you to finish chewing. 

You swallow, licking your lips afterwards. “Delicioso”

“Si?” Alexia asks, with raised eyebrows, as if she can’t see the pure elation painted all over your face.

You hum in reply, nodding– practically humming a melody as you eat another forkful. “Si!” 

Alexia laughs at you, endearingly, unable to resist the urge to love on you. She wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to her, and starts raining kisses on your cheek. You blush profusely at her blatant display of affection in front of her family but everyone just continuous on eating, but you can see a few secret smiles on their faces. 

“Oye, Carlos! pass the paella, por favor” Alexia calls out. When the plate reaches her, she scoops a serving directly onto your plate. 

“We cook this every year,” She says, leaning close to your ear. “It’s part of the tradition. You’ll have to learn the recipe if you want to stick around.”

You look at her and smile, your heart swelling at the thought of being part of these yearly rituals. Glancing around the table, you tried to take in the sight of the rest of Alexia's family and their happy faces. Everyone sat around this large table, passing around dishes and stories. The evening air was filled with the sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and the low crackle of the fire. Not a bad deal at all.

From the distance, just across the vineyard, you could see a faint warm glow illuminating, perhaps from where other houses were participating in the celebrations as well.

The evening slipped into a comfortable rhythm. The conversation flowed, mostly in Spanish with Alexia translating when needed, but even when you didn’t understand every word, you never felt left out. Everyone made sure to try and speak English, especially when they were referring to you. Your heart warmed at their efforts.

Javier, ever the storyteller, was in the middle of recounting a story from his travels. His hands moved expressively as he spoke, his voice booming with laughter. You listened intently as you followed his tale. 

All of a sudden a hand gently tapped yours that was resting on top of the table.

“So,” Tia Isabel, who was sitting in front of you, asked. She eagerly leaned forward in her seat, her plate pushed aside and she was nursing her glass of red wine. “Tell us, how did you and Alexia meet?”

You smiled, glancing over at the woman with the pretty hazel eyes sitting right next to you. “We met through the club,” You explained. “I work for the club doing all the social media stuff."

Maritza pipes up from beside you. "Oh. Are you the one--uhh how do you say-- filming the videos?"

You turn to her and nod. Maritza looked a lot like Alexia's sister, Alba. If you did not know any better, you would've assumed Alexia had been hiding a third sister from you. "Si. I make and create content for the team's social media."

You catch from your peripheral as your girlfriend suddenly seems very interested in your conversation. She stretches an arm, resting it on the back of your chair.

"So the blindfolded pizza challenge was your idea?"

You nod, feeling your cheeks heat up. That video was one of your favourite pieces of content you had ever created, and it was an instant hit with the fans. On the other hand, it was Alexia’s least favourite.  

Sofia clasps her hands together, practically bouncing in her chair. "I love that video!"

Alexia interjects. "I still can't believe she made me eat olives. I hate olives"

Chuckling at the visible shudder she let out, you smile when you recall the shock on everyone's faces when Alexia blindly picked out the one paper that had olives on it. The rules of the game state that the players must take turns blindly pulling out little slips of paper with a food item on it. They must then put the food item onto their pizza, and bake it. To make it fun, aside from the typical pizza toppings, food options include gummy worms, mustard, anchovies and– unfortunately for Alexia– olives. 

So Alexia had no choice but to begrudgingly place a couple olives on her pizza. You will never get over the sight of the Barcelona captain with tears welling in her eyes at the end of the video. Afterwards, she gave you the silent treatment the entire evening.

As the conversation continued to flow, Abuela Carmen stood up, her chair scraping against the tiled floor, catching everyone’s attention. “I hope everyone has room for postres-- dessert,?” she announced with a smile. She motioned for Elena and Sofia, who brought out trays of panellets and sweet potatoes.

Everyone ooooh'd and ahhh'd' as the trays were placed on the table. You watched in awe as the beautifully arranged treats were revealed. Panellets, the traditional marzipan sweets, were decorated with pine nuts, coconut, and almonds. Their sweet aroma mingled with the scent of the roasted sweet potatoes.

Abuela Carmen handed you a small dessert plate. “You must try these, preciosa. Quickly. Before the rest of the family eats them all.”

You graciously took a piece of the panellet, its delicate sweetness melting in your mouth. “Esto es delicioso, Abuela Carmen!”

Abuela Carmen beamed, patting your hand. The crinkles by her eyes deepened until her eyes smiled like crescent moons. “I’m glad you like them”

She turns to the table, quickly grabbing the last bit of the panellets, much to the apparent surprise of the entire family. She places the last piece on your plate. “This is for you.”

The table is stunned for a moment, but they all nod in agreement. That is until Maritza breaks the silence by calling for another toast– this time, to you. You wave your hand around, covering your face in embarrassment but it only fuels everyone to continue teasing you out of affection. Alexia is beaming by your side. It’s sort of a known thing in their culture that people usually offer the last piece of any cake or desert to the people they care about. Her Abuela offering the last piece to you is already a sign of fondness. 

Despite your embarrassment over the attention, you gladly accept the last piece of desert and enjoyed every last bite. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Eventually, the family gathered their drinks and began to move from the terrace to the courtyard. The space was softly illuminated by string lights and a large stone fireplace. Vintage wrought-iron lanterns hung at intervals along the pergola’s length. Arranged in clusters around the fireplace, there were plush, low-slung lounge chairs and sofas, upholstered in fabrics of earthy tones.

The warmth from the fire pit mingled with the cool autumn breeze. You were almost tempted to excuse yourself to fetch your coat, so when Alexia silently handed you a big wool throw for you to share, you practically let out a big sigh in relief. "no puedo imaginar la vida sin ti, mi corazon. i love you so much"

Your lover just laughs, throwing her head back freely, before bending down to meet your lips for a kiss. You feel her smiling against your lips as she whispers "stop picking up your Spanish from telenovelas, amor"

She kisses you once more before asking you to scoot over.

She took her seat beside you, your shoulders touching, legs cocooned under the throw blanket. There was something magical about this moment right now. Something comforting about the way the stars seemed to glow brighter, the way the fire crackled in the distance, and the warmth of Alexia's hand in yours.

“I am really happy you are here,” she leaned in to whisper, pressing a soft kiss to your temple afterwards.

You smiled, your heart swelling with a deep sense of contentment and belly full of the hearty meal. “Me too, baby.”

As everyone continued to sip their beverage of choice, Abuelo Miguel began to tell stories—tales from his childhood, stories of La Castanyada celebrations that stretched back generations. His voice carried the weight of the years. You could see the flicker of memories in his eyes as he recounted how, when he was a young boy, they would light bonfires in the town square, gathering with chestnuts and special wine specially reserved for the occasion.

Alexia nudge you with her shoulder, her eyes doing that thing where she studies your face intently, silently trying to read your mind. When she likes what she sees, she smiles. “It’s beautiful, si?”

You gaze right back at her, appreciating the way the glow of the fire highlights her face; the sharpness of her jawline, the twinkle in her eyes, and the slight wetness on her plump bottom lip. “Very beautiful,” you whispered back to her.

As the evening wore on, more chestnuts were passed around. Everyone ate them with sticky fingers and washed them down with small glasses of sweet moscatel wine. Talks shifted to quieter conversations as the night settled, the stars brighter against the dark sky.

At one point, Abuela Carmen stood and began to sing a melodic song, her voice warm, the notes hanging in the cool air like a lullaby. Abuelo Miguel joined in, his deep baritone harmonising with hers, creating a moment so tender that you almost felt as if you were intruding on something too intimate.

Alexia shifted closer to you, tugging the blanket higher so it covers you from the neck down. The air was slightly chilly now. She throws an arm around your shoulder, tucking you to her side, letting you rest against her. “I grew up with these songs,” she said softly against your ear. “Every year, we sing them.”

You laid your her head on her shoulder, taking a good look around the courtyard, taking in the scene—the glow of the lanterns, the warmth of the fire, the faces of the people who had welcomed you so easily, and the sound of Alexia's steady heartbeat beneath your ear.

“I think I could get used to this,” You whispered to the woman beside you, surprising even yourself with the hint of emotion in your voice. 

Alexia smiled, brushing a strand of hair away from your eyes. She cupped your chin, tilting it up slightly, and leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. “Qué bien, because you are part of it from now on.”

fall is such a romantic season.

i hope your autumn has started off as beautifully as mine. think of me whenever you see leaves dancing in the wind x

・❥・- kisses, butter

read more of the Butter's Meadio-cre Mayhem (the Spooky Season collection) here

*This work is my original creation. Please don’t copy, share, or translate it without asking for my permission first. Thanks for respecting that!

[satansdarlin]

Blue stained glass

While I work on the fourth chapter of a full deck of cards I also decided to write for another one of my boys! Welcoming Kurt Wagner to the stage! Apologies for any bad German, I'm still learning it and often forget that it is a gendered language so please forgive me.

MDNI

Rating: E

Word count: 8.3k

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x shy!artist!fem!reader

Warnings: reader being kinda stalkerish but not with bad intentions, implied that some of the students have harmless crushes on Kurt, Kurt being a flirt, smut! Because I missed writing it, Oral (fem receiving), PiV, mentions of Kurt's faith, you wife that man up!, pregnancy. Not beta read!

If you liked this check of my masterlist or put in a request if they are open

Golden light trickled in through the curtains as the sun set behind the school. The smell of dragon's blood incense wafted around the room in delicate wisps of smoke. The only sounds were the slight breeze outside and the dragging of bristles across canvas. You sat on the wooden stool, a slight hunch in your back you'd need to correct later with stretches. Your gaze followed along as you drew blue across the canvas. Blue had become a vital part of all your recent works, and you knew exactly why. Whenever you thought of art, flashes of blue fur, a spaded tail, the smell of sulfur, a silver cross, and a mischievous laugh filled your mind. You wouldn't call it obsession or infatuation. He was your muse. Not that he knew. How could you tell your teammate that he gave you such powerful inspiration? So the portfolio filled to the brim with artworks of just him remained hidden away under your bed.

Kurt Wagner. Everyone loved him. He was a friend worth keeping, made everything fun, always had the best ideas to keep the students entertained, and loved to chatter. Even Logan enjoyed his company from time to time. Kurt just had a way with people, with mutants. A few months back, you had a solo mission with him. It was awkward at first—the shy, quiet artist of the school and the impish chatterbox didn't know how to approach one another. In the end, the mission had concluded in giggles and soft-spoken words. Kurt was wonderful. That's why you couldn't understand why he kept insisting on spending time with you of all people. You were reserved, shy, introverted—the exact opposite of Kurt.

You had put the "Do Not Disturb" sign on your door before starting, hoping it would deter visitors. It did. Well, anyone who saw the sign didn't bother you; the same could not be said for the blue fuzzy imp. He didn't see it, to be fair. He had just gotten home from taking some students to the mall for shopping and wanted to show you the paints he had found, so he teleported. The smell of sulfur and the familiar BAMF sound filled your room, making your eyes widen comedically as you stared at the canvas. A painting of Kurt praying in a church with blue stained glass—one he was most certainly not supposed to see.

"Mein Freund, you would not believe the gift I have found for you— ah," his pleasant accent-tinted voice stalled as he gazed at your shape and then the painting before you. His eyes widened and filled with glee. "Oh mein Gott! Is that me? It's... it's—" he struggled to find the English word for a moment before settling on, "herrlich."

You stammered shyly as he walked up behind you, gazing at the painting with a smile that made your insides flutter like a thousand baby butterflies had hatched. "I... erm... yes, it's you, but it's not finished," you spoke hesitantly.

"Not finished?" Kurt moved closer, his tail swaying gently behind him in that way it did when he was truly excited about something. "But it's already so beautiful! The way you captured the light through the windows..." He leaned in, careful not to disturb your workspace, but close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. "I had no idea you were watching me pray."

Your cheeks burned hot. "I... I wasn't. Not really. I just... sometimes I sketch you when you're around the mansion, and I remembered how peaceful you looked that one time I passed by the chapel..." You trailed off, realizing you might be revealing too much.

Kurt's expression softened, and a knowing look crossed his features. "Then perhaps..." he said, reaching down to carefully take the brush from your trembling fingers, "you wouldn't mind showing me the other drawings?" His golden eyes flickered toward your bed, where your portfolio lay hidden.

Your heart nearly stopped. "You knew?"

A gentle laugh escaped him, musical and warm. "Mein Schatz, I may be a fool sometimes, but I'm not blind. I've seen the way you look at me when you think I'm not watching." He paused, his tail curling slightly in what you had learned was nervousness. "The same way I look at you when you're lost in your art."

The confession hung in the air between you, as tangible as the wisps of incense smoke still dancing through the golden evening light. You sat frozen, brush dripping blue paint onto the dropcloth below, as Kurt Wagner—your muse, your teammate, your secret inspiration—waited for your response with bated breath.

"You... look at me?" You whispered in shock and a tinge of disbelief. He looked at you like you looked at him? That sounded impossible, yet the way his tail curled in nervousness and his foot tapped against the ground told a different story.

Kurt's hand came up to rub the back of his neck, a gesture you'd seen countless times when he was trying to find the right words. "Ja, I do. More than I probably should." His voice was softer now, almost vulnerable. "When you're in the garden sketching, or during the art class with the students when you create those beautiful displays... The way your face lights up when you finally perfect a piece you've been working on..." He trailed off, a deeper blue tinting his cheeks.

Your heart thundered in your chest as he took a small step closer, his tail now swaying in a gentle, hypnotic pattern. "I've wanted to tell you for so long, but..." He gestured to himself with a self-deprecating smile. "Well, I wasn't sure someone who creates such beauty would want..."

"Kurt," you interrupted, finding courage you didn't know you had. Standing from your stool, you reached for his hand, feeling the unique texture of his fur against your palm. "You are beauty. Why do you think I can't stop painting you?"

His golden eyes widened, and that brilliant smile you'd captured in countless sketches spread across his face. "Then perhaps," he said, bringing your joined hands up between you, "we've both been a bit foolish, ja?"

A small laugh escaped you, breaking the tension. "More than a bit." Your eyes drifted to the painting on the easel, then back to him. "Would you... would you like to see the others? The real ones, not just the ones I do for art class?"

Kurt's tail perked up, and he squeezed your hand gently. "I would love nothing more, mein Schatz. But first..." He reached into his jacket pocket with his free hand and pulled out a small paper bag. "I really did bring you something from the art store."

Inside was a set of iridescent blue paints that shifted colors in the dying sunlight, almost the exact shade of Kurt's fur when he moved. Your breath caught at the thoughtfulness of the gift, and when you looked up at him, his expression was so tender it made your heart ache.

"I saw them and thought of you," he admitted quietly. "Though I suppose I'm always thinking of you these days."

The confession hung in the air like a prayer, and you found yourself moving closer, drawn into his orbit like you'd always been, only now there was no need to hide it. The golden light that had started this evening's painting session now painted Kurt in warm hues, making him look almost ethereal—your own personal angel, right here in your art-cluttered room.

"Kurt," you whispered, not quite sure what you wanted to say, but knowing you needed to say something. The way he looked at you now, like you were one of his precious religious paintings come to life, made you understand why he'd always insisted on spending time with you. He'd been drawn to you just as you'd been to him, both of you dancing around each other in an elaborate routine of stolen glances and hidden feelings.

His tail curled gently around your wrist, as if he couldn't bear to not touch you in some way, and you realized that maybe this was what inspiration truly felt like—not just the desire to capture beauty, but to be part of it. With trembling hands, you knelt beside your bed, aware of Kurt's presence behind you as you reached underneath to pull out the large black portfolio case. Your heart hammered against your ribs—no one had ever seen these pieces before. They were raw, honest, intimate in a way your public artwork never was.

"I, um," you started, clutching the portfolio to your chest as you stood, "some of these are just quick sketches, and others aren't very good—"

"Liebling," Kurt interrupted gently, his tail swaying with barely contained excitement, "everything you create is wunderbar. May I?" He gestured to your bed, and you nodded, watching as he settled cross-legged on the corner, patting the space beside him.

You sat down carefully, the portfolio balanced on your lap. Kurt's warmth beside you was both comforting and nerve-wracking. Taking a deep breath, you unzipped the case and pulled out the first few pieces.

"Oh!" Kurt's delighted gasp made you jump slightly. His tail curled in pleasure as he leaned forward to study a charcoal drawing of himself perched on the mansion's balcony railing, looking out over the grounds. "I remember this day. It was right after that terrible thunderstorm, ja? When the sun finally came out?"

You nodded, surprised he'd remembered such a small moment. "The light was hitting your fur just right, and I couldn't help but..." you trailed off, embarrassed at admitting how much you'd observed him.

But Kurt was already reaching for the next piece, his golden eyes bright with wonder. "And this one!" It was a series of quick gesture sketches of him during a training session, his body in various poses of acrobatic grace. "You've captured the movement so perfectly. I had no idea you were watching so closely."

Your cheeks burned. "I hope that doesn't sound creepy."

His laugh was warm and genuine. "Nein, not at all. Though it does explain why you always volunteered to help supervise training." His tail brushed against your back playfully, making you squeak in surprise.

As you went through more pieces, your initial nervousness began to fade, replaced by a warm glow at Kurt's genuine enthusiasm for each drawing. He had a comment for every piece—remembering the moments you'd captured, praising your technique, asking questions about your process. His tail never stopped moving, expressing his excitement in a way his controlled expressions couldn't quite hide.

"This one," he breathed, carefully lifting a watercolor painting, "this is..." It was one of your favorites—Kurt in the library late at night, reading by lamplight, his tail curled around a cup of tea. You'd painted it from memory after watching him there one evening, trying to capture the peaceful contentment he radiated in those quiet moments.

"The way you see me," he said softly, tracing the air above the painting as if afraid to touch it, "it's so..."

"Real," you finished quietly. "That's just... how you look to me."

Kurt turned to face you then, and the expression on his face made your breath catch. "All this time," he murmured, "I thought I was alone in feeling this way. In seeing such beauty in someone else."

You ducked your head, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze, but his tail gently curved under your chin, lifting it back up. "No hiding," he said softly. "Not anymore, ja?"

The portfolio slid forgotten to the floor as Kurt's hand came up to cup your cheek, his touch feather-light, as if he still couldn't quite believe he was allowed this. In the fading golden light of your room, surrounded by scattered artwork that told the story of your hidden feelings, Kurt Wagner looked at you like you were the masterpiece—not the artist. Time seemed to slow as Kurt's hand remained gentle against your cheek, his thumb brushing softly across your skin. Your heart was doing acrobatics that could rival his best performances, and you wondered if he could feel how warm your face had become.

"Mein Schatz," he whispered, leaning closer, "may I...?"

You could only manage a tiny nod, and then his lips were on yours, soft and sweet. The kiss was gentle, almost reverent, and you could feel his smile against your mouth. His tail curled around your waist, drawing you closer as your hands tentatively came up to rest against his chest, feeling the soft fabric of his shirt and the steady beating of his heart beneath.

When you finally parted, you immediately buried your burning face in his shoulder, earning a warm chuckle that rumbled through his chest. "Hiding again so soon?" he teased, his accent thicker with emotion.

"Mmph," was all you could manage, which only made him laugh more.

"And here I thought artists were supposed to appreciate beautiful moments," he continued playfully, his tail squeezing your waist. "Perhaps I should pose for another painting? 'The First Kiss' would make a lovely addition to your collection, ja?"

You groaned and swatted his chest weakly. "Kurt!"

"Or maybe a series?" He was clearly enjoying himself now, his voice full of mischief. "We could call it 'The Evolution of Romance' or 'Love in Blue'—"

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your face still flaming. "You're terrible."

His grin was radiant. "Terrible, but yours?" The hope in his voice made your heart flutter.

"Yeah," you whispered, managing a shy smile. "Mine."

"Wunderbar!" He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead. "Though I must ask—do you have any paintings of our future together hidden away as well? Should I be prepared for more surprises?"

"Kurt Wagner!" You tried to sound scandalized, but you couldn't help laughing, especially when he waggled his eyebrows at you.

"What? It's a reasonable question! After all, you've been secretly documenting me for months. For all I know, you've already planned our wedding colors—blue and more blue, I assume?"

You grabbed a nearby pillow and tried to smack him with it, but he teleported across the room with a BAMF, leaving a cloud of sulfur and the echo of his laughter. He reappeared perched on your easel, careful not to disturb your painting, his tail swishing playfully.

"You know," he said, his golden eyes twinkling, "I think I prefer being your muse when I know about it. The poses can be much more interesting this way."

"Oh my god," you mumbled, falling back onto your bed and covering your face with your hands. But you couldn't hide your smile, especially when you felt the familiar displacement of air and suddenly had a warm, fuzzy mutant curled around you, pressing gentle kisses to your temple.

"Don't worry, Liebling," he murmured against your skin, his tail finding your hand and twining with your fingers. "I promise to be the best muse you could ask for. Though..." He paused dramatically, "I do have one condition."

You peeked through your fingers at him. "What's that?"

His smile softened into something so tender it made your chest ache. "That next time you paint me praying in the chapel, you'll be there with me. Some masterpieces are better created together, don't you think?"

This time, when you pulled him down for another kiss, you didn't hide your face afterward. After all, how could you when he was looking at you like that—like you were both the artist and the masterpiece, the muse and the creator, the beginning and end of something beautiful?

Though you did blush furiously when he later insisted on signing all your portraits of him with "Kurt Wagner, Professional Muse and Master of Stealing Artists' Hearts.”

.

.

.

The chatter of students filled the air and the sweet smell of honeysuckle surrounded you and your students. Truth be told, you hadn't even offered to do this job; teaching the art class wasn't something that had ever been on your mind, but Charles had asked you to do so, saying it would be good for the students to have an outlet for their emotions. Though teaching a bunch of mutant teenagers wasn't particularly easy, especially when half of them wanted to be in the danger room training to be X-Men—you probably got more questions about that than actual art.

"Your piece should be about expression. There is no right or wrong, only your feelings about your art," you spoke gently as you walked by the students settled in the grass of the gardens behind the school. A hand rose up and you looked over and nodded at the boy, Damian you believed his name was.

"Excuse me, but how exactly is painting helping us prepare for anything?" You sighed at the boy's question as he got some chastising nudges from some of your more kind students. You got that question about every class.

Before you could answer, a familiar BAMF sound and the scent of sulfur announced Kurt's arrival. He appeared perched on the garden wall, his tail swaying as he grinned at the class. Several students brightened immediately—Kurt had always been a favorite among them.

