#just a friendly little jest!

[highdefhoetry]

double teamed.

cw: nsfw!! mmf threesome, jealousy/competitiveness, blowjob & swallowing, fingering, squirting, licking/tasting cum, praise, penetration (penis-in-vagina), big dicks, female reader. this is meant to be softer/fluffier with a friendly rivalry.

plot: your best friends gojo and geto have always been jokesters. but one day, one of their jokes goes a little too far.

“Hey, (Y/N). Which one of us is cuter? Me, or Suguru?”

Satoru asks you this seemingly innocent question while the three of you are at your place hanging out. You all had decided to curl up on your long sofa and spend the day watching stupid cartoons and music videos, but Satoru had gotten bored and decided he was going to stir the pot. As usual. Suguru, who’s sitting to your right, looks at you expectantly with a small half-smile, as if he already knows your answer.

You snicker quietly. “Neither. Both of you are butt ugly.”

Suguru slaps a hand on the back of your neck and squeezes tightly. You squirm in his grasp, giggling as you try to push him off.

“Brat.”

“I was just kidding!!”

Gojo, to your left, turns towards you and takes off his sunglasses, then sets them on the coffee table. He gazes at you with his big, beautiful blue eyes, smirking ever so slightly.

“Come on. We all know you’re hopelessly in love with me.”

You laugh again. “Yeah, right. Keep dreaming.”

“Yeah, ‘Toru,” Suguru drapes his arm around your shoulders, pulls you into his chest. “You’re not her type.”

“And you are?”

Suguru grins. “I sure am.”

“Ha-ha.”

You feel your face flush as the two playfully fight over you. It was a common occurrence, one of the bits you liked to do together. It was part of your weird friendship with the two strongest sorcerers in Japan. It was all in good fun, and you liked the attention.

Something felt different this time, though. Suguru was holding you a little too tightly, Satoru was inching up a little too close. 

“Which one of us do you think would be a better kisser?” Your white-haired friend asks you, licking his lips.

“Um…” the next question catches you off guard. Your eyes dart up at Suguru, who smirks back at you, then to Satoru, who is waiting patiently for your answer. The question he’d asked earlier was mostly made in jest, but this time the sorcerer sounds serious. Your heart flutters, and you start to feel more and more nervous.

“...I dunno, jeez. Why are you asking that all of sudden?”

“‘Cause I wanna know.”

Satoru is so close now that you feel sandwiched between the two giants. Suguru, still with his arm wrapped around you. And Satoru, who just placed his hand on your thigh and is now caressing iit softly. Your skin quivers from the feather-light sensation.

“I wanna know, too,” Suguru pipes in, strokes your hair and neck with his fingers. You shudder and let out a small gasp. 

What the hell was going on?

“I… think both of you would be good kissers.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Satoru scolds. “Only one of us can be the best. You have to choose.”

“Well, how am I supposed to know? I’ve never kissed either of you.”

“Hmm…” Suguru puts a hand on his chin, strokes his thumb across it while pretending to be deep in thought. “She’s right. How could she possibly know if neither of us have kissed her?”

“Good point, my friend,” Satoru grins mischievously. “ I s’pose there’s only one way to remedy that.”

As the two of them stare you down, you feel your heart pound madly against your chest.

A split second passes, and Satoru suddenly cups both of your cheeks, pulls your face forward, and presses his lips against yours. You let out a startled “Mmph!” and melt into the kiss. His lips are soft like silk, and you can hear him quietly moan when his tongue seeks out yours. You feel his hands trail down your neck and shiver at the touch.

It’s over too soon. When Satoru pulls away and flashes that accomplished smile of his, Suguru is overcome with a fit of jealousy. He gently yet firmly takes your chin and pulls your face towards him, then plants a delicate kiss on your lips. His lips aren’t as soft, but his kiss feels deeper. The two of you get lost in each other, your hand goes to the back of his neck and pulls him closer.

You look back over at Satoru and see that his cocky expression has faded to one of envy. Suguru places his hands on your thighs, rubs his smooth palms over them a bit more desperately. 

“Well?” Satoru scoffs. 

Your face is on fire, and your body feels weak. With them both touching and exploring your sensitive skin, you find yourself feeling more and more overwhelmed as things continue. Their big hands are skilled in touch; one of Satoru’s hands cups your breast, covering it completely as he fondles and gropes you. Suguru grips your thigh with one hand and has the other on your opposite hip, squeezing both gently until you make high-pitched noises. 

“...I can’t choose,” you answer honestly, despite the sudden shyness that has overcome you. “You’re both amazing.”

“Hmm…” says Satoru.

“Hmmm…” says Suguru.

“Did you hear that, Suguru? She says she can’t choose.”

“I guess that means she’ll have to take us both.”

Before you can say anything else, they suddenly push you backwards, pinning you down as they each straddle one side of your hips. They hold down your wrists and use their free hands to feel you up, starting from your upper thighs. You can’t move a muscle as they trail their fingertips up your body, sneaking under the hem of your shirt to reach bare skin. Your breaths become light and airy, caught between moans and light giggles. 

“You like this, baby?” Suguru comments as he tweaks your nipple, grinning when you arch your back. 

“Look how wet she is already,” Satoru slides his down between your legs, feels your soaked panties through your cotton shorts. “This is what you wanted all along, isn’t it?”

“Mmm… aaaahhhh!”

Your mind has gone fuzzy. You can barely get out words, let alone complete sentences. Having both of your best friends gang up on you like this, taking turns touching all over your body, is overwhelming to say the least. But that doesn’t mean its unwelcome.

Satoru pulls down your panties, massages the hood of your clit for a few seconds while he slides his fingers into your hole. One at first, then two, steadily pumping in and out in a rhythmic flow as his thumb circles the hood once more. His smile is feral and deranged as he watches your eyes roll in the back of your head.

