#it would be weird to tag them here hmm

[whoevenisjavier]

EROTICA

part 1 | part 2

pairing: no outbreak!joel x reader

summary: Your thesis said, “analyze male behavior.” Joel said, “come sit on it.”

a/n: this is the 2nd part, which can't be read alone. i mean, you can read it without going through the first part (read it here), but you won't understand shit

additional tags/warnings: 18+, mdni. reader is 26, joel is 50ish. no outbreak. joel is a dad. conversations about porn. porn actor joel miller/javier peña. dirty talk. car sex. fingering. oral sex f! receiving.

wc: 6.5k

Out of shame, you avoid Joel the following week.

You dodge aisles when you see him at the supermarket, time your exits minute by minute to avoid running into him, and lock yourself in your bedroom like an emo teenager when your parents invite him over for dinner.

Because now, whenever you see him, all you can remember is his voice saying obscenities, his hands on women’s skin — and some men’s too. You remember yourself, in the privacy of your room, doing what you swore you would never do.

You even look up if there’s such a thing as a permanent fertile period, because none of this feels normal.

And of course, Joel confronts you about it.

On your father’s birthday night, he invites a few close friends over for a small cocktail party, followed by dinner. When you walk down the stairs, Joel is there, sitting in the living room armchair with a glass of whiskey in his right hand.

He’s listening to something your father is saying but glances at you. You immediately turn your back and head into the kitchen to see if your mother needs help.

Yesterday, you found a movie where Joel played a DEA agent rescuing a drug lord’s wife. He said so many filthy things to her while fucking her inside a police car that the words stuck in your head like Play-Doh in hair.

And maybe the area between your legs feels a little more sensitive too, which only makes you feel worse.

After the cocktail and dinner, spent tensely avoiding Joel’s gaze, you slip out into the backyard with a glass of wine in one hand and your Kindle in the other.

Inside, the party goes on, your father having opened another bottle of whiskey, and you can hear them from here. You need to stay out of your bedroom to keep yourself from typing "Javier Peña" into that damn search bar again, so for the next few minutes, you sip your wine and read.

“Finally, a place where you can’t hide behind the toilet paper aisle.”

Joel sits down on the chair next to you, holding his own whiskey glass. You lose your words because, yes, you actually did hide in the personal hygiene aisle yesterday when you saw him.

You play dumb.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know. You went all puritanical after you found out what you found out.”

“I told you it’s weird.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t want to be rude, but I don’t need your approval. My life and career are my own. I said I would help you with your thesis, and I will, but if you keep running from me, someone’s going to think there’s something wrong between us.”

You take another sip of wine in silence, staring at the lawn like it’s salvation. Joel’s gaze burns into the side of your face before he asks:

“Have you watched any more?”

“For the thesis.” A lie.

“May I ask which one?”

“The DEA one.”

“Hmm.”

He finds your eyes as he sips his whiskey. He’s sitting with his legs spread, making his jeans stretch tight over his groin and thick thighs. And you know exactly what’s under those jeans.

You can’t resist your curiosity:

“Do you miss acting?”

“My ego does,” he says, like he’s thought about it a thousand times. “Not gonna lie, there’s a certain masculine pride in being a porn actor. It’s easier for men. But personally? No. Especially because of Sarah.”

“She knows?”

He shakes his head.

“She does. I told her when she turned fifteen because I’d rather she hear it from me than stumble across it online.”

“How did she react?”

“Well, I guess.”

You shake your head and cover your face with your free hand, groaning a little.

“I can’t stop wondering if my mom knows about you.”

“I hate to break it to you—”

You cut him off. “Shhh.”

His laugh is low but genuine. Your eyes meet again, and this time, you could swear his gaze dips a little lower, to the neckline of your dress, where a bit of flushed skin is showing thanks to the wine.

But he disguises it and gestures toward your Kindle:

“What are you reading?”

“Some articles to help with my research.”

“Have my films led you to any conclusions?”

“Um, definitely,” you say, staring at the lawn. “You cussed a lot. And you seem very interested in my opinion of your movies.”

“I'm curious.”

You internally roll your eyes. Men.

“You want a performance review? Aren’t the comments on XVideos enough?”

“I want yours.”

You ignore him, because your evaluation of his performance was made perfectly clear when you got yourself off twice in a row thinking about his voice.

Instead, you ask:

“Did the DEA girl really come? Because it looked real.”

Joel stays quiet for a while. When you glance at him, you notice a small smirk playing on his lips as he taps his fingers against his glass. His whiskey’s almost gone.

“Do you really want to get into that?”

“Why not?”

A few more seconds of silence. Then he seems to say "fuck it" internally and answers:

“I liked making the other actresses come. Some directors didn’t like it because it took longer, and ‘who cares if they actually orgasm if they can fake it,’” he says, making air quotes. “But I liked it. Not all of them, of course, and sometimes they’d tell me they were fine without it, but it was a preference of mine.”

“And the DEA girl?” you press.

“Was that your favorite?”

You shake your head.

“Which one was?”

You shake your head again, indicating you won’t tell him.

“The DEA girl was my ex-girlfriend,” he says.

“So it was real.”

Joel shrugs, and that's all the answer you need. The porch light behind you highlights his graying beard and the glint of whiskey on his lips. Your throat goes dry.

“How did you get into the industry?”

Joel clicks his tongue.

“Very personal question.”

“Okay, what made you leave?”

He glances at your wine glass and ignores the question, asking another instead:

“What wine is that?”

You consider not answering out of petty revenge, but your parents raised you better.

“Barefoot. I know it’s cheap, but I like it,” you swirl the red wine in your glass. “Even though I know I’ll wake up with a headache tomorrow.”

Joel rolls his eyes and stands, leaving his whiskey glass behind.

“Come on, bring your glass. I’ll give you some real wine.”

He starts walking toward the gate between your houses, and you have no choice but to follow, leaving your Kindle and the party behind. Joel’s broad shoulders guide you around the side of his house and into the kitchen.

It’s silent and dark, except for a single hallway light. Quietly, because Sarah is probably asleep, you pass through the kitchen and head to a door leading to the garage, where the lighting is dim at best. His truck takes up almost all the space.

Unsure of what to do, you hover at the door, watching as he enters a small room off the garage. It’s a little wine cellar, concrete walls lined with slanted mahogany shelves.

Joel comes back out with a bottle in hand. You recognize the label and freeze.

“You’re not about to open a Rockford Flaxman.”

“I am,” he says, brushing past you just enough to close the door behind you, locking the two of you in the garage. His scent hits you, and you fight the urge to bury your face in the crook of his neck. “Just closing the door so Sarah doesn’t wake up. Hand me your glass.”

“Joel, that bottle’s expensive.”

“Hand me your glass,” he repeats.

You give it to him. Joel pulls a corkscrew from a drawer you hadn’t noticed and pops the bottle open effortlessly. He fills your glass halfway and, as he hands it back to you, asks:

“Mind if we share the glass?”

You shake your head.

From another drawer, he grabs his truck keys, disables the alarm, and turns on a tiny, terrible-quality radio. Duran Duran starts playing.

Joel gestures toward the truck:

“Come on. We can sit inside.”

Heart pounding a little faster, palms sweating, you climb into the passenger side. You settle into the leather seat and finally take a sip of the good wine.

It tastes fruity and oaky, almost sweet on your tongue. You let out a long, contented hum.

“Really good,” you say after swallowing. “Best way to end the night.”

His fingers brush yours as he takes the glass. You watch him savor a sip before handing it back.

He speaks as he does:

“I left the industry because the doubts about real consent started eating at me,” he says, answering the question you asked earlier. Joel leans back in the seat, legs spread, head resting against the headrest, eyes closed. “And I’m not just talking about explicit consent. I mean about the people who were there because they had no other choice.”

“I can’t imagine anyone doing porn unless they had to,” you murmur.

“I get it, but some people genuinely like it,” he meets your gaze as you sip more wine. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m serious.”

“Maybe for men...”

“It’s more common among men, true.”

You offer him the glass. He drinks and gives it back.

“The agency that managed my films didn’t like it when I started giving interviews about that stuff. They gave me fewer scenes or scripts I’d never agree to do, and I had to start turning them down. When they began sabotaging me, I left.”

“Scripts you wouldn’t accept?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” you accept the short answer. “No other agency made you an offer?”

“They did, but when I left, I didn’t want to go back.”

“And yet, you defend the industry.”

“I don’t defend the industry—I defend the work I did, because I know how it was done. I don’t like when you generalize.”

“You know that sounds like ‘not all men,’ right? Of course not everyone was bad, but the industry itself is terrible. So when I criticize it, it’s the majority I’m talking about. And you were exploited too.”

He exhales deeply. There’s more you want to say, but you sense it’s a sensitive topic, so you change the subject:

“Can I ask what you do now?”

“I invest,” he says simply. “I made a lot of money back then and wasn’t stupid enough to blow it on parties and drugs. I invested in public and private construction companies, and now they pay me back.”

“Didn’t expect that.”

Joel gives you a look.

“Male privilege. I got into a lot of good deals just because I was Javier Peña.”

“That wouldn’t happen to an actress,” you guess, and he nods. “So now you just live off your investments.”

“Pretty much.”

The wine in your glass runs out. Joel notices, grabs the bottle, and this time drinks straight from it. You mimic him, putting the glass in the back seat.

“How was it, being an actor?”

“Fun. Lots of parties, admiration, glamor, L.A., and sex all the time,” he says. “The downside was the strict diet, weekly waxing, and almost daily health tests. I probably have a permanent hole in my vein.”

“Did you only date people in the industry?”

“Not a rule, but it was easier, so mostly.”

“Sarah’s mom—”

“No, she wasn’t in it. She was a friend.”

You figure she’s not around anymore, considering you’ve never heard Sarah mention her.

“If someone offered you two million dollars today,” you start, trying to lighten the mood, and his face softens, “for a solo film. Just you, just masturbation. Would you do it?”

“No, because of Sarah. Okay, my old films are still out there, but they existed before she was born. It’s different.” Another sip of wine. Joel continues: “I don’t think I’d even know how to behave in front of a camera anymore.”

“That’s not the spirit of the Longest Cumshot Award winner.”

Joel’s eyes widen in shock, and you burst out laughing at yourself, raising both of your hands.

“I didn’t look it up, I swear. It’s just one of the first pictures that comes up when you search your name.”

“Tell me your favorite film,” he insists.

You think about refusing again, but the wine is warming your face and your throat, and the atmosphere is too cozy.

“The title is ridiculous,” you start, and he grunts for you to hurry up. “Something like ‘Lust Lives Next Door.’”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Where he’s the neighbor?”

Keeping a neutral expression, you sip more wine, feeling his gaze fixed on you.

“Why?” Joel asks.

“It felt so real. You looked so...”

You lose the words. He prompts you:

“So...?”

“I don’t know. You looked like you really wanted her. Sure, you always looked like that—you were an actor—but with her, it was different. At least to me.”

Joel studies you a moment longer. Then asks, seriously:

“Did you touch yourself watching it?”

Your cheeks burn.

“It’s normal,” you defend. “Inevitable.”

“Only with that one?”

“Joel.”

He exhales long and slow.

“If you’re uncomfortable, we’ll stop. I’ll walk you home.”

You open your mouth to joke about how ridiculous it is for him to walk you home when you’re literally neighbors, but the seriousness of his question leaves you speechless.

“I’m not a porn actress. I’m not used to this,” you murmur.

“Then just nod,” he suggests seriously. Your silence is taken as agreement.

He asks:

“Did you touch yourself to any other of my films?”

A pause, then...

You nod.

He breathes deeply.

“Did you watch my films only because of the thesis?”

You shake your head no.

“Do you imagine me doing those things to you?”

You feel like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff. One step back, and you’ll be safe, intact but with a pounding heart. One step forward, and you’ll fall, jump, dive into whatever awaits below.

The blood in your ears almost drowns out the start of “Glory Box” by Portishead playing from that shitty little radio.

You take a step forward.

You nod.

Before he can ask anything else, you’re the one who speaks:

“Do you want to see?” you ask, fueled by all the liquid courage from the wine. You clarify, “How I touched myself.”

The answer comes immediately:

“Of course I do.”

You glance at the garage door, then at him, hardly believing you’re about to do this. Before shyness can take over, you close the passenger door, slip off your sandals, and adjust yourself on the seat so your back rests against the door and your legs stretch across the console. You place your feet in Joel’s lap, and you can’t help but notice the hard bulge pressing against his jeans—you have to fight the urge to abandon everything and just beg him to take you to his room and do whatever he wants with you.

Okay. You take a slow, steadying breath to calm your racing heart. Joel’s hand settles around your ankle, his thumb brushing the bone there, and that small point of contact anchors you.

The dress you’re wearing is short, so it only takes a small tug for the fabric to bunch around your waist. With bare legs, goosebumped skin, and heavy breaths, you hand him the wine bottle.

Joel accepts it without taking his eyes off you.

“I’m not as confident as your porn actresses,” you say, but to your own ears your voice sounds pathetically breathless.

His touch trails up to your shin and back down, his hand wrapping around your left foot. He says:

“If you knew how many times I imagined myself between your legs, you wouldn’t feel insecure right now.”

Your breasts ache against the thin fabric of your dress as you spread your legs. You slide your hand into your panties, and Joel doesn’t look directly at it—he watches your face instead. He studies your reaction when your lips part at the feeling of your fingers touching the sensitive, wet spot between your thighs.

The knowledge that he’s wanted this just as badly as you makes you bolder.

You tilt your head back, resting it against the car window, and look at the ceiling while you speed up your fingers. Everything feels so sensitive that you have to bite your lower lip to keep any sound from escaping.

“Fuck...” Joel murmurs, his touch sliding up your thigh. “I can hear how wet you are.”

“Give me your hand.”

Joel takes one last sip of wine and sets the bottle on the ground outside the truck before offering his hand to you. You barely manage to meet his eyes as you pull your panties aside and guide his rough fingers between your legs.

His fingers glide easily over your clit, so wet that it’s almost slippery, and the feeling is so good—his fingers are larger, different textured than your own—and he lets you use them like a toy.

Joel’s gaze finally drops to where your bodies meet. With his free hand, he palms himself through his jeans, starting to rub.

It’s too much for your mind to process.

You squeeze your eyes shut again, using both your hands to guide his and spreading your legs wider. You have to breathe through parted lips to stop yourself from moaning as he rubs that almost painfully sensitive spot over and over.

“Does it feel good using my fingers like that?” he asks, voice hoarse. You nod. “Then let me fuck you with them.”

You whisper your agreement, guiding his fingers lower after making sure they’re slick enough. You press down gently, and his middle finger sinks inside you with a wet sound.

“Joel…”

“Hearing you moan like that and it’s not even my cock yet,” he mutters, fucking you slowly with his middle finger. “Let me add another one.”

You nod. He adds another finger, and you barely manage to hold in the moan, especially when he starts moving them in a slow, delicious rhythm, dragging the strokes out rather than speeding up.

It all happens so fast. One second Joel is pulling you lower, sliding your ass almost onto the console, and the next, he’s bending down and putting his mouth on you—his tongue tracing a quick, hot path from your entrance to your clit.

You clap a hand over your mouth and grab his hair with the other, the graying strands slipping through your fingers. The position can’t be comfortable for him, half off the driver’s seat and bent over you, but he doesn’t seem to care. His lips close over your clit, sucking and licking, while his fingers keep fucking you. His beard scrapes the sensitive skin of your thighs and the slick heat between your legs—and somehow, that only makes you hotter.

You tug his hair harder, pulling him closer into you, and you swear he’s smiling against you, his mouth opening over your clit.

The third finger teases your entrance, and just that promise is enough—you come with a muffled gasp, both hands buried in Joel’s hair as you ride his face. His beard will definitely leave marks on your skin.

Joel waits patiently until your body stops pulsing around his fingers, even though his occasional licks don’t exactly help. Then he pulls his mouth away and sits back in the driver’s seat, wiping his beard with his hand to clear the mess you left behind.

You barely have time to catch your breath before he grabs you with one hand and, steadying your hips with both, pulls you straight onto his lap.

“Hi,” you whisper, still breathless.

“Hi,” he says back.

“You kiss?”

“What?” He smiles, brushing a lock of hair off your forehead. “You asking if I know how to kiss?”

“I’m asking if you have any rules against it, because I really, really want to kiss you.”

“You do?” His thumb brushes over your lower lip, the crease between his brows soft and nearly invisible. “I’m all yours.”

With that permission, you wrap your arms around his neck and move closer, trying to control your ragged breathing. You keep your eyes locked on his as you kiss his bottom lip, then his top, tracing them with the tip of your tongue, pressing your thumbs under his jaw to coax his mouth open.

You run your tongue across the opening, and Joel fists your hair at the nape of your neck, finally taking the lead and kissing you back.

You’re consumed by the taste of expensive wine, a kiss you’d only ever imagined through a computer screen—and you realize the actresses hadn’t been faking their moans, because when Joel sucks your tongue into his mouth for the first time, the sensation ripples right through the core of you, and you whimper softly into his mouth.

“Take off your panties,” he murmurs against your lips as he trails kisses along your chin, your jaw, and down your neck. You move with him, adapting to the pace and hunger of his kisses.

As he reaches your collarbones, Joel tugs the thin straps of your dress down and pushes the fabric until it bunches at your waist. Your breasts are exposed to the cool garage air—and to his hungry mouth.

“Joel…”

His tongue laps at your nipple, and he grows impatient. He slides a hand between your thighs and yanks your panties down with little care. You hear the lace tear but you can’t bring yourself to care, not when seconds later Joel is maneuvering you onto your knees so he can pull the ruined panties off completely.

Then he balls the fabric in his left hand and brings it to his nose.

It should feel ridiculous—like some cheap porno move—but it doesn’t.

He isn’t doing it for show.

He’s doing it because—

Joel grabs your hair again, keeping you firmly in place, and lifts the panties to your own nose. His mouth hovers at your ear as he says:

“See?” Joel’s lips skim down your neck. You catch the unmistakable scent of your own arousal, and your cheeks burn. “You’ve been dripping wet since the moment you walked into this garage.”

“You’re wrong,” you say, pressing his arm to press the panties harder against your nose. You inhale loud enough for him to hear and murmur, “I’ve been wet since the moment you sat next to me in the backyard.”

Joel looks at you, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He stuffs the panties into the front pocket of his worn jeans before unbuttoning and pushing them down along with his boxers.

You probably stare at his cock like an idiot, because seeing it on a screen was one thing, but seeing it now—right in front of you, the subtle changes from age only making it better—hits you hard.

“You’re smiling. What, is my dick funny?” Joel asks.

You shake your head.

“Your dick is practically a shrine to me.”

Joel rolls his eyes, wiping the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

“I’m real fucking close to come just looking at you,” he mutters, and you feel a flicker of disappointment, but it seems to be true, especially given how hard he is.

Joel shifts you into place on his lap, adjusting you like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

He leans back against the seat, partially reclining, and grips his cock with one hand.

“Come here,” he says lowly, pulling you by your thighs. When his thick cock nestles between your legs, you realize what he wants.

You brace yourself on his shoulders, biting your lip to keep any sounds from escaping as you lift onto your knees just enough to start sliding yourself against him.

The slickness between your legs makes it easy—wet and slippery—and Joel groans, tipping his head back against the seat.

God.

He looks huge beneath you, between your thighs, in the way his hands grip your hips and travel along your waist and back up. The rigid heat of him rubs directly over your clit with every glide, and you wrap your hand around the base of his cock to press him even harder against you as you move.

Joel’s hands grip your hips so hard you wonder if you’ll have bruises tomorrow. He glances down between you, where your wetness has coated him, and mutters a filthy curse between his clenched teeth.

“These tits…” he growls, lowering his mouth back to your breasts, drawing you even closer. “Can you come like this?”

You nod, tugging his curls at the nape of his neck, moving faster when he sucks a nipple into his mouth, leaving a trail of wet heat on your skin.

“Turn around,” Joel orders, licking the corner of your mouth. “I want to come on your ass.”

You obey instantly.

He helps you twist around so your knees stay on the seat but your back is pressed against his chest.

Joel runs his cock through your soaked folds, nudging your clit with the head.

He gathers your hair in one hand, pulling it aside so he can kiss the sensitive skin at the base of your neck.

“Rub yourself on it,” he says, voice rough. Your only support is the steering wheel in front of you, which you cling to as you rock your hips back and forth, grinding down along his shaft.

“You’re gonna fucking kill me doing exactly what I tell you,” he mutters against your ear.

“I like when you tell me what to do,” you whisper, barely able to form the words with the way that familiar tension is building fast in your stomach.

“Yeah, baby, I can tell by how soaked you are.”

You don’t answer, focusing only on your own pleasure now, shifting so the thick length of him is perfectly aligned against your clit.

Your leg trembles, your mind blanking with the focus on your orgasm, and you have to bite down on your sweaty arm to keep from crying out his name.

“Feels good?” you ask, panting.

“Jesus Christ, sweetheart,” Joel rasps, his hand tightening around your throat just enough to tilt your face toward his so he can kiss your jaw, your cheek. The slick sounds of your bodies are filthy, but it only pushes you closer. “Been holding back this whole time not to fucking come inside that sweet pussy.”

And that’s all it takes.

You come with a silent scream, clinging to the steering wheel, shuddering against him as your orgasm rips through you.

“Get up,” Joel says urgently, and, trembling, you lift yourself on wobbly knees.

He pushes your dress up your back, squeezes your ass—and you know exactly what he wants.

You brace yourself against the steering wheel, arching your back for him, and Joel lets out a rough, desperate sound.

Between heavy breaths, you hear the slick noises of him jerking himself off, and it only takes a few seconds before you feel it—hot spurts of cum hitting your ass, dripping down the backs of your thighs.

After what feels like forever, Joel slaps your ass gently and wraps his arms around you from behind, pulling you against his chest.

You let yourself collapse into him, feeling his heart pounding just as hard as yours.

You stay there for a moment, quiet, your lips dry when you finally whisper:

“Good wine.”

He laughs.

“Knew you’d like it.”

You close your eyes, tangling your fingers with his over your waist.

When you wake up the next morning, it’s to persistent knocking on the door.

Startled, heart racing, you open your eyes. At first, you don’t recognize the room you’re in, but then you feel Joel’s arm draped over your hips and everything from last night comes rushing back.

You two had cleaned up the garage as best you could, wiped down the seats of his truck, and then gone upstairs to his bedroom to shower together. You couldn’t bring yourself to leave, and he asked you to stay, so you texted your parents saying Joel needed you to sleep over (not a lie) because of Sarah, since he had to rush out for an emergency (a complete lie).

“Dad,” Sarah knocks again, and you have to replay last night’s events to make sure Joel actually locked the door before you both passed out. “Daaaad.”

He opens his eyes, still half-asleep, and pulls you closer against him. Sarah knocks again, and Joel grunts softly before calling out:

“Is the house on fire?”

She laughs.

“No, but you must be sick if you’re not up yet. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just got in late last night.”

Quietly, you trace your fingers over his beard. He meets your gaze and catches your hand, kissing your knuckles before hugging you closer, and you’re reminded that you’re both still naked under the covers—every inch of his warm body pressed against yours.

“Hangover?” Sarah asks.

“Sort of.”

“I left you breakfast. The school bus is about to get here.”

You watch his expression soften.

“Thanks, baby girl. Have a good day. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, Dad.”

You hear her footsteps fading down the stairs, and you smile at Joel.

“That was so sweet,” you murmur sincerely. “You call her ‘baby girl’.”

“She used to hate it when she was younger, but she gave up fighting me on it,” he says, his voice raspy from sleep, making something in your stomach flip. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” you whisper back.

Joel brushes his thumb over your cheek and temple, then asks:

“Do you regret it?” You frown, not understanding right away. He clarifies: “Last night.”

“Of course not. Are you crazy?”

“You fucked a porn actor,” he says conspiratorially.

“An ex–porn actor,” you correct. “And we haven’t even fucked yet. Why would I regret that?”

Joel shrugs.

“Aren’t you the one who hates them?”

“Joooel,” you groan, flopping onto your back. “We already talked about this. I hate the industry. I could never hate you.”