"Ah, but that is where you are wrong, mein junger Freund," Kurt said, gracefully flipping down to land beside you. His shoulder brushed yours in a subtle show of support that made your heart flutter, even after months of being together. "Art teaches us more than you might think. Strategy, patience, observation..." He winked at you before continuing, "How do you think I learned to move so efficiently in battle? By understanding space, movement, and perception—all things your talented teacher here helped me improve."

A few students giggled, well aware of your relationship with the blue mutant. It had become something of a school legend how you'd been caught with a portfolio full of Kurt drawings. Some of the older students even insisted they'd known all along, claiming they'd seen the way you both looked at each other during training sessions.

"Besides," Kurt continued, picking up one of the spare brushes from your supply kit and twirling it like one of his swords, "did you know that Leonardo da Vinci used his artistic skills to design defense systems? Or that camouflage patterns were created by artists? Even the maps we use for missions were drawn by artists."

Damian sat up straighter, suddenly looking more interested. "Really?"

You smiled, grateful for Kurt's intervention. "Really. And speaking of missions..." You shared a knowing look with Kurt before addressing the class. "Who wants to hear about the time my sketching skills helped us locate a hidden Sentinel facility?"

"Oh, tell them about the warehouse in Berlin!" Kurt added enthusiastically, his tail curling around your waist as he settled beside you. "When you noticed the architectural inconsistencies in my reconnaissance sketches?"

The students were all paying attention now, art supplies temporarily forgotten as they leaned in to hear the story. Even Damian had put down his phone, his previous skepticism replaced with curiosity.

"Well," you began, feeling Kurt's tail squeeze encouragingly, "it started when we noticed some unusual energy signatures in an old industrial district..."

As you recounted the mission, Kurt occasionally chimed in with his own colorful commentary, making the students laugh with his dramatic reenactments. You couldn't help but smile, watching him demonstrate his acrobatic moves while describing how your artistic knowledge had helped spot the hidden entrance.

"And that," Kurt concluded, landing gracefully beside you again, "is why we should never underestimate the power of art. Or artists." He pressed a quick kiss to your temple, making several students coo and others playfully groan at the display of affection.

"Mr. Wagner," one of the girls called out, a mischievous glint in her eye, "are you going to model for our class like you do for the teacher?"

Your face immediately heated up as Kurt laughed delightedly. "Sadly, I'm needed in the danger room. Though..." He grinned at you, that familiar impish look in his golden eyes, "I do have a private session scheduled later."

"Kurt!" you hissed, mortified as the students erupted in giggles.

He merely winked, pressed another quick kiss to your cheek, and teleported away with a theatrical bow, leaving you to face your amused students with burning cheeks.

"Now then," you said, trying to regain some semblance of professional dignity despite your flushed face, "back to your projects. And no, Jenny, you cannot paint Mr. Wagner for your assignment—pick a different subject."

The disappointment on several faces told you that more than one student had been planning exactly that. You couldn't really blame them though. After all, you had an entire portfolio that proved just how inspiring a subject Kurt Wagner could be. After the lingering giggles from Kurt's dramatic exit finally subsided, you circled back through your students, the grass crunching softly beneath your feet. The afternoon sun warmed your shoulders as you paused to observe their work, offering gentle guidance where needed.

"Sarah," you said, stopping beside a girl whose hands were literally glowing as she painted, her mutation allowing her to create luminescent colors, "that's beautiful. The way you're using your powers to add depth to the sunset—very creative." Her beaming smile made your heart warm; it was moments like these that reminded you why Charles had been right about teaching.

Moving on, you found Marcus struggling with his brushstrokes, his extra set of arms getting in the way of each other. "Try coordinating them like we practiced," you suggested softly. "Remember, each hand can work on a different section. Think of it like... like when Kurt coordinates his tail with his movements during training."

The mention of Kurt made a few nearby students glance up with knowing smirks, but you ignored them, focusing on how Marcus's face lit up with understanding. Within minutes, all four of his hands were working in harmony, creating an intricate pattern that would have taken others four times as long to complete.

"Teacher?" A quiet voice drew your attention to Amy, a shy freshman whose scales tended to change color with her emotions—currently a nervous purple. "I... I don't know if this is good enough." She gestured to her canvas where she'd painted a self-portrait, her scales rendered in beautiful iridescent shades.

You knelt beside her, careful not to disturb her workspace. "What makes you think it's not good enough?"

"It's just..." she glanced around at her classmates' work, her scales shifting to a deeper purple. "Everyone else is painting normal things. Beautiful things. I painted... me."

"Amy," you said gently, thinking of all the times you'd doubted your own artwork, of all the paintings of Kurt you'd hidden away because you thought they were too revealing, too personal. "Do you remember what Kurt said in his last ethics class about beauty?"

Her scales flickered with hints of pink—she had a bit of a crush on Kurt, like half the school. "That it comes in all forms?"

"Exactly. And look—" you pointed to how the light caught her painting's scales, creating rainbow patterns across the canvas. "You've captured something uniquely beautiful. Something only you could create, because only you know exactly how those scales feel, how they shift and change. That's not just good art, that's powerful art."

The purple of her scales gradually shifted to a warm golden hue as she smiled, looking at her painting with new eyes. Around you, other students had paused to listen, and you saw several of them return to their work with renewed purpose.

"Damian," you called out, noticing he'd actually started painting instead of just complaining, "excellent use of perspective on that building. Been practicing your architectural sketches?"

He tried to look nonchalant, but you caught his pleased grin. "Yeah, well... after what you said about the Berlin mission... I figured it might be useful. You know, for future X-Men stuff."

"Hey, teacher?" Jenny piped up, paint smudged adorably across her cheek. "Since we can't paint Mr. Wagner, could you tell us more about how art helped on missions while we work? Please?"

A chorus of agreements rose from the class, and you couldn't help but smile. "Alright, but keep painting. There was this one time in Moscow when my knowledge of color theory helped us identify a shapeshifter..."

As you shared the story, moving between easels and offering guidance, you noticed how the students' work seemed to come alive. Even the most reluctant artists were engaged now, their creativity flowing as they listened to tales of how art and heroism could intertwine.

The smell of honeysuckle grew stronger as the afternoon wore on, mixing with paint and teenage enthusiasm. A flash of blue in your peripheral vision caught your attention—Kurt, watching proudly from a nearby window between his training sessions. He blew you a kiss before disappearing again, leaving you with paint-stained fingers and a garden full of budding artists who were finally beginning to understand that there was more than one way to be extraordinary.

"Teacher?" Amy called out, her scales now a confident shade of blue that reminded you of someone special. "I think I'd like to do another self-portrait. Maybe... maybe one of me in an X-Men uniform this time?"

You smiled, thinking of your own portfolio of Kurt, of how art had led you to love, and how that love had led you here, helping these young mutants find their own way to express their unique beauty. "I think that's a wonderful idea, Amy. Just remember—"

"We know, we know," the class chorused together, matching your grin, "there is no right or wrong, only our feelings about our art!”

.

.

.

Evening had settled over the mansion, the last rays of sunlight painting your studio in familiar golden hues. The day's classes were done, art supplies cleaned and stored away, and you'd finally managed to stop blushing from Kurt's teasing comments during your lesson. You were just setting up your easel when the familiar BAMF announced his arrival.

"Ah, mein Schatz," Kurt's voice was warm as he appeared behind you, arms wrapping around your waist and tail curling affectionately around your ankle. "Ready for our 'private session'?" You could hear the playful smirk in his voice.

"You," you turned in his arms to poke his chest accusingly, "are terrible. Do you know how many knowing looks I got from the students after you left?"

He laughed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I couldn't help myself. You're adorable when you blush. Speaking of which..." His tail reached over to your desk, picking up your sketchbook and flipping it open to reveal today's quick sketches of him during his brief visit to your class. "Someone was inspired during their teaching duties, ja?"

"Kurt!" You tried to snatch the sketchbook, but he teleported across the room, perching on the window seat as he continued flipping through pages.

"Oh, this one is new!" He held up a sketch of himself demonstrating acrobatic moves to your students. "You captured my best side."

"All your sides are your best side," you mumbled before you could stop yourself, then immediately covered your face with your hands as he teleported back to you, gathering you close.

"Is that so?" he murmured against your ear. "Then perhaps we should make sure you have proper reference material for all of them?" His tail gently pulled your hands away from your face, forcing you to meet his tender gaze. "Now then, how would you like me to pose, Liebling?"

You gestured weakly to the arrangement you'd set up—a comfortable chair positioned near the window, where the last of the sunset would cast those perfect shadows you loved to capture. "Just... sitting would be nice. Natural. Like when you're reading in the library."

Kurt's expression softened as he settled into the chair, understanding your desire to capture one of your favorite quiet moments. He pulled out a small book of poetry—Rilke, you noticed—and arranged himself comfortably, his tail draped over the armrest.

"Like this?" he asked, and you nodded, already reaching for your charcoal. This was familiar territory now, though no less special than those first secret sketches. If anything, it was more intimate—knowing he was here specifically for you, watching you create, sharing these peaceful moments together.

As you began to sketch, Kurt started reading aloud softly in German, his accent wrapping around the words like silk. You'd grown to love these evenings, the gentle cadence of his voice mixing with the scratch of charcoal on paper, the way his tail would occasionally twitch in response to a particular phrase or stanza.

"You know," he said during a pause between poems, his golden eyes meeting yours over the top of his book, "I used to wonder why you chose me as your subject so often. Now I think I understand."

You paused in your sketching, curious. "Oh?"

"Ja. It's the same reason I can't stop watching you when you create." He marked his place in the book and leaned forward slightly. "There's something magical about seeing someone doing what they love, being exactly who they are meant to be. You see me that way when I move, when I pray, when I simply exist. And I see you that way when you're lost in your art."

The charcoal trembled slightly in your fingers as he continued, "It's like seeing someone's soul, isn't it? Their truest self?"

You nodded, unable to find words for how perfectly he'd captured it. Kurt rose from the chair in one fluid movement, crossing to where you stood. His hand covered yours on the charcoal, bringing it to rest against the easel.

"Perhaps," he whispered, turning you to face him, his tail wrapping around your waist, "we could find other ways to capture this moment?"

Your breath caught as he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that tasted of poetry and promises. The charcoal slipped forgotten from your fingers as you wound your arms around his neck, letting yourself get lost in the overwhelming rightness of being held by him.

When you finally parted, Kurt rested his forehead against yours, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Though I do hope you'll finish the sketch later. I have a reputation as Professional Muse to maintain, after all."

You laughed, the sound mixing with his own quiet chuckle in the golden evening light of your studio, where art and love had become beautifully, perfectly intertwined.

"So how do you wish to capture this moment, hm?" You hummed up at him with a new sense of courage.

Kurt's yellow eyes sparkle with mischief and desire as he gazes down at you, his tail gently squeezing your waist. The sunset light casts a warm glow on your skin, highlighting the delicate curve of your neck and the soft fullness of your lips. He leans in, his breath ghosting over your skin as he speaks.

"There are so many ways, mein Schatz..." he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "We could start with a kiss..."

And he does, capturing your lips in a deep, lingering kiss that steals the breath from your lungs. His lips are surprisingly soft against yours, moving with a passion and tenderness that sets your heart racing. One hand tangles in your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, while the other slides down your back, pressing you closer to him.

When he finally pulls away, you're both breathing heavily, your cheeks flushed and your eyes dark with desire. Kurt's tail tightens around you, keeping you anchored against him as he trails his lips along your jaw, nipping lightly at your earlobe.

"Or perhaps," he whispers, his voice sending shivers down your spine, "you'd like to capture the way my hands feel on your skin?"

Without waiting for an answer, he begins to unbutton your shirt, his fingers brushing against your bare skin as he reveals more and more of your body to his hungry gaze. Each touch sends sparks of electricity through you, igniting a fire that only seems to grow with each passing second.

As your shirt falls to the floor, Kurt takes a step back, his eyes roving hungrily over your newly exposed skin. His gaze is almost reverent, as if he's drinking in every inch of you like a man dying of thirst.

"Beautiful," he breathes, his voice filled with awe and desire. "You're absolutely perfect, Meine Liebe."

His hands come up to cup your breasts, thick fingers brushing over your hardening nipples through the thin fabric of your bra. You arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips as he begins to circle and tease, building the pleasure slowly but surely. Kurt's hands continue their sensual exploration of your body, tracing every curve and dip with a reverence that makes your skin tingle. He leans down to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, his tongue darting out to taste the salt of your skin.

"I want to worship every inch of you," he murmurs against your throat, his voice rough with desire. "To show you how much you mean to me."

His fingers find the clasp of your bra, deftly unhooking it and sliding the straps down your shoulders. The garment falls away, baring your breasts to his eager gaze. Kurt pauses for a moment, simply drinking in the sight of you, before cupping the weight of your breasts in his palms.

"Perfektion," he breathes, thumbing your nipples until they pebble beneath his touch. He lowers his head, taking one nipple into his mouth and suckling gently, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.

You gasp at the sensation, your hands coming up to tangle in his hair, holding him close. Kurt continues his ministrations, alternating between your breasts, licking and sucking and nipping until you're writhing against him, desperate for more.

His hands drift lower, skimming over your stomach and hips before dipping beneath the waistband of your pants. He strokes you through the damp fabric of your underwear, his touch light and teasing.

"So wet already," he marvels, his voice thick with arousal. "You're so responsive, mein Schatz. So perfect."

He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your pants and underwear, tugging them down your legs in one smooth motion. You kick them off impatiently, standing before him in nothing but your socks and shoes.

Kurt takes a step back, his eyes raking over your naked form with undisguised hunger. He licks his lips, his tail swishing behind him in anticipation.

"Lie down on the couch," he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument. "I want to taste you." You obey without hesitation, settling into the plush cushions immediately.

 Kurt follows you to the couch, his eyes never leaving your body as he crawls over you, settling between your spread thighs. He runs his hands up your legs, his touch light and teasing, until he reaches the apex of your thighs.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, spreading your folds with his fingers and exposing your glistening flesh to his hungry gaze. "I can't wait to taste you."

He leans down, dragging his tongue along your slit in one long, slow lick. The sensation is electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body. You gasp, your hips lifting off the couch as you seek more of his touch.

Kurt chuckles, the sound vibrating against your sensitive skin. He looks up at you through his lashes, his yellow eyes gleaming with mischief and desire.

"Patience, mein Schatz," he teases, blowing a cool stream of air over your wet heat. "We have all the time in the world."

And then he's diving back in, his tongue delving deep into your core, lapping at your essence like a man starved. He circles your clit with the tip of his tongue, flicking over the sensitive bud again and again until you're writhing beneath him, desperate for release.

His hands grip your thighs, holding you steady as he feasts on your flesh, his groans of pleasure muffled against your skin. The room fills with the obscene sounds of his licking and sucking, punctuated by your own breathy moans and gasps.

Kurt brings a hand up to your clit, rubbing tight circles around the swollen nub as he continues to tongue-fuck your dripping cunt. The dual stimulation is too much, pushing you closer and closer to the edge with each passing second.

"That's it, Kleine," he encourages, his voice rough with arousal. "Let go. Come for me."

His words are all it takes to send you hurtling over the edge, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. You cry out, your hands fisting in Kurt's hair as waves of pleasure crash over you, threatening to drown you in their intensity.

Kurt works you through it, his tongue and fingers never faltering as he prolongs your climax, drawing out every last shudder and gasp until you're boneless and spent, collapsing back against the couch in a sweaty, satisfied heap.

He presses one last kiss to your sensitive flesh before crawling up your body, settling his weight on top of you. His erection presses insistently against your thigh as he wiggles off his pants, hot and hard and ready for you.*

"I need you, meine Engel," he breathes, his voice thick with desire. "I need to be inside you."

He reaches down between your bodies, grasping his cock and lining it up with your entrance. You can feel the heat of him, the pulsing need that throbs against your slick folds.

With one swift thrust, he's inside you, filling you completely. You cry out at the sudden stretch, your walls clenching around him like a vice.

"Fuck, you're tight," Kurt groans, his hips rocking against yours as he begins to move. "So perfect. So gut."

He sets a steady rhythm, pulling out slowly before slamming back in, his cock hitting depths you didn't even know you had. Each thrust sends sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine, igniting a fire in your core that threatens to consume you whole. Your heart flutters hearing him slur out German and English in a pleasure drunken haze. Kurt's tail wraps around your legs, holding them open wide as he pistons into you, his hips snapping against yours with increasing urgency. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by your shared moans and gasps.

"So good," he pants, his face buried in your neck as he laves his tongue over your pulse point. "So perfekt. So mine."

His words send a shiver down your spine, igniting a possessive heat in your core. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into your body with each thrust.

"Yours," you gasp, your nails digging into the fur of his back. "All yours, kurt"

Kurt growls, low and deep, his tail tightening around your legs as he pounds into you with abandon. The couch creaks beneath your combined weight, threatening to give way under the force of his thrusts.

"Ich liebe dich," he slurs, his words muffled against your skin. "Love you so much. Need you. Need to be inside you forever."

His confession sends you careening over the edge, your body seizing up as another orgasm rips through you. You clench around him, your walls fluttering and spasming as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you.

"Fuck, Prinzessin," Kurt groans, his hips stuttering as he chases his own release. "Feel so good. So perfect. Gonna come. Gonna fill you up."

With a final, bruising thrust, he buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he empties himself into your waiting womb. You can feel the heat of his seed, the way it paints your insides, marking you as his.

He collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the cushions as he pants against your neck. His tail unwinds from your legs, draping lazily over your thigh as he nuzzles into your hair.

"I love you," he murmurs, his voice soft and sated. "My perfect girl. Meine schöne Künstlerin."

You smile, your heart full to bursting with love and contentment.

.

.

.

Nearly a year later

The chapel was quiet save for the soft whisper of your pencil across paper. Early morning light filtered through the stained glass windows, casting familiar blue patterns across the wooden pews. Kurt knelt at the altar in prayer, his tail curved peacefully behind him, rosary beads wrapped gently around his three-fingered hands.

You'd grown comfortable here in these morning moments, sharing this sacred space with him. What had once felt like an intrusion now felt like belonging. Your sketchbook was filled with these quiet scenes—Kurt in prayer, Kurt reading his Bible, Kurt simply existing in this place that meant so much to him. But this morning was different. This morning, your hand trembled slightly as you drew, your mind wandering to the small box hidden in your art supplies.

It had taken weeks to create, working late into the night in your studio after Kurt had fallen asleep. A hand-carved wooden ring box, painted with delicate scenes from your relationship—the first time you'd been caught painting him, your first kiss, teaching art class together, quiet moments in the chapel. The ring inside was simple silver, engraved with tiny crosses and artist's brushes intertwined.

"You're thinking very loudly this morning, Liebling," Kurt's voice startled you from your thoughts. He hadn't moved from his position, but his tail swayed knowingly.

"Sorry," you mumbled, adding another shadow to your sketch. "Didn't mean to disturb your prayers."

"You never disturb me," he said softly, finally turning to face you with that gentle smile that still made your heart skip. "Though I am curious what has you so distracted. Usually you're much more focused when drawing in here."

You set down your sketchbook with trembling fingers. "Actually, I... I have something for you."

Kurt's eyebrows rose curiously as you reached into your art bag, pulling out the painted box. His golden eyes widened as you stood and walked to him, kneeling beside him at the altar.

"Kurt Wagner," you began, your voice shaky but determined, "you've been my muse, my inspiration, my best friend, and the love of my life. You've shown me that beauty exists in so many forms, that faith can be found in art just as much as prayer, and that love..." you had to pause, swallowing hard as his tail curled around your wrist encouragingly, "love can be both the masterpiece and the creation itself."

You opened the box, revealing the ring nestled inside. "Would you let me spend the rest of my life creating with you?"

Kurt's breath caught as he took in the painted scenes on the box, his fingers trailing reverently over the tiny details you'd spent so long perfecting. When he looked up, his eyes were shining with tears.

"Mein Gott," he whispered, "you've managed to surprise the teleporter." His tail tightened around your wrist as he pulled you closer, pressing his forehead to yours. "Did you really think there could be any answer but yes? You are the greatest masterpiece God has ever placed in my life."

Your laugh was watery as you slipped the ring onto his finger, a perfect fit just as you'd hoped. Kurt cradled your face in his hands, his touch infinitely gentle.

"Though I must say," he murmured, his accent thick with emotion, "you've rather stolen my thunder, Liebling." With his tail, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, making you gasp. "I was planning to ask you after morning mass."

Inside was a delicate gold ring with a blue sapphire that matched his fur perfectly. "Great minds think alike, ja?"

You couldn't speak through your tears as he slipped the ring onto your finger, but you didn't need to. The way you pulled him into a kiss said everything necessary, the morning light painting you both in shades of blue and gold through the stained glass windows.

"I can't wait to see how you'll paint this moment," Kurt whispered against your lips, making you laugh.

"Already planning it," you admitted. "Though I might need my muse to pose for several reference sketches."

His tail wrapped around your waist as he grinned. "I believe that can be arranged. After all..." he pressed another soft kiss to your lips, "we have the rest of our lives to perfect it."

Through the chapel windows, the morning light continued to paint you both in blues and golds, artist and muse, two hearts creating something beautiful together. And if anyone noticed that your afternoon art class was especially romantic that day, well... they were kind enough not to mention it. Though you did have to tell Jenny, once again, that no, she still couldn't paint Mr. Wagner for her assignment—even if he was now your fiancé.

.

.

.

You woke up to soft snores and looked over, unable to help but smile softly. Your husband's sleeping face was too cute to not smile at. After five years of being married, you'd never grow tired of waking up to this. Recently he had taken to growing out a goatee, saying it made him look more mature (you couldn't help but agree—after all, it made your mind wander a lot too). You carefully pulled out of his embrace without waking him; his tail was always a struggle to remove from its place around your leg without waking him, but you managed it. After a small silent dance of triumph, you moved out of your shared bedroom to the room across from it.

The room was halfway painted, though you had been working on it for the past six months. It had paintings of stories and family littered across it—scenes from Kurt's favorite fairy tales, the X-Men as loving aunts and uncles, even a small portrait of Professor Xavier smiling benevolently from above the planned crib space. You picked up a brush and were about to continue when you accidentally kicked a paint bucket. That's all it took, and with a sudden puff of smoke your husband had teleported in, his stance ready for action but relaxing when he saw it was just you up early.

"Mein Gott, woman, I thought you were a thief!" He exclaimed, holding his three-fingered hand over his chest before walking over with a soft tired smile and pecking your lips. "You're up early, I don't even hear the morning birds yet."

"Needed to stretch my legs," you hummed back, and he hummed softly in suspicion. His hand rested on your stomach.

"Are you sure it is not because of the Kleine?" He spoke in a teasing voice as he gently rubbed your stomach.