Suguru lets go of your wrist and focuses on your breasts, leaning down to lick your nipples while occasionally peppering kisses all over your chest. He strokes the spot under your boobs and lets out a chuckle when you squeal, proud of himself for finding yet another errogenous zone. The two sensations together bring you to the edge quickly, and Satoru pushes you over with a single curl of his index finger. You cry out, filled with pure ecstasy, and come hard on his hands until your legs are shaking. The sorcerer licks his fingers as he admires the view of your disheveled hair and your sweat-plastered face.

“God, you taste good…”

Tired of waiting for his turn, Suguru takes the lead. After yanking his pants and boxers down, he takes his erection in hand and rubs it slowly. It’s massive, at least 9 or 10 inches, and it’s perfectly thick. He lifts up your hips and carefully presses the tip against your hole. It’s barely in, but you still let out a yelp. He slides it inside you, stretching you out, coaxing out your loud moans and sounds of pleasure. Then, he starts pumping, slowly at first so as not to hurt you, speeding up once he senses you’re slick enough to take it.

Satoru, embittered that he’d missed his chance to penetrate you, decides to get his another way. He, too, yanks off his pants and underwear, tossing them aside with little care. His dick is just as beautiful as Suguru’s: it’s long, thick, and slightly curved, although pale from lack of sun. You can’t tell from where you’re laying, but it looks to be as big as Suguru’s, if not slightly larger. He kneels at your head, holds his member in hand and waits for your lips to take it. You part them slightly and dance your tongue around his shaft, doing your best to suck him while Suguru fucks you deeply. You feel yourself start to choke, but he senses that, pulling out a bit so you can breathe. Then, when you’re ready again, your grab his cock and wrap your lips around it once more.

The two men groan in perfect harmony, moaning in unison in gravelly baritones and heavenly falsettos. Satoru sounds like an angel; the lovely noises falling from his lips almost match the beauty of his face. Suguru grunts in pleasure, mumbling praise and affection into your ear as he thrusts inside you.

“Hngh… fuck, you feel amazing…”

“Oh God, Toru… S-Suguru… aaaah!”

“(Y/N)... I’m gonna come…”

Suguru finishes first, letting loose a giant load that fills you with warmth. You feel his dick twitch and throb inside your walls, and clench them purposely to hear him moan once more. Satoru takes a bit longer to finish, warning you when he’s about to blow. You take his load and swallow it whole, relishing the sweet taste of his cum. Exhausted, both men collapse at either side of you, panting heavily as they enjoy the last few fleeting waves of their orgasms.

“I think… it’s safe to say…” Satoru manages to spit out as he curls a leg around yours. “(Y/N) definitely likes me more.”

“No… way…” Suguru argues back weakly, then wraps an arm around your waist. “She’s totally into me.”

“Oh yeah? Well, she swallowed my load.”

“So what? She let me bust inside her.”

Their bickering starts anew, and all you can do is sigh. You try to hide your growing smile as they snuggle up closer, as if claiming parts of you for themselves. Some things will be different after today, but one will remain the same.

You were madly, madly in love with them both. And you always would be.

[hannieehaee]

could i request svt with a socially shy s/o. like they are shy in public and around people they don't know, but themselves around the members and othe people they are close to?

their s/o being shy around others

content: established relationship, reader is shy and/or socially anxious, fluff, etc.

wc: 820

a/n: im so shy in real life omg this came from the heart

masterlist

seungcheol -

he adoooores when people depend on him so he'd kinda selfishly enjoy that you're on the shier side. he gets to enjoy you while alone/with friends and also gets to have you stick by his side constantly while out and about. the best of both worlds in his eyes.

jeonghan -

he'd tease you about it but lovingly<3 would love the contrast between how at ease you were with him in comparison to how timid you'd become whenever you were alone and with strangers. he'd take pity on you and always take charge in social situations, knowing you were a little shy (but he'd still bug you about it afterwards bc he's annoying as shit by nature).

joshua -

he'd sadistically enjoy watching you struggle to interact with other people from afar. would chuckle and make faces at you from wherever he was just to let you know he was enjoying your pain. this would all be in jest though!! he'd never actually want you to feel alone or embarrassed, so he'd always let you be your shy self when in public, enjoying that he was one of the only privileged enough to know your real personality.

jun -

poor baby is also a little bit shy himself, so you'd be stuck in a situation where you're both shy in public. however!! you're both extremely energetic and outgoing when you're with one another, so it'd work out just fine as long as u have each other. teamwork!!

soonyoung -

he's just like you!!! he's an shy and introverted around others but insanely social and outgoing while with friends. he often gets confused for an extrovert bc of how energetic and friendly he is with people close to him. you'd both be the lives of the party while together, while being closed off whenever in public. it worked perfectly for the two of you.

wonwoo -

he's a lil quiet and maybe teeny bit shy, but he can handle himself just fine in social situations. would think the contrast between you in public and you behind closed doors was adorable. would tease you about your shy demeanor a little bit, but not too much (specially since he found it cute).

jihoon -

he'd relate to you a bit. he can handle social interaction just fine, but he'd rather not, which is why he rarely goes out. you'd rarely ever have to deal with being around other people while with him, so even though he'd be aware you were shier than himself, he'd think it's normal since he can kind of relate.

seokmin -

he'd the the type of person to introduce you to other people by saying you're shy and making you feel awkward lol. he'd do it with the best of intentions but would end up making you feel even more closed off. he'd also be the type to handle all social interactions if you so wished, being the epitome of social himself.

mingyu -

being the polar opposite, he'd be extremely endeared by you. would not be able to understand how or why you're so shy but would also never judge you. he'd take it upon himself to always stick by you in social situations bc he knows how shy you get sometimes. would occasionally not step in just to see you blush in embarrassment, eventually dragging you away to swoon over how cute he found you.