“If you say so.”

You turn your face toward him when you feel his hand sliding over your stomach, your hip, your breast…

“Well, now I have a very subjective perspective for my thesis,” you tease.

Joel smiles, raising an eyebrow.

“Imagine explaining that when someone asks how you gathered your results—you’ll have to say Javier Peña showed you personally.”

You barely manage to suppress the shiver that runs down your spine.

“Our little adventure would make a good movie,” you say, but instantly regret it, shaking your head. “Forget it. Just the thought of any image of me out there makes me sick.”

Joel stays silent, but there’s a stupid little smile on his lips as he props himself up on his elbow, lying sideways. His other hand, which was resting on your belly, slides lower. Past your hip, past your thigh, and back up again.

“What’s with that smirk?” you ask.

He licks his bottom lip.

“Remember when you asked me what my favorite kind of movie was?”

That’s the sentence that leads, twenty minutes later, to you lying on your side, your back pressed against Joel’s chest, the morning light streaming through the thick curtains.

He holds you firmly as you reach between your legs, guiding his cock inside you. You almost melt in his arms, feeling the thick veins pulse against your fingers.

“A little more,” Joel murmurs into your ear, sliding an arm under your thigh and adjusting your position to help you take him. You reach behind you, grabbing his hip. Inch by inch, he fills you.

You look down between your legs, watching the way you stretch around him, and it feels like the bed is dissolving under the weight of it.

“Joel.”

“I’m right here, baby,” he says. You see him licking three fingers before reaching down to your clit, just as he starts moving his hips.

The next few days in Lake Placid pass exactly like that.

Some nights, you sneak across your backyard to Joel’s house, and he usually meets you halfway, catching you on the stairs with a kiss before carrying you to bed.

Other times, he sneaks into your house and fucks you on your bedroom floor, because your bed makes too much noise.

You keep working on your thesis and stop watching Javier Peña’s old movies. You don’t need them anymore—not when Joel Miller is texting you saying he needs you in his bed.

On your last few days at home, your parents throw a barbecue. Among the guests are Joel and Sarah.

It’s Joel who finds you in the kitchen as you’re finishing seasoning the potato salad.

He leans against the counter across from you, holding a can of beer. You glance up from the potatoes to meet his gaze, and flashes of last night hit you—when you two had sex in a ridiculous roadside motel because Sarah was having a sleepover with her friends at home.

“And when you go back to New York?” he asks, and you immediately understand what he means.

You shrug.

“I’m not going to pressure you into a long-distance relationship. We don’t have a relationship anyway. And I don’t want a long-distance thing.”

“But I want you.”

You stab a piece of potato with your fork and bring it to his mouth. He accepts it, chewing slowly while waiting for your answer.

“I want you too,” you confess. “But I know you have other priorities.”

“So do you.”

You nod. “So do I.”

Somehow, it feels like a goodbye.

Two months later, back in New York, you type the final period on the last sentence of your thesis.

You stretch your arms over your head like you just won a marathon and then slowly slide to the floor, lying flat on your back like a starfish.

Your spine cracks, your wrists protest after three straight hours of typing, but you can’t wipe the huge, satisfied smile off your face—you’re free.

You grab your phone and text your friends:

“Thesis done. Beer to celebrate?”

You end up doing a full bar crawl, treating it like a birthday or something equally ridiculous.

All it takes is a low-cut top showing off your cleavage, a sweet voice, and the line “Do I get a prize for finishing my thesis?” to score free drinks all night.

You flirt with a few guys, but none of them make you want to drag them home. None of them have a Texas drawl, a graying beard, and the smirk of a retired porn star.

Actually…

You open your chat with Joel.

The last message from him, sent yesterday, is a photo of the same wine bottle you two opened that night in the garage. You had texted back “wish I was there,” and he’d replied with a kiss emoji.

He’d mentioned he was attending some adult film award ceremony as a presenter or something, but he didn’t say where.

He must have been busy all day.

Tonight, you type:

“went out drinking with some friends to celebrate finishing my thesis and can’t stop thinking about you. swear if you were here, i’d be blowing you under one of the bar tables.”

You put your phone away.

You down a tequila shot and laugh when your friend toasts to the end of grad school.

At three in the morning, you still haven’t gotten a reply from Joel.

You call an Uber after making sure your friends are safe, pulling your leather jacket tight around your body. The ride sobers you up just enough to make you crave a whole bottle of water.

That’s exactly what you do when you get home.

You peel off your pleated skirt and jacket, leaving yourself in just a wool turtleneck sweater, and you’re about to jump into the shower when your intercom buzzes.

You glance at the microwave clock: 3:54 AM.

You answer.

“Hello?”

“Delivery from Javier Peña.”

You gasp and immediately buzz him in.

Your heart is already racing as you open your apartment door, standing half-hidden behind it since you’re not wearing any pants.

You practically bounce with anticipation at the same time you convince yourself you’re not dreaming.

When Joel appears at the top of the stairs, it’s like all the blood in your body rushes to your head. He’s wearing glasses and has that stupid, cocky smile, dressed in a black T-shirt with two simple words printed across the front: adult content.

“I can’t believe you’re actually wearing that shirt.”

“The name of the studio that sponsored the awards ceremony,” he says, stopping in front of you.

He smells so good it makes you a little self-conscious about the sweat clinging to your neck from the night out.

“Heard someone finished their thesis,” he murmurs, stepping closer. “Figured I should congratulate you properly.”

[lumelton]

using instagram for the first time after being on tumblr for so long is so weird ‘cause it’ll be like

tumblr screenshot

tumblr screenshot

twitter screenshot that I have seen on tumblr

a series of tumblr screenshots

reddit screenshot

reddit screenshot of a tumblr post about a twitter screenshot

the entirety of a tumblr post copy pasted over an *aesthetic* photo of some mountains

tumblr screenshot

[themoonlightfae]

So Close

Pairings: Fem!Reader x Hongjoong and Wooyoung

Summary:

Wooyoung crashes your and Hongjoong's scheduled hangout day, which you kinda expected.

You wind up in bed with them.

Which you did NOT expect.

Genre: Friends to Lovers

WC: 6,078

Rating: Explicit

Originally Published: 250530 on ao3

Tags: Under the cut

A/N: For @spacequokka

Tags: friends to lovers, hangouts, implied cannabis use, awkward crush, awkwardness, first kiss, safe sane and consensual, threesome - F/M/M, safewords, oral sex, vaginal fingering, sex toy use, sexual overstimulation, multiple orgasms, forced orgasm, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, post-coital cuddling, defining the relationship, happy ending

And these could be the best or darkest days The lines we walk are paper thin And we could pull this off or push away 'Cause you and me have always been So close So close to giving up So close to going all the way

~ Andrew McMahon in the Wildnerness, "So Close"

You hurried to get the door as someone stood on the other side, endlessly mashing the doorbell. There wasn’t a single doubt in your head who might be the culprit, and sure enough, you opened the door to find Hongjoong there as planned, with Wooyoung at his side, a wide smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye. 

“I picked up a stray,” Hongjoong laughed. "Hope that's okay with you. Wooyoung didn't seem to think it would be."

“Oh, gee, both my best friends here together? You’ll have no objections from me,” you laughed as Wooyoung stepped forward to envelop you in a full on koala hug. You froze as he gave you a peck on the cheek, suddenly self-conscious in front of Hongjoong. You’d had a huge crush on Hongjoong or quite a while now, and although you were sure he didn’t feel the same, some small part of your brain was still clinging to the hope that one day he’d up and confess some feelings of his own.

Until then, you supposed you didn’t mind the alternative. When you had moved six years ago, you had never imagined that you’d have found such caring and kind friends in your new city, but the universe clearly had had plans for you. You had bumped into Hongjoong and Wooyoung one night at a late movie— quite literally in fact. You still remembered the resultant mess— the contents of two large buckets of popcorn strewn across the floor, drinks spilled, and several angry staff. 

The wild laughter that followed from all three of you was enough for said staff to ask you all to leave, and your newfound acquaintances lost no time in inviting you to their favorite 24 hour diner as an alternative.

Since then, the three of you had been joined at the hip, and you had quickly fallen in with the rest of their friend circle to boot. 

“I brought snacks,” Hongjoong announced as Wooyoung detached himself from you. Woo grinned mischievously. 

“I brought something too,” he giggled. 

“Should I be scared?” You feigned horror as you let them in, though you had a feeling you knew what the surprise was.

Hongjoong made a beeline for the kitchen, and Wooyoung sauntered in behind him, that same grin never leaving his lips. 

“Let’s just say… I thought of a way we can really… elevate … our rot day,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. 

Called it. What a dork. But also… hmm. I hope that doesn’t make things weird.

Hongjoong appeared at your elbow, slipping an arm around you and giving you a gentle side hug, causing your heart to drop into your feet. You knew that he was generally hesitant when it came to skinship, and more than a little picky about who he chose to allow himself to be close to. You had noticed over the last several months that he seemed to be getting more comfortable with you, which had been both a blessing and a curse. Part of you wanted at the very least to be able to cuddle with him the way you sometimes did with Wooyoung.

The rest of you knew that was a supremely terrible idea; the more Hongjoong paid you attention, the harder it was to talk yourself out of your stupid crush.

You knew if it ever escalated from where you were now, you were a goner.

Absolutely unfair, really.

Once the three of you were comfortably sprawled out around the living room— you and Hongjoong on opposite ends of the sectional and Wooyoung in your old, well-worn recliner, Woo reached for his computer bag with a giggle. 

“So… I brought gummies,” he announced. “No one is obligated of course, but they’re here if anyone wants.” 

You watched as he opened the small pack and ate one himself, holding it out to you next.

"Jagiya?"

You tried to ignore the tingle down your spine at the pet name.

“Oh, sure, why not,” you shrugged, and Woo tossed the bag to you. Although it wasn’t a regular occurrence for you, you did occasionally enjoy getting out of your head like this. The few times you had done so had really amped your creativity, to the point where you could absolutely see why Wooyoung had recommended it in the first place. As a budding writer, you were now nearly done with your very first novel, and you had scads of ideas logged away for future endeavors.

You checked the dose on the bag before partaking, and held it out to Hongjoong.

“Joongie?”

“Sure, just don’t make fun of me if I fall asleep immediately,” he giggled. “Might as well at least try to be on the same level once you and Wooyoung get even more silly I guess.”

“I’m quite sure I don’t know what you mean,” Wooyoung said airily as he turned to his book. “I’m very serious all the fucking time.”

“Yeah, and I’m the Queen of England,” Hongjoong scoffed as he downed his gummy and opened his laptop. 

“Someday someone will believe me,” Wooyoung said solemnly. “Just you wait.”

“Music preferences?” You interjected as Hongjoong made a face at Wooyoung.

“No preference,” both of them said in unison. 

“Weird nostalgia playlist it is,” you shrugged, pulling up a lengthy playlist of your old favorites and hitting play. 

“Weird playlist for the weirdo,” Woo said. “Who’d have thunk.”

You threw a pillow at him, which he caught effortlessly, laughing brightly as he did so. 

“You asked the elder emo what she wanted to listen to, now live with the consequences, Jung Wooyoung.”

“Wow, you didn’t have to government name me,” Woo pouted as he snuggled down further under your favorite blanket and picked up his book again. “Gosh.”

“Are there days people don’t have to do that?” Hongjoong asked, eyes never leaving his computer, but you could see the faint smirk on his lips.

His stupid, perfect, disgustingly kissable lips. 

You tried to internalize the sigh as you turned to your writing. You had been having some trouble with the resolution of one of the core relationship conflicts, which annoyed you in more ways than one, but mostly because at this point you felt it was just a parallel to your predicament with your crush on Hongjoong.

You shook your head as you began to feel the effects of the gummy, and glanced over to your friends. Wooyoung was engrossed in his book, one foot sticking out from under the blanket as he lay sprawled out on the recliner, absentmindedly cuddling one of your Stitch plushies. 

Hongjoong, however, was staring at you, eyes slightly glazed over, and you froze, quickly looking back to your computer screen. You heard a small kerfuffle and peered to the right as best you could without moving your head to see Hongjoong closing his laptop and moving the tray table aside.

“I need a snack,” he said hurriedly.

“Ooh, munchies already?” Woo asked. “Will you bring me the bag of gummy worms?” He added.

“Sure,” Hongjoong nodded. He turned to you, cheeks visibly flushed. “Do you want something?”

“I don’t suppose you brought pretzels—” You started, and Woo began to giggle.

“Hongjoong was sure to pick out some of your favorite snacks,” Woo said, brushing his long black hair out of his face. 

“I got two kinds of hummus,” Hongjoong mumbled. “Roasted garlic and that lemon dill one you like.”

“Roasted garlic please,” you hummed happily. 

Not like I’m gonna be kissing anyone anytime soon.

You immediately regretted this thought, as your thoughts were loosening up further, and you were well aware of where they’d go if you let them run unchecked. You turned back to your writing instead, but found yourself just staring at the screen. You startled when Hongjoong appeared in front of you, offering the bag of pretzels and a small dipping cup of hummus.

“Thanks Joongie,” you said, and now it was your turn to blush. You noticed Wooyoung was staring at you and Hongjoong, the biggest shit-eating grin plastered on his face. 

You watched as Hongjoong quietly returned to his station on the sofa and reopened his laptop. 

“What are you working on?” You asked him, your curiosity getting the best of you. Hongjoong had been designing clothing since you’d known him, but he had recently been hired by a brand local to you, and they had immediately asked him to design a line for them. You knew he was excited, but you also had no doubt that he was probably stressing over it too. But now, with relaxation flowing through his veins, he happily scooted closer to you, bringing his laptop with him.

You listened, your slight haze growing a bit as Hongjoong animatedly walked you through the dress designs he’d been working on that week. He was quick to blush as you complimented his work, raving over a few designs in particular that you knew you’d have to have for your own closet. Hongjoong returned to his end of the couch, now seventeen shades of red. Out of nowhere, Wooyoung chuckled to himself, and your eyes flicked to him. As you suspected, he was not laughing at his book, but he was looking at you with a knowing grin.

You hadn’t meant to let Wooyoung know about your crush, but if anyone was good at reading people, and even better at learning their secrets, it was Jung Wooyoung. You glowered as you tried to return to your writing, but your brain was too far gone, and the only thing left was Hongjoong. The snack you’d had had only served to elevate you further, and you flipped over to your socials instead as the room fell quiet again, save for the music still playing over the speaker. 

You jumped as you got a Discord notification from Wooyoung.

Wooyounggg_ [2:53pm]: Hongjoong keeps staring at you :)

You tapped out an answer, your eyes flicking over to Hongjoong. Sure enough, he was looking at you again, and your heart skipped a beat.

You [2:54pm]: Listen here you absolute carrot don't make me murder you I like that chair too much to bloody it up

Wooyoung burst into a fit of giggles, and you rolled your eyes. Hongjoong remained oblivious, though he had managed to wrestle his gaze back to his own computer.

You [2:54pm]: He’s just super stoned. Remember the time Mingi gave him half of one of his homemade brownies and he slept for 20 hours? Poor guy is probably totally zonked.

Wooyounggg_ [2:55pm]: I will never forget or let our darling Joongie live it down. But it’s not just that.

Wooyounggg_ [2:55pm]: You know as well as I do that people tend to be more real when they’re under the influence. ;) 

You sighed. He was right, of course. You knew this from experience.

Most notably, the first time you and Woo had gotten high together, which had started quite innocently, and had ended in heated makeouts and an all-nighter for the history books. Since then, the two of you had decided to just be friends, but you knew you’d never get those memories out of your head.

If you were being really, truly honest with yourself, you liked both of them. You had realized quickly that you had more of an attachment to Wooyoung than you wanted to admit.

But the risk of ruining everything had kept you from going any further with him, and anywhere at all with Hongjoong. They were friends. That was that. As much fun as you’d had with Woo during your previous escapades, you knew you couldn’t chance repeating it.

Your head snapped to the side as you heard Hongjoong sputtering, and Wooyoung began to laugh again. Joong was clearly loopy now, not that you were faring much better, though you were also willing to bet you were slightly more functional than him, considering he had entirely missed his mouth when taking a drink, dumping water down his shirt instead. 

“Fucking fuck,” he muttered. You flitted to the kitchen to grab a towel, bringing it back to him and helping him clean up. You took a seat next to him, sensing some prickliness, and gently laid a hand on his forearm. His eyes grew to the size of dinner plates as his gaze flicked from yours, to your hand, and back again.

Seconds later, he was pulling away, shoving his laptop into his bag, muttering about how he should probably head home and lie down. Your eyes stung with tears, and you silently admonished yourself for reacting the way you were. You had been scared it was only a matter of time before you overstepped somehow. 

And of course all of us being zooted helps exactly nothing.

He was out the door in less than five minutes, leaving you sitting on the couch, chest heaving as you tried to calm yourself. Wooyoung was next to you almost unreasonably quickly. 

“You okay, jagi?”

“I don’t know what I did,” you sighed, ignoring the pet name. 

“I’ll go get him,” Wooyoung told you. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“No,” you said, taking a swig of water. “Um. I’ll go.”

Wooyoung did not say a word, but gave you a sly grin. You rolled your eyes yet again and clambered to your feet, donning a pair of slippers as you stepped outside to go find Hongjoong. 

You were surprised to find he had not gone far, and was standing just outside your apartment door, fumbling with a rideshare app. You closed the door behind you quietly, clearing your throat quietly. Hongjoong jumped, nearly throwing his phone.  

“Joongie. What’s wrong?” You frowned. “I thought we were having a nice day.”

“Nothing,” he muttered. “Just… thought maybe I should go home? I don’t know. I just.” He shook his head. “I can’t think straight right now is all.”

“Why leave though?” You wrinkled your nose. “I don’t even understand what hap—“

Your sentence was cut short as Hongjoong stepped to you, slipping his arms around your waist and tugging you to him roughly, his lips crashing onto yours in a heated, desperate kiss. You gasped against his lips, but it did not deter him, not that you minded in the slightest. He pushed you back against the door with a thump , pressing his body to yours in the same second as he continued to kiss you like his entire existence depended on it. 

Your head was spinning now, and you thought you heard a cackle from the other side of the door. You broke the kiss, and a split second later Wooyoung opened the door. Hongjoong caught you before you tumbled backwards, pulling you back to him and holding you tightly. 

“Hey there kids,” Wooyoung said gleefully. “Having fun out here?”

“Shut up, Wooyoung,” you and Hongjoong said in unison. 

“All I’m saying is it’s more comfortable in here,” Woo said insistently, and you caught the wink he gave you. 

Carefully, you extracted yourself from Hongjoong’s grasp, and he allowed you to lead him back into the apartment, though you could tell he was somewhat timid, his face still flushed red. 

“Should I leave you guys to it?” Wooyoung asked, still grinning from ear to ear as you and Hongjoong sat down together on the sofa. “Or…” He winked at you again. 

“Or?” You raised an eyebrow at Wooyoung. 

“You know,” he said sheepishly, his cheeks turning pink.

“Jung Wooyoung, are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?” 

“I mean…” he shrugged. “I bet I could show Hongjoong a thing or two.”

“Wait, wait,” Hongjoong said, and you could see the gears turning in his head. “Did… did you guys sleep together?!”

“There is a distinct possibility that that is a thing that happened,” you admitted. “Sorry we didn’t tell you. It was totally an impromptu thing and it didn’t happen again and I didn’t want to—“

“Well that’s not fair,” Hongjoong said calmly, interrupting as he scooted closer to you. Carefully, he pushed you back against the pillows next to you, and before you knew it, his upper body was pressing you down further as he kissed you again, with a renewed fervor that left your head spinning even more than it had been. He broke the kiss after a few moments, and you stared at him blankly. He had not moved, his weight on top of you comforting yet insanity-inducing. You took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Is…” You blinked, trying to clear the fog in your head and knowing it was a losing battle all the same. “Is this real?”

“Hmm, sounds like you need convincing,” Wooyoung surmised, stroking his chin as if he was thinking big thoughts. “I have a few ideas as to how we could orchestrate that.”

“I’m sure you do, you little shit,” you fired back, still hyper aware that Hongjoong was basically still lying on top of you. Wooyoung let out a high-pitched giggle, and you sighed.

“Are… are you guys sure this is what you want?”

“To be clear, we are talking about a threesome, right?” Hongjoong asked, his question followed by a nervous giggle. 

“Yes, Hongjoong,” Wooyoung said exasperatedly. “God. You need to get out more.”

“Well, I’m out now,” Hongjoong whispered as he lowered his lips to yours again. “Should we take this adventure somewhere more comfortable?” He whispered against your lips as he kissed you softly now, with deep, unhurried kisses that had you gasping for breath. It felt so intimate, even though you could feel Wooyoung’s eyes on you, could see his smirk in your mind’s eye.

“S…sure,” you managed to get out. At once, Hongjoong had moved, and he and Wooyoung were hauling you to your feet. Wooyoung stopped you before you could take a step, snaking his arms around your waist and pulling you to him to kiss you deeply. He giggled into the kiss, as he nipped at your lip, sucked on your tongue. He had clearly not forgotten a single thing from your previous encounter. You felt wetness pooling between your thighs at an embarrassing rate now. The idea of being with both of them was almost enough to make you come on the spot.

“Mmm,” Wooyoung murmured as he came up for air.” I missed this, not gonna lie. I don’t think once was enough.”

“Come on,” Hongjoong urged, taking your hand. Wooyoung let you go, taking your other hand and squeezing it. 

You led them to your bedroom slowly, your heart threatening to beat out of your chest. Part of you hoped you weren’t making a huge mistake.

The rest of you was practically vibrating at the chance to finally show Hongjoong how you felt about him, in more ways than one. 

The second you were across the threshold of your bedroom, you found yourself sandwiched between your friends, their hands everywhere at once, two sets of lips kissing every bit of exposed skin they could reach— which happened to be a lot, considering you’d dressed for comfort in sweats and a tank top that probably showed just a bit too much . 

You felt hands tugging at the waistband of your pants, and looked back to see Wooyoung with a wicked grin. He leaned over to whisper in your ear. 

“Wanna let me show Hongjoong how to make you come?” 

You gulped. You turned back to Hongjoong, who was staring at you, wide-eyed. 

“Joongie?” You asked. “Would you like that?” You took a deep breath as you put your hands on his waist, pushing his t-shirt up and hooking your thumbs underneath to graze his pecs as you pulled it up and over his head. 

“Oh my god, fuck,” Hongjoong whined as you pressed your lips to his collarbone, kissing a trail across and down, trailing your tongue lightly across what was evidently a very sensitive area. 

“Careful, jagiya,” Woo laughed. “You’re gonna make him come in his pants before we even get started.” 

Wooyoung made quick work of your clothes, then his own, but Hongjoong stood stiffly now, staring at you, jaw falling open as you strode back over to him. You tugged at the waistband of his own sweatpants. 

“You should take these off,” you asked softly. “What’s wrong, Joongie? Are you nervous?”

I say as though I’m not . Holy fucking hell. 

He fixed you with an unreadable gaze, and you began to trace soft lines over his hips. When he did not stop you, you hooked your thumbs into his waistband, pulling everything down in one go. His cock was rock-hard, and you tried not to stare, imagining how that girth would be stretching you out later, pushing into you over and over until both of you were quivering messes. 

Without thinking, you dropped to your knees, unsure where your sudden courage was coming from, but fully willing to embrace it. You ghosted your palms up Hongjoong’s thighs, watching as gooseflesh rose in their wake. As you began to tease closer to his cock, Hongjoong let out a loud moan. 

“Tell me to stop,” you whispered. “We don’t have to do any of this.”

“Please don’t,” Hongjoong hissed as he grabbed your shoulders. “Please, fucking hell, do not stop…”

You moved to grasp Hongjoong’s cock at the base, and he cried out at the contact, stumbling a bit and catching himself on the wall next to him.

“Maybe we should lay you down,” you suggested, straightening up. “Before you fall and hurt something.”

“I’m fine,” he mumbled. 

“No sir,” you tutted. You grabbed his wrist and guided him to your bed, and he begrudgingly clambered up to lie down in the center. 