You leaned back against his chest, letting his warmth seep into you as you both gazed at the wall you'd been painting. His tail automatically wrapped around your waist, just above where your small baby bump was beginning to show. "Maybe," you admitted. "I just... I want it to be perfect before they arrive."

Kurt nuzzled against your neck, his goatee tickling your skin. "Liebling, with you as their mother, how could it be anything but perfect?" His hand joined yours on the brush. "Though perhaps we could add a few more acrobatic scenes? A future X-Man should know their father's best moves, ja?"

You laughed softly, mindful of the early hour. "Kurt, we don't even know if they'll be able to teleport yet."

"Ah, but they're already showing artistic talent!" He moved to stand beside you, gesturing dramatically at your stomach. "Look how perfectly they've rounded out your usually straight lines!"

"Did you just call me fat, Mr. Wagner?" you asked with mock offense.

His eyes widened comically. "Nein! Never! I merely meant to say you're more... sculptural these days?" His tail flicked nervously as he tried to backtrack, making you giggle.

"Saved it," you murmured, turning back to the wall. You'd been working on a particular scene—a small blue figure learning to teleport while protective arms waited to catch them. "Do you really think they'll like it? All of this?"

Kurt's arms wrapped around you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder as he surveyed your work. "Mein Schatz, they will love it. Just as they will love you." His hand splayed protectively over your stomach. "Though perhaps we should add a small easel next to the training equipment? Best to be prepared for all possibilities."

You turned in his arms, brush still in hand, accidentally leaving a small blue streak across his chest. "Oops."

His grin turned mischievous. "Oh? Is that how we're playing this morning?" He reached for another brush. "You know, the wall isn't the only canvas in need of some color..."

"Kurt Wagner, don't you dare—" But it was too late. With a playful BAMF, he was behind you, painting a gentle heart on the back of your nightshirt.

What followed was a careful (mindful of your condition) but enthusiastic paint war, filling the nursery with quiet laughter and colorful streaks. By the time the sun began to rise, you were both covered in paint, sitting on the drop cloth and admiring your handiwork—both on the walls and each other.

"You know," Kurt mused, his tail drawing abstract patterns in a small paint puddle, "this might be your best work yet."

You looked around at the cheerful chaos you'd created together—the story-filled walls, the paint-splattered drop cloths, the mixing of your artistic vision with his playful additions. Your hand found his, fingers intertwining as they rested on your growing bump.

"No," you said softly, "I think our best work is still in progress."

His answering smile was brighter than the rising sun, and as he pulled you in for a paint-smudged kiss, you couldn't help but think that sometimes the most beautiful art came from life itself—messy, unexpected, and absolutely perfect.

Though you did make him clean up the paint footprints he'd teleported all over the mansion before the students woke up. Your gaze went over to the window which Kurt had helped you place the stain on. The blue hues glittered over the room and it filled you with a sense of love and happiness. Blue would always be apart of your life now, and you wouldn't have it any other way. 

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

hiiii friend!! I just recently discovered your writing and I am l o v i n g it. If it's not too much to ask, can I request some comfort with soap for a fem!plus size! reader. Maybe reader has really bad anxiety about every day things, or is insecure about her looks? really anything works for me, I'm not picky. Thank you!!

Hello! 🩷

so sorry for the long wait, but I hope this helps you and any other girl who might feel bad about her extra pudge <3

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall 🪞

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Johnny comes to find you upset about your looks. Lucky for you, he always has a way to cheer you up.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

A downtrodden sigh slipped past your lips, your brows scrunched together as you were staring at yourself in the mirror.

Your day was doomed from the start; the second you caught an unflattering glance of your sleepy reflection, the corners of your mouth turned down into a frown, you knew today was only going to get worse.

No matter where you went, there always seemed to be a mirror situated somewhere, only reflecting the worst angles.

Whether it was a tinted window, the shiny surface of a cupboard, or the telly, the image of yourself followed you like a shadow. Your eyes always found the flaws first and overlooked all of your good qualities. Immediately drawn to any imperfections.

The extra fat that cushioned and softened your silhouette, the dimples on your legs, the rolls on your back that deepened when you twisted your body, your tummy that dented your clothes and rested on your thighs when you sat down.

Despite loving and accepting all of these parts of yourself, sometimes a parasite of insecurity and doubt planted itself in your mind for a day. It would eat away at your brain, sending you down a dizzying spiral.

With a huff you grabbed a blanket and threw it over the mirror, successfully covering up the smooth glass.

A much wiser decision than shattering it and living with even more reflections of yourself and bad luck for the next seven years.

You slipped into bed, burying deep into the blankets and pillows, hoping to soothe the heavy ache in your chest. Maybe sleeping would help, you thought.

Yes, maybe it would. At the very least, if would stop any more thoughts, and even if it was only for a moment, you wouldn't have to feel anything at all.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

The door fell shut with a thump, followed by a relieved sigh slipping past Johnny's lips as he toed off his boots. The weight off another day at Base lay heavy on his shoulders. At least he wasn't in an active warzone for once.

He dropped everything by the entrance, not caring enough to properly put his shoes away. All he wanted now was to find his soft bonnie lass and let the outside melt away.

Johnny wasn't surprised to not find you in the living room as he stepped further into your shared home. It wasn't uncommon for you to be taking a nap at this hour, but the way absolutely nothing in the house seemed disturb made him raise a brow.

With quiet steps, he made his way to your bedroom and cracked open the door, peaking his head in. You weren't facing him, your form obscured by far too many blankets, at least for Johnny's liking.

Nonetheless, the sight made him crack a soft smile. This was his proof that all he had done and will do was worth it so people like you would be safe.

From the corner of his eye he caught the covered mirror and with a slightly twisting feeling in his stomach he sat down on the edge of the bed, denting the mattress.

"Mo leannan?" He called softly, placing a gentle hand somewhere on your cocooned self.

Your response of a soft grumble made him chuckle. You were obviously not ready to leave your cozy paradise, and he couldn't blame you.

Johnny slipped under the blanket(s) with you, the tension easing from his muscles. He could finally rest his weary bones.

He scooted closer, ignoring how he would be boiled alive under all these layers, and wrapped his arms around.

He was about to rest his hands on your soft tummy, his favorite place for them to be, but as if you were struck by lighting you gasped and tightly grasped his wrists, stopping him in his tracks.

You had never been more thankful to not be facing Johnny, your head hung low in shame.

His brows furrowed in worry, the uncomfortable feeling that sat in the pit of his stomach proving to be an instinct he hoped would be wrong.

"What's wrong? I ken somethin's off." He spoke softly, his faced nuzzled into your hair.

The grip on his wrists loosened and you tucked them back at his side.

Stubborn as ever, Johnny managed to grasp at your hips, needing his hands on you.

"This alright?" He mumbled, waiting for your approval before going any further.

You managed a small verbal confirmation and he immediately pulled you back against him.

"The mirror-" he began, stopping when you tensed beneath his touch.

"Bad day?" Johnny asked quietly, gently rubbing his hands over your hips.

You nodded, your hair moving while he was left staring at the back of your head.

"Hen, let me see tha' pretty face o' yours, will ya?" He prompted gently, teasingly poking a finger in your side.

Your shoulders sagged with a heavy sigh, but soon you were maneuvering yourself onto your other side. You were greeted by empathic eyes and a soft, lopsided smile from your lover, who promptly wrapped his arms around you fully, pulling you into his chest.

You relaxed in his embrace, your head resting right above his heart beat. You let your eyes fall shut for a moment, letting Johnny's warmth and comfort deep into your flesh.

"Whatever is goin' on in tha' clever wee head, it's all lies." He whispered, making you pull your face from his chest, looking up at him with your beautiful doe eyes.

"Ah love all o' you. Every imperfection. Every flaw. Every pound. Ya hear me?" He sounded almost scolding, raising his brows at you.

It managed to pull a small giggle from your throat and a faintest hint of a smile.

"There she is." Johnny smirked, watching as you rolled your eyes at him. He cupped your face.

"Ah love these round cheeks. Ma wee chipmunk." He cooed, pressing sloppy, wet kisses all over your face.

You squealed, pushing against his chest to get him away from you.

"Ew, Johnny!" You laughed, his stubble scratching your skin.

"Does ma affection disgust you, bonnie?" He accused, grinning. You got a hold of his cheeks and looked at him with a smile.

"No, but... can we try a little less drool?" He winced, his lips forming a thin line.

"Ah'm afraid tha's not possible."

As you took a breath to reply, he surged forward and continued smothering you in sloppy kisses, moving to your neck.

You screeched and laughed, feeling the rumble of his own chuckle against your throat.

Johnny didn't let up, only stopping when you had tears in your eyes and gasping for air. He pulled back and dramatically wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"All tha' kissin's making me tired." He yawned, stretching his shoulders.

"Time for ma favorite pillow." He grinned at you.

"What're you up to?" You asked suspiciously, squinting yout eyes at him.

With a cheeky smile he dove under the blanket, expertly lifting your shirt up at the same time before pressing his entire face into your bare tummy.

"Johnny!" You gasped, followed by a laugh.

His rough stubble was prickling your skin.

Right now, he was just and odd bulge denting the blanket. You lifted the layers and found him smiling up at you, contently resting on your pudgy belly.

"Best spot in the house." He sighed, intertwining your fingers. You chuckled, smiling down at him softly.

"Thank you." You said quietly, running your fingers through his mohawk.

"Anyhtin' for ma bonnie lass. Ah love you. Promise." He replied in a low timber, pressing a kiss beside your belly button.

"I love you, too, Sudsy."

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

I hope you enjoyed 😚

Don't forget, you're beautiful just being yourself 🩷

More of Johnny and others -> 💫

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

[mistydeyes]

opposite occupations

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

summary: all the 141 boys have different plans while on leave, each having their own idea of how to spend the time. but when they run into a lovely civilian, they realize that all the long hours, deployments, and trainings worth it.

pairing: 141 x civvie!fem!Reader

warnings: swearing, all fluff :)

a/n: I love me a good little meet cute

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

price - florist

Everyone knew that the minute Price went home, he would be making the trek to his favorite cigar shop. It had been one he frequented for years, the familiar sign welcoming him home. Most shops on the street stayed the same. He liked the constancy, the familiarity.

As he rounded the street corner, he noticed a new shop had filled the unoccupied next door. The pale pink awning and rose-tinted glass were a new sight to see. "Sentiments of Carnations" he read as he walked past. He could see through the window that the shop had not yet been opened, noting the smell of fresh paint and empty displays. He wondered what grandma had put their retirement money into this florist shop.

He continued, opening the cigar shops store and smelling the musk of smoke and tobacco. "Ah John, I have your regulars set aside," the old shop owner said with a smile. "Back again for long?" he asked upon his return with a dark oak box. "Just waiting for another phone call from his majesty," he joked and slid over the usual bank notes. "I'll be seeing you," Price said as he opened the door and exited with the familiar chime of the bell.

As he embraced the warmth of the summer England weather, he pulled out one of his fresh purchases, excellently wrapped and balanced. He flipped open his lighter from his pocket and sat down to have his first smoke at home. He closed his eyes and savored the notes of espresso and hickory. As he sat in his small nirvana, he heard the florist's doors open.

He turned as he saw you, a flower behind your ear and a pink apron that perfectly matched the outside of the shop. You were not the grandma he had expected and instead were beautiful, the sun catching your lovely features. You had placed an antique table outside, along with a bucket of a colorful array of flowers adorned with a handwritten tag. You hung a small sign on the table that read, "Take one for a friend, family member, or loved one." You smiled at yourself, proud of the little display. You turned your head and noticed the mature man enjoying his smoke only a meter away from you. You picked out a scarlet carnation and walked over to the man, handing it to him.

"Here, you go," you said as his calloused fingers held the flower delicately. "A flower to brighten someone's day," you said with a smile. "Thank you, although I am not a man for flowers," he replied and extinguished his cigar. "Well, flowers can be for a variety of reasons, a friendly gesture, a gift for someone you fancy, or even something to brighten up your flat."

You ended with a sweet smile and he could feel himself melt on the spot. Something about the floral aroma emanating from the flower behind your ear along with your soft voice and pleasantries added to his current state of nirvana. You were so radiant in this light and he appreciated the kind gesture, especially upon his return home.

"No one to give a romantic gesture to, but thank you," he replied. "Well if that ever changes, my shop opens later this week! The shop's number is on the tag" you said before giving him a small wave and wink. He could hear the shop's door close as you began to set up your display and paint a mural on one of the walls. As he twisted the carnation in his hand, he knew he would be adding your shop to his routine becoming your most frequent customer.

soap - tattoo artist

Soap looked at his phone, making sure he was in the right place. His favorite tattoo shop near his Scottish home had closed and he was taking a recommendation from Ghost.

"She's got an attitude but her work is amazing," Ghost had said before Soap's deployment. He couldn't deny the craftsmanship of her work on Ghost's arm. He marveled at the attention to detail as Ghost proudly shoved off his ornate sleeve.

Soap had an appointment for today, previously approving of the artist's rendition of his vision. A black-and-white thistle, a charm his mother had said. It was commonly known to keep its owner away from danger and bad acquaintances. Something Soap needed on the battlefield.

He pushed the maroon door open, admiring the many gold frames with what he assumed were some of the artists' work. He let out a light chuckle as he noticed a framed sketch of Ghost's sleeve. He was just about to snap a picture when a voice called out, "Hey Mohawk, this isn't a museum."

He turned around to see a woman, a gorgeous one at that. You were wearing a tank top that showed off a collage of various tattoos in different styles. You had been taking a break and relaxed, sitting behind a desk, feet propped up.

"Actually, lass, I'm here with an appointment," he said, walking over to you. "Name's John MacTavish." he finished with a cheeky smile.

"Ah MacTavish, one of Riley's military boys I'm guessing. How's that masterpiece of mine doing?" you joked, Soap didn't know what to say. Were you and Ghost a thing?

You laughed at his pause, "My tattoo, Mohawk. There's no way I'd be shagging his Halloween-looking-arse." Soap appreciated the heads up about your attitude and knew this was gonna be a fun session.

"Looks gorgeous, Sweetheart. Just like yourself," he poked back and you let out a loud laugh, almost doubling over. "Don't flatter yourself, you can go make yourself comfortable in my station over there. Looks like you're only getting a bicep tat, so I better not see your shirtless arse back there."

Soap made his way to where you motioned, sitting down in the black velvet chair. You came in a few minutes later with your sketch and supplies. You closed the scarlet curtains behind you before walking over to prep his arm.

As you sat in relative silence, Soap asked, "So what do the tattoos mean, Lass?" You finished your prep work and were working on the correct tattoo placement. "Travels from around the world. I took it upon myself to get a tattoo in every new country."

With that, you offered him a mirror so he could approve of the sketch and placement. The tattoo rested on his right bicep and he made sure to look at it at every angle and made sure to flex for your enjoyment.

"Alright, muscle man, this should only take a few hours as long as you don't pass out on me," you said and began to tattoo your next masterpiece. During the next two hours, you made conversation about the tattoos meaning, his life in Scotland, and you even shared more intimate details about your travels.

The hours flew by like minutes to Soap as you let him know you were finished. He admired the detailed flower and you handed him some care instructions with some cream. "And your buddy paid for you ahead of time, so you're all set, Mohawk" you replied and Soap got off of the chair.

"See you around, my world-class woman," he joked as he exited the door. You slightly cringed, wondering if writing your number on the tube of aftercare cream was a good idea or not.

gaz - primary school teacher

Gaz looked at himself in his flat's mirror. He brushed a hand over his freshly cut hair and evened out his dress shirt. "Just a favor for a friend," he said to himself as he walked to catch the next tram. Two days ago, an old colleague during his days working with the metro police force had reached out to him. They called in a favor, "Kyle c'mon it's just a couple of primary students, all you need to do is give a little talk about stranger danger." Knowing he had nothing else better to do, Gaz agreed.

As he signaled the tram to stop, Gaz looked at the brown brick building reminding him of his younger days. Gaz walked in, checking in with the receptionist who directed him to the classroom where he'd be giving his talk. He was early, the school had not yet opened but he was asked to have the presentation at the beginning of class before the children's lessons. He admired the walls filled with the artwork of the students, silly attempts at drawing their families. He finally reached your classroom, noting the smiling sunflower on your opened door. He knocked softly and he saw you lift your head to greet him. If he had known you would be so beautiful, he would have not needed his friend's encouragement.

"Ah you must be Sgt. Garrick," you said, beginning to get up from your desk to greet him. You smoothed out your skirt and placed your glasses down. "It's just Kyle," he said and returned your friendly smile and warm handshake.

"Well Kyle, the children should be arriving in a few minutes. I'll get them settled and introduce you for your small talk today," you said with a grateful nod. You motioned for him to sit at your desk as you stood at your door to greet your excited second-year students. Gaz played on his phone and smiled as he heard you return the children's happy good mornings with a similar high-energy one. The students began to file in, placing their bags in their cubbies, and sitting with their friends. You heard small whispers from the children, wondering what you were doing at their teacher's desk. He let out a chuckle when he heard one boy whisper, "Is that Miss Y/N's husband? He's sitting in her chair."

Finally, with all the children in their seats, you walked to the front of the classroom and greeted your students warmly. "Good morning everyone, today we have a very special guest with us. This is our friend, Kyle, and he's here today to tell you all a little something before we start our lessons."

Kyle knew this was his cue, he rose from your desk and swapped places with you at the front of the room. "Hi everyone, today I'm going to teach you smart kids about something called 'Stranger Danger'." The children oohed in response as Kyle waved his hands in a fake menacing manner. You smiled as he was a natural. The children were attentive, writing down the information as he spoke and working together with their classmates to fill out the worksheet answers. Kyle ended his talk and asked if anyone had any questions. One child raised her hand and Kyle called on her. "Is Miss Y/N a stranger? I'm confused."

"I'm your teacher, Amelia. Teachers that you know aren't strangers," you responded and Kyle nodded in agreement. Another kid raised their hand and asked, "But you aren't Kyle's teacher, so you're a stranger to him."

Before either one of you could respond, his friend boasted, "It's because they're married, your Mum and Dad aren't strangers to each other." Both you and Kyle shared a look and he saw the soft blush rise to your face. "Ah we're just friends," he said and saved you the embarrassment.

Little did Kyle know, his email would chime that night with a thankful message from you along with your number at the bottom asking him to breakfast that weekend.

ghost - veterinarian

Unlike most people, Ghost loved the quiet ambiance of London's rainfall. The streets were empty and peaceful as people were cozying up in their homes with a blanket. Enjoying the evening air and cold, he walked with an umbrella in one hand and a warm cup in the other. His boots resounded on the cobblestone street as he sipped his Earl Grey tea. His chest was warm from the bold citrus and bergamot liquid. This was, in his opinion, an ideal leave well spent.

The rhythmic rain fell and his walking was interrupted by a soft mewing. Simon hurried down the street to find the source of the noise. In front of a grocer's, he noticed a small cardboard box being drenched by the unrelenting rain. He placed his cup down and gently lifted the box. Underneath was a small grey cat, cuddled into a ball to experience some semblance of warmth. Simon placed his umbrella to shield the box and lifted the tiny meowing animal into his hands.

As he cradled the cat to his chest, he heard a click of heeled boots behind him. He turned his now-drenched head to notice you walking up with a bright orange umbrella adorned with cat paws. "Excuse me, Sir, but is he yours?" you asked gesturing to the ball of grey that laid meowing in his arms. "Uh he's not, I found this little fella underneath this box here."

"Ah a Good Samaritan, I see. Well, I own the veterinarian shop down the way, I can take him off your hands if you'd like and make sure this little lad gets the care he needs," you said and offered a hand to hold the kitten. You noticed his slight hesitation and said, "If you'd like, I'll give you my card so you can take the little one home when he's all better."

"That would be nice," he smiled underneath his black face mask. Simon loved animals, never being permitted to have one as a child. As you held the kitten in your arm, you handed him your umbrella. He initially tried to refuse but you insisted saying, "You're soaked, I'll be alright." You ended with a small giggle which made Ghost warmer than his now cold cup of tea.

"The least I can do is walk you back to your shop," he replied a little too quickly. He instantly realized the surprising force he had said that with and followed up with, "You know, just so you and Earl Grey can make it there in this weather.

"Earl Grey, I like that. That's my favorite order, especially on days like this." Simon moved slightly behind you, holding the umbrella to shield the three of you on your walk. The air was filled with the familiar scent of rain and the notes of your floral perfume. "I'm Dr. L/N by the way, but most people just call me, Y/N," you said as you continued on your way. "I'm Simon, a pleasure to meet you doc."

Three weeks later Simon's house was filled with all the necessities for a new cat father. As he grabbed his coat, he pulled out a water-stained business card with the vet's office address and your number written on the back. He smiled to himself as he traced his fingers over the small handwriting saying, "To Earl Grey's owner, fancy a cup of tea with me?"

[moonlightisdancing]

Here, Kitty, Kitty/ d.r.w

Pairing: Danny Wagner x f!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: NSFW MINORS DNI 18+ sugar daddy danny, jealousy, sir/daddy kink, degradation kink, pet names (literally), oral sex (m!receiving), teasing, unprotected sex (p+v), cock warming, praise, begging, orgasm denial, squirting, breeding

as always please lmk if any warnings are missed!

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The tighter money got, the slimmer your choices did, too. Two jobs could barely pay your bills, but a third wouldn’t fit into the schedule. You’d resorted to selling pictures to people you would quick add on SnapChat. That went well for about a month before the handful of men you relied on for income suddenly couldn’t afford to pay for content. Just as the stress had been alleviated, it returned. That was until you gave in fully and began looking into sugar daddy websites. At this rate you felt you had nothing left to lose, what was a little sex with a creepy old man?

Much to your liking, you found someone much better than a guy old enough to be your grandfather. This one was twenty-five with the build of a Greek god. His profile consisted of a singular photo, one you were sure couldn’t have been his own. You’d began chatting with him and it wasn’t long before he requested an in person meet up. Again, you had nothing left to lose, safety didn’t matter when there was money on the line. He requested to see you on Wednesday, to which you denied due to being scheduled at both jobs.

Danny W. : I’ll pay you what both jobs would if you see me instead

You: Tips and all?

Danny W. : I’ll make it worth your while

From there on out you’d start seeing him every Wednesday at six o’clock sharp. He insisted on picking you up every week, rolling down the street of your slum apartment in his very new black Corvette adorned with tinted windows and red rims. The sex was like no other, not to mention the amount of money he paid you simply for your time. But over the course of two months you found yourself slowly falling for your sugar daddy. He wouldn’t let you leave until you came, more so for his pride than your pleasure, and with that knowledge you’d edge yourself just to spend more time with him. Each week when he took you home, you simply passed time until it was Wednesday again.