minghao -

understands and empathizes with you. you cant help being shy, and he's not gonna make you feel badly about it. would still try and encourage you in public, but would accept that you only ever felt comfortable being yourself when you were with the people closest to you. in a way, this made him feel like you reserved a special part of yourself only for those you loved – like him.

seungkwan -

he's the definition of extroverted and outgoing to the point that i dont think he's even aware of the concept of shyness. his extrovertedness makes up for anyone else's shyness, so he'd be your perfect match. would find it cute that you'd be sooo outgoing while alone with him and friends but would turn around and be a shy mess whenever you went out.

vernon -

even though he's on the quiet side, he's not shy at all, so he'd think it was cute when you'd ask him to tag along when you went out so that he could do the talking. he's such a straightforward guy, he would not mind at all. would feel like a good and dependable boyfriend any time you asked him this, and would feel even happier knowing you felt so comfortable with him.

chan -

if you ever felt awkward or shy in public, he'd take it upon himself to break the ice by cracking jokes or embarrassing himself. he knows you're a little shy while around other people, so he'd always be down to help you out if you needed it.

[dustofthedailylife]

You were not supposed to hear that...yet

→ Masterlist || → Taglist

Pairing: Alhaitham x (gn!) Reader

Summary: Alhaitham reveals a secret about the inner workings of his heart to his friends over a cup of wine and in between some banter. However, he did not expect it would go this wrong...

Tags: Fluff, crack, comfort, teasing, consumption of alcohol (by characters), the whole 4ggravate crew is here, friendly banter between friends, a small sprinkle of angst because reader is insecure (but it's unjustified)

A/N: Dust posting a new fic?! Not an April Fool's joke, despite the date! Finally felt inspired and well enough again to finish this fic that has been rotting in my WIPs forever. I hope you like it. And feel free to hit me up with asks and reblogs - it'd motivate me greatly after my long break 🥺

The usual friend group of Cyno, Kaveh, Tighnari, and him - Alhaitham, was sitting at the Tavern. A gathering like it happened almost every weekend at this point.

The wine bottle on the table had been emptied around two or three times already when Kaveh ordered a new one yet again. At this point, Alhaitham had actually lost count of how many glasses of wine he'd already had, too. But one thing was for certain, he could feel the alcohol in his system and the warm blood that was rushing to his cheeks. All things considered though, despite feeling a little tipsy from the intoxication, he was still able to think clearly.

"Let me guess I'm the one who will have to end up covering your bill again?" He took sarcastic a jab at Kaveh. 

The man in question just squinted his eyes and glared daggers at him before opening his mouth in an attempt to protest before it was quickly shot down by Tighnari's hand covering it.

Alhaitham leisurely leaned back in his chair smirking to himself, training his focus back onto the TCG cards in his hands and considering his next turn of action in the game he was playing against Cyno.

"What, am I just supposed to take it all the time and be quiet?!" Kaveh retorted, directed at Tighnari. The fox's ears were beginning to droop lower and lower as his expression became more and more deadpan.

"You all know as well as I do that if [Y/N] was here he wouldn't be acting like this. He would be on his best behavior and pay for the drinks without so much as complaining or being so cocky."

"By the way," Tighnari attempted to divert the attention away from Kaveh's ranting. "Where are they? Didn't you say they wanted to stop by the Tavern as well today, Alhaitham?"

Alhaitham played his round, throwing his card Cyno's way before looking up at Tighnari again.

"They mentioned it but I suppose something must've come up instead. I will ask tomorrow."

"Isn't it strange?" Kaveh addressed the others. "Whenever it involves [Y/N] he graciously offers himself up to talk to them and seek them out but whenever someone else is looking for him he is nowhere to be found."

"Maybe you just can't find me because I simply don't have anything to discuss with you." Alhaitham threw another jab at Kaveh with a smirk, which was promptly followed by a light punch against his bicep by the blonde architect.

"What? I constantly have to talk to you already when we're at ho-"

"SHHH! Don't say that out loud." Kaveh hissed, quickly covering Alhaitham's mouth in panic, since he didn’t want him to spell out that they were currently living together. “It's embarrassing enough that I currently have no other choice, no need to add to my misery.”

A witty quip was burning at the tip of Alhaitham's tongue after Kaveh's remark yet again, but he decided to swallow it. He didn't want to upset him too much, especially since he knew he'd had it rough lately. Even if it would've been said in jest, there was no need to add insult to injury. Instead, he simply resorted to taking another sip of his wine with a low chuckle and a glance in the blonde architect’s direction.

“Aaaaanyway…”, Tighnari cleared his throat, addressing Alhaitham once more. “What is it between [Y/N] and you anyway? You've become quite close haven't you?”

“That's an understatement.” Kaveh groaned, dropping his head on his folded arms on the table dramatically. “He can't stop talking about them. Day in and day out it’s [Y/N]-this, [Y/N]-that.”

“We started working on a project about six months ago. Things are progressing quite smoothly if I do say so myself. Certainly makes things easier if you're working with someone who is both hardworking and intelligent in every way. I’ve been lucky to have been assigned to the project with them.” Alhaitham answered Tighnari’s question rationally while ignoring Kaveh’s dramatic display.

“Here he goes again.” Kaveh huffed, directing his comment at Cyno and Tighnari. “Whenever he talks about them you hear nothing but praises.”

“If someone is doing a great job, is it not logical to give them the credit they deserve?” Alhaitham added matter of factly.

“No… I mean yes, but no. It's just not something I'd see you doing. It’s so out of character.” Kaveh huffed. “And before you say anything, yes, maybe I just don't know that side of you because I don't give you any reason to praise me. No need to add that, thank you.”

Kaveh poked his tongue out at Alhaitham before taking a big sip from his wine.