“Oh fuck me, my head is spinning more lying down,” Hongjoong whined.

“Hmm, that’s too bad,” you said softly as you lay down on your tummy on the bed, pushing his legs apart. You could feel his eyes on you, and you peered up at him through your lashes as you lowered your lips to the head of his cock, tongue swiping up the drops of pre-cum. 

“Oh, holy shit,” Hongjoong whined, immediately trying to thrust up into your mouth. You were quick to lay a hand on his waist, pressing him down into the mattress.

“No no,” you chided, dipping your head lower, taking him into your mouth inch by inch, relaxing your throat as you went. As your nose nudged at his pelvic bone, he let out a long string of curses, hands scrabbling to grab ahold of you. 

“Please move,” he begged. “Oh please. Please. Fuck.”

You hummed as you began to suck him, drawing out each movement, licking slowly and firmly up his shaft, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock, changing things up every few moments to make him extra insane.

You yelped as you felt fingers between your own legs, and looked to one side to see Wooyoung perched on the bed, stroking his own cock with one hand. His other was now pushing your legs apart, wasting no time finding your slick folds. 

“Ah… so, so wet for us,” Wooyoung cooed. “Hongjoong, just wait til you feel this perfect pussy…”

Wooyoung shoved two fingers into you without warning, and you nearly choked on Hongjoong’s cock as Woo stretched you open. 

“Oh, fuck,” Hongjoong whined as you picked up your pace, working the base of his cock with one hand while you continued to suck him off with a renewed intensity, matching Wooyoung’s pace as he finger-fucked you from behind. Woo’s next thrusts hit you in just the right spot, and you moaned around Hongjoong’s cock. 

“I’m… help,” Hongjoong whined. “Close, I’m getting close, ah, fuck, fuck…”

You did not relent despite Hongjoong’s high pitched cries that he was overstimulated, and continued through until his cock was pulsing, shooting thick ropes of hot cum down your throat. You swallowed every drop before backing off a bit, continuing to give kitten licks to the head until he found the strength to sit up and scramble away from you. 

“Perfect," Wooyoung remarked as he stopped his own movements. He brought his fingers to his lips, licking them clean. “Ah, fuck. Forgot how good you taste,” he moaned, and you heard Hongjoong groan in the background at the mere idea of tasting you. 

Woo was across the room now, rummaging in the bottom drawer of your dresser. You joined Hongjoong in the center of the bed, and he kissed you deeply as you leaned back against the pillows.

“I can’t believe you,” he whispered. “That was…”

“Do you need a do-over to believe it?” You asked with a wicked grin. His eyes widened, and you giggled. “Don’t look so scared, Joongie.”

“Not scared,” he breathed. “Just… haven’t come like that in a long time… Wanna…” His cheeks were red again, and you kissed him softly.

“Wanna what?”

“I wanna make you come too,” he said breathlessly as he kissed you again. “I want… I want you… in every way, please…”

“You scrambled his brains already,” Wooyoung laughed as he returned, holding a few things behind his back. “What happened to pacing?”

Hongjoong flipped Wooyoung off, and Woo cackled in response as he crawled onto the bed, reaching for your ankle and tugging your leg.

“On your back, jagiya,” Wooyoung instructed. “Now, please.”

“Or what?” You challenged. 

“Or I’ll go back for the restraints,” Wooyoung warned. “Don’t test me today.”

You shivered. This was a side of Wooyoung you were unfamiliar with. 

“Do it then,” you said smugly. Wooyoung stared at you for a second.

"Color?"

"Green."

"Safeword?"

"Red."

"Good," he said shortly, turning and heading back to the dresser. You glimpsed a black box in his hand, and clenched around nothing.

Oh fuck, so he’s going to show Hongjoong how to totally and completely ruin me. Fabulous.

Hongjoong was a little bit concerned at the restraints given the circumstances but calmed down significantly when scissors were brought out as a potential safety measure.

He then lost zero time lying down next to you on the bed, pressing his flushed, naked body close to your own, slender fingers tracing your skin, and it wasn’t lost on you how he was marveling at the experience. 

“I… I don’t even know what to do first,” Hongjoong admitted. "You're so fucking pretty that it makes me feel insane."

“Her neck is sensitive,” Wooyoung piped up from over near the dresser, where he was rummaging again, and came back holding your vibrator as well. “Also, she likes it when you twist her nipples.”

“Jesus Christ in a crock pot, Woo, just tell him all my secrets why don’t—” 

Your words died in your throat as Hongjoong leaned in, pressing sloppy, desperate kisses down the column of your neck, across your collarbone, then dipping lower. Once his lips reached your breasts, he began to suck a trail of marks before closing his mouth around one nipple and sucking hard. Your immediate whine must have been like music to his ears, as you heard him giggle. Instead of pulling away however, he reached for your other nipple with one hand,  twisting it firmly as Wooyoung had suggested.

“Holy fuck, Hongjoong,” you whimpered as he continued to tease. “You’re— FUCK!”

Your entire body tensed as you felt Wooyoung shove two fingers into you roughly. 

“Hmm,” he murmured. “Good.”

Just as quickly, his fingers were gone, replaced by heavy, cold metal, and you shrieked at both the intrusion and the temperature. 

“Mmmhmm. She likes this metal dildo a lot,” Wooyoung explained to Hongjoong, speaking in such a casual way he might as well have been just explaining how to do any simple task. 

“I can tell,” Hongjoong breathed, nipping at your neck. Between your legs, Wooyoung was staring up at you with a wicked grin as he began to fuck you slowly with the toy. He was gentle, but clearly had not forgotten the firm upstrokes to your g-spot that were bound to make to come in seconds flat— and so you did, tumbling off the edge as your release ripped through you like a wave of blistering heat. 

You were completely unsurprised that he did not relent, sending you quickly into another orgasm without giving you time to come down. 

“Wooyoung, I adore you,” you whined. “But the second you let me out of these restraints— FUCKING HELL!” 

You came again, having been partially distracted by your empty threat, head spinning as you tried to form any coherent sentence.

It did not help in the least that the effects of your earlier edible were in full swing, elevating your releases to levels you had never dreamed were possible. 

That being said, it also enhanced the overstimulation— something which Wooyoung knew full well, as he pushed you towards yet another orgasm, now with the vibrator planted firmly on your clit and set to an infuriatingly teasing pattern. 

“Wooyoung, please, please,” you choked out, though you couldn’t stop your hips from bucking at the toy every time he plunged it into you. “Woo. Baby. Please.”

“Oh, you want me to stop? Okay,” he said nonchalantly, ceasing his movements at once. The brattiness was radiating from him in waves, and you rolled your eyes. You had been close again, of course, but you weren't sure whether you could have handled another orgasm so quickly.

Then again, you also regretted not trying, if for no other reason than it was Wooyoung. 

You knew he knew this too, judging from the look on his face. 

“You little shit.”

“Who me?” Wooyoung chirped, gesturing to himself. “What an accusation!"

“She does have a point,” Hongjoong said dryly. 

“Wow, you guys stink,” Woo laughed. "Whatver."

“I want to try,” Hongjoong said, abruptly changing the subject.

Oh god, help me.

Wooyoung handed Hongjoong the dildo, and you tried not to giggle as they discussed in hushed tones. You could tell Hongjoong was afraid of hurting you— it was in the way he gently pushed the toy in, the hesitation in his initial movements. But before long, you were over the edge again, begging loudly for them to give you a break. 

You were unsurprised that Hongjoong relented, but judging from the way Wooyoung was moving, you could tell he already had other ideas. 

He’s so… I don’t even know. Insane? But also… good god damn, if these encounters with him aren’t some of the hottest I’ve ever had. Fuck.

"How about we let our pretty girl out of her restraints before we have some more fun?" Wooyoung suggested. You saw Hongjoong flush bright red at Woo’s verbiage, and he slipped out of the room, muttering something about getting water. Wooyoung proceeded to untie you, and rested quietly with you on the bed, massaging your wrists and ankles until Hongjoong came back bearing a few bottles of water. After the three of you had hydrated, Hongjoong lay down on your other side. 

You felt fingers nudging your legs apart again, and glanced to see it was Hongjoong taking the initiative. The second he touched your clit, you nearly came off the bed with a shriek. 

“Mmm. So sensitive,” Hongjoong whispered. “So many things I want to do, but I want to be inside you the most,” he admitted with a small smile and another rather impressive blush. 

“Idea,” Woo chimed in.

Yep, there it is.

“Jagiya,” Wooyoung said sweetly as he nuzzled your cheek. “What would you say to me fucking your mouth while Hongjoong fucks that tight little cunt?”

“I’d probably accuse you of trying to murder me,” you answered, turning your head to face him. He kissed you softly, but nipped at your lip as he pulled back.

“Only a tiny bit. But in a good way,” he assured you. "So it's still legal."

"Oh, is that so?"

"Mmhmm," he said as he kissed you softly. 

Moments later, Hongjoong was slotting himself between your legs, having given you some reprieve from the overstimulation, if only for a short time. 

Wooyoung was moving too, throwing one leg over you to straddle your upper body, moving closer and checking that you were okay every step of the way.

“Color?” He asked, clearly just wanting to be sure.

“Green as fuck, my dude,” you breathed. “Are you going to let me suck that pretty cock or just dangle it in front of me?"

Wooyoung pushed into your mouth at the exact time Hongjoong buried himself in you to the hilt, but your cry was muffled by Woo’s cock. 

Hongjoong began to move first, and you whined, causing Wooyoung to curse and hunch over, grabbing the headboard for leverage. He was looking down at you as he fucked into your mouth with slow, deliberate thrusts that you knew were driving him even more insane than they were you. Wooyoung loved to be teased and edged; he had confessed this to you the first time you’d slept together— which is how that night had ended with you bending him over your bed and giving him the strap until he was pleading and beating at the mattress, begging for you to let him come. 

Oops. Maybe this is payback. Oh well. Not sorry.

Your head was surprisingly clear for just a few moments, before Hongjoong changed his angle slightly, and you nearly came again right then and there. You tried to speak, but Wooyoung continued to fuck your mouth, and your words came out garbled, saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth.

“I think that’s a good angle, Hongjoongie,” Wooyoung called back to him. "Keep it up."

“Mmm. Good for me too,” Hongjoong whined, and he increased the pace, hitting you just right every time in the process. 

Hongjoong was the first to come, spilling inside you as you crashed with him. Wooyoung followed quickly, emptying himself into your throat, praising you as you swallowed it all and continued to suck until he was overstimulated himself. They pulled out of you quickly, losing no time in lying back down and snuggling close. 

“Wow.” Hongjoong was first to break the silence. “Just… wow.”

“Mmm,” you agreed. 

“Yep,” Wooyoung nodded. “Wow, fuck, holy shit, all those good terms. Yeah.”

After a shared shower, the three of you returned to your bed after a quick stop in the kitchen to retrieve snacks. You flipped on the TV, navigating to a movie that was familiar to all, before settling back down between them. 

“I could get used to this,” Wooyoung said suddenly.

“Same,” Hongjoong murmured. “For sure.”

“Wait, hold on,” you said, sitting up. They followed you, each slipping an arm around your waist. 

“We should just tell her,” Woo said. 

“Tell me what, exactly?” You asked cautiously. 

“You tell,” Wooyoung told Hongjoong, and you smacked him in the back.

“You brought it up, dweeb.”

Hongjoong sighed. 

“I wanted to hang out today because I wanted to talk to you,” Hongjoong said quietly. “I… I wanted to ask if you’d go on a date with me. And then I told Wooyoung, and he wanted to tag along to… I don’t know. Cheer me on? But also…”

“Also?”

“I like you too,” Wooyoung blurted out, clapping a hand over his mouth immediately. 

“You…” You were trying to get a handle on what was happening, your brain clearer now but but not at 100%. “Huh? You both like me?”

“So yeah, we kinda… did things… backwards...” Hongjoong started, but you cut him off.

“That’s not really so important,” you reassured him as you took a deep breath, still a little scared to make your own confession. “What is important is that… I like you both as well.”

Neither of them seemed particularly shocked by this news, which made you wonder if you had ever been good at hiding it.

Oops?

“Mmm,” Wooyoung hummed happily, nuzzling into your shoulder and giving you a squeeze. On your other side, Hongjoong was pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder.

“So…” You said. 

“So you’re our girlfriend now?” Wooyoung asked eagerly, eyes shining with excitement.

“Please?” Hongjoong added. 

"Say yes?" Woo giggled.

“Absolutely,” you told them, without hesitation. “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t wanted this… so… you can have all of me. I’m yours,” you said breathlessly.

“Ours,” Hongjoong repeated.

“Ours,” Wooyoung affirmed, as they lay you back and snuggled up to you like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I like that you’re ours, jagi.”

“Me too,” you told them. “Always."

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Hi! This is a (kinda nsfw) request for the Moon Knight Boys or only Steven, whichever you’re comfortable with!

So, reader is usually loosely trimmed or has fully grown hair „down there”. One day she decides to surprise her vigilante boyfriends and shaves everything off or maybe leaves a cute little heart on top?? Either way I’d love to know how they’d react.

(I myself am female but please write for which gender you’re most comfortable with)

~Cherry Bomb Anon 💖💖💖

Oh my gosh, I am so sorry, I realise now that I misread this!

Anyway, it's now Marc and Steven with the shaved heart.

Glue It Back On

Steven Grant x Marc Spector x gn!Reader • Rating: mature pals • Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? •

Warnings: This is just Marc and Steven having a conversation really, I'm so sorry, swearing, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 851

“They’re gonna hate it, they’re gonna hate it. Fuck.”

“Shit.” 

“Fuck.”

“Shit,” Steven chews his bottom lip, “what if we shave it all off?” 

“All of it?”  Marc answers from the bathroom mirror. 

Steven nods. “All of it, like,” he motions with his hands. “Gone.”

“Bald?” 

“No, not bald Marc, it wouldn’t be bald, our, our-”

“Our balls would be bald.” 

“I was thinking more like, we just shave the top… bit?” 

“And nothing else?” Marc frowns in thought. “Wouldn’t that look-”

“Weird, yeah.” Steven sighs defeatedly. “It would. Like we just stopped halfway, and if we do it like a really neat line that will look like, ‘woah, too much effort here’, and if we don’t it’ll look a mess.” 

Marc nods. “Look, I know this isn’t helpful, but I don’t want to shave it all off. Because, one,” he holds up his forefinger. “I think it’ll look weird, you know like in porn, hairless balls just make me think of turkey wattles.” 

Steven pauses. “Wattles?” 

“Like the turkey red neck flappy thing.” 

“Oh, I didn’t know that it was called that.” He nods a little, then shakes his head, trying to stay focused. “You think shaved balls look like that?” 

“Kinda.”

“Kinda?” He says, unimpressed.

“Yeah, look, I’m not the vegan who gets freaked out by certain types of mushrooms-”

“We’ve been over this, I heard Michael say in the break room that mushrooms on pizza looked like slugs, and I can’t unsee it, it’s not fair to-”

Marc holds up his hands. “I’m sorry, okay, sorry, I didn’t mean to bring that all up again like that.” 

Steven nods. 

“They just look weird to me.” 

Steven’s lip twitches in a smile and Marc braces himself for whatever is about to come. “Is that what you say to yourself to justify only watching lesbian porn?” 

“Don’t.”

“Is it?” Steven grins. 

“I don’t just watch lesiban porn.” 

Steven scoffs. “Firstly, you do. Second, what’s wrong with watching lesbian porn?” 

Marc gives him a glare. “You’re the one that brought this up!”

Steven grins, enjoying seeing Marc squirm a little. “I did. So, why do you only watch lesibian porn?” 

“Fuck off.” 

Steven chuckles. “Spoil sport.” 

“You’re a bully.” Marc smiles. 

“What was your second point anyway?” 

“What?” 

“You’re second point? First was our balls would look like a turkey if we shave them, what was the other?” 

“Oh, I think it’ll itch like hell when the hair starts to grow back if we use the razor.” 

Steven nods, thinking. “Yeah, I bet you’re right on that one.” He sighs again, his shoulders slumping. “But what are we gonna do?” 

“We could glue it back on?” Marc says, only half joking.

“Marc.” He gives him the disappointed teacher voice. “We are not glueing hair back onto our.. Our… area.” 

“Area?” 

“You’re worried about it itching growing back, what the fuck do you think it’s gonna feel like with glue?” 

“Area? Steven, are we fucking three?” 

Steven puts his hands on his hips. “Is that what you’re focusing on right now?” 

“Well, yeah? Area?” 

“What would you call it then? Hmm?” 

Marc opens his mouth and then pauses.

“See, see?” Steven gestures at Marc, “What the fuck is it?”

“It’s the bit above the dick.” 

“Yeah, but what is that called? Like the actual name?” 

Marc thinks and then frowns. “Steven, I don’t fucking know, why is this important?”

“You made it important.” Steven grabs his phone from the side.

“What are you doing?” Marc sighs.

“I’m looking it up.”

“Steven.” 

“I want to know.” 

“Steven.” 

“All I can think of is pubic mound, but is that like, the word for everyone?” 

Marc shakes his head slightly as he pulls a face. “For everyone? What do you mean?”

“Like for all genders.”

“Oh…” Marc thinks again. “Maybe…” He leans forward as if he could see Steven’s phone from his angle. 

“See? You’re interested now.” 

He nods. “Yeah.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Don’t get too excited about it.” He huffs.

Steven rolls his eyes, and then quickly reads. “Okay, it is the pubic mound for everyone.” 

“Okay.” 

“We’ve learnt something.” 

“Doesn’t really help with our current situation, does it?” 

Steven puts his phone down and rubs his eyes, “Ugggghhhh, what if we just say, ‘Love, I tried to shave a heart into my pubic hair because I thought it would be funny and sweet and now I’m like what the fuck have I done?’” 

You knock on the bathroom door and both Steven and Marc jump at the same time. 

“Erm,” Steven scrambles with the towel around his waist before he opens the door with a flourish. “I-”

“I got back about ten minutes ago.” You give him a soft smile. “I’ve been listening to your side of the conversion, with rapt attention.” You tease playfully. 

Steven closes his eyes and chuckles bashfully. 

“If it’s any help,” you give his cheek a quick kiss. “I think the heart sounds lovely.” 

“Show them!”

Steven rolls his eyes, turning his head to pull a face at Marc’s reflection. “You wanted to glue it back on a second ago.” 

Thank you for reading!

Taglist:

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[anyshowwitharainbow]

hii, i saw ur requests are open. may i request agathario x reader where reader had a subdrop? reader feeling overwhelmed and anxious from a long night of activities, always curious how they would help reader 🫣

I hope this is what you were after 🥺 I may make some edits when I wake up and re-read, but here you are!! Enjoy!

Warnings + Tags: 18+ for NSFW themes MDNI, fluff, post-sex, subdrop, mentions of squirting, caring Agatha and Rio, sub reader, mommy!Agatha, daddy!Rio, cg/l themes, no mention of pronouns, pet names Words: ~2.3k

You aren’t sure when the weight sitting in your chest anchored itself to your spine. You could be convinced an alien just drop kicked you back down to Earth. Moments you know are no further from you than a few breaths feel fuzzy and you try desperately to grip them and root them back into reality.

When you reach for them they part like they are made of nothing but fog and dust. Each attempt at clutching them closer smudges their edges and blurs the memory they hold. You feel too scared to keep trying, lest they become damaged beyond repair.

There are glimpses of bliss, you still feel the buzz from a haughty assuredness that has since frozen in your bones. The warmth of a carefully woven safety net fades into a cool, shadowy abyss and you feel foreign in your own body.

Did you do something wrong?

Should you have done something differently?

Do you still have a purpose in the space you suddenly feel intrusive in occupying?

Were you welcome here in the first place?

The thrumming echo of competing thoughts swells against your skull and you’re paralyzed between fight or flight. You’re not sure if you truly have an option. If you sit still enough for long enough you could petrify into something unobtrusive. You might be more useful as decor, anyways.

What would it be like? To forever be a fly on the wall? Aware of who people are when no one is watching- but never aware of yourself?

Your body is rocked by a confident presence flopping down unceremoniously to your left.

“Jesus, I’m fucking thirsty,” Agatha heaves, panting and grimacing when her hands land on her skin.

She is thinly layered in a sheen of sweat and you assume her soft, disgruntled ‘hmm’ is the sound effect from taking a mental note to wash the sheets tomorrow.

The ballooning in your head is harshly popped and awareness hits you like a freight train, horn blaring as it crashes into you.

The sheets are cold beneath you and your own sweat makes you shiver. The movement jostles you and you recoil away from the pool of your wetness you sat in. Hazy memories crystalize in sudden clarity and you blanche- frozen aside from the burning of your cheeks.

You made a mess. In the moment, your body had stolen your autonomy… It felt so good when Rio tickled depths in you that had never been reached… Sure, squirting everywhere was probably hot for the five seconds while it was happening.

Now, its an inconvenience. Agatha and Rio don’t want to sleep in Lake Superior.

You begin to buzz with panic, highly aware that you need to appear casual. Unbothered. If you take up more space, more energy, they may tire of you.

Don’t be fucking stupid.

They won’t just suddenly cast you aside. They’ve had years to get rid of you. If they were going to toss you aside they would’ve done it by now.

It’s the truth. They’ve loved you for so many years. You’ve shared so much time. Enough time for them to grow bored of your insecurities. Who wants to have sex with someone who makes it weird afterwards?

No, that’s dumb. Everything is clearly fine.

You assert this truth over yourself for a moment. It is true…right?

Hesitantly, you let yourself feel proud. It’s not everyday you single-handedly talk yourself off the ledge.

Probably best not to test their patience, though.

You need to do something to make yourself useful. Something is begging to be fixed. You aren’t quite sure what, but you know that the consequence of not doing it is losing Agatha and Rio’s love and affection.

“I’ll wash the sheets!” you declare in an effort to avoid letting yourself wonder if you ever truly had it all.

Hastily, you clamber to rise from the bed. Your limbs are jelly and you aren’t prepared for the lack of help your body offers. Your flailing to gain enough momentum to hoist yourself up is cut short by Agatha pulling you back down.

“Don’t be silly, bunny. It can wait.” Agatha tries to nuzzle into you as she pulls the covers over you both, but you’re fidgeting uncomfortably and she looks at you with concern.

It looks as though she wants to say something more, but she doesn’t. Her eyes are scanning your face and you feel her reading your features, assessing what may be wrong.

After a moment, her eyes flick to Rio’s. You follow her gaze and see that Rio has returned to the room with a bag of wet wipes and a hand towel. Big brown eyes, swimming in concern seem to be in conversation with Agatha’s. When Rio focuses her attention on you, you are entranced by how easily she calls your full focus. She cautiously, but surely approaches.

“Can I help you sit up, bunny?” She casually offers, concern no longer as evident as it was moments ago.

You consider fussing at the ask, but her presence is so unassuming that you feel compelled to allow her request. You nod, happy with your decision when you are given a proud smile.

“Perfect. I wanted to come clean you up and I was hoping I could squeeze in behind you.” She looks towards Agatha, “That is, if Mommy agrees to release you.”

Agatha’s hold on you tightens and she drawls out a long hum of indecision.

“I suppose I can share our little bunny’s snuggles.” Agatha concedes, “On one condition.”

She coyly poses the bargain and your curiosity begins to chip away at your stoicism. You look to Rio and she only raises her brows and shrugs. Turning back to Agatha, your curiosity peaks when she matches Rio’s shrug.

“What?” you prod.

“You have to be good for Daddy while I go get us something to drink.” She presses a kiss to your temple and gives you time to consider her terms.

You don’t want Agatha to go, but you feel like it’d be ridiculous to ask her to stay. She’ll only be gone for a few minutes. And you actually are quite thirsty…

You un-scrunch your face and look to her, nodding your head. Surprise is overshadowed by relief when she doesn’t ask you to use your words. Warm contentedness pulls at the anchor that weighs you down.

“The kitchen is serving water- still or sparkling- and a selection of our finest imported juices- pouched or boxed. What will it be, my loves?”

Before you can begin to ponder your choices, Rio is assessing her own.

“Do we have the green boxes or the yellow ones?”