What was supposed to be a temporary income, just enough until you got on your feet, became a long term thing simply to keep Danny in company. But you didn’t want NDA’s and Wednesday nights to be your life with him anymore. It started to seem that way from his end, too, when he started casually texting you more than on Tuesday’s to solidify plans. Thursday mornings he would text or call to make sure you were okay after the prior night’s events. Some mornings you woke up to flowers being delivered, even things you needed more so than things he wanted to see you in. It wasn’t a secret he was behind the new couch, especially since he paid to have your car fixed. You liked him taking care of you, but you wanted more from him than an allowance. You wanted to come home every night to him, to call him whenever you wanted, to love him.

While you were patiently waiting for an appropriate time to express your feelings to Danny, you knew there was no shot with him. He’s a rockstar, hence the NDA’s, why would he settle for someone like you? You’d go to pass the time at bars and clubs, shamelessly flirting with men and women for free drinks, even giving head a few times for whatever they’d give you in return. You weren’t particularly proud of it, but you weren’t ashamed either.

Wednesday rolled around again, Danny arrived an hour earlier than the set schedule you’d been following for months now. He called you while you were in the middle of curling your hair, you quickly finished the piece you were working on before answering.

“Hey, can you let me in?” His warm, sultry voice melted you.

“Yes, sir.” You waited for him to hang up, but he stayed on the other end until he heard the locks coming undone. You wrapped your fingers around the knob and slowly opened the door, Danny shoving his foot between the door and frame. He pushed his way into your house, his eyes dark and angry as if he knew something.

“You’re early… I was-”

“Why were you at the club on Saturday?” He pressed himself against you until your back was flush against the wall, his washboard abs firm against your torso. You looked up at him before looking past in attempts to ignore the question, but he wouldn’t let that slide. “Tell me the truth, kitten, or you can kiss your two grand down the drain.”

He’s never threatened to not pay you before. He always left ample opportunity to make more money by doing specific things to or for him, or vice versa, but never the chance to lose any. Deciding the money didn’t necessarily matter, you chose to toy with him. Press his buttons.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You say pointedly, batting your eyelashes at him with a pout.

“Eighteen. Wanna try again?” He managed to get closer, your lungs craving air as he applied pressure against your body with his.

“Danny, I don’t-”

“Sixteen. Tell me, did he kiss you like I do?” Closer.

“Maybe even better.” You could feel his blood boiling under his skin. He was jealous.

“Is that so?” He scoffed, pulling away entirely from you. “That mouth would be prettier with my cock in it since all you’re doing is spewing bullshit anyways.”

You watched as Danny made his way to your couch, sitting directly in the middle with his legs spread. His hands slid down the front of his body, trailing down to toy with his zipper and button without ever undoing them.

“C’mere, Kitty girl. If you put that filthy mouth of yours to good use you can go back up to eighteen.”

You nod and make your way before him, lowering yourself onto your knees between his legs. You slide your hands up either of his legs slowly until your nimble fingers make contact with his button and zipper. Carefully undoing his pants, you dipped your hands past the waistband of his briefs before exposing his length to the air.

As quick as your lips wrap around the pillowy head of his cock, Danny’s hand finds a home nestled in your hair. His free hand cupped the bottom of your jaw, guiding your tongue and lips over his shaft. Your head bobbed as you slowly fed more of Danny’s cock down your throat. When your nose was flush against the dusting of hair at the base, he held you there, only removing you when you gagged from the pure size. With his hand nestled in your hair, and tears in your eyes, he pulls you off his length. Only strings of saliva connected you to his cock. Heat grew between your legs the harder he fisted your hair, a whine escaping your lips. You really did sound like a kitten, it’s no wonder he’d bestowed such a nickname upon you. Danny tugged your hair until he brought you to your feet, bringing your lips to his. A stream of air blew from his lips, cooling the saliva that coated your mouth. Hungry for his touch, you tried leaning in to kiss him.

“Look at you begging for forgiveness like a dog. Maybe Kitty doesn’t suit you anymore.” Anyone else speaking to you this way would shatter your ego, but somehow his harsh words were still laced with lust. He tugs your head away from him before letting go of your hair, your cheeks flaming a bright red.

Danny sat up before placing his hands on the exposed skin of your thighs, walking his fingers up the expanse of your skin until he reached your hips. His fingers traced over your bones expecting a waistband of some sort had you bothered to put any on. When he’d realized there were no panties adorning your hips, he opted to press the pads of his fingers into your skin instead. A single ‘fuck’ was uttered as he rutted his hips up into nothing. You knew better than to make a comment about his desperation, but a smile still crept across your face knowing he wanted you. Danny’s face quickly grew annoyed once he caught on to the look you wore.

“Do you like pissing me off, Kitty girl?” He gritted, his grasp growing slightly tighter.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.”

“No? Maybe I need to show you.” Danny spun your body around so your back was facing him, his hands pushing your tiny dress up over your hips. He was quick to break contact again, leaving only the sensation of his fingers behind as he let go of your hips. He hummed at the sight of you, surely your slick coated thighs visible.

“Look at you already fuckin’ soaked, kitten. Want me to fuck you that bad?”

“Yes, sir.” You desperately mewled.

“Show me you deserve it then. Spread it open for daddy.”

You bent at the hips, reaching your hands back to seperate your ass cheeks, exposing your soaked cunt for him to see. His hands found your hips again as he guided you towards him until the back of your legs met his shins. Danny runs two fingers between your folds before hovering over your entrance, never giving you the pleasure of dipping them in.

“Good girl… Now sit back on it.”

You lower yourself onto his lap, fully taking his length in your aching core. Danny wraps his palms around your wrists, bringing them to your back before pinning both down with one of his hands. His free hand wrapped around you, laying flat on your stomach under the bunched up fabric of your dress. He fucked up into you quick and hard until your began to give out. At that point he pulled you down on his length, allowing you to sit on his lap. The head of his cock brushed your cervix as you swirl your hips, squeezing your knees together for friction against your clit.

“Turn around, wanna see you.” He nudged his hips up, groaning when you lifted off of him. You straddled his thighs, hovering your entrance over his leaking tip. It didn’t take long before lowering yourself, teasing him wasn’t worth whatever punishment he’d throw your way. Eager to feel his lips against yours, you leaned in again hoping he’d satisfy your craving. His lips crashed into yours like the ocean’s wave against the shoreline. Burying your hands deep in his curly, brunette locks, you tugged gently. Danny stifled a whimper, careful not to let you think he’d slip up easily.

“Feel so good, daddy.” You moaned into his neck, gently sucking on his skin enough to make him whine but not leave marks.

“Yeah? Like when I fuck your whore pussy?”

You moaned, his pace growing quicker as you grew tighter around him. He knew you were close and he was, too. The feeling washing over you was stronger than before like no other orgasm you’d felt.

“Sir, can I cum?” You needed to, and you knew what his answer would be.

“Not yet, hold on for daddy. M’so close, baby.”

The faster his hips snapped into yours, the tighter the band in your stomach became. His pace wasn’t letting up. What felt like an eternity, but was truly a few minutes, passed before his hips started to falter.

“Go ahead Kitty, you’ll clean up whatever mess you make with that mouth of yours.”

Your orgasm finally came, your senses completely overtaken by your pleasure. So much so you hadn’t noticed a newfound fluid covering Danny’s thighs. You’d squirted all over him, soaking his pants and shirt with your arousal. Danny’s release was quick to follow as he buried himself to the hilt, his warm seed spilling into your throbbing cunt.

“Thank you, sir.” You cried, your body shaking as you came down from your orgasm.

“Such a good girl, Kitty, you take me so well.”

“Fuck, Y/n…” He sighed and wrapped his arms around your torso, pulling you into his chest in a hug. This was the first time he’d used your name since he met you. He’d call you Kitty and kitten so much they truly started to feel like your name, but something about the syllables of the name you’d had your whole life rolling off his tongue nearly brought you to tears. There was a sense of domestication to it all. Your real name, the kissing, him holding you.

“Yes?” You barely whispered, trying to hold back your emotions over the simple formality of your name.

“Keep fucking me this good, I’ll have to promote you.”

[jjkhz]

If it's not you, doll. [JJK]

pairing: Idol!Jungkook x female reader

words: 3,275

genre : established relationship, fluff, smut, slight angst, a tiny tiny bit of smau.

Age rank: 18+

summary: Being in an open relationship with Jungkook can make you insecure, getting hate comments daily. But one day it gets that bad you betray his trust, and he makes it all up for you.

warnings: jungkook so in love it's cute. cheating scare. mentions of stalker fans. engagement. aftercare. crying. jungkook is one annoying brat. fingering. oral[m receiving]. unprotected. marking. pussy slapping. cream pie. thigh slapping. dirty talk. ruined orgasm. jungkook pretty rough sometimes. teasing. some praising. cuddles and so so many kisses.

MASTERLIST.

Having an idol fiance was not easy, it was tiring even. But in the end it was worth it all for him. You both have been together for four years now, engaged since this year and you have never been happier. Even though the relationship had some ups and downs, you're grateful it went as it is. A year into the relationship, you both did a good job hiding the relationship until some paparazzi had to ruin a date and next thing you knew, dating news. 

Jungkook stayed with you for days, not leaving your apartment while both of your phones went crazy. You were so scared that he will leave you and that you ruined a poor man's life, crying and shaking. But your boyfriend just clinged onto you while whispering softly "baby, everything will be fine, hm?". Everything did get better. It didn't take long before BigHit announced that Jungkook indeed was in a relationship and that the idol hoped that the fans will be happy for him.

There were mixed opinions, of course. It didn't take long before stalkers had found your address and phone number so Jungkook took you to live with him, moving out from his band dormitory for you. The new home was very secured and even the windows were tinted so no one could see or take pictures of the celebrity. Other fans though decided to do what Jungkook asked them to and tried to take you into the family, it didn't take long before you had fanpages and people called you the 8th member of bts. That all was kind of new to you but you tried to accept it and go with the flow until Jungkook seated you down and basically begged you to drop your current job because it was too dangerous. You weren't fine with it at the start, but when you thought of it more, he was right. So you dropped your work and stayed home for some time. 

It didn't take long until you got interest in writing and started to write some books out of boredom. You also got requests for modelling which you said yes to. Your boyfriend at that time didn't mind as long as you were safe. You both were happy and so in love that it seemed to good to be true, so Jungkook seated you down under the pretty moon and stars before he gazed you, eyes soft and full of adoration as he got on one knee and soon you were a crying mess in his arms while repeating "yes" from your lips.

Articles floating around with the engagement rumours as army saw a diamond ring on your finger. You weren't sure if you could be open about it since BigHit and your soon to be husband were both quiet about it so you just shook it away for a bit, until your heart dropped.

"BTS, Jeon Jungkook spotted with another female idol" Your eyes went through the title again as you scrolled down reading some comments.

"Finally Jungkook got someone who is actually worth him"

"I knew he was a player but weren't he and his girlfriend engaged or something?"

"poor y/n"

You bit your bottom lip maybe too harshly, quickly scrolling back up to the picture. Jungkook grabbing onto some girls shoulders while mouth open but that pretty much was it. You groan as you place your phone away, onto the bed table. Sometimes you were a bit insecure, being a boring normal person dating an perfect idol to ever exist, really can do something to a person.  You just stare down on your lap, looking at the beautiful ring your love gave you weeks ago. 

You sigh and move your head up, gaze falling on the window as you watch the dark but busy city. It didn't take long before you felt warm tears on your cheeks, now sobbing onto your pillow while your ears ringed. Jungkook won't be home today since he was in Hong-Kong for a awards ceremony so you continued to cry your heart out onto the bed, pouring all your insecurities into it. Probably about half a hour later, you were still crying but not that hard as before, soft hiccups leaving from your throat. As you were about wipe your tears again, your hand froze, hearing the door opening beeping sounds. You quickly turn around, looking for your phone for the clock as you curse under your breath, shit.

It was already two am, which means you have definitely cried for more than just 30 minutes. as you were about to quickly wipe your teary cheek, a soft voice stopped your tracks. "Y/N? Baby, why are you still up?" You quickly turn your head, eyes widening softly at the sight of your fiance. He still had his makeup on and hair done from the ceremony, hair a bit messy from the sides. White big shirt hanging on his torso while wearing some plain comfy black pants. You shake your head quickly from the 'daydream' as you wipe your face clean, hoping that he didn't notice since the light wasn't the best due to the moon. Your heart drops quickly when you see his already confused and a bit worried stare turn into a plain worry and panicked one. He quickly walks over to you and sits beside you on the bed, taking your hands. 

You move your eyes away from the male, as you try to hold your tears back, bottom lip slightly shivering. "Baby, what happened? Are you okay?" And that question is enough to make you into a sobbing mess again, trying to move away from him as you don't want him to see you like that because of dumb insecurities. That doesn't go as planned as he quickly takes your waist and hugs you, pressing soft kisses on your cheeks and on your temple. You relax to his touch as you cling onto him tightly, hiding your face onto his neck. 

He gently starts to stroke your back, quietly singing a song onto your ear that he wrote for you a while ago, which you loved. Your sobs turn into quiet hiccups as he moves you away from his neck, taking your chin as he moves it up to make you meet his gaze. His eyes soften, as he moves his hand slowly to your cheek, caressing it with his thumb. "i hate seeing you like this" he says quietly but calm as he slides his other hand to your other cheek, now cupping your face softly. 

"Princess, please tell me what's wrong" his eyes never leaving yours as you sigh, biting your bottom lip before saying "are… are you with someone else?". You whisper the last part as you try to move your gaze away from his, before you could,  he pulls you closer and cups your face harder than before.  His eyebrows jump up from confusion as he tilts his head "What do you mean?". You then hesitantly grab your phone as you give it to him, his hands leaving your cheeks as he takes the device from your soft hands. He then dials the code as his eyes are met with the bright light of the screen. 

His eyes widen a bit as he moves his eyes from the title to the picture, a soft smirk appearing on his lips. "Damn they are fast" He says as he places your phone back to where it was, quickly taking your waist to pull you closer. You furrow your eyebrows as you just stare at him, mouth dry. He then looks at you as he leans closer to you, the playful smirk never leaving his lips. "That girl asked me out" he just says as your mouth opens slightly, ready to say something. "But i rejected her, and she was being a bitch about it so i told her that i have a beautiful fiancee home and kind of moved her away with her shoulders". You just blink your eyes repeatedly as you close your mouth before opening again "moved?" "pushed…" Jungkook looks away like a little boy as you chuckle. 

You've had a talk about not fighting and pushing anyone for so many times in the past years so you just shook it off since there won't be a use for that again. You roll your eyes as you pout a bit. You, here, cried for hours like a baby for nothing. You should have known that he would never do something like that, you knew it but the insecurities got the best of you. As you were lost in your thought, you gasp as you feel a warm hand on your bare thigh, remembering that you only had wore his shirt and some panties since you were too lazy to put on some "fancy" pj's.

"Did you really thought i would cheat on you?" He asks you, voice suddenly a bit husky as you keep your eyes away from him, nervousness filling your veins. Your throat makes a quiet whimper as he grabs your neck, pulling your face towards his. Your eyes widen as your heart starts to pound, his lips inches away from yours as he has that dumb little smirk on his lips again. His veiny hand moves up your thigh, as your mouth opens slightly. "I would never think of another woman, touch another woman and glance at another woman if it's not you, doll" You breath now heavy as your eyes never leave his dark ones, lust all over them. 

You gasp when he suddenly pushes you into the mattress, quickly hovering over you as he pins your hands on the bed with one hand. He then moves his other hand from your neck to your chest, to your stomach and to your dripping warmness, cupping your pussy. A low laugh leaves his lips as he moves his hand slightly, making you close your legs. "already this wet when I haven't even done anything?" Warmness moves to your cheeks as you try to hide your face, which is no use as he quickly brushes his nose against yours, his eyes on your lips. You lick your lips as you groan from frustration, trying to connect your lips with his as he moves his face away, making a tsk tsk tsk sound with his tongue. 

"hm, doll, I don't think you deserve my kiss just yet, after you betrayed my trust like that" he says lowly as he chuckles after, rubbing your clothed cunt. 

"Jungkook- it's not like that" You moan out as you close your eyes. He then slaps your inner thigh, his grip on your hands tightening. "Keep your eyes on me doll, you want to make me more pissed don't you?" You quickly open your eyes as you nod at him, biting your bottom lip. He just smiles slightly as he moves your underwear on the side and rubs his index finger up and down your folds. A moan slips from your lips as you try your hardest to keep still, holding his gaze. He then slides his middle finger in as he circles on your clit painfully slowly. "Jungkook, please.." You whine out as you hold yourself back from not closing your eyes.  "Please what?" He tilts his head as he moves a third finger in, his speed increasing. You just moan as you squeeze you eyes quickly gasping when you feel him slapping your cunt. "words doll." he says slowly as he suddenly slides two fingers in your hole, a loud cry leaving your mouth.

 "please fuck me, I'm all yours" he groans at that as he quickly presses his lips on yours, his hand starting to move faster into you as you moan loudly against his lips. He then slides his wet tongue in, you suck on it as you start to grind against his fingers,  soft moans leaving your mouth. He pulls away from the kiss as he pecks your lips before moving his head to your neck, placing wet kisses on it. "Fuck" You groan out as you feel yourself getting closer, your lips leaving a whimper as he sucks on your neck. "Jungkook I'm-" Before you could finish, an annoyed groan leaves your lips as the male pulls his finger out of your hole, a playful smile on his face. You pout at the male as he only chuckles, connecting your lips with his for a quick kiss. 

He then pulls away as he unbuttons his shirt, straddling you while keeping his gaze on you. You suck in a breath as your eyes move from his eyes to his abs, he chuckles as he quickly pecks your cheek, pulling your shirt off. His eyes widen a bit as he bites his lip, his gaze meeting with your boobs as he quickly leans towards them and kisses around your nipples. You whine out as you move your hand to his hair, looking down at him as he focuses on your chest. He then slides his other hand to play with your nipples, pinching them while sucking on them. Your breathing heavy as you moan, his hand sliding to your panties, pulling them off. He then places kisses on your stomach as you caress his cheek "Baby?". He hums at you as he keeps placing kisses on your stomach. "Wanna suck your cock." 

He stops at that as he looks at you, squeezing your thigh before rolling beside you on the bed. You quickly kiss his temple as you pull his pants down, quickly meeting with a pre cum dripping massive cock as you move between his legs. He keeps his lust heavy eyes on you as you lean down on him, pressing a kitty lip on the tip. He groans quietly as you rub his tip, looking at him with a soft smirk. "You look so pretty like that" You say before moving down again, wrapping your lips around his pink tip. He groans at that as he slides his hand to your hair, playing with it softly. "Fuck y/n" he groans while throwing his head back, you sliding the whole member into your mouth. You then start to move your head faster, glancing up at him through your lashes. 

Shit, the whole sight is enough to make you cum yourself. His head moved up, as his gaze was on you, his eyes sharp while he licked his lips. At that you start to move your head at a faster pace, rolling your tongue on his cock. He suddenly grabs your hair as he groans, starting to thrust into your mouth. You moan around his member as tears start to form in your eyes, looking up at him. "I wish i could fuck your little throat everyday like that" he groans out as his grip on your hair gets stronger. Tears are going down your face but you don't stop, loving this too much. You hear a loud groan as his thrusts get weak, closing his eyes while mouth open. "doll, can i cum in your mouth?" you just nod against his dick as he moans loudly, feeling the salty liquid in your throat.

At that, he lets go of your hair slowly as you fall beside him, some cum still on your lips as you breathe heavily. He turns towards you as he hums deeply, moving on top of you. His eyes soften a bit as he caresses your cheeks, his gaze moving to your lips. He then presses them against yours as he slides his hand to your neck, squeezing it softly. You moan into the kiss as you move your hands to his hair. "You have been such a good girl, baby" he whispers against your lips, as he moves his hand to your breasts, squeezing them. You moan as he chuckles again, moving his face to your neck. He licks on it as you bite your lip, closing your eyes. "But i think i still have to fuck you, thinking i would cheat on you gorgeous" he scoffs quietly as he grabs his cock, bumping it a few times as he rubs it against your clit. You whine as you grab his shoulders,  him quickly stopping you as he pins your arms back on the bed. He leans closer to your face as he scans it, pressing his cock harder against your cunt. 

You groan as he only smirks at you, slapping your pussy with his member as you moan loudly. "Jungkook please…" You whine out while looking up at him. He then suddenly slides his cock in, a loud moan leaving your lips as he groans. "So fucking tight" he breathes out as he starts to move his hips slowly, keeping his eyes on yours. You pout softly as you groan "Faster, please". At that Jungkook starts to move slower which makes you whine, he chuckles as he presses a kiss on your nose before he starts to move his hips faster.

You're a moaning mess, mouth slightly open as you keep your eyes on the man. He curses as he kisses you hungrily, the kiss being full of lust and love. He slides his hand to your thigh, stroking it as he squeezes it. He breaks the kiss to look at you, pressing kisses all over your face "so gorgeous…" he whispers between the kisses as you hum. Feeling like you're floating from the pleasure as stars form in front of your eyes, his thrusts getting deeper. You moan out his name  as you throw your head back, closing your eyes. Jungkook breathes heavily as he sucks on your neck and collarbone, leaving marks all over you. "Can i come inside, love?" He asks softly against your neck as you nod quickly, groaning. He then whimpers as he slides his hand to your chin, moving your face towards his. You look into his eyes as you forget everything around you both, his other hand leaving your arms as you pull him closer. Kissing his lips sloppily as he cups your face, groaning as you cum around his cock.

His thrusts get weak as he moans against your lips, filling your hole up. He does some last slow thrusts before carefully pulling his member out, pressing a soft kiss on your cheek as he quickly walks into the bathroom. Your chest moving up and down while you look up at the ceiling, smiling tiredly. Jungkook quickly comes back into the room with a towel as he climbs on the bed, cleaning you up he pecks your lips with a soft giggle. You keep your gaze at him as you chuckle at him, opening your arms so he could come back. He smiles as he throws the towel somewhere into the room as he slides into your hug. Pulling the sheets up while holding you close. He then pulls you against him as you rest your head against his chest, listening to his fast heartbeat as you smile to yourself.  

"Did i tease you too much?" he asks quietly while stroking your bare back, hiding his face into your hair. "Maybe a little" you hum out as you snuggle closer to him, giggling softly. He smiles against your hair as he presses a kiss on your head, hugging you tightly. "I love you Jungkook" You say before pressing a few kisses on his chest and neck, breathing in his scent. "I love you too, y/n".