“Why, if you want to be praised you just need to say so, Kaveh. I think you're quite brilliant - your shortcomings aside.” He just had to add that last bit. Kaveh was just way too easy to tease. And what would this friend group be without the playful banter and jabs at each other?

Kaveh choked on the drink immediately and slammed his cup down onto the table with a loud clang. A fire burned behind his crimson eyes when he spoke next.

“This is exactly what I meant, thanks for proving my point!”

Kaveh looked at Cyno and Tighnari gesturing in the direction of Alhaitham with a move that said “Do you see what I mean now?”.

Tighnari just facepalmed and shook his head.

“And what is your point exactly?” Cyno inquired, playing a card from his hand.

“Did you not listen to what he said?” Kaveh gasped.

“Not really,” Cyno admitted honestly, his eyes trained back on the cards in his hands.

“It's the fact that he can praise others too, but never without also pointing out their faults in the same sentence. Did no one ever notice that? However, he never does that when it's [Y/N].” Kaveh explained.

“And?” Tighnari and Cyno replied in unison, looking puzzled as to where Kaveh wanted to go with this.

Kaveh put his head in his hand and groaned in frustration. “Sometimes you all make me feel like I am surrounded by idiots.”

Now everyone raised their eyebrows at him.

“You're all so clueless… anyway.” He sighed dramatically and accusingly pointed a finger at Alhaitham. “This guy. This admittedly handsome but blockheaded, know-it-all, stoic, annoying-”

“Get to the point.” Alhaitham chided, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Fine, fine." Kaveh spread his arms like he was holding a presentation and Alhaitham his canvas.

“This guy's right here, as alien as it may sound – has fallen in love.” 

“You're in love?!” Cyno exclaimed his eyes widening. “With who?!”

Tighnari rolled his eyes, knowing full well Cyno hadn't listed at all the past ten minutes because he had been so absorbed in his cards, and gently slapped the back of his head.

“[Y/N], of course!” The Forest Ranger exclaimed with a huff.

Cyno, now rubbing the back of his head just ushered a “Wait really?” while Kaveh and Tighnari just curiously began eyeing Alhaitham in the hope of seeing any type of confirmation on his face. However, it stayed as unreadable as ever.

He nonchalantly took another sip of wine from his cup while leisurely looking back and forth between the cards on the table and the ones in his hand before playing another turn as if this conversation just now hadn't happened.

“So!?” Kaveh asked, almost hysterically at this point. “Do you intend to enlighten us?”

Just how had he gotten into this situation now? Alhaitham suppressed a sigh before turning to Cyno: “Your turn. Two of your cards are down.”

“Archons!” Cyno cussed, immediately attempting to go back to study his cards but a fist slammed the table harshly, drawing all attention to it.

Tighnari flinched in shock and Cyno, too seemed to be pulled back to reality. Kaveh’s hand was trembling slightly, visibly agitated.

“Stop changing the subject, Alhaitham. The more you keep avoiding answering the question the more I think I am right in my assumptions.”

Alhaitham pinched the bridge of his nose beginning to truly feel a little stressed by Kaveh’s insistance. The man was truly too nosy for his good.

“Kaveh, just let it be if he doesn’t-” Tighnari began before being cut off by Alhaitham.

“And what if you are right? What then, Kaveh?”

Everyone at the table fell silent and everyone was staring at him with a mix of disbelief and shock.

He hadn't planned to reveal any of this yet, especially since he feared they would try to become his wingman. Which, admittedly, may be a nice gesture on paper but with them it could only end in disaster. Plus he would prefer to deal with his feelings alone first and think them through thoroughly, before talking about them with anyone. Besides, it should be you, if anyone, who should hear about them first - alas he was too deep into this now to weasel his way out.

“What?!” Kaveh’s mouth hung open in shock.

“So it is true then?” Cyno inquired, putting the card in his hand down on the table, now suddenly fully hooked on the tea that was being spilled.

“Hold on. Pause.” Kaveh sat upright, before quickly gazing over Alhaitham’s shoulder. “So you-”

“For Archon’s sake.” Alhaitham was beginning to get annoyed because he didn't know how much clearer he had to become for them to get it. “Yes - I’ve been in love with them. For a while now-”

“Alhaitham-” Kaveh tried to interject.

“No, don't interrupt me now, you pestered me about it for the past twenty minutes now you'll have to listen. I have never met anyone who is so hardworking, intelligent, and stunning in any way. Of course, I would be infatuated with a person like them. It would be hard not to fall for them.”

“Uhm Alhai–” Kaveh laughed awkwardly before being interrupted by Alhaitham’s ongoing monologue once more.

“At first I wasn't sure about it but I am now. I am thinking about them first thing in the morning and last thing when I go to sleep - unless you're hammering away on some project again that keeps me awake, Kaveh.”

Kaveh waved for him to shut up already but Alhaitham didn't let that bother him. If he wanted the full story with all the details - he'd get it. He hoped that would get this discussion out of the way once and for all.

“And guess what? They even remembered how I liked my coffee just after I told them once and gifted me a book that I had been trying to find for weeks. So yes, Kaveh. I love [Y/N]. There, does that suffice now, or?”

Kaveh let out a squeal as soon as Alhaitham had stopped speaking but upon further inspection of his expression, it hadn't been one of excitement but rather pure terror and awkwardness. 

“Alhaitham…” Cyno and Tighnari said in unison and he only then noticed as well how their gaze was trained on a spot behind him.

“What?” Alhaitham inquired, curling a brow up in confusion before all three men pointed their fingers at something behind him.

When he turned his head around to look at what they were trying to show him, he felt his heart drop to his stomach for the first time in ages.

To his utter shock, you were standing right behind him. Or rather, you were frozen in place, your hand still half lifted in greeting as if you had just been about to greet the lot of them. Your mouth was slightly open in shock still and your pupils were but the size of pinpricks and transfixed on Alhaitham.

And judging by your reaction you must've heard every last word he had said.