“We have both, but our head juice expert keeps the yellow boxes chilled at the request of our most esteemed patron.”

You didn’t know there was juice in the fridge…

“Purple?” you ask and they both look to you.

You hear Rio chuckle and you can tell by the twinkle in Agatha’s eye that she is beaming with pride. The remaining weight nestled into your chest begins to levitate away from you.

“Of course, bunny. Mommy knows grape is your favorite.” Her subtle coo turns the last of the weight to dust and blows it away. “One purple coming up. What will Daddy be having this evening?”

Rio purses her lips in indecision, brows furrowed in thought before she groans.

“I can’t decide, bunny. What do you think?”

You can’t help the smile that creeps over your features. You bite your lip and take the task of deciding seriously.

“Purple!” You decide easily.

“Purple it is!” Rio matches your enthusiasm.

“Did you pick purple so you and Daddy could match, baby?”

You give a shy nod, uncertainty threatening to pick at your comfort.

“Can Mommy have a purple so she can match too?” Agatha strokes your cheek and excitement takes the place of the previously looming uncertainty.

You nod again and swallow your whine when Agatha untangles from you and stands up.

“Three purples it is. Be good for Daddy, bun. I’ll be right back.”

Before she leaves, she grabs the hand towel from Rio. Once you are alone, Rio’s attention is firmly locked onto you. She sets the wet wipes next to you and helps pull you up. Settling in behind you, you melt into the warmth of her skin.

Her breasts are soft against your back, nipples playfully poking against you.

“Come here, mi corazoncito,” she whispers, humming in satisfaction when you soften into putty in her hands. “Do you want to talk about where you went? After we finished?”

You swallow hard but don’t have the chance wander from the safety you’re surrounded in as she slowly rubs her hands up and down your arms.

“You don’t have to, but I’m here if you want to. No matter what it is or how mean your thoughts might be Daddy’s always here to listen. You know that, yes?”

Upon your nod of affirmation, you are further unwound by her murmur of approval. She hums in the comfortable silence that’s fallen over you, swaying you gently. She isn’t waiting for you to say something, content to share this moment with you however you’d like to spend it.

“I don’t want you all to get tired of me…” You hesitantly offer.

She gives your statement room to breathe, careful with how her reaction and response will meet you.

“That sounds like a scary thought, bunny. Is there something you think we’d get tired of?”

Her question isn’t accusatory and you feel welcome to ponder it truly. You chew at your lip before you decide you’ve come up with the right words.

“I don’t know… I know I need a lot sexually and emotionally. I made a gigantic mess and I guess I just thought maybe you all wished I was less… I’m not sure. Just ‘less’ in general I guess. Then I think I wanted reassurance but that made me feel like ‘more’ instead of ‘less’. So I figured if I made myself useful it would level things out… It made more sense in my head.”

“Can I give you that reassurance now?” With your permission, she continues. “We need you in all of the same ways, bunny. You and Agatha are everything to me. You are never a burden. Everything I give, or Agatha gives, we give freely. You are endlessly lovable, sexy, and perfect in every way. And you didn’t make a mess. I proudly claim full responsibility for you soaking the sheets. Give credit where its due.”

You snort at her playful cockiness and she joins you in soft laughter.

“We love you so much, bunny.” She soothes lowly, her breath tickling your ear and freckling your skin with goosebumps.

“I know.” Your response is met with a tight squeeze. “I love you too.”

You both settle into the comfortable warmth of each other’s company before she shifts to reach for something.

“Can you be good for Daddy, sweetheart? I need to clean you up now.”

You hear the packet of wet wipes crinkle and shyness creeps over you.

“Shh… It’s okay.” Her left hand gently rubs the center of your chest and she holds the wet wipe held in the other against her own skin. “See?”

She lazily pats at your thighs with the wipe to get you used to the temperature and texture before bringing it to your center and wiping you clean.

“All done.” She whispers before a soft kiss tickles the shell of your ear.

“Can you promise me something?” She continues when you offer a soft ‘mmhmm’. “If your thoughts ever start to get mean or scary you’ll let Daddy or Mommy know, hmm? Even if you don’t have words to describe them or what you need promise me you’ll let us try and help.”

You ponder this. Not because you are uncertain of your answer, but because you want her to know how certainly committed you are to meeting her request.

“I promise.”

She quirks her brow and you understand before she needs to further coax you into what she wants to hear.

“I promise I’ll let you and Mommy know if I ever feel overwhelmed or if my thoughts get scary.”

“So good for Daddy, bunny. Thank you.” Rio squeezes you as tight as she can you you’re certain you could pop when Agatha’s voice loosens her grip.

“Promise Mommy too, bunny.”

You comply, trying your best not to make eye contact with the juice boxes tucked in her arm. She thanks you by inserting the attached straw into a juice box and offering it to you.

“Thank you, Mommy.” You make a show of your manners, hoping for praise.

“So polite, bunny. Mommy is proud of you for being brave and talking to Daddy.”

Her voice soothes an ache deep inside you that you hadn’t realized lingered. You notice the hand towel she left with is now damp and a few shades darker.

“Can you be good one more time and open up?” She taps at your legs and you let them fall open.

Your grumble at the cool air hitting your still-cold center is quickly replaced by an appreciative sigh. The cloth she pets your core with is warm and the noises you make are nothing short of purrs of delight.

You spend the rest of the night a tangle of limbs and laughter. The soft kisses the three of you share taste of grape juice and the promise of a lifetime and any that follow. Though your thoughts will ebb and flow, your best efforts occasionally thwarted by doubts, the truth of your life is nestled deeply within every fiber of your being.

You are safe. You are loved. You will be cherished forevermore.

*---*

Looking for more? -> AO3 | My Fics

[crystalflygeo]

How to Warm Up your Dragon ft Zhongli + fem!reader

cw/tags: ngl this is MOSTLY VERY FLUFFY but it has a veeeery spicy part ehehehehe, praise kink, biting, bit of rough sex, creampie, dirty talk. Reader is technically Fontainian but you can ignore that tbh

notes: Y'ALL THIS HAS BEEN ON MY WIPS SINCE BEFORE FONTAINE IT'S BEEN SOSOSOSOSO LONG I started writing at the start of winter here, now it's summer lmao but hey at least it's winter in the northern hemisphere so... enjoy the snow and dragon man!! Also also... no one guessed what the gift was but Rin was the closest!

Your mother always used to say the way to a man's heart was with food.

you wonder if that applied to archons... er, dragons? adepti?

In any case...

Zhongli has always been a... particular eater. A very refined palate. It's not that he was hard to please, to tell the truth. But he always seemed to have an extra comment, something to add or change to a dish to make it ‘a little more special’.

But you'd quickly find out he had a soft spot for broths and soups, bamboo shoot soup being his particular favorite. Even when it took a lot of hard work and time to prepare, the way he did so was worth it, simply spectacular.

That's why you could almost cry with joy when he happily praised one of your favorite dishes. A fantastic soup d'oignon passed down on your family. Nothing to add, no extras or corrections, he'd enjoy it to its fullest talking about the creamy texture and unique flavor of the cheese so different from those found in Liyue.

So, today you decided to prepare it. Nothing better to warm up on this chilly season, and besides you'd just received a shipment of ingredients from your family.

The rhythm of a knife on a cutting board fills the air, along with a delicious smell. You finish slicing the onions into thin strips and add them to the pot at the stove, humming lightly while stirring. You really hope nothing would keep your dear Zhongli too busy today, so he could be just in time to enjoy this while still fresh and warm.

You turn off the other burner as the beef stock had already warmed up, and start washing some dishes while keeping an eye on the food. It is… rather amusing just how domestic this all feels. Not too long ago you were adventuring over Teyvat, facing off all sorts of crazy dangers, exploring, and never stopping in one place and now… now this feels like home.

And that is without taking into account who your fiancé even is. The former Geo Archon. You shake your head with a light chuckle. It’s still so weird to think of such an imposing figure from legends to be so… him.

You dry your hands and start to pour the broth on the now-golden onions, stirring.

Zhongli is sweet, caring, attentive, wise, with just the right words at the right time. Admittedly a bit airheaded at times, funny when he wants to be. A refined gentleman through and through unlike anyone you’d ever met.

And he loves you.

And you’re engaged.

Warmth rises up to your cheeks along with a small smile as you lower the heat and start grating the cheese.

You heard sounds at the front door and then steps. Oh, early today. Zhongli walks up to you with a smile, greeting you with a kiss on the cheek, his hands resting at your waist as he leans in from over your shoulder. “Welcome home, Li.”

“Thank you” He replies in that deep suave voice. “That smells good my love, would you like some help finishing?”

You shake your head a little. “Please, there’s no need, you just got home. Go take a bath and unwind a little, I’ll finish here and we’ll eat.”

Zhongli looks as if he’s about to say something but simply nods. “Hmm, alright then.” He pulls you a little closer in his embrace, as if he’d missed your contact, your scent. Zhongli inhales deeply, tension seeping off of his body and he gives a soft kiss at your shoulder before almost regretfully pulling away. You chuckle a little and stir the pan.

How domestic and loving indeed.

…

Later when the food is ready and served, he returns to the small kitchen dressed in much more casual and comfier robes. Your eyes linger a little on the small expanse of exposed skin at his neck and chest and then stop at the way his long hair is tied up in a bun.

“Not washing your hair today?” You ask casually, taking your seat.

 “I… Perhaps I have gotten rather used you doing it. I simply didn’t feel like it.”

You can’t help the short laugh that escapes you, even as you try to cover it a little. “Is this your way of saying you wanted me to bathe with you?”

His golden eyes twinkle. “I would certainly enjoy indulging in that more often.”

Your cheeks flush and you avert your eyes.

He takes a spoonful of soup and hums, closing his eyes to appreciate the flavors. “The finest ingredients cooked with true expertise. Simply divine, my love, thank you.”

“Flatterer.” You say, a little embarrassed but he can see right thought it, your little grin, the little shift in your posture.

“I am simply stating the truth.” He replies and continues eating. You can see his shoulders relax and the small satisfied smile at the warm food, it makes you a little giddy as you start eating as well.

---------------------

bundling up during winter was obvious, right?

Putting on layers and layers of clothes. And true, perhaps Liyue didn't get as cold as other nations such as Fontaine, Mondstadt or of course Snezhnaya, but maybe it was exactly for that reason the temperature drop seemed to affect everyone all the more. Besides, the people would take any excuse to show off their fancy coats, scarves and other cold-climate outfits.

Zhongli naturally wore many layers, and he did mention once or twice he wasn't as affected by the cold. Yet, his business partner had gifted him a thick snezhnayan cloak.

The thing was entirely ridiculous, too bulky with a fluffy overtop, the colors dark and cool not matching Zhongli at all.

And yet he'd used it! (Only twice... but still)

You were not jealous, not at all.

You just wanted to... give him something he'd also enjoy and wear around, yes. Something personal, something he’d like and look at and remember you.

But what?

Ugh, it’s not like you were really well versed in sewing. Back at home you’d even had some machinery for that, but here in Liyue… you wracked your brain thinking what could you give him. He had quite a few elegant outfits, fitting him perfectly and enhancing all his attributes, all personally tailored by one of his late Yaksha so they held immense sentimental value as well… how could you compete with that?!

Right, right, it was not a competition. You sigh. Zhongli will probably be happy with anything you give him, but still…

An idea pops into your head and you can’t help but chuckle. Oh, it’s so silly… but maybe…

Simple enough, personal, something he’d use during the cold season only around you. Could work, you decided as you pick up your things to go visit the textile shop.

If nothing else, it could at least get a good chuckle out of Zhongli, right?

And so, for a few days you work on your little project. Turns out sewing was indeed a little harder than expected but you were trying your best. The kind lady who’d sold you some excellent wool had also given you some tips and they proved to be most useful indeed!

Regrettably you didn’t exactly have the right measurements so you more or less eyeballed them. Eh. It’ll be fine…

Zhongli almost came close to finding out too, though you were inconspicuous enough. You’re sure he suspects something.

“It will all be worth it, it will all be worth it…” You mumble to yourself with a frown as you finish trimming one of the stitches. Your fingers hurt.

…

“Li! I have something for you!” You exclaim happily, hands behind your back holding the wrapped-up item you had worked so hard on. An excited glow on your smile and bright eyes.

“Oh? Am I going to finally see what you’ve been guarding to secrecy this past week?” He replies coolly with a knowing smile, amusement dancing on his tone as he places his teacup down.

Nothing escapes him.

“Yes” You present him the gift, your hands then fidget nervously, having nothing else to do now. “I hope you like it! It’s… my first time doing something like this… i-it may not be that good, it’s kind of silly but-”

“Darling please do not fret, I would love anything you give me.”

Your shoulders relax.

Zhongli unwraps the paper and finds a rich dark brown fabric staring back at him, he picks the item and opens it, trying to gauge its shape, thick wool, a little rough around the edges but you did mention it was your first try and he is honored enough you’d make such effort for him.

However…

What is it exactly?

He turns the item around trying not to show too much confusion on his face as to insult you or make you feel bad, it looks like… a severely oversized legwarmer?

“It’s…” You start, feeling a little shy and silly once more. “…for your tail.”

Recognition shines in his eyes and he blinks at the item. 

“You- I know you like to let loose a little around the house and let your illuminated beast features show, I love you tail too but I know… the scales get cold easily a-and usually we just bundle up with a blanket but I thought-”

“I love it.”

You stop running your mouth as soon as he utters those words, Zhongli looks at you with a gentle calm and your heart could melt at the sincerity in his expression. “No one had ever made something like this for me.”

He stands and unfurls the item, then, in a flash of gold his dragon tail manifests, majestic as ever and swaying lazily, the tuft of fur at the end flickering with each move. He maneuvers a little to slip the ‘tailwarmer’ on and though it sags a little, much to your relief it at least fits nicely. There is a yellow diamond pattern near the base that you’d started working on but deemed too difficult for a first try. It was a cute little detail though, maybe next time.

“Warm and cozy.” He chuckles and you beam at him, before letting out a squeak as said dragon tail curls around you, pressing your forward against his chest.

“Thank you, my love.” He cups your face and kisses your forehead.

---------------------

The air is hot and heavy as soft moans and grunts fill the room.

Well, this was certainly a way to warm up… and get some good cardio.

You pant and squirm on the plush surface of a heavenly mattress as the familiar weight of the ex-archon descends upon you. His arms going from a golden orange hue to a deep charcoal, lines of gold thrumming across his skin, glowing softly in periodic pulses up strong muscular arms. Golden horns rise from soft brown hair curled at the tips, two on each side like a crown, while a powerful scaly tail wraps around your calf holding your leg up, spread.

This is Rex Lapis. Morax. Any other number of names he had. This is the Geo Archon.

“Zhongliii!” You whine, his hands caressing your body, claws teasing along your skin, pinching a nipple, fangs grazing your collarbone and a long serpentine tongue licking a hot stripe across your neck.

The head of his cock teases at your entrance, already rock hard and burning like a brand, your hips canting for more. For him to finally fill you, to feel his thick overwhelming girth stretch you, breed you… you want to be filled so full it overflows, so that it dribbles down your thighs and ass in thick, slick rivulets of his love.

“Patience my love.”

You whimper and jerk at that, about to cry out for him again when he rolls his hips and sinks in your warm hole. Your breath catches in your throat as your head throws back on the soft feather pillows.

He pushes into you inch by inch, carving a space for himself with a soft rumbling groan. His lips seek yours as his hands slide to your hips and press hard enough to bruise. His kiss devouring, all-consuming with need as he bottoms inside you, hips pressed flush.

Gods you feel so full, stretched and filled every inch and then some, and he doesn’t allow you a moment to pause and adjust either. A beast of a man in the best of ways, he withdraws halfway, only to slam forward in a fluid firm thrust.

“Mng-! Ah!”

“Mine. All mine. S-so warm and thigh- nghh…”

His pace starts slow, his voice alone enough to drive you crazy with how deep, carnal, animalistic it is against your neck. Sharp canines teasing the elegant column of your throat as he moves.

“Oh! so good… Li… f-faster… faster ple-ahhn!” Your voice pitches high as you babble, pleasure coiling on your gut.    

“As- you desire…” Strained words still sounding like the very embodiment of sex, his voice so sinfully deep, so erotic it washes over you like liquid silk, like molten gold, only heightening the sensations of his quickening pace. In and out, in and out, skin slapping on skin. “You’re… you’re so perfect for me-”

You take him so well, your legs spread wide, your back arched, your insides molded to his length, enveloping him in the most mind-blowing of heats. The bed creaking as Zhongli delivers another powerful thrust, hitting a sweet spot deep within you and making you elicit a sharp keening sob of a moan. Your hands scrambling from the sheets to seek purchase at his back, curled up under his arms to scratch viciously trying to hold onto something, anything as he drives into you thrust after thrust after thrust-    

“I’m- I’m gon-ahnn! Z-Zhongli… ooohh!”

Fuck you are close. So, so close…

He nips at the soft spot between your neck and shoulder. “Almost there… little one.” He huffs between strained grunts and you whimper at the pet name. Golden claws sink on the bedsheets, gripping thigh for leverage as he moves faster, frantic, hips like pistons he fucks into you like a wild animal, the bed rocking, shaking with each thrust. “C-close…”

You mewl and moan, unable to form coherent thoughts anymore but just feel the hot burning pleasure, his warm puffs of breath on your skin, your sweating bodies dampening the sheets and you desperately want to feel his warm seed inside you, filled to the brim with his creamy cum.

“Pleasepleaseplease i-in! In-s-ahh!” You come with a sharp cry, vision blurring, muscles clenching, your insides squeezing around him, milking him for all he’s worth.

It was enough, the tipping point for the dragon, his thrusts shallowing out until he ruts as deep as he can and shoots his load inside you with a guttural groan. Thick spurts pumping inside you before it pools out around his own cock, leaking from your body until there’s nothing left to give.  

Everything is hot… so hot… the air heavy and musky with the scent of sex…

…

Zhongli slumps softly atop your body after what feels like ana eternity, his cock still comfortably nestled within your slick walls, cushioned by fluttering muscles. You lay beneath him, sweaty and shivering, breathless, chest raising and falling rapidly in small gasps as you struggle to catch your breath but oh, how you took his away…

 Beautiful, truly… your half-lidded eyes glazed over, barely able to open admits your exhaustion, but still able to whimper soft little moans as he trails fluttering reverent kisses along your neck and collarbone. Soft, chaste, loving and tender touches.

“Ahhn… mmm…” He chuckles softly at the endearing sounds you make as he eases out of you, the subtle friction enough to sent fire to your nerves, followed by a strange emptiness that mellows down to buzzing contentment.

He lies to the side and pulls you close towards his chest, his tail finally letting your now sore leg rest, uncoiling from it to curl around you both, you settle there with a sigh, eyes sliding shut. “So good for me.” Zhongli gently brushes some hair away from your face and places a kiss at the crown of your head, resting his chin there. “Rest now, dear.”

“Mn.”

---------------------

You smile as Zhongli places the two steaming teacups on the table before scooting over and welcoming him with the blanket surrounding you. He settles on the couch with you cuddling close and passing the book on your hands to him. Your fingers brush and he sets the book on his lap before taking your hands on his, cradling them close to his face before blowing a warm breath on them. You blush and let out a little airy laugh.

“What is this? Dragon breath to keep me warm?”

He hums against your skin, piercing golden eyes staring up at you. “No, just my love for you.” He kisses your knuckles and fingers.

“You…” You mumble, averting your gaze.

He chuckles and kisses your wrist then before leaning in close and kissing your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, anywhere he can reach.

“Ngah, wait you affectionate big lizard!” You squirm and he laughs fully now.

“Just seeking my adorable fiancée’s warmth” He nuzzles onto your neck, kissing there too and making you yelp. “Gorgeous.”

“A-Am not!”

“So precious when you get all shy and flustered.” He gets your jaw this time when you move, so close to your lips.

“Stop! You menace…” You pout and this time you cup his face, staring for a moment at his handsome features, your thumb brushing close to one of the red markings under his eyes.

This man. This dragon. This god.

Oh, how you love him. He warms up your heart.

“Here, I’ll warm you up proper…” You whisper softly, pulling him close and tilting your head to slot your lips together.

Just as you warm up his.

[chibinasuu]

My Valentine | Killer x Reader

Summary: You got a mysterious note asking you to be their Valentine Tags: sfw, fluff, confession, no use of y/n, GN but written with F!reader in mind, reader wears lipstick (as many kid pirates do, of course)

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!”

Your face burned in embarrassment at Kid’s boisterous laughter. 

“Well, if I had a lover,” Wire interjected, “I sure wouldn’t need a whole day dedicated to proving how much I love them. I’ll simply show them every single day.”

Wire’s unexpectedly sweet words prompted Kid to fake-gag, while you groaned frustratedly, “The point is not to prove your love! It’s a day to celebrate love.” 

“Hmm,” Kid brought a finger to his chin, pretending like he was deep in thought, “Nah, I don’t get it.”

“You’re impossible,” You sighed, “We’re pirates, our days are full of violence and fights. Is it so bad to want some romance once in a while?”

“Ugh, when did you become such a sap?”

You gritted your teeth, “Well, you’ve always been an asshole, so I’m not surprised that you don’t understand!”

You flipped Kid off and stalked towards your cabin. 

Your face immediately found your pillow, your screams of frustration muffled in the soft fabric. Of course, your emotionally-stunted Captain wouldn’t understand. It was stupid of you to even talk about Valentine’s Day to Kid, of all people.

Warmth rose to your cheeks as the image of a certain blond unwittingly floated to the forefront of your mind. 

Now, he would understand. 

You knew that he would listen to all of your blabbering, no matter the topic, even if it was something as “ridiculous” as a Day of Love tradition from your home island.

Despite his covered face, you would know that he was hanging on to your every word from the way he would offer soft hums and small nods as you talked. 

You would know that he was listening attentively from the way he would ask questions, encouraging you to tell him more about whatever it was that you were chattering about.

Without intending to, a deep sleep eventually claimed you, bringing dreams filled with manes of luscious yellow hair and fleeting stripes of blue and white.

The sun had nearly completed its descent when you finally woke up from your unplanned nap.

You were groggily stretching your arms above your head when your gaze fell on a small note on the floor of your cabin, which appeared to have been slid from underneath your door. 

You padded over and picked the paper up curiously. A gasp left your lips when you saw what was written on it in slanted handwriting. 

Will you be my Valentine? 

Kitchen. 7 pm. Wear something nice.

You couldn’t deny that your heart started to beat a little faster at the invitation, but the rational part of your brain told your heart that something was weird about this.

As far as you knew, only two other people on this ship knew that today was Valentine’s Day, and by process of elimination, you came to the conclusion that this must be your idiot Captain messing with you. 

Who else would it be from?

The brief giddiness you felt was completely overtaken by a raging annoyance. Your fist clenched so tightly that it creased the little note, and you stormed out of your room to confront the redhead.  

“Kid!” You yelled as you burst into the kitchen, “I swear whatever cruel joke you’re playing here–“

You stopped in your tracks. 

It wasn’t your Captain waiting for you in the kitchen.

“Killer?”

The Massacre Soldier – clad in an apron – had his hands frozen midway through putting a lasagna-filled baking dish into the oven. 

“Hi.” He said awkwardly, “It’s, uh, not 7 pm yet.”

You could only stare at him as the gears in your head turned rapidly, “The note… it was you?”

Killer tried not to sound dejected when he replied, “Were you expecting someone else?”

“No! I thought– Well, um,” You continued to babble incoherently, taken aback that the person you had hoped for, but certainly not expected, was the one who wrote the note all along. 

Killer closed the oven door, fumbling a bit as he took off his mitts and quickly set the timer. He reached for something on the far side of the dining table – something that escaped your notice due to your surprise at this whole situation. 

“For you.”

Your breath hitched as he handed you a simple box tied with a red ribbon. 

“Dinner’s not ready yet, but these are, so…”

You felt Killer’s eyes following your every move through his mask, observing your reaction silently. 

You open the box to reveal a row of chocolate truffles, evenly dusted with dark cocoa powder. The shapes were a little bit lumpy, telling you that the sweet treats were likely handmade by Killer himself. 