The first thing you saw in the morning, was BigHit's statement notification about the engagement.

i hope you all enjoyed, please let me know your opinions :)

[ghost-1-y]

Nightmare

Incubus!Gojo x AFAB!Reader

Content Warnings: MDNI, dark content, dubcon, stalking, yandere themes, infidelity/cheating, manipulation, possessiveness, sexual content, penetrative sex, oral sex (f! receiving), aphrodisiac, blood sucking, using horns as handles, symptoms of sleep paralysis, feelings of insecurity (reader), mentions of voyeurism (gojo), dacryphilia, degradation, corruption k!nk, gojo feeds off of reader's life force, mentions of potential exhibitionism (reader’s husband might hear them going at it), breeding k!nk, mentions of impregnation, creamp!e, no aftercare, reader's husband is nanami-coded, please let me know if I missed anything!!

Summary: It’s been weeks since your husband had touched you in the way that you wished, and you’ve started to grow tired of his constant flirting with other women at work. Completely fed up with both him and the never-ending dry spell you’ve been going through, you retire to the guest room’s bed to fall asleep without your husband, unaware of a shadow that’s been lurking in your home each night, waiting for the right moment to prey on its new victim.

Word Count: ~3.6k

Divider Credit: @/benkeibear

A/N: Sorry this is an hour late!! I had a super busy week and didn't get to edit/revise at all until today, but I hope it's worth the wait!

Y/N’s POV

You were tired.

Not in the normal sense – you didn’t feel a need to sleep. On the contrary, you found it quite challenging to do so recently due to the never-ending thoughts of your unhappy marriage, as you wondered how exactly it reached this point in the first place. At first, your marriage was beautiful – you were in love, and everything in life was tinted in rose. Your husband treated you as his one and only, his everything, his soulmate.

When are you having kids?

You two look so cute together. 

I wish my marriage was as happy as yours!

Your friends and family would always compliment you and ask you for the latest details of what you and your husband were up to. You were soaring, so happy that you found someone to share your life with. 

But then, he started working overtime at his job, started taking on more shifts, and you’d go to sleep on an empty bed and wake up to his side being cold the next morning – nothing indicating that he was there other than the disheveled sheets that he didn’t bother to fix before heading out again. Your mornings were lonely, and your nights were quiet. You started making dinner for one, rather than wasting food on a meal that wouldn’t be eaten. You tried to be understanding of your husband’s absence, knowing that his job required a lot of him, so you never told him how much it bothered you, thinking it would only add more to his never-ending pile of worries.

It truly felt as though a ghost lived in your home, only ever seeing remnants of life from the half-empty coffee mug or the folded-up newspaper that was left discarded on the dining table. The fridge would be left ajar and the front door unlocked as though he was in such a rush to get to work that he couldn’t be bothered about simple things – relegating those tasks to you, his good little housewife.

Sometimes, whenever a door closed on its own, or you thought you saw something out of the corner of your eye, you’d jokingly call out to your husband in the emptiness of your house. Of course, you’d get no response, and you’d almost laugh at your antics if it weren’t for how your life was slowly turning gray – the rose tint slowly fading the longer you were alone.

However, one night, in your darkened bedroom, you heard a car drive up to your house. You slowly got out of bed, clinging to your sleep robes as you walked towards the window, and you saw your husband get out of the car. Warmth filled your veins as you gazed down at your husband for what seemed to be the first time in weeks, happy that you’d be able to welcome him back home. However, that warming comfort quickly dissipated as the driver also exited the car – a woman, presumably a coworker you hadn’t met – and walked over to him. As you peeked through the blinds, you saw your husband meet the woman halfway, the headlights of the car illuminating the two figures, and his hands sought her face as he kissed her.

Surprisingly, you didn’t feel your heart shatter as one might think – you had your suspicions already that he was seeing someone else, and this only confirmed your thoughts as you closed the blinds and left your shared bedroom, deciding to retire to the one meant for guests who stayed over.

Maybe that’s all I am at this point, you thought as the front door opened, only wishing to sink into the mattress and cover yourself in its sheets as you closed the guest room door behind you and removed your robe. The mattress was stiff and unused, and you stared up at the ceiling as you heard your husband’s heavy footsteps padding their way up to his room, as you became more and more of a stranger in your own home.

You tossed and turned as you walked the line between sleep and wakefulness, your thoughts racing just a bit too much to allow you to seek the comfort of dreams that you knew would never come true, or to notice the slightest creak coming from your bedroom door.

What seemed to be a hand ghosted over your hip, fingers dragging along your sides as you slowly became aware of the strange feeling grazing over your body. You squirmed, thinking it was some strange breeze that came in from the window – before you noticed the heavy weight that was pressing into your chest, rendering you nearly immobile.

“Such a waste to not take care of a pretty thing like you…” a voice drawled, and you opened your eyes – fearing that someone had trespassed into your home, only to find nothing out of the ordinary inside your little guest room. You sighed, thinking that you must’ve been hallucinating – sleep paralysis was a possible explanation, after all.

The voice, however, returned, chuckling in response to your eyes frantically searching for the source. “Oh, sweetie, your eyes can’t see me!” it exclaimed, as though it were obvious, “but I can see you, pretty, I’ve seen all of you.”

Gojo’s POV

You were sweet.

Like candy – if he were able to taste it, anyway. You had an aura about you that lit up any room you were in, one that he’d gaze upon from afar in the shadowy corners of your house, something he couldn’t touch, lest he burn from the light that was your smile. 

He loved watching you – seeing you get dressed (he loved the curves of your body), how you’d cook and clean and make everything look so pretty for a husband who didn’t appreciate it…

He especially loved watching you from one of the shadows of your bedroom as your husband fucked you – his cock throbbing as he watched you being used like the cute little cumdumpster you are, always wondering how tight your cunt would feel wrapped around his cock instead.

He would observe each and every single action because it was you who performed them.

And you looked delicious.

But he couldn’t feast upon you – not yet, at least. Your light was still too radiant, it shined upon everyone and everything and was nearly all-consuming.

So he left – just for a little while, of course. He’d be back for you, you just needed to give him some time.

He interrupted the dreams of one of your husband’s coworkers, filling her mind with lewd images and thoughts of railing your husband to the point where she just couldn’t bear it. So, eventually, she approached him at work – and he initially denied her advances, acting like the good husband he should be – but that just wouldn’t do for the plan Satoru had in mind. 

So he did the same with your husband, and provided him with dreams of fucking that same coworker, how wet and tight and good it would feel to have his filthy cock inside someone else’s pussy. Satoru knew it would hurt you, but it wasn’t completely his fault – you see, it was your husband’s choice to act on his desires, and his coworker’s choice to reciprocate despite knowing he was a married man.

And so your husband started coming home late, but not from work like you’d thought, no. He was arriving home after laying in the bed of another, engaging in an illicit affair that he excused as simply working overtime at the office. You initially believed your husband, but eventually, you developed your suspicions, and your light dulled – which pleased Satoru – because he could get closer to you. He would sometimes even try to alert you to his presence, but that never went according to plan – you’d always call out your husband’s name in response. You were loyal, and that annoyed him to no end because he already decided that you were his. 

He just had to be patient.

Until tonight – he had been watching you from the corner of your room. You couldn’t see him, of course, he was nothing more than a shadow to you. But that fated car had shown up, and as you peeked out the window, the last bits of your light finally blinked out like a dying star, and Satoru damn near rejoiced.

He soon followed you to the guest room, smirking to himself as he opened the door to see you tossing and turning, restless and alone – just how he wanted you.

Because you were his – to claim, to ruin, to feast upon.

“Such a waste to not take care of a pretty thing like you…”

Y/N’s POV

“Who are you?” you asked the darkness, eyes still darting about as you covered your top half with blankets as though that’d protect you from whoever– whatever this was.

“Hmm? Don’t tell me you don’t recognize me! Although I guess I can’t blame you – our bond isn’t quite strong enough for you to see the real me…” he considered, “you’ve called out to me many times before though, sweetie, even if it was by the wrong name – which was annoying, to say the least.” 

If you could see this…thing, you would’ve been able to discern the very obvious pout on its features. But, as its words sunk into you, a chill ran up your spine and every artery, vein, and capillary became doused in fear – realizing that this entire time you’d been joking to yourself about a ghost living in your home, it had been true. 

“My name is Satoru Gojo, sweets, so next time you call out – please use that name instead of the one owned by that disgraceful husband of yours,” the voice insisted, tracing its fingers along your side – a movement nearly invisible if it weren’t for the fabric that moved ever so slightly in response to his hand. 

“How– how do you know about my husband?” you asked, and he laughed.

“Oh, sweetie, you should realize that I know everything about you by now! I know how you take your coffee, how you perform chores around the house,” his voice dropped to a whisper, breathing directly into your ear, “how that husband of yours is unable to fuck you the way you want.”

You shuddered, unable to deny the slightest spark of arousal that nestled deep within your gut, but it did little to quell your fears of this…thing. You didn’t want to admit that he was right about your husband – not even to yourself – but the way he held that woman…

“Oh c’mon, relax. I can smell your fear, y’know – but I’m not gonna kill you!” Not yet. “I want to help.” The lies dripped like honey off of his tongue, sickly sweet as you drank them in. “Close your eyes for me, will ya? I promise I won’t bite,” he smirked.

Hesitantly, you obeyed and closed your eyes, and you felt the softest, sinful touch of his lips against yours – it was dizzying how they caressed you before he slowly entered his tongue into your mouth, causing a burning feeling to slip down your throat – as sharp as alcohol and as saccharine as sugar. Your mind relaxed, with the blood in your veins heating up before that warmth sunk down into your stomach and then lower. Your fear had been eradicated by lust, and as you finally opened your eyes, the being in front of you was one you’d never seen before – a tall, white-haired male, with eyes that deceivingly matched the heavens, who was adorned with wings and horns colored in a dark charcoal. 

“Now you see me, don’t ya, pretty?” he smirked, “I’m gonna take such good care of you – you’ll let me, won’t ya?”

You nodded without hesitation, only desiring more of the euphoric feeling that he seemed so keen on providing you with. 

“Need your words, baby, or else I can’t do anything,” he growled softly, and you squirmed underneath his weight as you forced your mouth open.

“Please,” you begged.

“Please what?”

“Please– please fuck me!”

You felt a sudden rush of cold as the bedsheets flew off of your body, leaving you stark naked on the mattress below you. Still, the cold was quickly replaced by the scorching hot yet featherlight touches of his hands tracing along your body – moving along your sides and then up towards your breasts, which he fondled before kissing you again with those syrupy lips, allowing more of that warmth to spread down your throat and into your skin. The weight on your chest was unrelenting yet pleasant as his tongue slipped into your mouth once again.

His hands toyed with your nipples, pinching and rolling them in between his fingers, pulling a gasp from you as he parted from your mouth in favor of sucking on your neck, licking a long stripe up toward your jaw before biting down just enough to draw blood with his fangs – he needed to feed off your life force somehow – you moaned as a heat spread from where he bit you all throughout your neck and shoulder, a pleasurable feeling which allowed him to drink in more of you before moving on to your tits, sinking his teeth into your nipples as well as he drinks freely from you, lapping up the blood with the flat of his tongue. You cradled his head as he sucked at your breast, encouraging him to keep going as a breathy moan escaped you – because it never felt this good before when your husband would do it. 

“Mmh, yeah? You like it when I play with your tits like this, baby?” he asked, voice muffled against your soft skin. You whined, eyes closed as you arched your back, the euphoric flow of pleasure coursing through you. He could tell you were slowly becoming obsessed with the way he was treating you – he just needed to wait a little bit longer.

“Fuck, so good– never…never felt this good before,” you moaned, and Satoru smirked as he sucked just a little bit more on your tits before traveling down towards your needy cunt.

“That so? Your husband doesn’t know how to fuck you, does he?”

You shook your head, unable to voice an answer as his breath fanned across your sopping pussy. 

“It’s okay, pretty, don’t worry – I’m here now.” 

He delved a single finger into your glistening cunt, gathering up your slick and bringing it up to his mouth to taste you. He groaned as he gathered more of it, forcing his fingers into your mouth, and your tongue immediately lapped at them like a puppy with its owner.

“You taste so good, pretty. So fuckin’ wet for me – such a good slut,” he smirked. He removed his fingers from your mouth before going back down and licking a fat stripe up your cunt, causing your legs to jolt at the touch. He snickered, “bet your husband didn’t know how to please you, bet he never even went down on you, the sick bastard.” You whined in response, causing him to chuckle. 

“Thought so.”

He buried his face into your messy cunt, his nose nudging against your swollen clit as he delved his tongue inside of your hole, licking up all of your juices into his awaiting mouth. You moaned, bucking your hips up into his face before he pinned them down, eating you out like you’re his favorite meal and he’s a man starved. It’s messy as he groaned into your heat, working his jaw as he savored your sweetness. He moved his mouth slightly up to your clit, pursing his lips around it and sucking hard as he probed two fingers into your needy hole, curling them inside of your sloppy heat. Your hands clasped around his horns and you arched your back, trying to push him deeper between your legs, obsessed with the way his fingers and tongue felt while pleasing you.

He pulled moan after moan out of your pretty little mouth, and he laughed to himself as his plan was going oh so well – to make you drunk on the pleasure he gave you until you became fully addicted and obsessed with him, becoming his little cock slut that he can breed and fill with his cum whenever he wanted.

Eventually, the tension building up in your lower abdomen snapped, and a sense of euphoria rushed through you, causing your legs to shake and clench around his head. He groaned, drinking up all of the juices that flowed out of you. Satoru looked up at you as he fed upon your cunt, and grinned as he watched your soul slowly but surely fade through his eyes. 

“I was right to choose you,” he groaned before slurping up the rest of your juices, overstimulating you as your grip on his horns tightened, pleading with him to let up on his ministrations. 

“Feeding me so well, pretty.” He nipped at your inner thigh once before sitting up and grabbing his cock, giving it a few strokes before lining it up with your sopping hole. He rubbed the bulbous head along your pussy, “tell me, how much do you want this cock, baby? You wanna get fucked by a demon like me?” 

You nodded, and if you were any less delirious you might have questioned what he meant by ‘demon’, but you were too far gone to care, simply nodding and begging “please” over and over again.

He slowly pushed his cock into you, grunting with how tight you were wrapping around him. “Shit, pretty–” he sighed, sinking into you until his balls were flush against your ass. He grabbed your legs and pulled them up so your ankles reached over his shoulders before slowly pulling out and plunging back in. His grip tightened on the flesh of your thighs as he started moving faster, his balls slapping against your ass with the force of his thrusts. Your mouth parted and tears fell down your cheeks, only being able to take what he gave you as his dick filled you up to the brim while pounding into your sopping cunt.

“You cryin’, baby?” he chuckled, and you could only whine in response.

“Good.”

He soon flipped you over and got you on all fours, slamming his cock back into you. You wailed as he kept forcing his fat cock into your greedy little cunt – the intensity only building upon itself as you felt your orgasm approaching once more. 

“‘M close…’m close,” you babbled, encouraging him to fuck you harder. Satoru reached around to rub your clit, and you gasped as you fell apart once more, gushing around his cock. Your legs trembled and you fell forward, unable to hold up your weight any longer as pleasure coursed through your veins. Satoru took this opportunity to trap you under him, with his torso flush against your back as he continued fucking into your tight pussy, not caring for how overstimulated you were becoming. 

“Fuck pretty, you love this dick, huh? Cumming all over me like that,” he grinned, his dick throbbing as he continued pounding into you. You nodded in response, but that wasn’t enough for him, so he gripped your chin and forced you to look up at him. “Uh-uh, tell me how much you love this cock, baby.” 

“Uh– fuck! Love– love it! Hah– need…need more–!” you babbled, tears flowing down your cheeks. He placed his hand around your mouth, and your moans became muffled as he dragged his cock inside your messy cunt.

“Shh, pretty, don’t want your husband to hear you getting fucked, right?” he grinned devilishly, “though, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already heard us – he’s probably stroking his dick to your sweet sounds, the cuck.”

You whined, oddly enjoying the idea that your shitty husband might be able to hear you – you took pride in the fact that he might know that you’re getting fucked better than he ever did with you. You started fucking yourself back onto Satoru’s cock, and he grinned widely – satisfied with how he’s turned you into his little cock slut. 

“Shit, baby– ‘m not gonna last much longer,” he admitted, his thrusts progressively getting sloppier and sloppier as he rutted his cock into you.

“Hah– you want me to cum inside you, baby? Want to get filled with my cum? I’ll fucking get you pregnant, breed you with my seed and turn you into my cumslut – you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Fuck– say it baby, say you want me to cum inside you” he groaned, his dick pulsing inside of you as he reached his end, and you nodded your head.

“Please, please Sa- Satoru–! Cum inside me! Wan’ to be your cumslut! Please!” you begged.

“Shit– ‘m gonna cum, pretty, fuck–” He pushed deep inside you, hips flush against yours as he released his hot seed into your womb, thick ropes of his cum filling you up until it started leaking out of your abused cunt. As he pulled out of you, causing you to whine at the feeling of emptiness that it created within you.

“It’s okay, baby, I’ll be back for you. I’ll visit you every night if you wish, just so you can get your fill of my cock,” and so I can get my fill of your delicious soul, he thought, grinning to himself.

Suddenly, the weight lifted off of your chest, and once you opened your eyes – he was gone, leaving you a mess with his cum leaking onto the bed sheets. You sat up and hobbled your way over to the shower to clean yourself off, trusting in his promise to come back each night.

You’d be waiting for him, not realizing that was his plan all along.

Taglist: @o-oreo , @k-a-t-h-r-i-n-a @wow-im-gay, @peanutpunchy, @love-me-satoru, @perfect-again, @dinosaur-crime-scene, @thisbicc, @gojoscumslut, @everyonesfinaldestination, @leehoonii-i, @kyojurismo, @crazycatlddy, @briefrebelfanalmond, @izuoyarmin, @ahashiraswife, @d1gitalbathh, @223princess (if your name is crossed out, it means tumblr didn't allow me to tag you - apologies for the inconvenience)

I hope you enjoyed!!

[reminiscingtonight]

Habit To Kick

Leah Williamson x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: Listened to 90 Days by P!nk and Wrabel and this was the product

[WOSO Masterlist]

It’s the little things.

Humming in the kitchen, feet jokingly kicking at you whenever you walk by her spot perched on the counter. A hand on your back as she reaches over you to grab the hat you carelessly threw on top of the cabinet, a toothy smile as she pulls it on a little too low on your head.

It’s easy to love Leah.

When you're wearing a jacket of hers, laughing off a joke when someone asks why you’re wearing it. When Leah makes up an excuse of your clumsiness resulting in a shirt full of sauce, an act of kindness, rather than the truth of you slipping out her house at 5am, a little too early to be anything other than the end of a night spent together.

You love her, but you have an inkling she doesn’t love you the same.

It began with tinted car windows. Dates held in secrecy. You’ve always fancied the English captain. It came as a shock when she seemingly fancied you back. 

You understood her want to keep your relationship under wraps. Leah never enjoyed the attention. Public scrutiny always ruins the good things.

You try to pretend it doesn’t hurt. That this “good thing” is enough to combat the ache in your heart when she avoids you when out with friends. When she spends the night dancing with your teammates than cuddled by your side.

But it’s worth it when she wakes you up with breakfast in bed. When Leah buys your favorite snacks and favorite drinks when you’re feeling a little homesick. When you’ve had a long day and she still takes the time to help you wash your hair, despite being worn to the bone just like you.

It’s worth it until it suddenly... stops.

An injury is horrible, you both know it. Leah tears her ACL and you’re left to pick up the pieces, to cheer her up when there seems to be no light at the end of the tunnel. She tries to mask her pain but you know she appreciates all you do for her.

And then you tear yours too.

Leah leaves.

She’s a little over two months clear of her surgery and she leaves.

Your apartment feels bare whenever you return to your empty apartment. You thought you would rehab together, but Leah leaves you by yourself as you both try coping with the loss of your season.

Leah still calls you. It’s few in between but she still tries to make an effort.

You pretend not to notice the far away look in her eyes when she’s on the phone. The look that tells you she’d rather be anywhere than here, rehashing the pain both of you are living.

Leah seems to be doing well, ahead of schedule as she simultaneously travels the world and gets her leg back into shape.

She seems to be moving on as you start falling behind. 

You get your first surgery. 

And then a second one.

And then a third.

While Leah is making bounds and leaps you hit setback after setback.

She starts missing calls. You stop trying to get her to pick them up.

Jen comments on how strange it is to see you around Colney without your best friend attached at the hip. You make up a lame excuse, heart cracking at every word. The way Kim cringes tells you at least someone on the team knows what you’ve been hiding.

Before you know it the season has started up again. The season starts and Leah’s finally back home.

There’s a body sleeping beside you again, but you already know it’s coming to an end.

Leah spends her time out with Lia, singing karaoke with Katie, joking around with Beth. She’s out all day, never coming home until you’re already in bed, back turned to her as you try desperately to remember what it was like when she once loved you.

It’s a random day in the middle of the week. You’re tired, having spent another day at the doctors, eyes all cried out from tears of frustration when you finally returned home. It’s a surprise when you hear the turn of keys not long after. 

You’ve only just made yourself look presentable when she walks into the kitchen, pausing to take in your bloodshot eyes. Leah’s eyebrows furrow as she cautiously reaches a hand towards you. 

When her touch doesn’t bring you the comfort you’ve been aching so long for, you know it’s the end.

“If you’re going to break up with me you should just do it.” 

Leah looks like a deer caught in headlights. She looks alarmed, but you can also see the guilt in her eyes.

You try ignoring the burning in your eyes, sliding the piece of paper over the table to her.

Leah’s eyes track the letter, pausing when it becomes clear what it says.

“Jonas is asking me if I’d like to leave the club. If I want to rehab and start over back in the states.” 

.

Leah’s smile is one of your favorite things about her. The toothiness of her grin as she finds something funny never stops making your heart feel things.

Every smile you get from her feels addicting, an addiction you never get sick of, a habit you never wanted to kick.

But as much as you want to stay, you know Leah has to want you as much as you do to make it work. You want this to be worth something other than a love caught out in limbo, forever hoping Leah will love you the same way, forever fighting back tears when she walks away.

You want Leah to want you to stay.

.

The LA sun feels warm on your back when you finally strap on your boots again.