“I-I…” You started stammering, clearly confused about what you had just heard. “I uh-, I'll head back home.”

You abruptly turned around on your heel and marched straight out the Tavern door you had just come through as if someone was chasing you.

Alhaitham hadn't moved a muscle ever since he had spotted you standing behind him and he looked like he was frozen in place. Everyone at the table had fallen so silent, one would've been able to hear a needle drop.

Alhaitham's eyes were still fixed on the door you had left through. The little bell that chimed every time the Tavern door hit it on the way in or out was still dangling lightly from the impact. But the movement was dying down slowly but surely - just like Alhaitham, who felt like someone had dropped a boulder on his chest.

You were not supposed to hear that, yet.

“You uh…, Alhaitham you should probably follow them.” Tighnari was the first to speak again. He awkwardly scratched behind his ears. Cyno hummed in agreement while Kaveh just sat there with his mouth wide open.

Alhaitham exhaled in frustration, unable to properly place his emotions. But they were somewhere between unsettled, nervous, and discomforted.

When he got up it felt like someone had tied heavy iron blocks to his ankles that were weighing him down.

“Yeah, I guess I do,”  Alhaitham muttered before marching off.

When you stormed outside the Tavern the cool evening breeze gnawed at your skin and made goosebumps erupt all over. Although you weren't quite sure if it was the temperature or your emotional turmoil at play here.

There was no way Alhaitham had just said that and actually meant it. He wouldn't be the type of man to flat-out admit that he had feelings for anyone. Or would he? He had been talking to his closest friends after all.

You were questioning your sense of reality and thought you must've fabricated it all in your mind. Or maybe you misheard what he said and he was talking about something else entirely.

But no, he said your name, and the others looked panicked when you entered the tavern and approached the table.

As you rushed through the streets of Sumeru City the chilly wind kept whipping in your face. Not even you knew where you were going at this point. You simply went where your feet were carrying you.

But eventually, you realized you had run up the Akademiya and to the blue-green mosaic pavilion that glistened in the last rays of sunlight. The spot at which you and Alhaitham often spent your lunch break together. 

You sunk down on the bench exhaustedly and stared holes in the ground.

No way.

There was just no way.

Alhaitham. The man you had fallen for so hard that he had begun to occupy every waking thought you had. That man was supposed to have feelings for you and had just flat-out admitted it?

No, this simply had to be a dream. A bad joke. Or maybe even a bet between the group that they orchestrated to prank you.

You could feel your heart thumping in your head and it felt like your head was swimming. It was as if you had downed an entire bottle of wine by yourself, but you were as sober as one could be.

Yes, that had to be it. It was a bet between the boys over one too many cups of wine and they had all acted their parts out flawlessly.

You got up again walking to the railing, overlooking Sumeru city that shone majestically in the last remaining rays of sunshine that the day had to offer. Another gush of wind blew your way, making tears well up in your eyes. Although it may have also been your emotions who were to blame for that instead.

You inhaled deeply. Once. Twice. But nothing seemed to help calming the rapidly beating heart in your chest.

In your daze, you completely missed how someone had quietly come up to the pavilion as well.

Alhaitham leaned against the railing himself, looking over the city in silence, too. He was clearly ringing for words. Although you assumed the wrong reason for his struggle.

“Look,” you began, trying your hardest to suppress the tremble in your voice. “If you came here to apologize - please, spare me your words.”

He looked at you opening his mouth before closing it again right after with a silent nod. His cheeks were dusted in a light pink shade - you assumed it was caused by the alcohol he had downed at the tavern with the others.

“I hope that we can go back to normal tomorrow and just finish our project. I’d prefer if we kept our distance after that. I think it’s for the best” The words left your mouth at normal speed, but it felt like you had to force every single one out. They felt tenacious, like old chewing gum that you tried to pull out from in between your teeth.

“I understand.” He stated calmly before retraining his gaze back into the distance. 

You both kept standing next to each other in silence for a long while before you decided to confront him about it directly. You eventually decided it was for the best if you got things off your chest now so that you could get over him quickly. Ripping it off like a band-aid would hopefully give you the relief you so desperately craved right now.

“You know,” you began. “I don’t know who came up with the idea and I also don’t care, no need to tell me. But you guys should never do this to anyone again because you never know how much it might end up hurting someone else’s feelings.”

Alhaitham stood upright and turned to face you directly. He crossed his arms over his chest and slightly cocked his head like he always did when he was thinking about something you said.

After a momentary pause, he asked: “What do you mean?”

“I mean that you shouldn’t toy with someone’s feelings as a prank. It’s never actually funny for anyone but the people who orchestrate such a prank. No matter if the other person reciprocates the feelings or whether they believe the statement, they always end up being the one who is being ridiculed.” You explained as rationally as possible, which was a stark contrast to the tempest that was raging both inside of your heart and mind.

“Especially when the person hoped to hear those exact words for the longest time, too…” You added. It wasn't more than an utterance under your breath - so quietly it was barely audible. But Alhaitham heard nonetheless.

“But I meant everything I said.” He stated matter of factly, seemingly catching on to the fact that you must’ve assumed the wrong things about the whole situation.

“What?! Alhaitham, please, there is no need to add insult to injury. You had your fun now–”

“No.” He gently took your hands in his, exhaling heavily. “Archons, you weren’t supposed to find out like this.”

He rarely swore which made the impact of his words even stronger.

“I wanted to tell you face to face and was waiting for the right moment to do so. But, just know that every word you heard and everything I said back at the tavern was the truth. No bet or scheme made me say it. Not that anyone would be able to make me say these things in the first place.” He sighed once more, giving your hands an emphasizing squeeze. “I meant it.”

“You did?”

“Every word.”

You felt the blood rush to your face and immediately lowered your gaze in an attempt to hide your flusteredness.