A surge of joy overflowed through you, filling your body with a delicious warmth. How did he know that chocolates were such a fundamental part of Valentine’s Day in your hometown? You couldn’t believe this was happening.

And maybe you shouldn’t believe it.

Your brain cruelly shattered the euphoria that you were feeling. 

Right. Killer couldn’t have known about Valentine’s Day. Did Kid or Wire tell him? 

Was this some kind of sick prank that the three of them were playing on you? 

Or did he overhear your conversation and felt sorry that you didn’t have someone to spend this day with?

You couldn’t bear any of those thoughts being true, but you couldn’t really think up another explanation for this. Someone like Killer couldn’t possibly want to do anything remotely romantic for someone like you… right?

“Kil, I… I really appreciate this,” you finally said, “But I swear if you’re just doing this out of pity, or, or for a joke, then–”

“Pity? A joke?” Killer spitted out, “Where did that come from? What in the four goddamn blues are you talking about?”

He sounded legitimately confused, which in turn, made you confused.

With your face buried in your hands, you finally told him about your earlier conversation with Kid and Wire. When you were done explaining, Killer simply laughed out loud at your misguided suspicions, “You got it completely wrong.”

“Well, how did you know about Valentine’s Day, then?” You grumbled defensively, “Kid didn’t, so obviously the holiday is not celebrated on Kutsukku Island.”

Killer scratched the back of his neck bashfully. 

“I, uh, accidentally got a peek at your calendar a while ago.” He admitted, “I was looking for you, and your door was open, but you weren’t in your room.”

Your face burned, remembering that you had circled today’s date and wrote ‘Valentine’s Day’ in bold letters, with a bunch of little hearts drawn around it in red ink, “Oh.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to snoop.”

Killer shrugged before continuing, “Obviously, I got curious. So, on the next island we docked at, I went to the library and did a little research.”

A smile crept up your face at the image of your hunk of a Commander, hunched over in the library with a book.

“Did you know Valentine’s Day is not only celebrated on your home island? Quite a lot of places in the Four Blues and the Grand Line celebrate it too.” 

You cocked your head, partly out of interest at the fact he just told you, partly out of amusement that he really took the time to read up on the holiday, just because of some little hearts on your calendar. And partly out of surprise too – you had never seen the Massacre Soldier act as nervous as he did now.

His hand started fidgeting with the hem of his shirt as he droned on and on, “The holiday’s known by different names, of course, and there are a lot of different traditions involved, but the consensus seems to be that it’s the perfect day to celebrate love with your partners.”

He took a shaky breath, and hesitantly, in a voice so soft you thought you were imagining it, he said, “And that it’s also a perfect day to… confess your feelings.”

It took more than a few seconds for his words to sink in. 

Your eyes widened like saucers when they finally did.

“…You have feelings for me?” You sputtered incredulously, “Why?”

Killer chuckled at the dumbstruck expression on your face, “Why would I not?” 

You gulped as his hand reached out to brush his fingers upon your hair, grazing your ear in the process, “You’re smart, funny, beautiful, brave. You never take shit from anyone. You take care of me and the crew a lot. I love talking and spending time with you. You’re the most wonderful person I know.”

His hands gripped your shoulders, as if begging you to see yourself the way he saw you.

“How could I not fall for you?”

You couldn’t see his face, but the sincerity in his voice alone was enough to choke you up.

You were speechless, so you just stood there with your mouth slightly gaping, staring in disbelief at the man you have had feelings for forever admitting that those feelings were mutual. 

As your stunned silence went on, Killer’s hands slackened from their hold on your shoulders, and he took a step back, mistakenly taking your reaction as rejection.

In a surge of panic, and with a boldness that came out of nowhere, you grabbed his metal-clad face and pulled him back towards you, planting a kiss right where his lips would be. 

You pulled away just as quickly, letting out an embarrassed chuckle when you saw that your lipstick had left a little kiss mark on his helmet. Your hand flew to the spot, but Killer caught it before your fingers could wipe the stain off.

“Killer, I–“

“If you want to kiss me,” His voice somehow sounded lower than it was a minute ago, “You better do it properly.”

And with that, he brought your hands to the sides of his head, guiding them in lifting the helmet off.

Your heartbeat quickened to a million beats per minute as Killer’s face was slowly revealed to you. 

First his goatee, then his purple-stained lips, his pointed nose. 

Killer shook his blond mane and set the helmet aside before finally meeting your gaze.

“Kil…” You reached out as if in a trance and gently caressed his cheek, gasping at the sight of his strikingly blue eyes, “You’re so beautiful.”

It admittedly made you giddy that you had now become one of the only few select people that Killer chose to show his face to.

Hell, if the world knew what he looked like underneath that mask, you were sure that a gaggle of women and men would chase him down to the ends of the Grand Line.

Killer grabbed your waist and stepped closer to you, leaving a mere inch between your chests. Both of your hearts were thumping so loudly that it was a miracle that the other couldn’t hear it.

He leaned in ever so slowly… then stopped, leaving it up to you to close the gap. 

You tentatively brushed your lips against his, and it felt like sparks had burst all over your chest, leaving tingles everywhere. You pressed your lips to his once more, a little bit firmer this time.

Killer couldn’t hold back any longer and tugged your body flush with his. His hand traveled to the back of your head, pulling you into a deeper kiss.

Your knees felt like jelly, and you would’ve been sprawled on the floor if it wasn’t for Killer’s steady arms holding you up. 

You could taste a hint of chocolate on his tongue – he must’ve spent so much time taste-testing to make the perfect batch of chocolates for you.

Both of you couldn’t get enough of each other now that you had gotten a taste, but of course, you were only humans, so you finally parted to properly get some air into your lungs.

Killer touched his forehead to yours and grinned, still slightly out of breath, “So, does this mean you’re my Valentine?”

“Yes, you big oaf.” You laughed, circling your arms around his neck and pulling him into a tight embrace, “This year and the next, and for as long as you want me.”

The kitchen of the Victoria Punk never felt as warm as it was now, with you finally wrapped around Killer’s arms. A delicious aroma wafted from the oven, a reminder that a lovely meal for two was still waiting for you – and that your night had barely started. 

You wished it would never end.

a/n: i almost didn't finish this on time askdjksjdk i kept procrastinating because i didn’t quite know how i wanted to write killer, but i hope i did him justice! hope you enjoyed this little valentine treat, and i hope you're all having a great valentine's day, whether you're spending it with your partner, your friends, your family, or by yourself. have some chocolate and flowers from me 🍫💐

[gingerteafairy]

𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙤 𝙙𝙞𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙗𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙣 𝙬𝙞𝙠𝙞𝙝𝙤𝙬 (𝙥𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙖𝙭𝙞𝙢𝙤𝙛𝙛 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧)

Peter had to thank wikiHow creator for finally getting a girlfriend.

tags n warnings: smut, idiots in love, kinda fluff, virgin!peter, cockwarming, piv, cursing, mdni, porn w little plot. word count: 3.1k

masterlist

You were sprawled out on the carpet next to Peter, your heads almost touching as you watched yet another one of his dumb Facebook videos. Feet nudging each other, the usual deal with your weird best friend. "Check this out—dude literally fires a gun with just his toes."

"Peter, I’m over this!" you groan, suddenly sitting up and breaking the rhythm.

Peter shoots you a confused, slightly annoyed glance before sitting up too, his eyebrows knitting together. "Over what? We’re just chillin’ on our phones." He tosses his phone down like it betrayed him.

"Exactly! We’re supposed to be hanging out, and instead, we’re glued to our screens. It’s so lame!" you exclaim, throwing your hands up for emphasis before crossing your legs on the floor.

"Oh, my bad," he smirks, leaning back on his hands. "What’s next? Tea party with stuffed animals?"

"Ha-ha, you’re hilarious," you deadpan, grabbing your phone and unlocking it. "No, but we’re doing something—anything but this."

"Wait a sec. You’re the one yelling about phones, and now you’re all up in yours again?" He shakes his head, laughing, his knees bumping against yours as he leans forward.

"I’m looking for ideas, genius. Clearly, neither of us can think of something fun on our own," you fire back, scrolling until your face lights up. "Got it. This is perfect."

You spin your phone around, showing him the screen. He leans in, squinting suspiciously. "No way. 150 Questions to Ask Your Boyfriend? And it’s from freakin’ wikiHow?"

"It’s better than watching you scroll through those ancient Facebook memes. You’re, like, the only dude under 25 who still uses that app," you tease, tilting your head at him while scrolling through the list.

"Hey, Facebook is underrated. Some of the groups on there are gold, like—"

"'Looking for an Inmate to Date.' Don’t even start. I know about that one," you interrupt, breaking into laughter. "I’ll give you that—it’s iconic. Alright, here’s one for you: what color would you erase from the world, and why?"

Peter stretches out his legs and grins. "Ooo, deep question. Hmm... pink."

"Pink? What did pink ever do to you?" you ask, laughing as you shift closer to him, sitting on your knees now.

"I don’t know; it just bugs me. Especially that blinding hot pink. You know, the shade old ladies wear to the grocery store like it’s a fashion statement," he says, gesturing dramatically with his hands.

You snort, nudging his shoulder. "Alright, your turn—ask me one."

"You’re not gonna answer the color thing?" He raises an eyebrow, his mouth quirking up in challenge.

"Nope. Gotta keep the mystery alive," you reply, leaning back on your palms.

"Fine," he smirks, scrolling dramatically through the questions. "Alright, here’s one: pick three items from the store to guarantee the cashier gives you weird looks." Peter’s grin widens as he leans toward you. "And don’t even think about copping out with something boring."

“Lub, car wax, and cat litter," you laugh as you count them off on your fingers. “It's always the sex ones.”

"I’ve got a better one: Condoms, yogurt, and pliers," Peter chimes in with a smug grin.

Your jaw drops in exaggerated shock, and you lightly smack his shoulder. "You’re disgusting!" you exclaim, laughing so hard you almost lose your balance. “That's criminal.”

He leans back with a smirk as you scroll for another question. “I'm just more creative than you.”

"Alright, here’s a good one," you announce, eyes twinkling. "What’s your favorite thing about me?"

Peter tilts his head, resting his chin in his hands as he looks you over, scanning your face and, embarrassingly, your whole body. The intensity of his gaze makes your cheeks heat up. It wasn’t exactly a secret that you had a crush on Peter Maximoff. The problem was he was dumb enough to miss that this question was a trap—a way to find out if he might feel the same. He felt. Bad. And just like him, you were stupid enough to not notice.

"You’re funny," he says plainly, snapping you out of your thoughts.

The simplicity of his answer makes your smile falter for a split second, and he notices immediately. Concern flashes in his eyes as he leans closer.

"That’s it?" you shot, eyebrows furrowing as you lean forward, trying to catch his gaze.

Peter’s cheeks turn pink—faster than anything else about him, really—and he shifts awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. "Having a good sense of humor is important," he adds quickly, smiling nervously. "And...you’re cute. That’s cool too."

The reassurance makes your heart do a weird little flip, though you try to keep your face neutral. "Your turn," he spat, clearly eager to move the spotlight off himself.

"You’re smart," you reply confidently, straightening your posture as if declaring a fact. "You’re handsome, funny, and it’s like you can read my mind because you always know what makes me laugh. You’re always on time—because, well, you’re fast. You’re interesting in literally everything you do, and—"

You stop mid-sentence, realizing how much you were rambling.

"Wow, didn’t know I was all that," Peter teases, grinning at you like the cat that got the cream. Then, of course, because he’s Peter, he leans in to push your buttons further. "You’re gorgeous. You smell amazing. You’re funny. Super smart. And you’ve got killer taste in music."

Your cheeks practically catch fire, and you manage to stammer, "Thanks...Peter..."

But before you can regain your composure, he snatches your phone and grins. Next question. Same topic. Let’s keep this going.”

"If you could ask me anything, what would it be?" Peter’s voice carried that teasing edge you’d come to know too well, and you immediately felt your throat tighten.

You swallowed hard, a nervous laugh bubbling up as you looked away, pretending to focus on the texture of the carpet. Your mind was racing with unspoken questions—Do you like me as much as I like you? Do you ever think about kissing me? Have you ever fantasized about me?—but instead, you chickened out and asked, "What song reminds you of me?"

He chuckled, a little too casually, like it was the silliest question ever. You pouted instinctively, your lips forming an adorable little curve that he secretly loved.

"Sorry," he said, waving a hand as if to dismiss his laugh. "Uh... I don’t know, maybe something old, like Can’t Take My Eyes Off You or something. This is a tough one—requires actual brainpower."

"Unbelievable," you said, shaking your head with a soft laugh. "It’s not that hard."

Peter smirked, shifting closer to you, his shoulder lightly bumping yours. He loved how easily flustered you got, and you could feel his gaze lingering on you again, just enough to make your cheeks burn.

"Okay, if I could ask you anything," he started, leaning in slightly, "it’d be...what’s your favorite memory of us?"

"Uh...I think it’s that time I was craving chocolate, and you brought me some in, like, two seconds," you said, smiling softly. "Then you told me about your powers, and you were so worried I’d freak out or something. But I just laughed."

Peter laughed too, relaxing his posture as he propped himself up on one elbow. "Man, I really thought you’d throw a frying pan at me or something dramatic like that."

"Why would I do that?" you giggled, feeling lighter just from the sound of his laugh.

"Because it’d be funny," he shot back, grinning. Then, shifting uncomfortably on the floor, he groaned. "Alright, this carpet’s killing me. Let’s move to the bed—it’s comfier."

You nodded, trying not to overthink the casual suggestion, and followed him as you both climbed onto the soft mattress. He sprawled out on his side, scrolling through more questions on your phone while you perched next to him, your legs tucked underneath you.

"If you were a sandwich, what would you be?" you asked, breaking the silence with a grin.

"Easy. Bacon cheeseburger. 100%," he said confidently, barely missing a beat as he handed your phone back and stole a glance at you out of the corner of his eye.

You noticed, of course—you always did. Instead of calling him out, you just smiled to yourself, feeling your heart race every time your gazes met. The room was filled with a quiet, happy tension, both of you a little shy but still enjoying the moment.

Even when he turned back to the phone, scrolling for another question, Peter couldn’t help but smirk to himself. He loved how easy it was to make you blush, and the fact that you didn’t seem to mind? That made it all the better. “What's your kinks?”

The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you just stared at him, blinking as if your brain had short-circuited. And suddenly you remembered Peter's dirty mind. What could be worse than saying your biggest kink was your best friend fingerfucking you at light speed?

“Uhm… I don't know…the usual. Missionary or doggy. Dunno.” you shrugged, obviously. “What about you?”

“Alphabetically or chronologically?” he shot and you rolled your eyes, nudging him. But the way you looked up at him, so curious with those eyes he could steal the world for you to look at him again this way gave courage for him. “Cockwarming…I guess…”

“Have you ever tried it?” you questioned, biting your lip to calm your heartbeats. It was the first time you really made a move onto Peter's oblivious being.

“Not actually.” He giggled, scratching his head. “I'm virgin. Yes. I said it. Virgin as olive oil. Boom society. Peter Maximoff is a virgin as hell.”

“That's ironic, virginity is something pure in our culture.” You joked, untucking your legs as you pressed your thighs together. “Would you…you know… like to try?”

“Pfft, obvious.” He giggled, rolling his eyes. “But who will I make it? I don't picture anyone interested in me.”

“How can you be so fucking dumb?” You spat and shut instantly by realizing you said it out loud. Talking alone wasn't a good thing.

“Why am I dumb? You are dumb for calling me dumb, you idiot.” He scoffed, offended. And yeah. Peter was dumb enough to not realize your intentions.

“You're dumb because I'm fucking offering me to cockwarm you, asshole.” You exploded in a low voice, eyeing him through your lashes, focusing on Peters trying to search the right words.

“Really?” He stammered, shifting his weight on the mattress.

“Y-Yeah…” you stuttered, three tones redder than before, nodding.

“Uhm…Okay…Yeah…Great…” He looked down, scratching his neck just to get his eyes back on you, completely shy about the situation. “You…You wanna do it now?”

You nodded, timid enough that nothing understandable came out of your mouth. Peter swallowed and looked at you several times before coming with the decision of kissing you. Yeah. That would be great. He thought.

“What are you doing?” You ask, frowning weirdly when his face comes closer to yours.

He groaned, downing his head, lifting just as fast. “I thought that kissing you would be a great start, you dumb.”

You snorted, taking a deep breath. Okay, you were dumb on that. “Fine. Let 's… do it.” you mumbled, turning your face in that weird position where your shoulders touched to close the gap between you, brushing your lips on his and wow, Peter had surprisingly soft lips way better than any of your dirty imaginations before bed.

Fast as the speed of light, Peter hummed in your mouth feeling his cock already rock hard on his pants. He broke the kiss, opening his eyes slowly to focus on yours. “it…it was good. You're a good kisser.”

“Yeah.” You muttered, glancing at his lips mid-parted. “You unzip your pants or…you want me to do it?”

“Whatever's good for you. I…can do it.” He shrugged, freezing before shaking his head and unzipping and down his pants in one second, his cock standing deliciously on his belly.

Your mouth instantly watered at the sight, obligating you to swallow to get rid of the excess saliva. “Uhm… I'll… get undressed.” You announced, gazing his tip wet in pre-cum.

“Great.” he muttered, waiting for you, deep breathing when you lifted your hip to get rid of your shorts, crawling to toss it on the floor. And when you did, fuck, Peter had to concentrate on anything for not cumming by seeing your covered ass up and wet sweet patch on your panties. Pink. The color he hated. Whatever, he loved pink now. Pink was definitely his favorite color. He would buy anything pink from the supermarket.

You came back to your place, eyeing his tip, wetter than a few seconds ago. Shit, you were going crazy. “Can I…”

“Sure.” He promptly agreed, opening his legs a little wide so you could fit on his lap.

You nodded and took off your panties, crawling again to sit on his lap, carefully wrapping your hand on his length while you placed it on your entrance. “I'll…I'll do it now, okay?” You purred, hating yourself for sounding so desperate. Fuck, his veiny cock was facing your pussy. You. Peter. Cockwarming. This wasn't your imagination.

“Okay.” He grunted, breathing heavily. You slowly inserted his tip, sliding down with your eyes on the back of your head when you both moaned together. Nothing could describe how good Peter's cock felt on your pussy. Bad news. You got a new addition.

You moaned needy when his dick was fully inside you, not helping your hips to wiggle slowly, enjoying the sensation. “Uhm…Peter.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. It's wet. Oh my god it's so wet.” He estates, throwing his head back. You were warm, tight, so fucking wet for him he thought he was in a pool. “I love your pussy.”

You hummed, swaying your hip back and forth to increase the friction. He grabbed your hip, helping you with the movement. “Yeah, Peter. Just like this. Hmmm, this is fucking good. You feel so fucking good on me.” You mewl, giving him a piece of heaven when you made a dirty round movement on his cock, clenching your walls when he pulsate on you.

Peter shutted his eyes, opening to gaze at your intimates together, especially on his dick juiced by your juices, lewd and noisy delicious sounds from it echoing in the room. “Can…can I touch you?”

“Uh-huh.” You nodded, absorbed in the pleasure. “Please… Please touch me, Peter…Uhmmmm...”

Peter licked his lips, pushing your body to crash on his chest, where he wasted no time to kiss you roughly while his fingers snaked to your cunt, at first, touching slowly, but he had a better idea. He buzzed his fingers, feeling proud when he felt you trembling on him, moving your legs desperately and moaning lustfully on him, dropping your head on his shoulder.

“m gonna cum. Peter, shut, cumming.” you whined, arching your back by melting on his cock, screaming his name on your orgasm, fire pooling on your lower belly.

“Fuck. Yeah…you're so hot. This…oh my god.” He interrupted, moaning when your pussy just clenched him so right that he twisted the positions with your ass up, fucking you miserably fast and good with your face on his fluffy pillow.

“Peter!” You screamed muffled, fisting your nail on the duvet, biting it as it was enough to make that overstimulation less crazy. Not effective, you just had the feeling of cumming again when his cock kissed your cervix multiple times as he fucked himself deep on your cunt, stuffing it with his fat cock.

“Your…pussy…it's so fucking good. God, i…had…uhmm…” he moaned, rocking his hips so fast that it could be confused by the same buzz his fingers did on your clit. “You're so hot, you're so beautiful…uhmm…say my name, baby. Please…”

“Peter, fuck…more…” you sob. Fucking Peter was a drug, he was shamelessly good on that, having you cumming again with your vision fading black.

He breathed, slowing his sway on a magnetic decrescendo, burying his head on your neck as he forked his fingers on your hair. “Didn't know cockwarming was…this…fucking good.”

You nodded, mind blank as your mouth opened synchronized to his balls deep on you, the same swing on your tits, where he cared to cup them on one hand while the other continued to buzz. All your mind could think was Peter's veins and tip stuffing you perfectly. “Peter…your cock is so…fucking good. Why…why didn't you do it later?”

“Fuck, dunno.” he gasped, forcing a fast pace again, harder then before, humming when his thrust touched your beloved place that made you squeak and grin under him. “Is…is it here?”

“Yes! Yes,yes, fuck yes.” You babbled, soaking his bed on drool and melting juices of your abused cunt who seemed never to give up on taking him well.

“Shit, im gonna cum.” He moaned, taking his cock out, pumping him and spreading his seed on your back, thick wires of cum on your skin and it seemed like it wasn't enough, it just came and came. Til he finished, crashing on the mattress facing the ceiling.

You groaned, plopping your elbows on the bed to sit up, shaking your sweaty hair off your face to look at Peter. You grinned, giggling stupidly while he chuckled gazing at you. Soon, the giggles turned into laughter as you fell on his body, relaxing on a fulfilling peace.

“D’you even realize that we used wikiHow to fuck?” You chortled, pursuing his lips.

“Yeah. Like how to dig your best friend. Wikihow knows the best.” he snorted, stroking your hair, his eyes demanding a different shine that told secretly all his feelings for you. It wasn't enough, though. Peter had to say. “Do you know I have a thing for you, right?”

“Yeah, how big is this thing?” You ask, resting your chin on your palm to glance at him, a gesture that made him squeeze your exposed breast.

“Big as your booba.” He teased, sticking his tongue. “I'm kidding. It 's like…really big. I kinda love you.”

“You do?” you teased back, giggling when he shifted positions to peck your lips. Your heart exploded when he deepened carefully, wrapping his arms on your waist.

“Yes, I do.” He remarked, kissing the tip of your nose. “Do you love me or you just wanted to use my cock for your own selfish purpose?”

You frowned, pretending to think. “Both.”

“You little…” he laughed, running his hands on your sides to briefly tickle you as a light punishment. Kissing as a sorry. “But you can use me for that. I won't complain.”

“I will.” You reassured, pushing him by the back of his neck to another kiss. “And I love you.”

[aventurineswife]

Hi! Another beloved parenting request (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

Basically the reader and the character(Aventurine, Sampo, Childe And dr.Ratio) have a 4 year old son who one night has a nightmare and asks both of them if they can sleep with them in the middle, In short the child sleeps with both parents. Take all the time you want with this, I mean it all! (⁠＾⁠∇⁠＾⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♪

-💤🩵 anon

Safe Between Us

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Sampo x Reader, Childe x Reader, Fluff, Domestic Life, Parenting, Comfort/Wholesome Moments, Nightmare Comfort, Soft Relationships, Family Bonding, Established Relationship.

Warnings: Mentions of Nightmares (non-graphic), Mild Emotional Vulnerability, References to Past Trauma.

A/N: Someone's a bit obsessed with a certain hydro character here ahem ahem, can't blame you if I'm obsessed with a certain gambler here ahem ahem 🧍‍♀️ also Renny is used for gender neutral term of parent since it would've been weird if the child called you parent

The quiet hum of the city outside your window was a faint backdrop to the stillness of the room. You were beginning to drift off to sleep when you heard the sound of small, hurried footsteps padding down the hall. Moments later, a little voice called out, trembling with fear.

“Papa? Mama/Dada/Renny?”

You sat up immediately, your heart clenching. Your four-year-old son stood at the doorway, his hair sticking up in all directions, his eyes brimming with tears. Clutching a small stuffed peacock—Aventurine's ironic gift—he sniffled.