[rafesbabyg1rl]

The Watcher ~ Part Three

Part One, Part Two

Summary: Rafe Cameron x Reader, Stalker!Rafe x Pogue!Reader Your parents work late on Friday nights, which you spend alone. Except you haven't been alone in a long time, not that you know of at least. Rafe has watched for years, he's very good at it. His idea of staying an anonymous stalker is ruined when you catch him in your bedroom one Friday night. Rafe has to figure out how to fix his mistake before he loses the only thing that makes his life worth living. After an unexpected visit to Tannyhill, you stalker comes up with a plan to make you his. But, will you be able to execute it just as he planned?

Warnings: Rafe stalks reader...that's literally the plot. Strong & descriptive language, suggestive themes, death threat(?), manipulation, kidnapping (?). If I missed anything from this part that I should include in the warnings, please let me know!

Word Count: 4.5k

Author Note: Part Three has arrived! I still am unsure if I like where the story is going, but we'll see. Also I'm getting so IMPATIENT and horny while writing this and it's literally killing me. Please share your thoughts about this part and ideas for future parts. Thank you all for the support on this story. I am very pleasantly surprised with how everyone has reacted to it. So, please enjoy and feel free to leave feedback! I love you all, thank you so much!! Stay freaky y'all.

CREDITS: The foundation of this fic was heavily inspired by/ based off of one of @faiszt 's bots on character ai. So, if you like this and you like character ai, I greatly suggest that you check out the bot!

“Okay, you remember the plan, yeah? You know what you’re supposed to do?” Rafe speaks as you look out of the passenger window of his truck. 

You turn back to face him before speaking. “Y-yeah I know.” You nod, turning back to look out of the window and at your house across the street from the parked truck. “I have to tell them…” You pause, getting choked up. “I have to tell them that I’m moving out.” You turn back to look at him, your eyes watery. “I can’t…they’re gonna know–”

Rafe clenches his fists around the steering wheel and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. “No, baby they’re not gonna know. Because you’re not gonna let them know, alright? And you sure as shit aren’t gonna try anything are you?”

You frantically shake your head, “No…no I’m not gonna try anything…’promise.” You pause. “It…it’s just…what if they don’t believe me? I can’t–I can’t tell them I’m moving out with someone I’ve never even mentioned to them.”

“Hey…hey, you’re an adult yeah? They can’t do shit baby. They don’t have a choice, you’re mine.” His words cause an icy shiver to roll down your spine. Though even you know that your parents aren’t going to protest you living with the richest, most successful man in the Outer Banks, besides from his father…which everyone has heard about. The saint turned murderer who died last year. Like father, like son, you think to yourself. The incident was all over the news, you’re surprised you didn’t recognize the Cameron son sooner, his face had to be everywhere when all that went down. 

But why would your parents care, all you do is cost them more money. They’ve been trying to get you out of the house for months. 

“Y-yeah…” You respond, looking back out the dark, tinted window towards your house. “I-I’m ready.” You put your hand on the door handle, waiting for him to unlock it so you can exit his truck.  

“You have an hour. Don’t make me come inside.” Rafe’s hand moves over the driver door and he presses a button, causing your door to unlock with a click. You nod and exit the vehicle, cautiously walking across the street and towards your front door. Upon entering your home, you take a deep breath to try and keep your emotions in check. No matter how much you wish your parents would notice something is very wrong, you know that would only bite you in the ass. The best thing you can do is make sure this all goes according to plan. 

“Mom?” You call out, slowly walking down the entry hallway. “Mom? Dad?” You try again, speaking more confidently this time.

“Yeah, in here!” You hear your mom call out from the living room. As you enter the room, you see your parents watching TV. Your mother with a drink in her hand, laid back on the couch with her legs crossed and your father reclined in the chair, a beer in his hand. You glance down at the floor beside the recliner and spot several empty beer cans. Great, just great.

“Hey…” You say sheepishly. “How’s the bar?”, you ask, more casually. 

Your mom glances over at your father, assuming that since he hasn’t even turned his head away from the TV, she’s going to have to answer you. As she turns her head back to look at you, she sips on her drink. She licks her lips and clears her throat before drawing her attention to you. “It was fine”, she mutters your name before taking another sip of her drink. “Same as always. What’ve you been up to?” She asks, not even trying to pretend like she actually cares about what you have to say next. 

As you open your mouth to speak, your father cuts you off; still not looking away from the TV. “Get a damn job yet? Or were you just out fucking off again, hm? You’re too goddamn old to be living under my roof for free. You don’t do shit. You’re gonna start paying your fucking dues.” He snaps, finishing off his beer before tossing it to the ground aside, clattering into the others. “I need a beer.” He mutters. Without hesitation you walk over to the kitchen. You open the fridge door, staring into it as you get lost in your thoughts for a moment, eyes immediately watering. You shouldn’t even be upset, it’s not like you expected anything more. But you did have the slightest hope that maybe they didn’t drink so much today and they’d actually be able to tell that something is terribly wrong. 

Quickly you snap yourself out of your thoughts, grabbing a beer from the fridge and heading back into the living room, handing it to your dad. You take a few steps back, taking a breath to calm yourself. “I told you I–”, you start before your father interrupts you. 

“You’re gonna ‘go back to school to get a good job’. Bull. Shit. y/n. Bullshit.”

You fight back the tears in your eyes. Even though you’re used to the drunken crap your father is constantly spewing, his words still always manage to get to you; especially now when you actually need your parents. After a moment, you move to face both parents, looking more at your mother; she’s easier to speak to. 

“A-actually…” You start, looking down at your feet and fiddling with your fingers. “I wanted to tell you t-that I-I’m moving out…” You wait a few seconds to steady your breathing and let your words sink in before looking back up. Your father has turned in his chair to face you and your mother looked up at you from her spot on the couch. 

“About damn time.” Your father speaks.

Your mother replies next, “Where?” 

You look back at your feet, watching how they kick at the ground as you speak, “In…into Tannyhill. The Cameron's place.” You mumble, not wanting to look up, fearing that they’ll see right through you. Even though you know you’re just paranoid, there’s no way they’ll pay enough attention to you to notice something is wrong.

“Didn’t they move after what happened to Ward?” Your mother asks.

Your dad adds, “After Ward killed a shit ton of folks and then himself.” 

You ignore your fathers words, looking up at your mother, only taking brief glances over at your father while you speak. “Uhh no, no…not all of them.” Your hand lightly scratches at the back of your head. “Rafe, the son,” you clarify, trying to seem as though you are telling a casual story; like you’re telling the truth. “Yeah, uh…he actually took over Cameron Development and he still lives in the house.”

“What the hell you doin’ with a Cameron?” Your mother questions sternly. Her attention is taken away from you as your father barks her name.

“Fucks’ it matter?” He speaks to her before looking over at you again. “He’s letting you move in? He’ll pay for your lazy ass, yeah?”

You look at your dad and give him a nod, watching as he takes another swig of his beer can as you mutter, “Y-yes.”

 He swallows hard, pursing his lips. “Then go on, get outta here.” He exclaims before looking back to the TV as though nothing happened. 

You answer your moms question from earlier, “Rafe…h-he’s a friend of mine. He said he’s got so much extra space and he can help me find a good job out on figure eight; y’know, hook me up with some people, I guess he put a word in for me or somethin’.” You lie, pleased with yourself as you manage to get out the last word without breaking character. 

“S’long as you’re not costin’ us no more money.” She replies, getting up from the couch and heading into the kitchen to refill her glass of wine. 

You stand there for a moment, before your dad speaks again, “And when you come crawling back, you ain’t stayin’ for free.” 

You let out a small, broken sigh, “yeah”. You exit the living room, heading to your bedroom. As you pass by the kitchen you momentarily stop and speak to your mother who’s currently trying to open up a new bottle of wine. “I’m gonna pack a bag…I’m leaving tonight.”

You know the time is ticking, that you probably don’t have much of your hour left. You grab your biggest duffel bag from underneath your bed and start frantically filling it. It’s hard to pack though because, what are you supposed to bring to move in with your psycho stalker? You pack some hoodies and sweats, some of your baggiest jeans, oversized t-shirts, large pj pants, really just making sure all the clothes you packed were the least revealing things you could find. After all, you weren’t sure what was in store for you. And you sure as hell weren’t gonna make it that easy for him to get what he wants. You packed some personal hygiene products and toiletries, an extra pair of shoes, and whatever else you think you may need. Before walking out of your bedroom, you glance around and scan for anything you might’ve missed. You end up grabbing your favorite blanket and shoving it into your bag; something that might help give you comfort at your new home, something to keep the monsters out at night. And finally, you tuck your ‘sleeping’ pills into your bag. They’re the only thing that’s been able to help you sleep these past few weeks. And slowly your dosage continues to increase.

Stepping out of your bedroom, you shut your door behind you. You stand in the hallway, taking a deep breath which causes a tear to fall down your cheek. You wipe the tear and head back into your living room. You set down your bag and walk over to the couch, sitting beside your mom. 

Turning to face her, you whisper, “I’m leaving now, mom.”

“Okay sweetie.” She nods, this really isn’t a big deal for her. She thinks you’re just moving out like a typical young adult. But you know the truth. You know, or rather you don’t know what the future has in store for you or when the next time you’ll be able to see your family again is; if he lets you see them again. 

You lean in and give your mom a hug, she immediately hugs back seeing as you two never hug. You pray that this doesn’t raise any suspicion in her. When you stand up from the couch, you walk over to stand by your fathers chair. “Bye Dad, I’m leaving now.” You say, trying to keep your normal emotionless, cold tone with him. 

“Yeah, okay, bye.” He waves you off, wanting you to move out of his view of the television. 

You go and grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder again. Before exiting the room and leaving, you turn back to your parents, “Bye, see you later.” You lie. Well, technically it’s not a lie because you aren’t even sure of the answer yourself.

As you walk out of the front door, you hear each of them mutter some form of a goodbye just before the door shuts behind you. You look up and glance across the street, seeing Rafe’s truck still sitting there parked; still running. As you slowly walk towards it, he rolls his darkly tinted window down just enough that you can see his eyes as they watch you intently. You’re hit with shivers that roll from the top of your spine to the tip of your toes as you walk around to the passenger side of his truck and open the back door, tossing your bag on the seats before climbing into the front passenger seat. 

You can feel his searing vision on you as you buckle your seatbelt and proceed to stare silently out in front of yourself. He mutters your name, causing you to hesitantly turn to look at him. 

“How’d it go?” He asks.

“Well clearly I’m here so…” You say, unsure of where your sarcastic attitude came from. You hope this isn’t enough to set him off. Judging by his ragged breath, the chances aren’t great. 

Rafe just shakes his head, a small smirk forming on his face as he lets out a huff, “yeah…you’re here baby.” It’s hard to tell whether or not he’s pissed off or not. You curse his quickly transforming moods. He doesn’t say anything else before putting the truck into drive and spinning out of your neighborhood. The drive from the cut back to figure eight is dreadful and silent. 

When you do finally reach Tannyhill and Rafe parks in the driveway, he’s the first to exit the vehicle as he grabs your duffle bag from the backseat, rounding the truck to open your door. You instinctively mumble a small ‘thank you’ to him, immediately feeling embarrassed before realizing that maybe being extra kind will make him go easier on you. All he does is chuckle in response as he walks behind you to his front door. When Rafe gets the door unlocked, he lets you walk inside first as he follows closely behind. He locks the door and leads you upstairs and down the hall. Reaching inside his pocket, Rafe pulls out another key which he uses to unlock a random hallway door. Once he gets it open, he enters the room and sets your bag down on the bed.

 He turns back to look at you as you stand in the doorway. “This uh…” he scratches at the back of his buzzed head, appearing to be almost…nervous? “This is your room for the time being.” Rafe grins as he looks up at you. “Thought you’d be more comfortable in your own room for now.”

‘For now’, what the hell is that supposed to mean? You wonder, taking a step further inside the bedroom. You look around, but you don’t speak; you don’t know what you’d even say. You sit on the foot of the neatly made bed. He only stands in front of you, staring down, just watching you silently. Rafe is always doing that, watching. 

“Rafe…?” You murmur, turning your head slightly in his direction but keeping your eyes rooted on the floor. 

“Hm? What is it, baby?” Rafe’s brows further, his forehead slightly creasing. 

“I…w-what happens now?” You ask as you use your right hand to scratch at your left forearm, trying to keep yourself mentally present. 

Rafe steps closer to the bed, if you were to look up, you’d practically be face-to-face with his clothed cock. So you decide to spare the awkwardness of that and continue to stare at the ground below you.  

“Well,” he speaks. Before continuing, Rafe brings his hand up and uses his thumb and pointer finger to grip into your chin. He slightly tugs upward, forcing you to look up into his eyes. “You’re gonna stay here with me. I know baby, I know it’s hard. But, you’ll have some time to adjust, alright?” You nod and he lets go of your chin, but immediately moves to take the empty space on the bed. He sits next to you and he places his hand on your knee. “Hey,” he speaks softly and you turn to look at him. “This is our future and I know it’s scary, but it’s gonna be okay. Yeah?”

Future, you think. ‘This is our future’, you try to allow his words to break through to you, but your mind won’t let this sink in. This, whatever this is, was not supposed to be your future. Though you’re not totally sure what was meant to be your future, you just know it isn’t him. You’re supposed to meet someone who you know now, is not a psycho stalker and actually have a choice in what happens to you.

God, maybe your parents were right. Which you never thought would happen. But, if you had listened to them and had done more with your life, who knows, maybe you wouldn’t have ended up in this situation. But instead you pushed all responsibilities away, saving them for the ‘future’. You’ve spent your entire life waiting for something in your brain to switch and somehow make you capable of carrying responsibilities and do something with your life. And now, this is your punishment, it has to be. If you ever get out of this nightmare of a situation, you aren’t gonna sit around on your ass and wait for a handout anymore, you’re gonna change. But, that is only if you manage to escape from this hell. 

“Okay, baby?” The man next to you speaks, his thumb lightly running over the fabric of your jeans. His voice pulls you out from your endless void of thoughts, bringing you right back into the present. 

You respond, your voice shaky, “What do you want from me?” A salty, warm tear rolls out from the corner of your eye and down your cheek. “Baby, baby shhh, it’s okay. It’s alright. All I want is for us to be together, baby. I don’t want to hurt you.” He says in a tone that seems to indicate that he might just actually be sincere. The more you try to figure this man out, the more confused you get. But, if he really does care about you, that’s something you might just be able to work with.

“B-but…you are hurting me.” You say hesitantly, worried to see how this will play out. Immediately, his already light touch on your knee lightens even more to the point he’s barely making contact. 

“What? What do you mean? You’re okay.” 

“No…I just wanna go home, please.” The last word comes out in more of a whisper than anything else. Rafe’s eyes squeeze shut and he shakes his head, standing up. 

He begins to pace the room, you just follow him with his eyes. As Rafe paces, his fists repeatedly clench and unclench at his sides. Suddenly, he comes to a halt, turning to face you again. “You know I can’t let you do that.”

“Please…” You whimper in a pleading tone. Your voice full of emotion. He cocks his head to the side, amused as he watches you. Rafe takes a few steps closer, so he’s standing to the side of the bed once more. 

“Baby, there’s nothing to be so scared of. We’re gonna be so good. Just…just trust me.” He says, getting impatient with having to repeat this to you constantly.

“But…I don’t want this, please just take me back home.” Rafe’s expression goes dark, his shoulders relax like he’s just let something go.

“Go home? To do what? Huh?! You don’t do shit. I’m saving you baby. I’m saving you from your sad, pathetic life. I’m giving you everything you’ll ever need, baby. So no, you cannot go ‘home’. This is your home.” The man’s voice is stronger, meaner than before. At this point you don’t have enough courage left in you to fight this. You just sniffle and nod, wiping your tears. “This is our home.” 

As you sit there silently watching him but being careful not to make eye contact, he starts to unzip your duffel bag. You huff, “what, you gonna take the only things I have left now too?” 

He sighs, looking at you. “No.” Rafe begins to sort through your things, taking it all out of the bag one by one. “Just makin’ sure you didn’t get any stupid ideas.” He mumbles, not looking up from what he’s doing.

After he empties the contents of your bag out onto ‘your’ bed, he starts to go through it more carefully. You watch as he picks up a pair of your underwear, holding it up and looking at you. “What’s all this shit? You on your period or some shit? Thought that was earlier this month.” He huffs, tossing the item back down on the bed. He’s clearly frustrated by the fact that you purposely packed your ugliest and least revealing panties; which happen to be the ones you typically wear on your period. Which makes you think back to what he said, you realize he’s had to see you in your underwear often to know what kind you wear during a specific time of the month. You shiver.

Once he deems everything as safe, he puts it all back into the bag. Just as he picks up one of your hoodies, the bottle of your sleeping pills fall onto the bed. Rafe’s brows furrow and he picks up the bottle, reading the label. Once he identifies the content and the doseage, he makes a  tsk sound. He slips the bottle into his pocket and looks back up at you. “Can’t leave you with those now can I?” Rafe finishes re-packing your bag.

“I-I need those…to sleep.” Your words cause him to chuckle, confusing you. You don’t understand what he could possibly find funny in this situation, but then again you aren’t a sociopathic stalker. 

“Right.” He mumbles. “Nobody takes that much just to sleep.”

“Please, they…they help.” You aren’t lying. Your doctor put you onto some medication which you cannot pronounce, that almost immediately puts out your anxiety and helps you relax. The only thing is, you keep upping the dose, when really they worked just fine the first time. But, you like how they make you feel. And yeah, sometimes you might take them without reason, but only sometimes.

“I’m gonna hold onto them for a while baby. You’ll be fine.” He pauses before speaking again, this time with a slight smirk evident on his face, “I’m here if you need help sleeping.” He says cockily. “Yeah?” You don’t respond. You just stare at the floor. 

After a few moments of silence, his stares were getting uncomfortable. “Can I just be alone, please? I just…I wanna try and get some sleep. It’s been a long day.” You sigh. 

“You haven’t eaten today.” He states.

“Yeah…I-I’m not hungry.” Being kidnapped and forced to completely unroot your life to live with an unknown man definitely takes some effect on you, such as erasing your appetite. 

Rafe sighs and steps closer, sitting down next to you once more. “How do I know you aren’t gonna try anything?”  

“I haven’t tried anything yet have I? I haven’t told anyone about you, a-and I’ve done everything you’ve asked.” You plead.

Rafe makes another tsk sound as he shakes his head. “What were you doing at the sheriff's office today, hm? What was that?”

“I…I-” You aren’t sure what to say. If you lie, he’ll know. But you’re too afraid to tell him what you had planned on doing down at the station. 

“Don’t you ever try that again. Don’t even fucking think about trying it.” He pauses for a moment. Chuckling before he speaks again, “god, so stupid. You really thought they’d believe you? Over…over me?” He laughs.

“I…I’m sorry.”

“Bullshit,” he grabs your thigh firmly, making you gasp. “You know I hate when you lie to me…so why do you keep doing it?” He asks, searching in your eyes for the answer. “You’re only sorry you got caught.” He squeezes tighter.

You groan at his grip on your leg and the ache it’s causing. “R-Rafe…that hurts. Please…y-you’re hurting me.” Your words are followed by a quick gasp and a tear running down your face. 

Once Rafe’s eyes land on your tear, he lets go of your leg. “Shit, baby. I’m—I didn’t mean to.” Rafe moves his hand to rest comfortingly on your shoulder. Well, his idea of what a comforting hand is isn’t exactly comforting. But he doesn’t have much of an example to go off of. 

Before you can speak, he stands up and exits the room. You hear the door lock, and your eyes squeeze shut. You let your head fall into your hands and you just start to let it all out. For hours you sit there, crying until there’s no tears left. You just keep waiting and waiting for him to come back; you figure he wouldn’t leave you completely alone without supervision on your first night here. Except he never does. 

Eventually, you really do start to feel a bit tired. You lay down on the bed, on top of the covers. You use your pillow and your blanket from home. The smell of home still lingering on the items. Pulling the blanket over your head to feel safe, you eventually begin to fall asleep. 

When you wake, you’re still tucked away into your safe place. After recollecting your thoughts that had become jumbled from sleep, you pull the blanket off of your head. You squint from the bright light that shines through the window. Once your eyes have adjusted, you take a moment to scan over your surroundings. The bedroom looks like that of a hotel room. Well, not like any hotel you’ve ever been to. The mansion is slightly more vintage and elegant than those of the typical kooks; it’s not as simple and modern. If you weren’t being held captive in it, you may even admire it. 

As much as you’d love to stay curled up under your blanket. Nature calls and you can’t ignore it. You sit up from the bed and quietly step over to the door. Shit. The doors locked, you forgot.

“Hey!” You call out. “Rafe? Let me out!” Faintly, you can hear commotion from the floor below you. While you wait, you look around the room a bit more. There’s another door, you open it expecting it to be a closet, but it’s a bathroom. Wow, you definitely feel dumb now.

After taking care of things, you exit the bathroom. You jump back when you finally look up from your feet to see Rafe standing in the room. 

“Goodmorning, baby.” He smiles. “How’d you sleep?”

You start walking towards the bed, sitting back down and covering your body with your blanket. All you do in response is shake your head.

“Hungry yet?” He asks, sitting at the foot of the bed and resting his hand on your calf, rubbing over it through your blanket. 

You shake your head again.

Rafe sighs, “y’know I’d really appreciate some words?” He says softly.

“No, I’m not hungry.”

“Okay.” He tucks his lips in and nods a bit. “Suit yourself then. I’ll be back later, I guess. …Unless you don’t want me to go?” He asks hopefully.

“Am I supposed to just stay locked up in here all day?” You blurt out before you can stop yourself.

“Well,” Rafe pauses to lick his lips before continuing. “You’re the one who I can’t trust.” He takes his hand off of your leg and stands up. “Just…just give it time baby, you’ll come around. I know you will.” It’s obvious that he’s not even sure about whether or not he’s trying to convince you or himself with his words. 

Without another word, Rafe exits the room, locking the door. Again, you cover yourself with the blanket and let it engulf you. You close your eyes and imagine that you’re in your own bed at home. 

To be continued...

Thank you for reading! I hope this was enjoyable. If you have literally ANY feedback, questions, or suggestions, PLEASE feel free to let me know! I don't really have any solid plans for this fic so if you have any ideas, I just might include them in future parts. And there's not much I won't write!

[screeblees]

Yandere Manipulating Boyfriend x Kidnapped Reader Headcannons

Yandere Manipulating Boyfriend is Male and Kidnapped Reader is Gender Neutral

Been a bit since I've posted! I was in a bit of a slump and got hit with creative juices - definitely wrote way more than usual!

I hope this isn't too long, I kinda love this idea if you can't tell :3

Find my Masterlist here !