“Had I known this would happen, I would’ve told you everything right from the start. I don’t like how this went now but–”, he moved his hands up to cup your face. His beautiful turquoise eyes trained on no one but you. 

“I’m absolutely certain I like you. You drive me crazy. And I love and hate how much you occupy every waking thought of mine because I can’t focus on anything when you’re around. And when you’re not, you’re still always on my mind. So please – be mine.”

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

[poisondionaea-art]

For anyone who wants to write fanfics or comics, ect about characters from Louisiana (Gambit, alastor, ect.) with accuracy to Louisiana and any French we speak here.

⚜️There's a lot of information after the phrases just an FYI ⚜️ I add a few things that I forgot about.

Common phrases used in Louisiana are:

Sha

(pronounced like it's spelled) this is a gender neutral term used for all ages, it's a friendly term used to address someone, most people use it for everyone. Inflections and sentences can change it to be more familial or romantic but it's often just used when addressing someone else. A lot of people use this term and say it for everyone they meet. This is used to replace cher and cheri, no one uses cher and cheri ever, have never heard a single person in Louisiana use those terms in my entire life.)(commonly said at the beginning or end of a sentence when addressing someone also typically accompanied my 'oh' or 'mais/man'

Examples :"oh sha, can you grab me that bottle right there." " How you been sha" "man sha, you seen what that man did over there" "oh mais sha, eat, you must be starving"

beaucoup

(boo•coo) very much, plenty/ plentiful, very, much, an exuberant/ large amount of something. Each of these can be used it just depends on the context, it is often used in 'thank you' or in jest or exasperation to emphasize that someone has a large amount of something. Sometimes people also use it in a jesting manner to make fun of how little someone has when they are trying to pretend like it's a lot. Extremely common to hear in New Orleans slightly less use in the rest of the state but is still used often. Commonly said as "beaucoup much" (younger generation born late 90s to present mainly use this one) or by itself

Examples: "did you see the amount of bread loafs that guy had in his buggie, he had beaucoup things of bread"

Merci also "merci beaucoup" or "beaucoup merci"

(mer•see) thank you, thank you very much, plenty thanks, very thanks. Still widely used across Louisiana rather commonly. Not everyone says it but it's just a personal preference, the people that do use it often still say thank you in English from time to time, they just also like using these terms as well. These phrases are also used for everyone it doesn't need to be reserved for special times/ people.

Example: " merci, have a nice day" kinda self explanatory

Adieu

(a•doo) kinda like goodbye I think I've heard a some people say it but it's definitely not the most common. They said it in place of good bye so I've just always assumed that's what it meant.

Petite

(pa•teet) small, little, tiny. This is already used in the English language show I don't really have to explain it much but it is commonly used among Cajuns and other Louisianaians to address a person affectionately especially when you add another word behind it. Sometimes people will say "mon petite ___" or "petite ____" sometimes shortcutted to "te" sometimes just say patite if it's an nickname the additional thing will most likely be in French and be something that the person likes or enjoys. I've rarely heard it used otherwise unless talking about clothing.

Examples: my grandmothers used to call me "Mon petite papillon" (my tiny butterfly) and "petite minou" (small kitty) because one grandmother's favorite animal was a butterfly and the other's is a cat.

Nanny and parrin

(nan•ee) (pah•ra) god mother and god father, most people call them by these terms so if you here someone from Louisiana talk about their nanny they don't mean someone their parents hired to look after them they mean their god mother.

Couyon

(coo•yaw) fool or idiot. Typically used in rather jest or scolding but typically when joking around. More common in Cajun areas than New Orleans. Sometimes if someone does something foolish especially after being told not to or is just being really clumsy or acting stupid/ rude then people will just call them couyon and walk away or laugh at them.

Example: " will you stop acting like a couyon? We need to get a move on."

Mais

(mah) but . See Sha for example of use mainly used with Sha .

Allons also "allons dan ser"

(ah•law) (ah•law don say) let's go and the phrase commonly used with it is "let's go dancing" more Cajun area use then New Orleans.

Beb also bébé

(pronounced like it's spelled) babe or baby also typically used in a neutral manner when talking to people, can be used for anyone but is most commonly used among family or close friends especially for people younger than you. Can also be used in a romantic connotation like babe or baby usually it is generally affectionate no matter how it's used. Can be used for strangers typically said by women but men do say it.

Example: "bébé can you go to the kitchen and get me a soda"

Just please please don't use cher or cheri no one says that around here it's almost always specific nicknames rather of things the person talking likes or the person listening likes. Please see petite for example.

Gambit is likely to say card related nicknames since he likes gambling, I know a few people who like playing cards who call people things like king and queen quite often as well as like 'my heart', 'little diamond'

In French those would be "reine" (Queen) or "dame" (lady/ queen) , "roi" (king) , "Mon cœur" (my heart/my core), " petite diamant" (little diamond)

For Alastor I'm not sure that there's anything radio related that people would use, my family has been in the radio business for a while and I've never heard any from any of my family members or my parents. He is likely to use deer related ones especially if they are puns.

Examples: " Mon biche" (feminine) or "Mon cerf" (masculine) (both mean my deer) , and "petite biche" (fem) or "petit cerf" (masc) (both mean little deer). He also likes music and that would be more like "Mon musique" (my music).

Any of these can just be said in English not every nick name or pet name is said in French.

Everyone is different so some people throw in more French some people less, nowadays people don't really speak fluent French unless they're old or rich.

Gambit was raised in a cult basically so he does get somewhat of a pass to speak more French if you want him to but it's not super common in New Orleans.

Alastor would have spoken French being from 1920s but being a radio host he probably would have also learned English and went through vocal training to get rid of his accent. ( My family has been in the Louisiana radio business for decades and they all had to train to get rid of their Cajun accents when they started working for the radio stations) Also Alastor is creole not Cajun I will explain the difference more towards the end.