“I had a bad dream,” he whispered. “Can I sleep with you and Papa?”

Aventurine, who had been lounging on the bed, glanced at the child. His ever-present enigmatic smile softened. “A nightmare, hmm? Well, dreams are just gambles in our sleep, aren’t they? Sometimes you win, sometimes you don’t. But tonight,” he said, patting the bed, “you’ve hit the jackpot, little man.”

You rolled your eyes at his theatrical explanation but moved aside to make room. Your son climbed into the bed, nestling himself between the two of you. Aventurine adjusted the covers with an exaggerated flourish, ensuring his boy was snug and warm.

“Tell me what scared you,” Aventurine said softly, his voice losing its usual playful edge. He reached out, brushing a few stray locks from your son’s forehead.

“There were… monsters,” your son murmured, curling against your side. “And they wanted to take me away.”

Aventurine’s smile grew tight for a moment—a rare crack in his facade. “No one’s taking you anywhere,” he promised, his tone firmer now. “Not while your parents are here.”

You leaned over, pressing a kiss to your son’s temple. Aventurine mirrored your gesture, his gaze meeting yours briefly. It was in these quiet, vulnerable moments that his guarded mask slipped entirely, revealing the man beneath.

As the three of you lay there, the child’s breathing grew steady, his fears banished by the warmth and love surrounding him. Aventurine murmured a soft, “Goodnight,” his hand lingering protectively on your son’s back. For once, there was no gamble, no risk—just family.

The air was cool, and the soft glow of the moon filtered through the curtains as you and Sampo settled into bed. His mischievous grin, as usual, hadn’t faltered even after a long day. But the peace of the evening was soon interrupted by the sound of your son crying out from his room.

Both you and Sampo bolted upright, exchanging a quick glance before hurrying down the hall. You found your four-year-old sitting up in his bed, his eyes wide with fear and tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Hey there, champ,” Sampo said, crouching beside him. “What’s got you so spooked?”

“I—I had a bad dream,” your son stammered, his small hands clutching the blanket. “Can I sleep with you and Mama/Papa/Renny?”

Sampo’s playful grin softened. “Of course you can. What kind of dad would I be if I said no to my favorite little guy?”

Carrying your son back to your bedroom, Sampo made a show of fluffing the pillows and tucking him in. “Alright, bud,” he said as your son settled between the two of you, “you’re in the safest spot in the world now—between two top-tier protectors.”

“Papa,” your son whispered as he clung to your arm, “are you sure the monsters can’t find me here?”

“Monsters?” Sampo chuckled, ruffling the boy’s hair. “Not a chance. Besides, if they tried, I’d outsmart them in a heartbeat. You’ve got a merchant dad, remember? I’d sell them some fake monster repellent and send them running!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at his antics. But it worked—your son giggled, the fear melting from his face. Soon, he was fast asleep, snuggled between you and Sampo.

Sampo leaned over, pressing a kiss to your temple. “See? Problem solved. My charms work on everyone.”

The house was silent save for the rhythmic sound of waves crashing on the shore outside. You were just drifting off to sleep when a tiny knock came at the bedroom door.

“Come in,” Childe called, sitting up immediately. The door creaked open to reveal your four-year-old son, clutching his blanket tightly.

“Papa… Mama/Dada/Renny… I had a bad dream,” he said, his voice shaky. “Can I sleep with you?”

Childe was out of bed in an instant, kneeling to scoop the boy into his arms. “Of course, little one,” he said, his tone soft and reassuring. “Nightmares can’t hurt you when we’re here.”

Your son nestled against Childe’s chest as he carried him back to the bed. As the child crawled into the space between you, Childe tucked the blankets securely around him. “What was the dream about?” he asked, brushing his fingers through your son’s hair.

“There were… shadows,” your son whispered. “And they tried to take me away.”

Childe’s jaw tightened briefly, but his voice remained calm. “Shadows, huh? Well, they don’t stand a chance against us. Your parent and I are the strongest team there is.”

He glanced at you, his eyes softening as he reached over to take your hand. “We’ve got him, right?”

You nodded, smiling. “Always.”

Your son’s breathing slowed as he relaxed, lulled by the warmth and safety of your embrace. Childe watched him for a moment, his hand resting protectively on the boy’s back. “I’ll never let anything happen to him,” he whispered, more to himself than to you.

The soft glow of the night lamp illuminated your room when the faint sound of sniffles reached your ears. Moments later, your four-year-old son appeared at the doorway, his small frame trembling.

“Mommy/Daddy/Renny… Daddy… I had a bad dream,” he said, clutching his blanket. “Can I sleep with you?”

Ratio adjusted his glasses, his intense eyes softening as he looked at the child. “A nightmare?” he murmured, rising to kneel before him. “Dreams are merely the mind’s way of sorting chaos. Let’s bring some order to this, shall we?”

You smiled as Ratio scooped the boy into his arms, his scholarly tone transforming into something gentle and warm. “Come,” he said, settling the child between you. “There is no safer place than here.”

As your son curled up, Ratio placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Tell me what frightened you,” he urged.

“There were big, scary shapes,” your son whispered, his voice muffled against your chest. “And they were chasing me.”

Ratio nodded thoughtfully. “Ah, shadows. A product of fear and imagination,” he explained. “But fear loses its power in the presence of love and knowledge.”

Your son’s eyes fluttered closed as you and Ratio soothed him with quiet reassurances. “Sleep now, my little prodigy,” Ratio whispered, his hand lingering protectively on the boy’s back. “Your dreams will find clarity, and we will always be here to guide you.”

[pretzel-box]

Hello :D can I make a request? I want a Sebastian x Fem!Reader (Y/n is a prisoner here) where Y/n finds a friendly little Squiddle and takes them with her. Sebastian and Y/n act like parents to that little Squiddle XD

Tags: Established Relationship, adopting a Squiddle, might not be lore accurate Squiddle description, lots of fluff

Words: 1,7k

“SEBASTIAN!” you screamed, crawling through the cramped vent as quickly as you could, panic evident in your voice. The metal walls echoed with the frantic sound of your limbs scrambling against the sides. Sebastian glanced up from the file he was reading, his expression blank at first, but then he heard the aggressive thud of your limbs against the metal, a sound so loud and desperate it made him pause.

He shrugged, dismissing it as another of your dramatic entrances, and returned to the file he was holding. He'd gotten used to your flair for the theatrical, especially in this godforsaken place.

“SEBASTIAN!!” Your voice came again, even louder this time. It didn’t take long for you to come bursting out of the vent, hair in a wild tangle and eyes wide with fear, looking like you’d just seen a ghost. You didn’t bother standing up; instead, you lay there, half out of the vent, panting heavily as you stared up at your boyfriend.

Sebastian chuckled, still amused by your frantic state. He shut the file with a swift motion, a smirk playing on his lips. “Sup, my starfish,” he greeted lazily, leaning back in his chair. “What's got you all riled up this time? Did a wall dweller nibble on you again?” He chuckled at his own joke, clearly enjoying your flustered state.

“THERE IS SOMETHING SQUISHY ON MY LEG!” you screamed, your voice filled with genuine panic. You stared at him with wide, pleading eyes. “TAKE IT OFF! TAKE IT OFF!”

Sebastian's smirk widened as he slowly got up from his comfy pose in the corner of the shop, taking his sweet time just to tease you. "Something squishy, you say? Well, that's new," he drawled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Maybe it's a new type of wall dweller, hmm?"

Sebastian sighed dramatically, leaning back to view you in another perspective and crossing his arms over his chest. "Something squishy… he repeats, his lips curving into a mischievous grin. "What, maybe you stepped on some jelly or something?"

"Sebastian, this isn't funny!" you snapped, voice hitching with fear as you waved your leg around, trying to shake off whatever was clinging to it. “Just help me, okay?!”

He laughed again but finally knelt beside you, his curiosity piqued. “Alright, alright, let’s see what’s got you so worked up,” he said, reaching for your leg. His fingers moved carefully, prying away the tiny creature that was latched onto you.

As soon as he got a good look at it, his teasing grin softened into one of genuine surprise. "Well, would you look at that," he murmured. "It's just a baby Squiddle." The small, black, squid-like creature squirmed in his hand, its tiny body wriggling and writhing. Its eyes were wide, and every few moments it made a bizarre, creepy face—likely an attempt to be intimidating, but it just came off as awkwardly endearing.

You blinked, staring at the small creature, your panic beginning to ebb away. “A… a baby Squiddle?” you repeated, half in disbelief. “That’s what was on my leg?”

Sebastian chuckled, nodding. “Yeah, looks like it must have gotten separated from its group and found you instead. Probably thought you were a safe place to cling to.” He gently held the baby Squiddle closer, its eyes continuing to shift into odd, creepy faces. “Poor little guy’s just scared out of its wits.”

You sat up slowly, peering at the tiny creature now cradled in Sebastian’s hands. “It’s… kinda cute,” you admitted, your fear giving way to a hesitant smile. “In a weird, creepy sort of way.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, amused. “Cute, huh? That’s a new one. Most people would have just flicked it off and run away screaming.”

You nudged him playfully with your elbow. “Well, I was *this* close to doing that, too, if you hadn’t noticed.” But then your expression softened as you looked back at the Squiddle. “But… I mean, look at it. It’s just a baby. We can’t just toss it back out there.”

Sebastian's smile widened, a spark of amusement dancing in his eyes. "So, what do you want to do with it? Should I toss it back outside, or should I put it up for sale in the shop...?"

You nodded, more confident now. “No. I mean, it’s lost, and it’s scared. We can’t just leave it out there to fend for itself. Besides,” you added with a small smile, “I think it’s already taken a liking to me.”

Sebastian laughed, shaking his head. “Alright, if that’s what you want then we can adopt it,” he said. “Looks like we’re adopting a Squiddle.”

You grinned, reaching out to gently stroke the top of the baby Squiddle’s head. It made another creepy face, but you just laughed, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “Welcome to the family, little guy,” you said softly.

Sebastian watched you with a fond smile, his earlier amusement replaced by a warmth that made your heart skip a beat. “You know,” he said, his voice softer now, “you’ve got a good heart, starfish. Most people would’ve just freaked out and tried to stomp the poor thing. But not you.”

You blushed, looking away shyly. “Well, I guess I’m just a sucker for things that need a little love,” you murmured.

Sebastian leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “And that’s why I love you,” he whispered, his voice warm and sincere. “Now, come on. Let’s find a nice little spot for our new friend, and maybe figure out what Squiddles eat.”

You laughed, getting to your feet with the baby Squiddle still cradled in Sebastian’s hands. “Sounds like a plan,” you said, your smile wide and bright. “Looks like we’ve got a new adventure ahead of us.”

Ever since the baby Squiddle had made its home with you and Sebastian, the shop had become a little less gloomy and a lot more chaotic. The tiny, black, squid-like creature had instantly latched onto you—quite literally. It had taken a solid half-hour of convincing for Sebastian to help pry its sticky little tentacles from your leg when you'd first burst into the shop, panicked and breathless. But now, it was hard to imagine life without the little fellow.

The baby Squiddle, who you'd affectionately named Inky, seemed to have taken a liking to the shop, always finding new places to hide and new ways to amuse itself. Today, it was curled up in a corner of the shop on top of a pile of discarded maps, its many eyes blinking curiously at the two of you.

Sebastian chuckled as he watched you attempt to balance a bowl of water in one hand and a rag in the other. “You know, if you keep pampering it like that, it’s going to get spoiled,” he teased, his voice warm with affection. He was leaning against the wall, his arms folded, a rare smile playing at his lips.

“Oh, hush,” you replied, rolling your eyes but smiling back. “It’s just a baby. Besides, someone has to make sure it doesn’t get dehydrated.”

As if understanding, Inky gave a small, delighted chirp and wriggled its little tentacles, reaching out to you as you approached. It had learned quickly that you were the softer of the two, always ready with a gentle touch and a kind word. You knelt beside it, dipping the rag into the bowl and gently dabbing it over the Squiddle's glossy skin. Inky let out a series of soft, happy gurgles, its many eyes closing in contentment.

Sebastian couldn’t help but smile wider at the sight. “You’re gonna turn that thing into a diva,” he said, though his voice was soft, almost fond.

You glanced up at him, a playful glint in your eyes. “Says the one who spoils it with all the attention,” you shot back, gently booping Inky on what you thought might be its nose—or some kind of equivalent.

Inky made a face that could only be described as a tiny, squid-like attempt at a grin, one of its eyes squinting up at Sebastian. He snorted, shaking his head. “Okay, okay, maybe I do have a soft spot,” he admitted. “But can you blame me? Look at those faces.”

“Faces?” You laughed, giving Inky another gentle pat. “We still don’t know what most of those are for. But, you’re right; it’s hard to resist.”

Sebastian pushed off the wall and crossed the room, crouching down beside you. He reached out a hand, and Inky immediately curled a couple of tentacles around his fingers, tugging playfully. “You know,” he said thoughtfully, “I never thought I’d end up…here. With you, and…a baby Squiddle of all things.”

You smiled, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Life is strange that way,” you said softly. “But…I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

Sebastian wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. “Yeah,” he agreed, his voice a low murmur. “Me neither.”

Inky made another soft chirping noise, and you both laughed, the sound filling the small shop. It was a moment of pure, untainted happiness—a rare commodity in the depths of the facility.

“Looks like someone’s getting sleepy,” you observed, watching as Inky’s eyes began to droop. You gently shifted it onto a more comfortable spot on the maps, creating a little nest for it. “There you go, little one.”

As Inky settled down, its eyes closing completely, Sebastian reached over and brushed a strand of hair from your face. “You’re really good with it, you know,” he said quietly.

You looked up at him, surprised by the softness in his tone. “Well, I guess I’ve had some practice,” you replied with a grin. “Can’t say I’ve ever had to take care of a baby Squiddle before, though.”

He chuckled. “First time for everything.”

You both sat there for a while, watching as Inky fell into a peaceful sleep. It was a rare moment of tranquility in an otherwise chaotic place. Sebastian squeezed your shoulder gently. “We’re…we’re doing alright, aren’t we?” he asked, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

You turned to him, your smile soft. “Yeah, Sebastian,” you said. “We’re doing just fine.”

And in that moment, with Inky snoozing contentedly between you and Sebastian’s arm wrapped securely around you, it felt like the truth. You had found something good here—something worth holding onto. And no matter what came next, you knew you’d face it together, as a family.

[coffee-and-geto]

a/n: +18 MDNI. welcome to my kinkoctober (will go over november)! i’ll write for suguru geto, toji fushiguro, satoru gojo and choso kamo in a spooky theme. moreover, i’ll try to put a kink for every character.

if you have any requests for some of them, don’t hesitate to ask me in inbox and please read my rules right here. and if you also want to be added on the tag list, you can comment below or here ;)

★ S1 E1 ──── “WILL MY EXQUISITE MORTAL LET ME BE HER FIRST BITE?”

PAIRING: vampire! suguru geto x f!reader

SUMMARY: it is at tokyo university, during a foggy month of october, with a soft, chilling rain falling drearily, that autumn gloomily settles over all the students. you are a biology student — a true passion for you. but aside from the precious time you spend with your eye glued to a microscope, observing cells, your nightly dreams of a noble vampire whisking you away from this life to spiral with you in a bewitching dance — much like edward cullen would — seem to be coming true. especially when your new lab partner, suguru geto, appears to be anything but one of the common folk… KINK: voice, blood

★ S1 E2 ──── “WHO YOU GONNA CALL? CURSEHUNTER!”

PAIRING: curse hunter! toji fushiguro x f!reader

SUMMARY: for halloween, you and your group of friends — where your boyfriend has taken a break from your relationship — decide to spend the evening in an old mansion turned into a hotel. with a rather strange staff and weird things going on in the mansion, everything leads you to end up calling a specialist to the situation — toji, the curse hunter for your evening can do his job, sure, but that doesn’t mean he’ll let you off the hook so easily when you can’t afford him… KINK: size

★ S1 E3 ──── “CALL MY NAME FROM THE OTHER SIDE!”

PAIRING: ghost! choso kamo x f!reader

SUMMARY: on your wedding day, your husband died. ever since, when nothing goes right in your life, choso has to come into your dreams, and when you wish he’d show up for real, you don’t know that a curse has hit you. and that a certain choso haunts your dreams — even the hottest ones… KINK: voyeurism

★ S1 E4 ──── “YOU WOULDN’T LIKE ME WHEN I’M HUNGRY!”

PAIRING: werewolf! satoru gojo x f!reader

SUMMARY: since you were kid, you’ve been friends with satoru gojo. having grown up in the same village, it’s perfectly normal to meet up, laugh in front of a campfire and reminisce about the good old days, isn’t it? not the place or the time to confess your true nature, hmm? KINK: breeding

[alienseasfanfics]

Frosting - Oneshot

Check out my Bucky Barnes x f!traumatized!reader fic here: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | AO3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x any!reader (though you're shorter than him, but not much.)

Overall Summary: It’s late and Bucky comes home tired to find you waiting with a surprise birthday cake. What starts as awkward nerves quickly melts into a quiet, tender moment full of shared smiles, gentle touches, and a first kiss that changes everything. Sometimes the smallest gestures mean the most.

Tags: Fluffy, just fluffy. I barely alude to his past/present.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: You eat cake, it's vanilla (I will not have vanilla slander, he likes vanilla in one sense only and that is in cake).

A/N: I found this deep within my drafts from 2022. I'm currently disliking all the stuff I have currently, so I just copy-edited this. 2022 Alien knew how to write fluff. It's more difficult for 2025 Alien, lol. 2025 Alien would not be as PG either.

Feel free to send in requests! They may take a while but I will write something with it. Bucky/Loki/Stardew Valley x Reader.

His sliding door opens softly. You don’t look up until you hear his customary grunt as he sits down.

“Hey.” You say as you close your book and look over the short partition separating your two balconies.

“Mornin’.” He says, scratching his stubbled jaw with a metal hand. Bucky’s looking you over, looking at your book, just looking. You let him. It’s how he really says hello. With how much he stares, you stopped feeling self-conscious long ago.

He never judges. Makeup or no makeup, ratty t-shirt or nice dress, it never mattered. His eyes meet yours again, and you smile. He doesn’t smile back, but he eases in his chair.

“How’d you sleep?” You ask.

“Fine enough. You?”

“Well.” He nods at your answer, looking out over the busy New York street below you. His damp hair gleams in the rising sun, drying slowly.

He always seems freshly showered when you see him, as if he’s obsessed with being clean. You wonder what kind of shampoo he uses. Is that weird to wonder about your platonic neighbour? Probably. But you always wonder things about him; like what his favorite food is, or he dreams of at night.

You know it’s nothing good. His muffled yells through your shared bedroom wall have woken you up with a heartache more than once.

But the truly selfish questions come to you after that. What he smells like. What his metal arm would feel like holding you. What his lips would feel like on your skin.

Usually, you can hold back these thoughts. Ever since he first came out onto your half-shared balcony a year ago, you’ve been keeping in your words, worried that if you ask them that he’ll be scared off.

Instead, you sit on your distant chairs, and look at each other, and talk. Usually you more than him.

Every morning, you come outside and sit with a book, or a hot drink, or with nothing at all, and he comes out only a few minutes later. Freshly showered and looking at you like he cares what you’re saying. Or, on those rare late nights; dirty, covered with ash and blood, but hearing you all the same.

That’s why you need to know more about him. You care what he’s saying, even when he doesn’t say anything at all. The way his eyebrow raises when you complain about your coworkers, or when the corner of his lips turn up into a smirk when you tell a really good joke.

But today, those little bits aren’t enough.

“Bucky?” you say, and he raises an eyebrow as a silent “go on”. “What’s your favorite food?”

“Hmm.” He mumbles, looking back over at you with a furrowed brow. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” You say, incredulous.

“I’d have to think about it.”

“Think, then. I don’t have work today. You have all the time in the world.”

“All the time, huh? You going to wait around here for that long?” He says, raising an eyebrow again. You shrug in return, heat filling your cheeks. He smirks, then scratches his chin again.

“Vanilla cake.” He says after a few minutes. You smile. It’s so...fitting.

“A classic.”

“Yeah. My mom made me that cake for every one of my birthdays. Until I got sent off, of course.” He clears his throat and looks away from you, back to the cityscape that stretches out into the risen sun.

“That’s very sweet.”

“It was. My sister hated vanilla. I got to have it all to myself.”

“Typical brother behavior. So selfish.” You say. He looks back at you, the corner of his lips twitching into a smirk, and you stick your tongue out at him.

“I was a great big brother, thank you very much.” He says.

“I bet. Just one that never let his sister have any cake.”

“It was my birthday!”

“Fine, fine. I guess you shouldn’t be expected to share on your birthday.”

“Damn right. She can get her own cake. Freeloader.”

You laugh, and he smiles with you. The sight of his face, happy, fills your heart with pride.

“When is your birthday anyway?” You ask, and his brow furrows.

“What day is it today?”

“March 9th.”

“Hmm. Tomorrow.” He says, casually.

“What?!” You jump forward in your seat a little. He’s still smirking, but one brow knits in confusion.

“I completely forgot about it.”

“Your birthday is tomorrow?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Are you going to do anything for it? Go out with friends? Coworkers?” You ask, and he shakes his head.

“There’s no one alive left that knows the day. Except for you now, I guess.”

You blink, speechless.

The only one alive, other than him. And even then, he almost forgot.

You know about his backstory, as much as you ignore it for his sake. After bumping into him in the hallway as you moved in, you were intrigued by the metal arm. He kept it hidden in his signature leather jacket, but you still saw the glint from his wrist. A customary search on the internet satisfied enough of your curiosity on that front.

A man bent into a weapon. A far cry from the man you talk with every morning, who sits and listens to you and your rambling. Who gently offers advice, or a dry joke. Who showed his metal arm in the gleaming sun after you never said a word about it, or his past, or his present.

That first day, when he rushed out of his apartment in a huff, gripping the railing of his balcony and taking deep shaky breaths, you knew that you would never bring it up. His screams that night had awoken you already, leading you out here.

You don’t remember what you said, but he sat down, taking deep breaths as you rambled. Ever since, you meet in the morning. Every day, you yearn to move closer to him. Hope to help calm him down when he’s fighting against the chains of his past, to make him smile in the light of a new sun.

And now, you know his birthday. Another piece of him, offered so casually, though you know better than to ever believe it’s a casual detail.

Now that you think about it, his chair has been moving closer and closer to the shared partition for a while now. He’s basically a couple feet away. Your breath hitches in your throat.

“Hello? Are you on Earth?” You snap out of your thoughts to see him standing now, looking at you. You smile up at him. He smooths his hair back.

“Now I am. Are you going somewhere? It’s barely seven.” You say.

“I have to go in early. A few big...meetings.”

“Oh. Are you going away again?” Your heart sinks. The mornings during his ‘assignments’ always feel so cold and dull.

“Not yet. I’ll be back tonight. Then tomorrow, I’m gone for a couple weeks.”

A couple weeks? That’s basically a lifetime now, after having met him.

“I’ll miss you.” The declaration slips out. He stills, keeping his gaze locked on you and his hand on the back of his neck, silent. When he doesn’t respond, heat rises to your cheeks again, and you break eye contact. “Who else will listen to my stupid rants?” You try to save the moment.

“You could talk about the Earth being flat and I wouldn’t call it ‘stupid’.” He says, voice low but tone light.

You laugh again, looking back up at him. He has the ghost of a smile on his face, but once you blink it’s gone and he’s at his doorway.

“I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you later.” He moves to go inside, but stops at your words.

“You promise?” You say, softly.

His shoulders tense, but he nods.

“I promise.” He steps back inside his apartment, the screen shutting softly. You watch the sun for a few moments longer, half-hoped dreams and thoughts running rampant in your head. You don’t realize you’re going inside, getting dressed and pulling your shoes on, until you’re grabbing your wallet.

Doubt starts to creep up, but Bucky’s smile beams in your head, and you know it’s better to take a chance rather than doing nothing at all.