Please enjoy!!<33

❥ Yandere Boyfriend who pretends to be in a normal relationship.

❥ Yandere Boyfriend who stalked you for months after his attention was captured, taking photos and videos all for blackmail (among other things…)

❥ Yandere Boyfriend who broke in and drugged you with some sleeping pills, he knew you hadn’t been sleeping well after all! 

❥ Yandere Boyfriend who took most of your belongings with him once he kidnapped you, mixing everything with his home’s own décor to make it look like you’d lived there for months, ensuring details such as two toothbrushes, your hygiene products being in a similar place to where they were in your own home, two sets of dishes in the sink, any work documents or notes being scattered about the desk, any little detail he could think of to make it look like you had went about your day just the night prior.

❥ Yandere Boyfriend who knew you wouldn’t believe it, but at the very least you would doubt your own mind, which was exactly what he wanted.

❥ Yandere Boyfriend who assured he removed all sharp (or potential escape) objects from your shared bedroom, the windows are locked and tinted and you are laid in your bed while he cuddles you, waiting on you waking up.

❥ Yandere Boyfriend who acted confused and worried from the moment you woke up, he really had no idea why you didn’t remember your loving boyfriend, you had been living with him for months! 

❥ Yandere Boyfriend who would restrain you if you fight him, explaining it away by him being scared of you in your “amnesic” state and not wanting you to hurt yourself or go outside and get lost since you seemingly don’t remember anything about the largest part of your life.

❥ Yandere Boyfriend who has written an entire book’s worth of stories to fully flesh out your relationship; how you met, how you kept bumping into one another, your first, second, third and-so-on dates, moving in together, the list goes on!

❥ Yandere Boyfriend who tells quite detailed (made up) stories of your time together, all taken from his previous writings which proving immensely helpful in avoiding contradicting himself and explaining why he knows everything about you!

❥ Yandere Boyfriend who crushes any pesky stray thoughts that may lead you to doubt him swiftly and completely. (“The lack of pictures? Oh, well, I’m pretty self conscious so I prefer taking pictures of you! My favourites are the candid ones, you just look so peaceful!”) You end the conversation glad that you asked, not realising that he had technically completely avoided the question and he later returns with a few pictures of important anniversaries which he commissioned from a very talented photoshopper.

❥ Yandere Boyfriend who confiscates your phone, citing that you shouldn’t be on social media while recovering, all that negativity may impact your health! He may message your friends, family and workplace, just to let them know you’ll be unreachable for the time being, that’s all! (and then if you have a few people less in your contacts and a few more in your blocked list then who’s to say what happened?)

❥ Yandere Boyfriend who spoon-feeds you, refusing to let you do more than sit in bed, rest, and talk to him. For the time being he’s keeping you to soft foods; soup, porridge, mashed potatoes, pasta, scrambled eggs, applesauce, yoghurt and pudding for a treat! (It’s nobody’s business if he’s adding some medicine to make you hazy and docile to make you feel better and make you weaker since you seem to be getting sick).

❥ Yandere Boyfriend who slowly allows you to get better you to do more for yourself, although he still encourages you to stay in bed and enjoys feeding you himself, he’s allowed to be a little selfish - after all, he’s still worried for you!

❥ Yandere Boyfriend who begins the heavy guilt-tripping (as if he hadn’t already) once you start insisting on getting out of bed and doing things on your own; “I just want the best for you, why won’t you let me help you?” “Are you trying to hurt yourself? Straining yourself will only put you back, I know you don’t know me but can’t you see that I only want what’s best for you?” “I know you don’t remember me but I love you, can’t you at least appreciate my love for you if you can’t love me back?” 

❥ Yandere Boyfriend who is always cheerful and sweet (sickeningly so) and suffocatingly affectionate, no matter how you resist his efforts the most upset he’ll get is a pitying or disappointed look. Anything he really doesn’t like is simply ignored, you didn’t mean to say that - obviously - so he just won’t hear it in the first place!

❥ Yandere Boyfriend who’s reactions grow twitchier the more you insist and fight against him, he’s extremely good at keeping his charming smile from slipping but he must admit it grows more and more difficult every day as you barrage him with your range of pleads and reasoning to demands and yelling - the former only causing him to say “Oh, honey…” in a pitiful manner and take you in his arms, rocking and shushing you like a parent would for a crying child - and the latter only receives a disappointed yet strict “I’ll leave you to calm down.” and a firmly shut door.

❥ Yandere Boyfriend who’s patience has grown thin and his tolerance is reached as they are exhausted by the same song and dance every day, the same ungrateful tone, never thanking, only asking for more. 

❥ Yandere Boyfriend who finally snaps.

❥ Yandere Boyfriend who screams at you “WHY CAN’T YOU JUST BE HAPPY?! WHY CAN’T YOU JUST APPRECIATE ME?!” 

❥ Yandere Boyfriend who’s eyes are wide and bloodshot, his usually put-together appearance has been thrown to the wind, dishevelled clothes and messy hair taking its place. One hand grips the side of the bed frame above your bed as he leans over you. The silence is searing in the seconds after, you both stay frozen still, neither of you expected the outburst and neither know how to react or proceed.

❥ Yandere Boyfriend who clears his throat and takes several steps back, unable to make eye contact as mutters an apology for his outburst and leaves with the excuse of making dinner, no matter your reaction. He’ll feel guilt in his throat for days to come but will never address what happened - and will shut you down with a loud and obvious change in subject if you ever try to - instead bringing you gifts such as stuffed toys, blankets, soothing drinks and a little more sugary food than he had previously given you (it doesn’t matter if you don’t like them, although he’ll adapt to your tastes, the nature of the gifts will remain the same).

❥ Yandere Boyfriend who restrains again you if you start being physical with him, clearly your amnesia has seriously affected you to make you act like this. 

❥ Yandere Boyfriend who allows you to work from home if your (previous) job accommodates it, of course you don’t need to work (really, he’d be able to support you without you lifting a finger) but he thinks it’ll give you something to do and keep your mind from wandering into dangerous territory (with limits, naturally).

❥ Yandere Boyfriend who still dotes like the day you woke up, still spoon-feeding and even carrying you from room to room (especially when you are not yet trusted, instead you are placed in your chair to have dinner together and are expected not to get up until you are carried back to your room afterwards) and even just having you sit on his lap as he plays with your hair. 

❥ Yandere Boyfriend who sometimes uses a baby-voice when talking to you, especially when you’re trying to have a serious conversation. (“Aww is someone’s feelings acting up? I think someone needs a cuddle and a nap, huh?”)

❥ Yandere Boyfriend who takes a very, very long time to really trust you (or rather, trust his manipulation and gaslighting have taken effect, maybe with a touch of stockholm syndrome) and when he does, expect to not have a moment without supervision. Once he lets you out of your room into the rest of your apartment, naturally there’s cameras covering every corner, sensors on all the doors and windows and a ring doorbell so you don’t interact with anyone when he’s not there. And maybe, if you’re really moved by his tactics, taking up the role of a loving partner, then you may be rewarded with rare dates - outside of your shared home - to places like the aquarium or zoo, an activity to keep your mind occupied.

❥ Yandere Boyfriend who claims to only want what's best for you, to help you in your recovery and to settle into your new normal.

❥ Yandere Boyfriend who spoils you, although dates outside the apartment are few and far between - even once you earn his trust - he tries to have a romantic evening at least once a week. Of course, he cooks almost every night - your boyfriend should be able to tend every need - but he puts in special effort on these date nights, maybe a more expensive meat (if that’s your preference, he’ll adapt for whatever your dietary habits are) the dish will be made with spices and oils to enhance the rich flavours of the dish to a mouth-watering extent - and naturally candles will surround where you eat and several vases of a mix of flowers all relating to the love he has for you, most of which in shades of red such as roses, chrysanthemums, carnations with the rare white alyssum or bergenia mixed into the array of bouquets around your home.

❥ Yandere Boyfriend who loves you unlike anyone else ever could…

[upon-a-starry-night]

Number neighbors Pt.28

Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary:  When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

----

You wouldn’t describe yourself as someone who was regularly paranoid, but recently you've been more than a little on edge. You’d given the man at the market the benefit of the doubt, chalking his appearance up to going to the marketplace when the weather was the most reasonable- like you’d been doing, but that doesn’t explain the Suvs.

You don’t know how long they’ve been following you for, you’d been so stuck in your own world that you’d barely been paying attention to your surroundings but after Saturday you’ve been more cautious of your surroundings and that’s when you noticed the black Suv.

You don’t know if it’s the same one every time, they’ve always kept a far enough distance and you haven't been able to catch a license plate but they appear every so often when you go out. The windows are tinted far too dark to be legal so you can’t see inside but you occasionally find them parked outside of buildings you frequent and it’s starting to worry you.

You don’t want to worry your friends or your mom who would buy a ticket out there first thing though, so you keep to yourself and try to keep a distance from the cars and the marketplace (it’s a devastating loss to not have Gladys’ pastries on hand)

On top of that, everyone has been on edge because of the disappearance of most of the Avengers. As far as you know, Stark, Clint, Banner, and that Spider kid are the only ones still in New York which has civilians asking questions about where the others are and why they left. 

The anxiety from the lack of heroes has everyone grilling the government for answers, especially considering the fact that the crime rate has gone up just from petty criminals getting too cocky. Due to the constant heat The government has been under, they stated that they’ll issue a public service announcement in a week to explain the situation and you can practically feel the country buzzing with anticipation.

The situation makes you think of Nat and you wonder if her “not FBI job” has something to do with this and is the reason why she’s disappeared. You hope she knows wherever she is that you would’ve understood if she’d just explained the situation to you- but maybe she couldn’t. Maybe she was under some kind of NDA that could put her in danger.

Despite avoiding the marketplace you still get the feeling that you’re being watched and it makes you uneasy. You feel like you’re hallucinating with how often you see shadows moving somewhere nearby. You’re never able to catch a glimpse of anyone who might resemble the market man but the fear is enough to have you staying a few nights at your friend's house.

The Suv’s don’t appear for a while after the move and it allows you a small moment of reprieve. You push the lingering feeling of constant observance to the back of your mind despite your brain telling you to be on guard.

The stress of the situation is so tremendous you don’t even realize you’ve been forgetting to leave voicemails for Nat until your mom calls asking why you haven’t called her in a while. You don’t bring up the stalkers to avoid giving her a heart attack but you do tell her about the amount of stress you’ve been under and the toll it’s been taking on you. 

It feels so good to talk about it that you don’t even realize you’re crying until your mother's concerned voice is comforting you through the speaker. God, it was like the universe couldn’t give you a break lately. You hope whatever they’re putting you through all of this for is worth it. 

“Come home for a while, Y/n. it sounds like you need a break, I’ll take care of you.” The dismissal of her offer is on the tip of your tongue but the more you mull it over the more you think it might be a good idea. With the city on edge, the growing crime rate, and your new potential stalkers, getting away from the city is probably the best thing you could do right now.

Much to your mother's surprise, you agree and her excitement at having you come home has you smiling on your end of the receiver. The two of you spend the next hour looking for an affordable last minute and you find a plane that leaves in two days that the two of you agree on. It’s probably not nearly enough appropriate notice for time off but your boss agrees anyway and within the hour you’ve got plans to spend a week at your mother's out of town.

It’s the first vacation you’ve taken in a while and even if it was just going home you find yourself more excited than you’d been in at least a month. You hadn’t been this excited since-

Nat. You hadn’t been this excited since you were supposed to meet Nat. 

It probably didn’t matter to her that you were going out of town, it wasn’t like she was getting your voicemails anyway but- what if she showed up while you were gone? You shake your head, the possibility of that was slim to none and if she did come back while you were gone she’d just have to wait like she’d made you wait.

Still, she deserved to know about the kid on the skateboard you watched run into a pole earlier today, at least. You listen for the tale-tell sound of the beep after the long too-familiar ringing and you find yourself subconsciously smiling as you tell her random snippets from your week.

The breakfast your friend treated you to, the new show you started, the fair that got canceled due to raccoons breaking in to eat all the cotton candy. You avoid talking about the stalkers like you’d done with everyone else but you frown when the news channel starts covering another attempted bank robbery. 

Despite your own safety being in jeopardy you can’t help but worry for her wherever she may be, causing you to voice the thought, the humor in your tone replaced with a solemn resolve

“wherever you are… I hope you’re safe.” You shake your head, attempting to clear your mind from the restless thoughts in your mind “Anyway, sorry I know that was a lot- all that to say I miss you and I love you. Bye!”

You don’t even realize what you’ve said until 10 seconds later and you frantically press whichever number was supposed to delete the message. 

Shit.

It was such a force of habit to end your phone calls with an I love you. You can’t believe you almost confessed to Nat over the phone. Moreover, you’re freaked out by how much the words didn’t feel like a lie. If you were honest you’d been avoiding putting a label on your emotions because you were scared of how serious they were getting but apparently your brain had already decided for you. 

Love.

You loved Nat.

You Love Nat.

Fuck.

Your mind reels with the newfound discovery and you’re grateful you deleted the message before it would be stuck in her voicemail for her to one day hear. Your head's a mess as you set your phone down on the counter and go to pack up your stuff, you had a trip to get ready for and a relationship to overanalyze to try and pinpoint when you and Nat had gone from total strangers to you being in love with her.

 It all made sense now, the heartache, the worrying, the underlying tension between the two of you

It was just your luck that you’d discover you love her when you can’t even tell her. You’re so in your head with your emotions and figuring out what to pack that you don’t even register the sound of your phone’s female electronic voice as it declares

“Voicemail sent”

Pt.29

A/n: Classic mistake, Y/n, I’m sure everyone’s done that! Don’t worry it’s not like she can hear your voicemails or anything…or uhhh ~ Starry

---Taglist--

@marvelwomen-simp @cd-4848 @wandanatlov3r @rebeltombraider @ctrlamira @fxckmiup @aliherreraaa @natsxwife @la-douler-ne-finite-jamais @romanoffsgal @moistblobfish @natashaswife4125 @elenimoris @how-to-disappearrr @screechcat @toouncreativeforausername @ordelixx @autorasexy @blacklightsposts @vmpnano @jono723 @sylencr @saraaahsstuff @autorasexy @gay4hotmilfs @tofu9162 @dyslexic-dreamer @graniairish @colettehope @kosmichs1 @nmhlver @natblidaclexa @skittlebum @dorabledewdroop @nothanksbye07 @mrsrushman @midastouch013 @thalia-is-not-ok @tessalah @annab3113 @officialnighttime

[monimccoythings]

For Better or Worse

Third part of The Way We Were Saga. This is from Reader's point of view. Getting ready for the fatal encounter, maybe a chapter more.

Word Count: 1547

Tags: angst, past abusive relationship, alcoholism, violence, blood, past toxic relationship, f!reader.

Part I, Part II

Loving someone like Logan was an arduous task. Yet you still gladly did it. Because you knew that under all that brooding, all that snark and anger, laid a vulnerable heart just wishing to be cared for.

It wasn't hard to be attracted to Logan, you just had to take a look at those huge veiny arms, and all common sense went through the window. But to actually fall in love with him, to slowly tear down the walls he had spent centuries meticulously building, was as hard as it was worth it.

You had always loved him with your entire self, you had given your all without complaining. And you knew he loved you as much in return, even if he didn't know who to properly express it.

The day you gave the 'I do' to each other, was actually one of the happiest in your entire life. You had been married to the most wonderful man to ever walk this earth. And you made sure to tell him so, loving the way his cheeks were suddenly tinted pink.

You were the one to encourage him to join the X-Men, knowing that being around people who were like him and could help him understand his gifts would do him so much good. You liked them, from the very beginning they had been nothing but kind to you, despite you being a human. You knew they would take good care of Logan when you couldn't.

Logan was too proud to admit it, but you knew that deep down he appreciated them as well. Even if he refused to go out there dressed up like a 'Mustard clown' as he called his suit. Sometimes, Logan's pride got the best of him and sneaked out from the mansion, just to go out for a drink with his lovely wife.

Then, one day, everything went to hell.

He had run off again to you, trying to act like the though lone wolf he thought he was. They had called him. Several times, but he refused every single one of those calls.

Until the phone stopped ringing.

When he returned, the only thing he found was death. His friends and colleages' corpses, along those of the students were scattered across the entire mansion. He had been too late.

He lost control.

The guilt and self hate drove him into a downward spiral. Each night you stayed awake , with your heart in your throath, waiting for him to come back home covered in blood and reeking of whiskey. Sometimes you had to drive wherever he was passed out and drag his nearly 500 pound body towards your truck until you felt like you were going to pass out. Other times, he disappeared for days, even weeks, only to come back and act like nothing had happenned. Those were the worst, as you silently waited near the radio for some knews saying he had been found dead or something much worse.

You so desperately wanted to help him heal. If only he trusted you like before.

Logan didn't talk to you at all. Whenever you tried to start a conversation with him, he just grunted in dismissal, and if you tried to push your luck and try to help him open up to you he would smash the bottle he was currently holding against the nearest surface, or tear anything with his claws, making you wince.

You knew he would never hurt you.

You dreaded to think that one day there could be a 'yet' following that statement.

Sometimes you thought he blamed you for him being away that night. You could feel it in the way he made love to you, if that could be called making love. It was rough, animalistic, lacking any affection or emotion.

Yet you continued to support and take care of him, because you loved him and knew he was grieving; ignoring the fact of you were also drowning in your own grief, they had also been your friends, your family, and to think they had found such tragic endings made you lose hope on humankind.

But what really tore your heart was watching your husband self destruct. After months, quietly swallowing your own pain and tears, you found your last straw in a stormy at that dive bar on the road.

You begged him to stop hurting himself so much, you cried, screamed, finally letting out those feelings you had been repressing for so long. You couldn't just stand there and watching him destroy himself.

Apparently, that was the last straw for him as well.

When you felt his claws on your neck, you realised this was no longer the man you had married. A stranger had taken his place.

When he left you, in the middle of the rain, you sank to your knees and cried, actually sobbed your heart out. Completely numb to the cold or the dirt that covered your pijamas. You didn't know that your troubles had just begun.

A couple of weeks later you found those two dreaded lines on the pregnancy test. You cried again, cried tears you didn't know you had left, you cried to the point that your own sorrow would swallow you whole. But this time, those feelings of self pity were short lived. There was a growing life inside you, a tiny life who didn't deserve all the misery and hurt you had endured.

A switch had been flipped in you.

You needed to take action.

Back home, your husband's nefarious reputation had broken havoc in your life. You knew what they called you 'The Bride of the Wolverine', 'The Mistress of the Monster', people looked at you with disgust clearly etched into their faces, someone even insulted you when you walked down the street. Back at your hospital, they had decided to lay you off for 'classified circunstances' as they had called. It would be a matter of days before they kicked you out of the apartment too.

Swallowing your pride, you packed up what little you had left and moved to another place, away from all the pain and suffering. Like hell you were going to allow your kid to go through this too.

Your new neighborhood wasn't exactly the Hamptons, but it was discreet and allowed you and your growing belly to pass unnoticed. A rundown clinic at the end of the street was not exactly the job of your dreams, but at least it would pay the bills. Your child would never lack anything, not on your watch.

You worked hard. Harder than you remembered, taking multiple shifts and not stopping until your pregnancy made it impossible for you to move.

It was tiring doing the work of two all by yourself, it was exhausting and you had to admit that having to push in that baby without anyone to hold your hand or give you soothing words of comfort made you feel lonely than ever.

However, the second you were allowed to hold the little bundle that you had taken nearly six hours to push out of your body, whatever remaining grief in your heart dissipated.

She was perfect. Your little Ava. She was so small, so delicate. You knew from the first moment you saw her you'd never let anything harm her, ever.

Ava grew up happily, she was optimistic, curious and joyful. She loved ice cream, fries, animals and Monster High. There were no signs of the mutant gene on her, eventhough it was still to early for it to manifest. Not that you'd love her any less. But the less features she took from Logan, the better. Who knew what those people could if they found out the infamous Wolverine had reproduced.

And who knew what Logan would do if he ever found out. Maybe the Logan you married would had been esctatic, though would try to hide it under his 'cool guy' persona. It didn't matter because, that Logan was long gone and you had serious doubts he'd ever return.

So for nearly ten years you lived in peace. Or what could be considered as peace given your situation.

Still, fate found a way to screw you over. As always.

─────────────────────ⓧ─────────────────────

Blood ran cold in your veins. It was like watching the Ghost of Christmas Past suddenly appear before you.

He looked older, tired even. As if he had finally relieved himself of he huge weight he carried on his shoulders.

Why was he here? How had he found you? What did he want? Your arm shot backwards, trying as best as you could to shield your little girl from the man accross the street, desperately holding onto the hope that he hadn't seen her yet, despite his enhanced senses.

You quickly rushed her in, claiming to have forgotten something back home. You know you both will be late for school and work, but you didn't dare to get out if he was out there patrolling the streets.

As if this door was enough to stop him.

You peek through the window. For a couple of seconds you don't know what to expect. Would he still be there? Would he come after you? Did you want him to? Fortunately for you, he was gone, although that wasn't enough to calm your racing heart, because, deep down, you knew he had seen her. You had seen the way his eyes had slightly widened, the way his nostrils had flared, the way his mouth had opened slightly in disbelief.

He knew.

[hellfirexwhore]

Forget What You've Heard E.M.

Line cook!Eddie Munson x Bartender!Reader

Sorry it took so long between posts! I've been working all day every day so it's busy over here. I hope you enjoy! 

I do not give permission for my work to be copied / posted as original work on any platform.

Your favorite co-worker's flirty nature is your favorite part of the workday, but is it genuine? Someone is feeding you lies just as your patrons are being fed mozzarella sticks and Eddie is determined to convince you he's not just playing games with your heart.

Misunderstanding, hurt/comfort, fluff, cursing, an asshole named Dylan (We all know one), use of Y/N

Wordcount 4.7k

You smile to yourself as you count up the tips you've made so far. Bartending has done wonders for your wallet, and it's totally worth it if you can look over the long hours on your feet, creeps trying to get into your pants, and going home smelling like sour mix and sweat. You just moved to Hawkins 6 months ago and since living on your own is expensive, you serve beers and shake cocktails at the karaoke bar downtown to make a living. It's easy work and you're good at it, but there's just one issue; your favorite co-worker is a huge distraction. Eddie is the cutest damn line cook you've ever seen with his curly hair always tied into a low bun and his smile that you're sure could cure a number of diseases, but those things don't make it easy to do your job efficiently. It's nearly impossible to grab a platter of nachos from the window without him throwing out a wink and calling you sweetheart, telling you you're doing a good job, or even sliding a basket of fries to you with a finger to his lips as a way of saying "Don't tell on me, honey." 