If you want to add the characters speaking French you can just use Parisian French (French spoken in France) no one is gonna be upset if you do there are also no translators on the internet that I know of that have Cajun or Creole (Canadian is also acceptable if your Canadian or know Canadian)

There are a lot of different accents in Louisiana not just Cajun (called flat talk by locals most of the time) .

Some people speak with southern accents, some have Cajun but most talk like stereotypical Americans or have an accent that comes along with speaking AAVE.

Creole accents are like French and Jamaican accents combined it's pretty rare for people to have the accent nowadays though and for some people it can be slightly different

You don't have to write out accents if you don't want to.

Which leads to my next point most people in Louisiana speak in AAVE (African-American Vernacular English) especially closer to and in New Orleans.

The farther away from the 1930s-1940s the character(s) are the less French they will naturally speak and put into everyday encounters. Most people in present day Louisiana especially in areas like New Orleans don't speak French and only add in what few words they do know or are still within common use in day to day conversations.

After this point it is random facts about Louisiana ⬇️

Why did people stop speaking French in Louisiana after this specific period of time?

Great question, the answer is that there had been a law put in place at the time, that declared that everyone had to learn English as it was assigned as the official language of the United States. From what I've been told by my grandparents the law makers cited that they wanted Louisiana to be more welcoming to tourists and the large incoming crowd of refugees and migrants as the reason for the law being inacted.

My grandparents stated that it was probably so that the refugee and migrant crowds wouldn't isolate themselves to only people who spoke their languages. In order to keep unsavory groups from forming (if there were any n@zis among the German crowd, other axis power supporters among the Italians or Japan's crowds as well) they forced everyone to learn English.

I don't actually know what this law was but my grandparents have talked about it since I was little. They were forced to learn English when they hit elementary school and my great grandparents were forced to learn English or possibly lose their jobs, in some cases they were threatened with arrest or their children getting taken away.

This created fear that caused parents to decide to stop teaching their kids French. When my parents were born my grandparents barely taught them any French and mainly taught them English. Rarely anyone in my parents generation could speak or understand full French.

Some parents didn't want to teach their children French only for them to never be able to speak it outside the house.

I also have a feeling that this law was also partially put in place because of Quebec, Canada as they fought for their right to keep speaking French and threatened to become their own country if forced to conform to English like the rest of Canada. So the U.S. was probably trying to stop that from happening with Louisiana.

Also New Orleans has been regularly speaking English since before the rest of Louisiana was mandated to, because it is a port and always has been. It's also been a high tourism area for quite a while as well.

What is the difference between Cajun and Creole ?

Creole means French or Spanish settlers that came directly from the "motherland" (France or Spain) originally this term was more or less used to establish elite status as most of these people were from rich families and paid a lot of money to secure their position in the new colonies belonging to France the term was extended to the Spanish when they had control over Louisiana.

This term eventually came to blanket over slaves and their descendents as well that were under the control of these people, the current Creole culture was mainly shaped by these families as well as the families of Haitian slaves and their descendents that were also brought into Louisiana to serve the Creole people.

This is where voodoo and hoodoo become a part of creole culture because the enslaved persons brought their culture and religion with them from Africa to Haiti and then to Louisiana when they were forced to change location again.

Creole people lived mainly in New Orleans and the surrounding area, most of them owned farmland slightly farther out from the city but lived in the city center while things were tended to by enslaved persons and a person or persons designated to watch over their daily activities

Creoles didn't just enslave Africans they also enslaved impoverished European using manipulation tactics, most of these Europeans became freed people before African Americans and at some point we're given their own slaves which kept them from revolting surprisingly but in surprisingly. Creoles enslaved Cajuns when they first got to Louisiana by order of the king and then freed them when they realized they knew how to farm but gave them their own enslaved persons.

Most Creoles now are African Americans and lead an intricate culture different from Cajun culture that is mainly a mix of French and various African cultures with a little bit of Spanish culture as well.

Creole food and Cajun food aren't too different but some Cajun food has okra bases as to where creole dishes have a tomato base for most dishes as it was an over abundant resource of the New Orleans area.

Cajun people are from a French group of settlers that were originally supposed to create their own nation in Nova Scotia, Canada. They were a bunch of farmers sent there for the purpose of creating an agricultural specific nation using Canadian soil and plants.

Their county was called Acadia and they were called the Acadian people, they technically were not ruled by the king of France and were their own nation, this in fact caused problems especially because they were a young nation and were composed of farmers with no military or combat training and little to no weapons.

With no support from the king or way to form their own military, England forced them to pledge allegiance to rather the king of England or the king of France so they knew where Acadia stood, Acadia asked for help from France, France refused because they were their own nation and they didn't want to pledge allegiance to the king of England

So in true English fashion they burned the nation of Acadia to the ground and forced the Acadian people to leave, the Acadians went to Louisiana in hopes that they would help, the Creoles enslaved them and stuck them where they believed the land was uninhabitable and they would perish because of the order of the king of France

The Acadians being farmers were able to pick up on how to properly farm the land after being shown by natives (my tribe yay) and when the Creoles checked on them and found them alive the king of France made them free people's and gave them land from Acadiana, their new area of living in Louisiana to the what is now the lafourche parish area.

They were given enslaved persons and were put in charge of helping make Louisiana's exports a larger market. Cajun culture and dishes come from a mixture of Acadian, native American and African culture put together with the resources of the area, these dishes spread to the Creoles and were changed to match the resources of the New Orleans area and imported goods.

Cajuns are called Cajuns because the English misheard the name Acadian and so everyone started calling them Cajuns.

Cajun and Creole today doesn't nearly have as many connotations as the past, it mainly just means your family is from this Acadiana area or from New Orleans and you're a descendent of one of these groups

Do Cajuns and Creoles have beef with each other?