- -

It’s very late when Bucky finally comes back home. The light in his living room clicks on, flooding the balcony with an orange glow. You sit nervously on your porch chair, pretending to read as you hear the soft sounds of him taking his shoes off, putting things away, finally coming up to the balcony door, and sliding it open.

“The hell are you still doing awake? It’s almost midnight.” He says gruffly from the door, his own exhaustion sneaking through.

“I wanted to do some late-night reading.”

“It’s pitch black out here.”

“There’s enough light to read.”

“Do you have night vision? You have to tell me if you have night vision.”

“I don’t have night vision.” You roll your eyes, laughing.

“Good. I do too much embarrassing stuff in the dark. I’d have to explain a lot.”

“Now I’m worried about what you’re doing in the dark.”

“Certainly not reading.”

Your gaze lingers on him. He’s dressed in a tank top and sweatpants, barefoot and ready for bed, leaning in the sliding glass doorway. Backlit by the warm glow of his kitchen, he looks inviting. Like home. Your heart skips a beat when he smooths his hair back. That one piece always falls in his face, tempting you to put it back for him.

“How was your day, Buck?” You ask. He shrugs a shoulder.

“Fine. Long. I’m happy to be home.”

“Are you tired?” You ask. He raises an eyebrow.

“Kind of. Why?”

“Stay there.”

You get up before he can say anything that will make you lose your resolve, rushing inside your apartment. Quickly, you assemble everything, hands shaking as you try to flick the lighter on. Finally, you take a deep breath, steeling yourself. It’s Bucky. What is he going to do? Laugh at you? You shake away the thought, letting better dreams and unconscious instincts soothe you.

You’d rather be embarrassed than never try for that fantasy.

Your hand is steady as you light the candle and take up the cake in your hands, walking through your balcony door, and to the partition that separates you both. You look down at the vanilla cake, talking nervously.

“I tried to get 109 candles, but then I thought it would be too much fire and that it would singe your hair off, and I didn’t really want that. Or for the icing to melt. So I only got the ten. It’s vanilla on vanilla. I got it from-”

“This is for me?” He says, breathlessly, and suddenly close. You stop rambling, looking up to see he’s only a few inches from you, looking down at you with wide eyes. Only the wall separates you, but he’s almost leaning over it and toward you. Gripping the cake plate harder, you try not to lean in to him as well.

You’ve never been this close to him. Through the smell of the candles and sweet icing, you can still smell him. Soap and cedar; clear and clean scents that feel so natural to be on him. And even worse, his eyes. So watchful and warm from afar, but are deep pools that you fall in as you look deeper in. You quickly lose any words and just nod, inching the cake towards him.

“You got me a cake?” He asks again, whispering as if to himself. His brow furrows in confusion down at it, like he doesn’t believe it’s actually there.

“Of course I got you a cake. It’s your birthday.” You whisper back.

“You did this for...me.” It’s not a question, but a statement. One he doesn’t believe in, judging by his incredulity.

“Of course I did."

He steps closer, hips pressing against the wall, and you gasp a little breath. He eyes flick up to yours, the candles reflected in them, and you shakily smile.

“Bucky, I promise. It’s all for you. You don’t have to share. But, you do have to make a wish.”

“What?” He whispers.

“The candles, Buck.”

“Oh. Right.” He slides his eyes off of yours, looking at the candles for just a second before blowing them all away with one quick puff. You laugh. The more you’re near him, the less tense you become.

“That was fast.” You say.

“I knew what my wish was.”

“What is it?”

He smiles at you, his face suddenly at an ease you haven’t seen from him before. He braces himself on the wall, almost imperceptibly pushing towards you further. The only way you notice is by suddenly seeing the little scars on his temples. You hold back the urge to rub them, wipe away pain that you weren’t there for, and focus on his eyes.

“Now, it’s been a while since I’ve made a wish, but I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you that.” He says, face breaking into a smile.

A real one. One that makes the corners of his eyes turn up, that shows his teeth. Your heart skips a beat, and you wobble, almost dropping the cake. He moves off the wall quickly, taking your forearms in his hands and steadying you.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and you laugh breathlessly.

“Yeah, Buck. Sorry. I guess I’m a bit tired.”

“Too tired to share some of this?”

“What?”

“Don’t tell me you hate vanilla.”

“No, no I like vanilla-”

“Then perfect.” He plucks the plate from your unsuspecting hands, holding it in one hand and extending the metal one to you. “Come on over. If you want, of course.”

You look at the hand for a second before taking it. He doesn’t move at all as you lean on him to get over the partition, and when you’re finally over it, he still doesn’t let go of your hand as he leads you inside his apartment, only letting go of you once you’re past the doorway. You look around at his bare walls and basic furniture, not leaving your spot by the door, as he clatters around in the kitchen. He looks over his shoulder at you, then jerks his head to the side.

“C’mere.” He says, and you quickly follow, standing next to him at the kitchen counter. His sudden assertiveness is new, but not unwelcome, especially as he hands you a fork. “Dig in.”

“What? Just into the cake like that? You’re not going to cut it up?” You say and he shrugs.

“It’s our cake. I don’t care. What, do you have cooties?” He smirks at you, and you can’t help but smile back.

“Yes. I do have cooties. It’s a really horrible affliction, you shouldn’t joke about it.” You say solemnly, and he shakes his head as he takes a bite of cake. He makes a small, strangled moan.

“This is so good. Made today?” He asks, and you nod as you take a bite too.

“From the place at the corner.” You say after a minute, and he shakes his head to himself.

“You got this for me.” He mutters, and you smile as you eat another bite.

“It wasn’t any trouble. Happy birthday, old man.”

He rolls his eyes, looking over at you, then his brow furrows.

“You really didn’t have to, you know. I didn’t tell you so you’d get me somethin’.” He says. Now, it’s your turn to roll your eyes.

“It’s not that, Buck, I just...I just thought you’d like it. That’s all.”

“That’s all?”

“Do you like it?”

“I haven’t had a birthday since 1943.”

You glance up, catching his eye.

He’s smiling. Another real one.

Your heart aches. A cake was all it took. Your mind starts to race with all the other things you could do to bring that same smile to his face, again and again.

He motions to his lip.

“You have some icing on your face.” He murmurs, and you wipe at your lip, trying to mimic him. He tuts and shakes his head, reaching for your face with his metal hand. He cradles your face, fingers reaching your jaw, and uses his thumb to swipe your bottom lip carefully.

“There.” He whispers, not moving his hand, looking at you with a soft smile. His hand is cold against your face, and unconsciously, you reach up to hold it, your fingers running over the back of his.

His hand tightens on your face, then loosens, cradling your cheek and head in one strong palm. He’s scanning your expression, and you hope he can’t feel the heat rushing to your cheek.

He leans in, closer and closer, until you can feel his warm breath on your face, but he won’t close the distance, staying just out of reach.

“Buck-” You whisper, unable to take any more of the heavy silence.

“This whole time, I thought I was intruding on your life. Taking your mornings hostage for my own selfish want to look at you. I was just happy that you would give even a part of your day to me.” He whispers, his words brushing against your lips.

“Bu-”

“And now, you do this. You listen, and you care, and you act. What did I do to deserve this? I’ve done the bare minimum. You deserve more than me.”

“I just want to see you happy, Bucky. That’s what you deserve.” You whisper back, gripping his hand that’s cradling your face like you’re the most delicate thing in the world. His other hand comes up to your waist, holding onto it like an anchor in the ocean of the small kitchen.

“You just want to see me...happy.” He murmurs. You nod, rubbing your thumb over his. He tenses his hands, taking you in tighter, before dropping his shoulders with a sigh.

Suddenly, he presses forward, closing the minuscule distance between you and presses his warm lips to yours. You show no hesitation and kiss him back, gripping his tank top and pulling him closer. He obliges, pressing you against the kitchen counter before taking your hips and pulling you easily on top of it. Breathless, you giggle, causing him to smile against your warm skin as he peppers kisses on the corner of your lips.

Opening your legs, you pull him closer, crushing his chest into yours. He takes your face back in his hands and takes hold of your lips again. His stubble is rough against your face and as you kiss, you taste the sweet vanilla icing on his lips.

After a moment, you pull away and breathe deeply for air, dizzy and smiley from excitement. He’s left leaning in, and he slides his hands down to brace himself up on either side of you. His lips and cheeks are flushed, his hair now ruffled, with its customary strand in front of his eyes. Your body acts on its oft-ignored instinct, putting it behind his ear, leaving it at his cheek as you cup his face. He nuzzles into it, closing his eyes.

“You wouldn’t believe how often I wished for that.” He murmurs into your palm, giving it a warm kiss.

“Was that your birthday wish?” You ask, and he nods.

“Was the only wish that I didn’t have to think about.”

“You didn’t have to waste a wish on that. I’ve been wanting to kiss you since you moved in.” You say, cheeks heating at the declaration. He chuckles a little, opening his eyes and looking at your lips.

“I guess we have a lot of kissing to make up for, then.” He murmurs, and you take his grizzled face in your hands and kiss him deeply again. He melts along with you, and even when you disconnect for air again, he peppers your cheeks and jaw with kisses.

“Bucky?” You say, breathless. He hums against your jaw.

“Yes?”

“Happy birthday.”

He kisses you again.

Maybe next year, you’ll light all 110 candles, just to see him smile for every one.

When he finally pulls away, he lets you breathe, taking another bite of cake and feeding you gently. You kiss him after every bite.

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added):

@doilooklikeagiveafrack

[strawbiecream]

🫡Hi I'm back hihi

ok so design questions first bcuz yes, both John and Jane had to change due to the rain making them soupy, however John has exactly 1 pair of clothing and it's his normal outfit... that's currently wet... and u see, there's pros and cons about being a tall yellow man so hmm yeah, Jane manage to convince shed into giving them some of his cloth.

they'd open up to him and vise-versa, just not in the earlier times, after John slightly in a better shape (Imma explain that on the rain thingy part so) they were still wary of him and if they had a chance to get rid of him they would try in no time, hence why they brough him to a round, to see if he snapped. it clearly didnt work and what happened instead was even funnier bcuz I have a small hc that when both killer and survivor join the map each of them suffer from somekind of change (The Spectre play a bigger role as a """emotional"" support for the killers, manipulating their movement and emotions by sayin lil things on their ears which is why CK can kill 007 lol... BUT NOW HE'S GONE) be it physical strenght (Guest) or appearence (John)... so like... bro got scarier but no aggresive, just extra confuse 😔. instead of snapping, John worked as a beefier sentinel and well, after that they got to accept the idea of that MAYBE, VERYYYY MAYBEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE they could somehow bring the killers to their side. that idea got more solid after CK joind their side via ANOTHER sad reunion between him and his father (he got locked in the basement for like... 20 whole minutes, which is unfair bcuz my man John Doe stayed there for 18 weeks.) and now to the funny bit of the trusting issue...

with The Spectre gone and his influence towards the killers too, memories of their time in the realm start to get spotty and fuzzy, that's the price they pay to have their pre-forsaken memories (not even fully intact btw) so yeah, John feels guilty but he can't recall his actions, none of them.

And being locked alone in the basement doesnt help at all, if anything, reminds him the time he lost control of his own mind and stayed locked inside his mind for so long. (BUT HE TOUGH IT LIKE THE BOSS HE IS.)

and now the raining bit, the problem isnt the rain, the whole thing is the implications of that event. I think their realm doesnt have seasons and stuff like that so it's either hot and idk... considerable cold/humid. and again, with The Spectre gone and not here to deepen the killers onto their minds and limbos, they start to get more aware. like yeah they know wha they we're doing lmao, at first it was fun but after sometime they kinda got trapped into a weird loop of "finish the round, get out of the map, stay on somekind of trance, repeat" BOOoo routine been getting their ahh. With that awareness back, their body start to function again, they feel hunger, they get tired etc, no adrenaline here to snuff their senses down now 👌 and slowly, it gets to each of the killers with John being the first to suffer from that bcuz he'S A PEEPAW AND PRE HISTORIC MARRIED MAN. I'm totally drawing the CK arc bcuz ooorrghh, I want John and CK to bond and 007n being a father and John to get out of the basement and INTERACT with everyone else aooorrghhh, imma be prob posting it on my art blog tho so like, want me to tag u when I do??? @grey-washere

HI HELLO!!!! WELcom back :3c always happy to see u jumpscaring me while im eating breakfast /vpos

spoon yapping below

Okay first image im holding ur hand very tight and shaking u rn because we have the same john and 1x height headcanon hell euah, PROS AND CONS OF BEING A TALL YELLOW MAN genuinely made me cackle LMFAO 😭😭😭 john being stinky is kinda real tbh he got that stinky fart binary aura shit around 😢😢😢 /silly

the killers only have their own personal limbos iirc,, they cant have a cabin cause beef is gonna happen and the killers become the killed. I like to think they have their own room of sorts which the spectre modifies each one to fit with the respective killer and to keep them under its influence type shit

Oh yeah i really love the way u draw johns expression he just looks so kind, kind old man despite the appearance he possesses. He probably looked scary when he was out of it tho

IS RHAT TWO TIME WITH THE DAGGER please do not the john doe look at how nervous he is 💔

Wait the spectre is gone? WE ALL CHEERED WOOOOO GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE 😭😭😭🙏🙏🙏 get microwaved stupid guiltripping manipulative thing with 57 crimes

Poor guy :( he has probably felt fear too when even him cant recognize himself ughhhhh AGGHHHH

VERY MAYBE.. BECAUSE jasun and 1x might not gaf because 1x just wanna beat shedletksy and everyone in her way while jason.. i didnt watch friday the 13th series so idk 💔 also for beefier sentinel do u mean that he literally support the time against the other killers like that would be so damn cool with the scary spikes blocking the way and slowing them down with traps.. ughhh im tweaking /pos

YES C00LKIDD HOLY SHIT, i can see where the survivors point are coming from cuz hes just a kid thats unaware and John is potentially unstable and he can wipe the entire cabin if they slipped

Chat.. is this.. redemption arc.. omg. oh wait no it isnt my bad. If anything i wish to know how the spectre even KABOOMED and EVAPORATED from forsaken, whag would happen to the realm now without it being in charge. The rounds seem to be going on like usual but they get a bit more freedom now from how they could bring john to the cabin and back to the rounds,, im very much intrigued

Im giving him a big fat hug rn holy shit because allat got so much of an influence on john and hes completely different from the man that he was. Everything is gone, not even the memories of his own actions but just a hollow feeling of something very very wrong that u did in the past. That shit is gonna haunt him till he dies

Hes fighting everyday 😞 whens he gonna be let out oguhgutghj

I love this image he looks so fucking sad and traumatized 😭 baby

OHHH!! That sounds like the weather where i live, sometimes it gets uncomfortably hot and the rain doesnt make it better, THE HEAT GETS WORSE like holy shit i wanted rain for the coolness of it but it only makes the hot weather even hotter like okay man

Oh my god its redemption arc ITS REDEMPTION ARC WE ARE SAVED WE ARE SAVED thank u hell they finally feel the sense of being normal again although slowly

Pre historic married man and peepaw in a sentence describing john doe. I like your words.

PLEASE DRAW COOLIIDD BONDING i wish to see their father and son bond :( and yes communication is key, locking john up wont do anything GET HIM OUT NOWW NOWWWW draw johnjane cuddling trust me /nf

abt the tagging idk if ur asking me but i dont mind being tagged btw just to let u know

[awooghan]

[11:41 pm] ✧.* l.mh

➳ PAIRING: lee know x gn!reader

➳ GENRE: fluff, slice of life, silent/mutual pining, friends to (implied) lovers

➳ WARNINGS: none, just tooth-rotting fluff and simp!lino :]

➳ WORD COUNT: 1k exactly which is a bit long for a timestamp but are we surprised

➳ SUMMARY: you and minho are out with your friends one night. minho notices you won't leave his side.

➳ NOTES: wow i actually completed a fic and it wasn't for christmas LOL hope you enjoy <3 also i know the banner is lee know in a puffy coat but this is supposed to be a summer night timestamp and this was the closest photo i could find 😭 (and as always ty @ujimoo for helping me make a banner)

➳ SONG REC: headliner (seventeen)

network tags: @kflixnet @straykidsland-main @kwritersworld @k-labels

“Ah, Y/N…” Minho says, lightly nudging you. “When are you gonna get off me?”

His voice, flat but gentle, cuts through the air around you, making the crickets chirping nearby sound like a mere pin drop. He doesn’t mean to sound rude, though his tone alone would have raised the eyebrows of strangers passing by. Luckily, there aren’t many people around to spare him weird glances this late at night.

It’s a genuine question, though. Instead of stomping around on the playground down the slope with your friends, you have effectively trapped Minho next to you atop a nearby hill. Your legs are outstretched before you, your shoes innocently tapping against his as you rock your feet side to side. Your arm sits comfortably next to his, and your head rests on his shoulder. He’s all but stuck now, like sap on a maple tree in January, and if you don’t move soon, he’ll be doomed to spend the rest of the night here in the grass.

He feels you shrug next to him.

“Hmm?” Minho hums. His eyes widen just slightly as you scoot closer. Your hand brushes against his, and your fingers lazily drum a pattern into the warm earth below you. He tries to ignore this and pokes you repeatedly in the arm.

“Come onnnn…” he says. “When are you gonna get up?”

Your quiet “I dunno” in response fills his ears.

“What do you meeeaaann, ‘I dunno’?” He makes a show of rolling his eyes, then clicks his tongue. “Why don’t you wanna get up, hmm?”

A scream echoes through the park and makes Minho look up for a moment. Changbin’s short figure flies through the air, his arms flailing. The swing behind him rocks erratically as he falls onto the mulch with a thud. Wooyoung points and cackles loudly from the swing next to him, but quickly lets out a shriek of his own and grips onto the metal chains. Further right, Jungwoo and Chaeryeong’s silhouettes chase each other around on the main playground equipment. Lampposts at the edge of the playground cast a dim yellow glow across the space, like the ones in retro film recordings. Minho can imagine the little “PLAY” icon floating at the top left of the scene, blinking periodically several feet above the dark blue awning.

He feels a light tap against his shoe again.

“Owww!” Minho feigns a cry. He picks up his feet and swipes them away from you in one swift move, the corners of his lips pulling down in an exaggerated pout. “Y/N, that hurt~ how dare you…” 

Looking back at you, you’re mindlessly clicking your feet against each other, and you’re still all cuddled up on his shoulder. His heart thumps a little louder in his chest when you shove your head closer to him.

“Yah, Y/N…”

“Hmm...” Your soft hum comes out more as a statement than a reply.

You flutter your eyes closed, your lashes gently batting against your skin. He heaves out a sigh, and the warm breeze tickles his cheeks with a light blush. It seems to have more mercy on you, though, as it delicately brushes your stray hairs away from your forehead, framing your face perfectly. Almost too perfectly. The crickets blend into the quiet air as he takes in the sight.

“Hey…” Minho tries one more time. He tilts his head slightly as he gazes at you. “Why don’t you get up? Our friends are waiting.”

The breeze picks up for just a moment, making you scrunch up your nose. Minho gestures down the hill. It’s getting more difficult to look away from you. “See?” he continues. “Playground's right over there. ‘S loads more fun than I am.”

Another shriek rings out from the playground area. Chaeryeong lies in an awkward position at the bottom of the slide. The wind picks up again at the same time, whistling against Minho’s ears right as Chaeryeong yells something at Jungwoo. All he can make out is another scream as Jungwoo tumbles down the slide and knocks Chaeryeong onto the gravel.

But a light tap sings louder to Minho than all of it.

Looking back at you, his eyes trace down, stopping where your fingers meet his arm. As light as a hummingbird’s wing beat, your fingers tap across his forearm and leave a path of spreading warmth in their wake. They seem to float in the air as they skip further down. Your touch, so faint and gentle, nearly lulls him to sleep. He lets his eyes fall shut.

It’s like Minho is at the beach for a moment, and your fingers brushing against his skin are the ocean waves calmly swaying over his feet. Then, he feels a sudden blast as a tidal wave crashes over him, its currents pulling him under and leaving him unable to breathe. His eyes snap open and right toward the spot where your hand has come to a gentle rest over the top of his own.

Minho’s eyes meet your soft ones. Your head is still comfortably nestled on his shoulder, and your cheeks seem to glow in the dark when you smile at him. For a moment, perhaps a moment too long, time comes to a still as he takes you in, watching you slowly melt into his side. You look so at peace, and he dare not disturb you, despite his urge to spring up and run down the hill and scream at Changbin. Thankfully, he’s too engrossed in the feeling of your hand on top of his to even try. He thanks his lucky stars once more that you’re also looking down at your hands, so you can’t notice the blood rushing to the tips of his ears.

Slowly, he spreads his fingers and gently threads them with yours. He glances at you, then looks down at his lap, a shy smile finally forming on his lips.

“Ah…” he says softly. “ Our friends can wait a little.”

[notsorryiml8]

Thinking it would be kind of awesome if Minato taught Kakashi how to play and be a kid while sensei-ing him:

Kakashi: *looking with disdain at the other kids playing (ignoring the fact that he's 5)* Look at those babies, playing baby games. I'm too big for that. I'm a genin now.

Minato: *gets an idea*

Example D ranks:

Day 1 - Hide and Seek aka "Search and Destroy"

Minato: Hey kid, we're going to learn how to be stealthy today. I'm going to need you to count to 100 while I go hide. Then you come and find me.

Kakashi: Then I attack you when I find you?

Minato: Um...no. Then you hide and I come find you.

Kakashi: Why?

Minato: Because that's how you play-

Kakashi: *side eye*

Minato: pla...play..plac-ate your sensei. Yes, that will make me happy. Go team.

Day 2 - Building blocks aka "Tower Defense"

Minato: We're going to learn how to build a defense tower. I need you to take this set of blocks and build a tower as tall as you can.

Kakashi: This is dumb and for babies. Only babies play with blocks.

Minato: Hmm...but do babies get to choose what kind of chakra can best defend a tower. The red blocks are fire. The blue are water. The green...eh...they can be earth...

Kakashi: My affinity is lightning.

Minato: Yellow can be lightn-

Kakashi: My clan chakra's white

Minato: Fine, white can be lightning

Kakashi: What color is wind?

Minato: Wind can be yell-

Kakashi: Wind is clear. Not to mention yin and yang. You can't really see-

Minato: Fine make them whatever color you wa-

Kakashi: There's more colors here than there are chakra natures

Minato: Just build your tower already!

Day 3 - Tag aka "Capture the Enemy"

Minato: I'm going to run and I need you to catch me and tag... uh...lightly hit me and if you catch me, you have to yell that I'm "it" meaning, I'm your target. Then I have to run after you.

Kakashi: Why?

Minato: Because your enemy isn't going to always stand still and sometimes you have to yell at them-

Kakashi: To let them know you're going to kill them if they move?

Minato: Something like that.

Day 4 - Catch

Kakashi: We're just playing ball. That's for babies.

Minato: Nope, pretend this is a weapons pack and I'm way over there and I need help. You have to get the weapons to me somehow, right??

Kakashi: Shouldn't your weapons be attached to you? You're a poor excuse of a shinobi if you don't have your weapons on you at all ti-

Minato: They fell off or got cut off in the middle of battle

Kakashi: That's even worse if you let an enemy get that clo-

Minato: Just throw me the ball and then we can discuss how bad of a shinobi I really am

Day 5 - Chutes/Snakes and Ladders (board game)

Kakashi: This is dumb and for babies (apparently everything is dumb and for babies)

Minato: This is a tactical game of strategy and teaches patience and perseverance. You get all the way to the top and have to go back to the beginning, what do you do?

Kakashi: Burn the ladder down so what's at top comes down or build a mud wall and just climb that

Minato: Uh...no, that's why we need this game

Going to sound weird, but at the end of the day, Hiruzen, in his own way kinda, sorta looked out for Kakashi. After Sakumo up and died (and after being kicked from team to team), he assigned him to Minato because he knew no one would come near him with Minato as his sensei. You have this little genius kid 5 year old with extreme potential whose legendary dad just permanently abandoned him and he's ripe for the picking for the likes of Danzo and Orochimaru, so what do you do? Assign him the most powerful shinobi in the village to be his sensei. Ain't nobody coming near that kid...until Minato dies and well Danzo comes for him, but that's another anime filler story...