Tonight is no different. Eddie has been a total menace all night, flashing you that flirty smile, keeping you from your work with his corny pick-up lines that he insists will get him a date with you one day, making conversation, and giving you extra sides of ranch without making you ring them in first like the kitchen manager does. The second you walked into the back to set your bag down after arriving, he told you your hair looked absolutely ravishing even though it's just thrown into a clip like always, making you blush like crazy. It took nearly 20 minutes to get the scarlet red tint to leave your cheeks, and though you tried your hardest to hide it, Eddie sure as hell noticed, leaving a smile on his face throughout the busy evening.

"Hey sweetheart, I've got those wings for the bar top ready for you." You hear from behind you, snapping you out of your thoughts. You smile to yourself at the nickname and put the glass you've just finished washing upside down on the drying mat. 

You turn around to an always grinning Eddie leaning his elbows on the stainless steel of the mini counter under the window to the back of house and holding the ticket in between his index and middle digits. You take the slip of paper out of his hand slowly, letting your fingers touch for a moment before stabbing it through the small metal spike to your right. Every once in a while, you like to indulge in his flirtatiousness, though it makes you nervous. Eddie's fun, he's nice, and dishing back what he gives to you every day isn't hurting anyone. "Thank you, Eddie."

"Any time, sugar." He replies, winking and turning to grab a new ticket and drop an order of potato skins in the fryer. You shake your head, smiling from ear to ear, turning to serve the hot plate to one of your regulars. 

The rest of the shift goes great. Your tips are higher than you had planned, nobody had to be thrown out for fighting, and you got to hear a wonderful rendition of "My Heart Will Go On" sang by a very intoxicated older gentleman during the karaoke session. As you clean up the bar for the night, as always, you can't stop thinking about Eddie. You think tonight might actually be the night you ask him to hang out with you outside of work, though he's invited you to go get some late night pizza before, playfully pouting when you have to decline, telling him that you're exhausted and have to go back to the bar to open the next day. You've wanted to say yes, but Eddie makes you nervous. You're feeling bold tonight though, and you're optimistic. 

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie is in the kitchen cleaning the fryers, taking out the trash, and scrubbing the floors absentmindedly, almost like he's in auto-pilot because he can't get you out of his head. He wants so badly to ask you out, but he's tried that and you don't seem interested. He realizes you probably just flirt with him for fun, a harmless workplace friendship with some winks and pet names sprinkled in, but over the past four months, he's developed a serious crush on you. 

There's just something about you that makes you so different from everyone he's ever dated or been interested in. He doesn't feel like he has to change who he is for you. There's nothing better for Eddie's ego than how easy it is to make you smile, and goddammit what a beautiful smile it is. Every time you look at him through your lashes, blushing at something stupid he's said, Eddie feels like he could lift the entire building up with one hand and not even break a sweat. He fears he's in too deep at this point, the innocent flirting leading to him finding himself thinking about you even once he's gone home for the night. 

"Hey Eddie boy, I think you missed a spot." Eddie rolls his eyes at the irritating voice coming at him from his left. Dylan is one of the most insufferable people he's ever met and of course, he has the honor of working beside him at least 3 nights out of the week. 

Eddie doesn't turn his attention to Dylan, just continues wiping down the steel counter top. "Bite me, jackass." 

"Wow, someone's sassy today, huh? What, you didn't get enough attention from your little bartender tonight?" He smarmily replies, a disgustingly annoying grin on his face. Dylan, to Eddie's dismay, has picked up on the little "situation" between you two, making a joke of it every chance he can in an attempt to piss him off. 

Eddie laughs humorlessly, throwing his rag down and turning to the bane of his existence, crossing his arms over his chest. "Dude shut the fuck up."

"Hey look man, I get it! I'm just saying it's embarrassing watching you stare at her like a fucking creep all day. She does look pretty smokin' in those jeans though, so I don't blame you. Hey maybe I'll ask her out tonight, see if I can get some tail. Think she'll give up the goods?" He's smirking while Eddie's blood is raising in temperature. He can practically feel smoke coming out of his ears hearing this sorry excuse for a man speaking about you like you're just a piece of ass and not the sweet, funny, beautiful person you are. 

"I swear to God, I'll bust your teeth in." Eddie seethes, trying to keep his cool, at least while you're in the building. You're blissfully unaware of their hatred for one another and the last thing he needs is for you to see him throwing his fist into Dylan's face for talking about you. That wouldn't be very "innocent flirtationship" of him. 

"Guys! Come on, finish cleaning and knock it off. I don't have the energy for your cat fights tonight." The kitchen manager huffs, stepping between the two of them with a severely annoyed look on his face. Wordlessly, Eddie takes one more look at Dylan, picks his rag back up, and continues his task of degreasing all of the surfaces. He wants to get it over with and be able to clock in time to catch you before you leave and walk you to your car.

Dylan, the vindictive man he is, takes the opportunity to make his way through the swinging kitchen door and into the main bar area while Eddie isn't paying attention. You look up, expecting to find Eddie standing there, but confused when it's the guy you barely speak to heading in your direction.

"Hey Y/N, you do good tonight?" He asks, leaning against the bar. You smile politely, still wrist deep in soapy water from washing the bar glasses and beer mugs. 

"Yeah, better than I expected actually. Did you need something?" You ask, not rudely, but assuming he came for something specific seeing as he's never made small talk with you before.

Dylan takes a breath and rests his elbows on the hard wood of the bar top, shaking his head like he's trying to think of how to tell you what he sauntered up to you for. You begin to dry your hands, getting a little nervous thinking that maybe the manager had sent him up here to tell you something you've done wrong. You're still relatively new and you've never gotten in trouble here before, but you can't think of anything else he would need to say to you. "Look, I know you and Munson are friends, and I see the way you look at him. You like him, and before you deny it, just listen to me." 

Your heart starts to race. Did he tell Eddie? Did Eddie say something to him? How are you going to face him when apparently other people are picking up on this? Are you this obvious? You can't take it anymore so you nod, waiting for more information as you toy with your hands. 

"You seem sweet, okay and I don't want to see someone like you hurt by someone like him. Eddie and I are cool, but this is what he does. he flirts with the new ones, takes them home, and never speaks to them again. When another newbie comes in, he starts it all over again. I just thought you should know since I'm sure you're a genuinely nice person and I'm certain Eddie is taking advantage of that." Your heart drops at his words. You feared you were being played with, but you didn't want to believe it. You fell for Eddie's charms, and now it's time to face the harsh reality that you had completely misunderstood this whole situation and made yourself look like an idiot in front of everyone. 

"Um, wow. Well thanks for telling me, I appreciate it. I'm gonna finish up here and head out. Have a good rest of your night." You say, rushing through so you don't tear up mid-sentence. Dylan nods, not saying another word but offering a sympathetic smile before turning on his heel and going back through the door he came. You pull the plug to the dish sink, gather your signed receipts to shove into the drawer, and give the glazed wood one last wipe down. You hear Eddie say your name through the window but you act like you can't hear him. 

This whole thing could have been avoided if you wouldn't have fallen for the good looks and quirks of the fuzzy-headed, wild-eyed line cook. You never should have caught feelings in the workplace; that's like rule number 001 in the service industry. Never, under any circumstances, canoodle with your co-workers. You thought maybe this was an exception but now here you are, proven wrong. 

Heading through the swinging door to the kitchen, you avoid eye contact with everyone, especially Eddie, as you walk straight to the back to gather your things. You feel humiliated and giving Eddie the satisfaction of seeing you upset is out of the question so the sooner you can get out of the building, the better. You give quiet goodbyes to the managers and make a quick escape, or you at least try to before a hand reaches out to hold your forearm. 

"Hey, wait for me. I'll walk you to your car." Eddie says softly, giving you a soft smile. You can't bear to look him in the eyes, so you gently pull away, shaking your head. 

"It's fine Eddie, thanks though." You reply, turning to finally leave. Eddie watches as you throw your bag strap onto your shoulder and hurriedly make your way to the exit. Hurt washes over him and he's more confused than when he learned what a tampon is in middle school. He furrows his brow and slumps his shoulders, going back to his final task before he can leave for the night. He doubts you're still going to be in the parking lot by the time he can get out there, but his heart is racing like he might have a shot at catching you before you leave. 

Did he say something? Did his flirting finally make you uncomfortable tonight? He racks his brain trying to come up with some sort of reason why you would be upset with him. Normally, he would suggest that maybe you're just tired but even when you're on the verge of falling asleep where you stand, you can still manage to give him a sleepy smile and a breathy laugh at another one of his terrible jokes. Maybe he took it too far. Maybe he weirded you out or gave you the wrong idea. It wouldn't be the first time he's scared someone off.

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You continue to go to work as normal, doing your best to not entertain anything Eddie had to say. The more distance you can create between the two of you, the less likely you'll get hurt. The time for stepping away from him to protect your feelings ended long ago but now it's time to do some damage control before you get worse. You get attached to people, and unfortunately that includes the bad people too. 

You thought long and hard about whether or not you actually believed Dylan. I mean it's his first time actually talking to you and he breaks the news to you that Eddie just wanted to get into your pants? Why would he care? After going back and forth with yourself over it for your entire day off, you don't know what to think but what you do know is that if they really are friends and if Dylan actually does care, then the safe bet is to just stay away. If he's telling the truth and you ignore that to continue growing your feelings for Eddie, you're in for a world of hurt and that's just not something you can deal with right now. 

You're not mean to Eddie when you work now; you just treat him like everyone else. You say "please" and "thank you", you ring in your extra sauces when you need them, you greet him just like you greet every other cook, and you don't flirt or bat your lashes at him anymore. Eventually, he is going to ask why but until he does, you can't bring yourself to ask him about it. It's humiliating and if he does have bad intentions, he's not going to be honest about it anyway so what's the point in starting that conversation? 

Eddie is trying everything. These past few days have been hell for him and he's grasping at straws. He offers to make you fries, you tell him, "Thank you, but I'm not hungry." He tries to ask you about your day, you apologize and say you're busy. He tries to catch you before you leave at night, but you practically sprint for the door the second you're finished with your side work. 

He watches through the window as you smile at your last patron of the night, desperately wishing that smile was for him. You haven't paid him any mind in 3 days and it's driving him crazy. It might be a little better if he actually knew what he did, but he's completely clueless. The awkward interactions are eating away at Eddie, and he knows if he doesn't say something soon, he'll explode. He starts his cleaning and breaking down the line as quickly as possible in an attempt to finish before you do so you don't run away from him again like you have been. If he doesn't get this straightened out, he doesn't know what he'll do. 

Your last tab is cashed out and you begin your cleaning, causing Eddie to pick up his pace. He knows it'll take you 20 minutes max now that you and him aren't chatting throughout to slow you down. As long as nobody gets in his way, he's determined to finally be able to talk to you tonight. Not playful banter, no pick up lines, just a real conversation. The sooner he gets back into your good graces, the better. 

"Trouble in paradise?" Eddie turns to see Dylan smirking with his arms across his chest. So much for nobody getting in his way. 

Eddie laughs humorlessly and goes back to his work. "Fuck off, dude." 

"Look man I'm just saying it seems like there's a little riff between the lovebirds lately. I wonder what happened, hm?" Dylan replies, his tone condescending as ever, doing his best to get a rise out of Eddie. To his dismay, it's working. 

"You don't know shit." Eddie mumbles, wringing out a sanitizer rag, his fingers already becoming little prunes extended from his hands from the extensive cleaning. 

"I don't know about that one, Ed. We had a really riveting conversation, seriously it was interesting, and I'm sure I know a little more than you think." This stops Eddie in his tracks. He breathes hard through his nose and turns on his heel, grabbing Dylan by his shirt and shoving him against the wall. 

"What the fuck did you say to her? Huh? Are you the reason she won't fucking talk to me? What the hell is wrong with you, you jealous son of a bitch?!" Eddie shouts. The manager on duty is already trying to break the two of them up and you hear the commotion from the front, peering your head into the window to see what the hell is going on. 

"Ooh Munson is mad! I just told her exactly what you're up to, that's all." Dylan says, calm as ever, a disgusting smile on his face. "Punching me won't undo it, so go ahead." 

"Enough! I swear to god, I will kick you both out." Eddie reluctantly loosens his grip on the boy's clothing, only pulling away completely when he's certain the risk of getting fired isn't worth hitting Dylan, even though the want to is overwhelming. 

 Eddie looks to you, his heart breaking at the disappointed look on your face. He decides this ends now. He has no idea what filth and lies have been planted in your head, but he needs to fix it and fast. He gives one last scowl to the man he was just threatening, and backs up, walking out of the kitchen door. 

He approaches the bar and you freeze. You don't know what you're supposed to say or do, so you do and say nothing. He has a soft look on his face, one very different than the one he was wearing in the kitchen just a minute prior. It's almost as if his rock hard persona turns to cotton candy when he's in your presence, and if you ask Eddie, that's exactly how that works. 

"Look, I know you don't want to talk to me and I'm still not entirely sure why, but please wait for me. Please talk to me, let me figure out what the hell happened, and let me fix it." He pleads. You think it over quickly, trying to figure out of this is something you even want to get into right now. You question his motives, still confused as ever. Helpless, you nod and see the relief wash over his entire body, giving you the same feeling as when you're in the middle of a horrific thunderstorm, and in an instant, the sun comes out of the dark clouds. Whether this conversation leaves you feeling like a sunny summer day or it leads to another crack of thunder, you're unsure but you have half an hour before you find out. 

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You sit there at the bar having finished your closing work, waiting for Eddie to finish his. Against your better judgement, you're happy to talk to him again but nothing can stop the knot in your stomach from growing tighter. All you wanted to do today was make some money, go home, cook dinner, take a bath, and watch a movie in bed but now, you're sitting here, anxiety building up in your body like a tower of mix-matched Lego pieces. 

You're taken out of your thoughts when Eddie exits the kitchen and walks toward you, not looking any less nervous than he did earlier in the evening. "Hey, sorry I took so long." 

"It's okay." You say quietly, standing up from the bar stool and pulling the strap of your backpack up onto your shoulder. "Do you want to talk outside?" 

Eddie nods, giving you a tight smile. He leads you out of the front door and around to the side of the building to the employee parking lot, not saying a word just yet. the silence is broken by the flick of your lighter, illuminating the tip of a cigarette freshly placed in your mouth, inhaling the smoke and feeling the tiniest amount of tension wash away. 

You lean against your car waiting for him to speak, still not really sure what you're supposed to say. He's the one that needed to defend himself, he's the one who wanted this conversation to happen. 

"Look, I don't know what Dylan told you but I can assure you it was a lie." He starts. He's fidgeting with his fingers, avoiding eye contact. He's lost every ounce of confidence he once had when he's on the other side of the wall passing you a basket of chicken tenders. 

"If you don't know what he said, then how would you know that?" You reply, taking another drag of your cigarette. You're hoping he's being genuine and not just defensive right off the bat, but if someone is lying about you, you'd feel defensive too. Everything is still fuzzy and figuring out this mess is like putting the pieces of a clear puzzle together.

"Because he fucking hates me. He does shit just to piss me off." Eddie shakes his head, pulling his own pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, lighting one between his lush lips. 

"Why would he hate you, Eddie? What did you do?" You don't mean to point blame at him but he had to have done something to make someone hate him to the point of making up a lie to make you ignore him for days.

"When I first started, he thought I was flirting with this girl he had a thing for, and she got a crush on me. She didn't want to hang out with him anymore and he thought I just swooped in and stole her. I didn't even like her like that but since then, he's made it his job to make my life a living hell when he's here. That includes fucking this-" Eddie gestures his hand between the both of you, "-up for me." 

"He told me you're fucking with me." You say, suddenly fixing your eyes on your sneakers. You almost shudder thinking back at the way your heart dropped to your stomach when Dylan first spoke to you. "Said you flirt with the new ones to get into their pants and then move on to the next one." 

Eddie's eyes widen, looking like he's a child being told Santa isn't real. The genuine look of shock is very convincing, and you're close to dropping every allegation from that expression alone. "Jesus Christ. Y/N, I promise that's not what's going on here." 

"How can I know that for sure? I felt like an idiot after he told me that. I was humiliated thinking I fell for some sleazy game you were playing." You're trying not to tear up. You can feel the thickness in your throat as you speak, hoping Eddie doesn't pick up on it. Six months of growing feelings for someone isn't something to fuck around about, and you might have taken this more seriously than it was intended, but when you're in that close of proximity with someone for that long, itching for the other to make a move, it's hard to not be heartbroken when something happens to it. 

"Sweetheart, I flirt with you because I like you. At first, it was just fun and I thought you were cute, but now I have a big, fat, stupid crush on you and I think about you all the time. I don't ask you to hang out with me after work so I can take you to my van and get your clothes off. I ask you to hang out with me because I like the way you make me feel." Eddie responds, making eye contact with you finally, searching your eyes for any trace of doubt. He wants you to know how serious he is. This isn't just a fling for him, much like it never was for you. You had a feeling this could turn into something special, though it goes against everything people tell you about workplace relationships. 

"And what would that feeling be?" You inquire, not breaking the contact between his chocolate pools and your own, finding a boldness in yourself that you didn't know existed. 

"You make me feel like I'm the coolest guy in the world. You laugh at my stupid jokes, you compliment me, you're interested in what I have to say.." He trails off with a fond smile on his face. There's a softness about him that balances out the roughness of his edges, endearing you even further. He reaches out to grab your soft hand with his rough one. "I really fucking like you." 

"I really like you too. I was going to ask you out the night Dylan dropped a bomb on me." You admit, rubbing your thumb over the skin of his hand. 

"That motherfucker." Eddie shakes his head, getting angry all over again at the fact that he finally had his chance and it got ruined for him in an instant. "I'm going to kick his ass." 

You pull your hand out of his and smack him lightly on the chest. "No, you can't get fired! Who will I talk to all day?"

"You've been doing just fine not talking to anyone." Eddie jokes, raising his eyebrows and bringing his cigarette to his lips, inhaling the smoke that seems to make this whole thing easier. After having a sick stomach for hours, he skipped his smoke breaks, partially leading to his angry outburst.

"Yeah and it was miserable! Do you know how much I hated having to go through my shift without hearing you call me sweetheart?" You laugh, a sound Eddie missed, even for just three days. 

He smiles down at you, dazzling as always. You missing him as much as he missed you is actively washing away his worries one by one like a salty body of water washing away a structurally questionable sandcastle. "I won't deprive you anymore." 

"I appreciate that." You grin, taking his hand back into yours. 

"Does that mean you believe me? You can ask anyone, I'm serious. I talk about you all the time. The guys make fun of me for my "heart eyes" the entire time you're here. Ask Adam, Levi, Grant, Brandon-" 

"Okay, okay." You cut off his adorable rambling. "Yes, I believe you."

Eddie breathes a sigh of relief. You can see his shoulders relax, his jaw loosen, and his posture seems straighter. "Good because I mean it. I'm sorry this was such a mess for you. Hopefully I can make up for it?"

"And how do you plan to do that, Munson?" You tease, giving him the flirty look he had been wishing to see from you again. He can't take his eyes off of the way you look at him through your thick lashes. 

He moves closer to you subtly, moving slowly so he can relish in the moment. "Can I start with that date?" 

"You sure can." You say just above a whisper. You're lost in his eyes once again, but this time, it's not just playful. There's a brand new feeling getting introduced here and it blows your mind that it was first kindled in a greasy kitchen. 

As long as Eddie is here, things are easy. You have your flirty boy back and being at work is a little easier again. With Eddie right behind you serving up winks and pet names just as often as he serves up appetizers, going home smelling like beer and deep fried cheese is worth it. 

[nemesis-writer]

Tag you're it/Milk and Cookies

Masterlist TW: neglect, mentions of kidnapping, mention of blood

Looking at me through your window Boy, you had your eye out for a little "I'll cut you up and make you dinner You've reached the end, you are the winner" Rolling down your tinted window Driving next to me real slow, he said "Let me take you for a joyride I've got some candy for you inside"

My family never cared what happened to me, since to them I was just a means to an end. I hated who I was and am now and I'd never forget the day that they finally got what they wished for.

Me to be gone...

Running through the parking lot He chased me and he wouldn't stop Tag, you're it, tag, tag, you're it Grabbed my hand, pushed me down Took the words right out my mouth Tag, you're it, tag, tag, you're it Can anybody hear me when I'm hidden underground? Can anybody hear me? Am I talking to myself? Saying, "Tag, you're it, tag, tag, you're it" He's saying, "Tag, you're it, tag, tag, you're it"

The memory remained more vivid than every birthday I ever had. I was tortured, raped, and mentally abused. All of the sudden I became immune to all the emotional pain that I've been surmounting. It was like nothing matter anymore and the world finally made sense.

Little bit of poison in me I can taste your skin in my teeth "I love it when I hear you breathing I hope to God you're never leaving"

It never hurt me anymore I couldn't be bothered when they hit me, wound me, or even kill me anymore. None of it mattered.

All that mattered to me was the feeling of being free from the abuse at home and outside.

Eenie, meenie, miny, moe Catch your lady by her toes If she screams, don't let her go Eenie, meenie, miny, moe Your mother said to pick the very best girl And I am

It felt good knowing that I was right. They never loved me, it felt good being correct about something others would despise.

I can leave this world...

One, two, melatonin is coming for you Three, four, baby, won't you lock the door? Five, six, I'm done with this Seven, eight, it's getting late, so close your eyes, sleep for days

But no... of course that wish wouldn't come true, I always have to suffer.

So now I'm gonna give them the consequences for the mistake they made

Hush, little baby, drink your spoiled milk I'm fucking crazy, need my prescription filled Do you like my cookies? They're made just for you A little bit of sugar, but lots of poison too

I had the ability to escape, but no. I should enjoy the power I have in my hand.

I have never felt this joy for my whole life, and now to experience the true potential of my rage is thrilling.

Ashes, ashes, time to go down Ooh, honey, do you want me now? Can't take it anymore, need to put you to bed Sing you a lullaby where you die at the end

One by one the criminals all fall down. With the idea that I was someone who was worth even a single cent. Yet alone, millions of dollars.

I'd rather be dead, but this. This is so much more enjoyable.

Nine, ten, never want to see you again Eleven, twelve, I pull off black so well Shit behind the curtain that I'm sick of sugarcoatin' Next time you're alone, think twice when you grab the phone

Taglist

@lunayaps, @not-aya, @iluvcatzz, @vanessa-boo, @ivyrose9194,@thesehandsarerated-e, @eyeless-kun, @errorunfound1, @gwyneveire, @alishii, @cxcillia