[larluce]

Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU

Tagging @aceauthorcatqueen , @fallenxjas , @smileytrinity ,@lucifertookmyshoe , @an-entity-i-think , @thecornerofbelu , @griffonskies , @odinjm , @cinnabon-sweetroll-tiramisu , @thelady-mary , @bennedict , @nightninjaboy , @st8-of-grace , @star-rie , @error-username-not-available , @dogberryrowan , @jamieweasley13 , @tansyuduri , @tercais , @robynnemrys , @evadne01 , @serasvictoria02 , @hairdryerducks , @hopeaha , @curiously-lazy , @ harriettesthings , @andrealux16 , @wacko-weirdo , @greatdonutenemy This is going to get WILD!

LINKS TO THE OTHER PARTS OF THIS AU HERE: PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5 , PART 6 , PART 7 , PART 8 , PART 9 , PART 10 , PART 11 , PART 12 , PART 13 , PART 14 , PART 15 , PART 16 , PART 17 , PART 18 , PART 19 (You're here) , PART 20

More of "The Gates of Avalon"

Arthur and Merlin encounter Sophia and his father while hunting, and, althought Arthur already knows is a trap he goes to their rescue cause this Merlin doesn't know that (as far as he knows) and it would be weird if he didn't come to a damisel's rescue.

Merlin: (tries to kill the sidhes with magic subtly)

Sophia and Aulfric: (block Merlin's magic with their staff just as subtly)

Merlin: (thinking, frustrated) Damn, their magic is blocking mine! (makes a branch fall on one of the bandits)

Arthur: (noticing the branch fall while still fighting other bandit, thinking) I should have known.🙄 (finishes to kill the bandit off and turns to the sidhes, thinking) Could it be that I can slay them and pretend it was an accident?

Sophia: (Turns her eyes red as soon as Arthur's eyes find hers)

Arthur: (Thinking) What the- (his thoughts turn off)

Merlin: (concerned) Arthur?

Echanted Arthur: (ignores him and goes to Sophia) Are you alright? They didn't hurt you?

Sophia: (takes of her hood seductivily) No, thanks to you. I'm Sophia, This is my father.

Echanted Arthur: Arthur Pendragon (he smiles chivalry) at your service. (kisses her hand)

Merlin: (thinking) Oh, fuck.

Time skip. Merlin and Arthur in Arthur's chambers.

Echanted Arthur: Make sure to put her in a decent room.

Merlin: There's an empty room in the other side of the castle, sire. I think it's perfect.

Echanted Arthur: Aren't the chambers next to mine empty?

Merlin: Those are mine, sire.

Arthur: (coming back to his senses) Oh... that... that's true... Why... why did I...?

Merlin: (seeing his chance, holds Arthur by the shoulders) Arthur, listen to me. Sophia is echanting you!

Arthur: (thinking) Shit! (says) I... I have to tell my father... I... (trails off)

Merlin: Arthur?

Echanted Arthur: Of course I'm echanted, Merlin. Sophia is a beauty.

Merlin: (sighs, forcing a smile, and lets go of him) She certainly is.

Echanted Arthur: (frowns) What is it?

Merlin: Hmm?

Echanted Arthur: That smile was not genuine.

Merlin: I just... don't have a good feeling about her. It's all.

Echanted Arthur: (snorts) You and your funny feelings, Merlin. (thinks for a moment) But if it makes you feel more at easy, put her in the room you suggested.

Merlin: (relieved) Of course, sire. (bows and leaves)

Echanted Arthur: (shouts as Merlin leaves) Just so you know, my intentions towards Sophia are completely honorable! (mutters to himself) Such a paranoid.

Time skip. Arthur talking to Merlin while he makes his bed.

Echanted Arthur: So, I need you to cover for me-

Merlin: (dryly) No.

Echanted Arthur: Excuse me?

Merlin: I won't lie to the king just so you can get laid.

Echanted Arthur: (offended) I'm just taking Sophia out for a ride, I would never-

Merlin: Sophia this, Sophia that, would you shut up! 😡

Echanted Arthur: (confused) What's wrong with you?

Merlin: (sighs, calming down) Nothing, but I won't do it.

Echanted Arthur: Oh, Come on! I promised Sophia I'd take her out and if I don't turn up, it'll blow up my chances.

Merlin: Good.

Echanted Arthur: (frowns) I thought we were friends.

Merlin: (angry again, almost shouting) Don't you dare use that on me! I don't care that you're enchanted! Friends don't make each other lie to the King risking they would end up in the stocks or flogged! Friends don't dismiss the other's advice. I told you I don't have a good feeling about her and you still don't care, so fine! Go, but I won't cover for you and if you decide I'm not your friend for that, then we're not friends! (his voice breaks at the end and his eyes water a little)

Echanted Arthur: (very shocked)...

Merlin: (composes himself and continues to make the bed, turning his back at Arthur)

Echanted Arthur: (frowns, feeling bad for upsetting Merlin though he doesn't know why) We ARE friends, Merlin. (taps his back) You're right, I shouldn't have asked that of you. I'm sorry. I'll tell Sophia I'll take her out another time, maybe later today when I'm actually free.

Merlin: (still not looking at him, finishes to make the bed with hard movements) Of course you will.

Echanted Arthur: And maybe you can come with us.

Merlin: (finally turns, surprised) What?

Echanted Arthur: This way you'll see what I see.

Merlin: (confused) I'll see what?

Echanted Arthur: That there is nothing not to like about her! 😍

Merlin: (sighs) Right...😒

Time skip. Arthur goes to his date with Sophia with Merlin.

Sophia: (her smiles fades as he sees Merlin arriving with Arthur) What is he doing here?

Merlin: Trust me, I don't like this more than you do. 😒

Echanted Arthur: Ha, ha, he's joking 😄 (shoves Merlin playfully, then scolds him in a whisper) Be nice.(to Sophia) Merlin is my personal manservant, I thought it wouldn't hurt to bring him to carry our things and serve us in whatever we need.

Merlin: (thinking) I just came so you wouldn't get yourself killed, you little sh- (forces a polite smile at Sophia) It would be my pleasure to serve you, Lady Sophia. (bows)

Echanted Arthur: He could carry your staff for y- (about to take her staff)

Sophia: (puts the staff away from Arthur) Don't touch that! 😡 (composes herself and smiles sweetly) Sorry, it's a family heirloom.😊

Echanted Arthur: It's beautiful, just like you (cradles her face tenderly with one hand)

Sophia: (about to kiss him)

Merlin: (yells, pointing somewhere) Bandits!

Echanted Arthur: (pulls away from Sophia and looks around) Where?!

An arrow flies towards Sophia but she deflects the arrow subtly with her staff.

Merlin: (thinking) Damn, it was so close.

Echanted Arthur: (runs to Sophia) My love! Are you alright? (holds her hands)

Sophia: (nods, trembling) I was so scared.🥺

Echanted Arthur: (turning to the bandid, who is hidind behind a tree in the distance, furious) YOU! 😡

Lancelot: (disguised as a bandid, bow in hand, cause Merlin asked him to) Fuck (runs away).

Echanted Arthur: Come back here! (runs after him)

Merlin: (turns to Sophia as soon as Arthur is out of sight, serious) You're nothing without your staff, aren't you?

Sophia: What?

Merlin: Don't play dumb with me.

Sophia: (smiles sweetly) Why would I? You're playing dumb enough for the both of us.

Merlin: I know what you are.

Sophia: I also know what you are, Emrys.

Merlin: (surprised).. How... How did you..?

Sophia: If I can recognise The Once and The Future King, don't you think I can recognise his protector? We've been watching you, we saw the kind of relationship you have, so I knew I had to use a stronger spell.

Merlin: Then you know you shouldn't mess with me. (aproaches her threatenly) Stay away from my Arthur.

Sophia: Jealousy doesn't look good on you, darling. I don't blame you though. He's such a gentleman... and a good kisser too.

Merlin: (raises his hand furious, eyes glowing)

Sophia: (raises her staff) Careful.

Echanted Arthur: (comes back) The bastard escaped, such a-What's going on? (looks at Merlin and Sophia's postures, confused)

Merlin: Ah... we are... killing mosquitoes!😅 (claps the hand that is raised with the other) They are everywhere! (keeps claping around)

Sophia: Yeah! (moves her staff around as if fighting said imaginary mosquitoes)

Echanted Arthur: (laughs fondly) You shouldn't worry about that, my love. Let Merlin handle it. (smiles brightly at the both of them) I'm glad you're getting along now.

Merlin: (forcing a smile) Oh, you have no idea. (slaps Arthur in the face)

Echanted Arthur: Ow!

Merlin: I killed it! 😊

Time skip. When Arthur requested an audience with the king.

Echanted Arthur: I have requested this audience, Father, to discuss a matter of great importance. It cannot have escaped your attention that I and Lady Sophia Tirmawr have growned very close.

Uther: Is that so?

Echanted Arthur: We're in love, which is why I have come before you today to ask your permission to marry.

Uther: (cracks out laughing)

Echanted Arthur: (serious face)

Morgana: (looking, worried)

Merlin: (scheming how to stop Arthur and Sophia from running away together)

Uther: (stops laughing when he sees Arthur's seriousness, surprised) Oh, you're serious.

Echanted Arthur: That's right, father. We are getting married.

Uther: This… this is great! 😃

Merlin: What? 😨

Morgana: What? 😱

Sophia: (her smile fades) What? 😧

Echanted Arthur: (just as surprised, but very happy) Really? 😃

Uther: Of course! I'm delighted you've made such an excellent match, Arthur.

Merlin: (thinking in distraught, his heart squeezing) No... No! This can't be! They can't get married! Arthur can't... This didn't happen in my other life! What the hell is Uther thinking!

Morgana: (to Uther, concerned) My lord, don't you think it's very hasty that they want to get married after knowing each other for only two days?

Uther: When love calls that's how it is. And how could he not fall in love with her? She is beautiful, charming, very cultured and from a good family.

Morgana: And from a kingdom that was invaded by raiders!

Uther: Exactly, She's been through a lot and yet she remains strong. I admire that in a woman. And she's still a lady from nobel blood. If Lord Aelfric agrees, of course, I don't see why they couldn't get married.

Aulfric: (very confused at the turn of events too) Uh... I guess, I don't have a problem either, Your Majesty.

Echanted Arthur: (holding Sophia's hands, ecstatic with love) Oh, you see, dear? They accept our love! 🥰

Sophia: (barely hiding her dismay) Oh, how explendid! 😅

Merlin: (realises, thinking) Wait... She can't run away with Arthur now! (smiles to himself triumphantly, though he's still sad) Oh, well. At least I still have time. She won't be able to kill Arthur if they can't leave. That's... that's good.

Morgana: (realises that too) My lord, I'm very worried about the bandits that attacked Lord Aulfric and Lady Sophia. They attacked twice, it seems pretty personal. What if they attack during the engagement party or the wedding itself?

Uther: That can be arranged. I'll reinforce the security so no stranger enters.

Morgana: (turns to lady Sophia with a smile) And it will be in your best interest to not go outside the castle at all, Lady Sophia. For your own safety, of course.

Sophia: (glares at Morgana)

Echanted Arthur: (with passion) I won't let anything happen to her! I'll protect her with my life!

Merlin: (rolls his eyes)

Uther: (very pleased) All is settled then. You'll be married by the end of the week.

Time skip. Morgana encounters Merlin in a hallway.

Morgana: So, what's the plan?

Merlin: (confused) What?

Morgana: To stop the wedding! What's the plan?

Merlin: I'm no going to stop the wedding.

Morgana: WHAT?!

Merlin: I mean, if I can expose Sophia and her father before the wedding, sure. But I highly doubt I can. For now, the only thing I can do is make sure they don't leave the castle.

Morgana: (fiercely) WE, Merlin, WE are together in this and WE are going to stop them.

Merlin: Right, we. (smiles, thinking) It's good to have an ally for once. (laughs a little and says) Only Arthur would be stupid enough to marry his potential murderer, honestly. (gets sad again)

Morgana: (comforting) Merlin, you must know Arthur feelings towards Sophia are fake, right? I don't know what she's doing to him, but it's not love. He only has eyes for-

Merlin: (explodes) I don't care if Arthur is in love or not! I don't care if he gets married or not! He could marry a troll for all I care. I just don't want him to die!

Morgana: Alright, alright! I get it. You don't care.

Merlin: (sighs) Sorry, I'm a bit stressed out it's all.

Morgana: How are you planning to expose them then?

Merlin: I think the staffs they always carry with them are magical. If we can get a hold of one of them-

Morgana: We can bring it to the king and prove they are impostors! 😃

Merlin: Yes, that's exactly what I was going to say. (thinking) And not that we can kill them with their own weapon as soon as they are defenssless. Sometimes I forget you're too nice now to think something like that.

Morgana: And since they'll be acussed of sorcery, Uther will kill them himself for messing with Arthur's mind! 😡

Merlin: (thinking) Or maybe not...

Time skip. The engagement party.

Merlin: (thinking, while watching from afar Arthur and Sophia eating at the table, smiling and laughing together) It's fake, it's fake. For gods' sake, Merlin! You've seen him getting married once! At least this time it's fake, you shouldn't be so upset.

Morgana: (whispers to him as Merlin serves her drink) Did you notice? (points at Arthur's and Sophia's direction subtly)

Merlin: (whispers back) Ahm... They seem... happy?

Morgana: No! The staff, Merlin. She's not carring her staff!

Merlin: (looks at Sophia again) You're right! She must have left it in her chambers.

Morgana: I'll go get the staff! (starts standing up)

Merlin: (stops her) No, it would be weird if the King's ward leave in the middle of this important event.

Morgana: Can you do it?

Merlin: (shakes his head) She already suspects me, if she sees me leave she'll know something it's up. (thinking) And I can't leave Arthur alone with her.

Gwen: I'll do it.

Morgana: ...

Merlin: ...

Morgana: Gwen, how long have you been there?

Gwen: Long enough. So, the staff?

Morgana: (points Aulfric, who is carring his staff) It's identical to that one. You have to enter her chambers, get it and bring it to Gaius to analyse it.

Gwen: Got it. (leaves)

Merlin: (thinking) How odd. Why did Aulfric bring his staff, but Sophia didn't? (gets closer to Sophia and Arthur carefully) I can't do anything while her father is close. I need to get her alone... Oh, I know! (drops the drink he's carring on her 'by accident')

Echanted Arthur: (calls him out, standing up) Merlin!

Sophia: (Furious, stands up) You gigantic fool! 😡

Merlin: I'm so sorry my lady, let me fix it. (tries to clean her dress)

Sophia: Don't you dare touch me! You did this on purpose!

Echanted Arthur: Excuse my poor excuse of a servant, my love. He's too clumsy for his own good, but I'm sure he didn't mean for this to happen.

Sophia: You're going to defend him? I'm your fiancee!

Echanted Arthur: I'm not defending him, I'm just-

Uther: (aproaches, almost shouting) What is happening here?!

Sophia: (Pointing at Merlin) He dropped the drink on me on purpose!

Echanted Arthur: I'm sure it was and accident. (holds Sophia's hands) My love, you look beautiful either way.

Uther: I apologise for this impertinence, lady Sophia. You may go change.

Sophia: Thank you, Your Majesty. (bows and leaves)

Uther: (turns to Merlin in anger) And you will not come back to this party, understood?

Merlin: (knowing perfectly this will happen, lowers his head in a shame he doesn't feel) Yes, sire. (bows and leaves)

Echanted Arthur: (looking silently where his fiancee and his servant left, feeling uneasy but not knowing for which of them)

Time skip. Sophia walking to her chambers enraged while Merlin follows her from behind.

Merlin: Please, my lady. I really didn't mean to-

Sophia: (turns to Merlin) Stop following me! 😡

Gwen: (gets outside the room with the staff)

Merlin: (grabs Sophia's hand so she doesn't turn and kneels, begging) I'll give you half my salary! No, all of it! But please forgive my mistake!

Sophia: (very confused and irritated) You don't have to keep pretending with me. What on earth are you doing?

Gwen: (leaves as quietly as she can)

Merlin: (drops the act as soon as Gwen is out of sight and turns serious) There's no guards at your door rooms.

Sophia: What?

Merlin: (lets go of her and stands up) You left your staff unprotected in your room and went to the party completely defenseless... or that's what you wanted me to believe so I would let my guard down. (sighs) Where is it?

Sophia: What?

Merlin: The real staff, where is it?

Sophia: (smiles and takes out a necklace she had hided in her dress neckline) Nothing gets pass you, right, Emrys?

Merlin: (recognises the gem in the necklace) Oh, so you can wear it as necklace too. How practical. Are you going to kill me now that there's nobody around?

Sophia: I don't need to kill you. You hold no power here. You're nothing but a servant.

Merlin: I hold more power than you can think of.

Sophia: And yet you can't use it. Not if you don't want to be discover. (pouts) Poor little thing. It must suck to be you.

Merlin: (laughs) You are trying to provoke me and it won't work. I've been called all the insults you can imagine my entire life and nobody has ever broke me. Besides, you're the one who's losing here. Your plan failed. You're the prince's fiancee now. You can't leave the castle and you can't do magic cause everyone's eyes are on you too, how sad. (looks her up and down) You definitely need to change, that stain is starting to look disgusting. (bows mockingly) My lady. (turns around and starts leaving)

Sophia: (raises her voice as he leaves) Oh, I'm not in a hurry, once married to Arthur and as a princess, I'll have aaall the liberty I need.

Merlin: (ignores her and it's about to turn a corner)

Sophia: (raises her voice more) And who says I can have my fun meanwhile? Especially at my honeymoon!

Merlin: (stops and turns around, a hard expression on his face) What?

Sophia: (aproaches with a fake sweet smile on her face) Oh, you know, I've always been interested in exploring the pleasures of the flesh and now I have the perfect toy for it.

Merlin: (furious) A toy?! Arthur is not your experiment to have fun with!

Sophia: I have every right to it. I'm going to be his wife after all. Something you'll never be.

Merlin: (threatens) If you dare to touch him- 😡

Sophia: You're going to do what?! 😡

Meanwhile, at the engagement party.

Echanted Arthur: (to Morgana) Something's wrong. Sophia should be here by now.

Morgana: We women take our time getting dress. I'm sure it's nothing.

Gwen: (to Morgana, whispers) Morgana, Gaius couldn't find anything weird in the staff.

Morgana: (whispers back) What? But that's impossible. Merlin- (she crosses eyes with Aulfric, who is smirking at her) Oh, no...

Gwen: What?

Morgana: I think they set us a trap.

Echanted Arthur: What are you talking about?

Suddenly two guards enter.

Guard 1: (to Uther) Sire! There are intruders attacking Lady Sophia in her room.

Uther and Echanted Arthur: What?!

Guard 2: The doors are blocked, other guards are trying to break them as we speak.

Echanted Arthur: (worried) Sophia! (leaves running)

Uther: (to the guards) You two, put everyone to safety. (leaves too)

Morgana: (tries to follow them)

Guard 1: (stops her) My lady, you can't go. We have to put you to safety.

Morgana: Try to stop me. (passes him and leaves)

Arthur, Uther, Aulfric and Morgana arrive at Sophia's doors. There are noises of struggling, things crashing and colliding and screaming, while the guards try to break in.

Echanted Arthur: Sophia! (draws her sword)

Uther: (draws his sword too and orders the guards) Now!

Guards: (open the doors)

Everything in the room is a mess, like a tornado passed there.

Uther: (in shocking disbelief) What the-

Echanted Arthur: (utterly baffled) Merlin?

Merlin and Sophia: (fighting like cats rolling on the floor)

Sophia: (puts herself on top of Merlin, screaming) I'll steal Arthur from you! (Slaps Merlin in the face)

Merlin: (puts himself on top of Sophia, screaming) Arthur is not something to steal! (Slaps her too)

Sophia: (spits him in the face and sits) Freak bastard! (punches him)

Merlin: Nasty whore! (Pulls her hair and she cries)

Echanted Arthur:...

Uther:...

Morgana: ...

Aulfric: ...

The Guards: ...

Uther: What are you waiting for? Seize him!

The Guards: Yes, sire. (pull Merlin apart from Sophia and restrain him)

Merlin: (his nose bleeding, nail scratches across his face and neck, neckerchief about to fall, but still struggling hard against the guards holding him, furious beyond reason) Let go of me! I'll kill her, I swear I'll kill her!

Sophia: (Her hair a mess, a split bleeding lip, dress all teared up, throws herself at Merlin still wanting to fight, beyond furious too) You insolent poor excuse of a man!

Morgana: (quickly holds her from behind and pulls her apart from Merlin) Stop you two!

Sophia: Let go of me! (To Merlin, yelling) How dare you hit a Lady, you street trash! 😡

Merlin: (yelling too) I see no Lady, liar snake!😡

Sophia: (tries to free herself, moving forward) Cheap slut!

Merlin: (tries to free himself, moving forward too) Fake bitch!

Uther: (shouts) ENOUGH! 😤 What on earth is the meaning of this?!

Sophia: Your Majesty, (points at Merlin) this scumbag humiliated me in the worst way possible just because I wanted to reclaim what it's mine.

Merlin: Stop talking about him like he's property! 😡

Uther: Silence! 😡

Sophia: For my honor, I demand this servant to be punished inmediatly!

Uther: (turns to Arthur) You heard, Arthur?

Echanted Arthur: (confused) Yes, I'm here, listening.

Uther: So? What are you going to do?

Echanted Arthur: Me?

Uther: It's your servant after all. What punishment are you going to give him?

Echanted Arthur: Oh, right. (Goes to Merlin) Merlin, you will apologise to Lady Sophia-

Merlin: I rather die.

Echanted Arthur: (more sternly) You WILL apologise and you will be put in the stocks for an entire day, so you'll learn the consecuences of your actions! Do you understand?

Uther: ...

Uther: That's it? He humiliated your fiancee! And by extention he insulted the crown! And you're only going to put him in the stocks for a day?

Echanted Arthur: Right, this deserves a more severe punishment. Merlin, 3 days in the stocks... and no salary for you for three months!

Uther: (in disbelief) No salary?! Are you still planning to keep him as your servant after what he's done?

Sophia: (with tears in her eyes, to Arthur) So this is how our marrige is going to be? Always second to a servant?

Echanted Arthur: No, my love, that’s not-

Sophia: No! I won't tolerate one more humilation! (Finally frees herself from Morgana) This wedding is OVER (leaves enraged)

Echanted Arthur: Sophia! Wait! (Makes a gesture to go after her, but stops and turns to Merlin, a conflicted expresssion on his face) Merlin...

Merlin: (urges him, whispering) Don't go after her.

Echanted Arthur: (frowns, still conflicted) You...

Uther: Arthur, your fiancee is leaving!

Echanted Arthur: (snaps out of his conflict, turning to the door) Sophia! My love! Come back! (Runs after her)

Uther: (turns to Merlin, furious) And you! I'll decide what to do with you later. (To guards) Arrest him.

Guards: Yes, sire (start leaving with Merlin)

Merlin: Wait! Sire! You don't understand! They want to kill Arthur! Sire! Sire! (Struggles but the guards take him away)

Aulfric: (To Uther) I'll try to talk to my daughter. Make her reconsider, but after this... I don't promsise anything, your Majesty.

Uther: (sighs) I completely understand, Lord Aulfric. Whatever she decides, I'll make sure to compensate you both for this outrage.

Aulfric: (bows and leaves)

Uther: (To Morgana, tired) I'll announce to the guests the threat has been handle. (Leaves)

Gwen: (arrives running with Lancelot and they stop infront of Morgana, out of breath) I brought help!

Lancelot: My lady, (bows) I've heard there were intruders in the castle.

Morgana: ...

Lancelot: My lady?

Gwen: Uh... Did we miss something?

Morgana: Oh, you have no idea.

...

Merlin and Sophia:

Someone would think since they are from the future they would handle things better xD. Oh, well...

Episodes where Arthur got enchanted ✅️ (Well kind of, part 2 of this is still missing and there's another one when he got echanted too)

How our favourite warlock got out of this situation? Find out in the next episode of "Merlin: the Prince's favourite"