Nope, any beefing is mainly joking, and is specifically about the differences in the same dishes between the two cultures.

Does it matter if someone is Cajun or Creole?

Once again nope, Louisiana is a big mixing pot of cultures so no one really cares, everyone loves celebrating the different cultures in Louisiana especially of the newer groups that have joined over the decades through immigration.

I only specified with Alastor because I've seen people call him Cajun when vivzy has stated multiple times that he's Creole.

Enough about Cajuns here's some info on Mardi Gras:

Mardi Gras is one day at the end of the carnival season.

It's on a different day each year because it is a Catholic holiday and goes by the Catholic calendar which changes every year.

Mardi Gras means "fat Tuesday" which is the Catholic holiday the day before ash Wednesday which is a day of fasting and sobriety.

You don't have to be Catholic to celebrate.

Even though it's a Catholic holiday all of the parades are based on Greek and Egyptian mythology

The carnival season is different every year and lasts between 1-2 months before Mardi Gras day, Brazil has a similar celebration at the same time called carnival as well for the same reason.

The carnival season is typically in January- February or March.

All bars close at midnight on Mardi Gras day once it hits ash Wednesday and very few of them are open on ash Wednesday later in the day.

There are family friendly Mardi Gras parades which are most of them and specific parades for adults, typically at night, please don't flash your boobs that's illegal and makes people uncomfortable, the adult parades mean that they might give out alcohol and beads or other float throws that will contain adult symbols like marijuana or nudity. Some of these they throw things like purses and shoes and that's why it's classified as adult.

Anyone can join the parade even people not from New Orleans you just have to pay a fee for whichever parade you want to be in to secure a spot on a float and buy the beads and stuff that you throw, some parade you have to have a specific amount of items, to be allowed on the float

Some people go to other parades to get beads and other stuff for them to throw at their own parades (my family does this with the radio station vans lol)

People on floats throw beads, plushies, party favors, hand clappers, cups, dablooms , recorders and other plastic instruments, bouncy balls, other types of balls, inflatables, candy, chips , ramen, hair clips, plastic swords and plastic tomahawks

Most of the balls for specific parades are closed events for people on the committee but there are masquerade and non masquerade balls and parties held across the city throughout the carnival season, there is even one specifically for Neuro divergent people.

There is a kink parade, that is called "southern decadence" it is a gay pride parade that focuses on sex, kinks, drag burlesque and finding people to hook up with this happens typically around august. If you tell people your going to a gay pride parade they will side eye you because they assume it's this one and not the family friendly ones that happen in June.

The only other parades outside of carnival season and pride are a Christmas parade (krampus), a Halloween parade and st Patrick's Day parade (Irish and Italian American heritage parade)

A king cake is basically a cinnamon roll log that doesn't get cut into individual cinnamon rolls and gets formed into a ring and baked then has vanilla icing with colored sugar on top. There is a baby inside but if you pre order it you can ask for the baby to be put on the side or not included at all. The baby means you buy the next king cake and you will have luck.

It's encouraged to wear costumes to parades but you don't have to, it does get you more beads.

Have a bag or something to put your beads in if you wear them throughout the parade it will be painful and it will get you less stuff thrown at you.

Other random things about Louisiana I think are important:

It's warm throughout the year because this is a sub tropical area, in the summer it is constantly between 89°-115° please don't put characters in long sleeves or tons of layers in the summer.

It rains a lot like 50% of the year it rains

Not every part of Louisiana is swamp

There is no deep woods of massive swamps in the middle of the city of New Orleans, there are a few in the surrounding area but those are an hour -hour and a half out of your way by car at minimum

Hoodoo is magic , voodoo is a religion they are connected but not the same thing not everyone that practices voodoo practices hoodoo and vice versa. PLEASE DON'T MESS WITH THESE RELIGIOUS OR MAGICAL ARTIFACTS WITHOUT SOME WORKING KNOWLEDGE OF IT OR CONSENT/ PERMISSIONS, PLEASE FOLLOW THE RULES IN THE SHOPS.

There are also many practicing pagans and wiccans in New Orleans same rules apply.

Yes there are second lines (marching bands for parties) constantly going through the city but most of them are for funerals don't join them unless you're told you can.

Most people from Louisiana have pretty bad seasonal allergies

There is way more to the city of New Orleans then the French quarter, the French quarter is only like 10 streets

We have a ferry that goes from Algiers (west bank New Orleans) to New Orleans proper (east bank, actually main part to the city) it lets out at the aquarium. There is another one that goes from Algiers to Chalmette (part of the greater New Orleans area)

The greater New Orleans area is the area around New Orleans where most of the people that work and hangout in New Orleans actually live, this includes Jefferson parish and st. Bernard parish. There is still a high population of people who live in the city itself.

Baton Rouge is the capital of Louisiana it is about an hour and a half west of New Orleans by car

People go to Grand Isle, Louisiana or to Biloxi, Mississippi to go to the beach

There is a water park outside of Baton Rouge called blue bayou that's really popular the other water park in the area is Jellystone but most people call it yogi bear because it's a yogi bear theme park

Fairs happen in Louisiana between May - June and then again in September - October

Around Christmas most parks have Christmas lights displays that you can drive or walk through or Christmas villages

People actually play jazz music on street corners in New Orleans, it's not every street corner and most of them are concentrated to being closer to the French quarter

Most bars have a mixture of live music and a dj more upscale places with stick to jazz but most other places have rock, hip hop, r&b, rap and bounce, closer to Lafayette they play zydeco more often then jazz

Louisiana is the state with the second highest gambling rate behind Nevada, there are multiple casinos in Louisiana and even private gambling clubs that you have to know someone to get into

Street cars are like busses on set rails, basically an above ground subway system. You have to pay a fee to ride and can find out the various paths that these take through the RTA (New Orleans public transportation) system or station

You can get electrocuted if you stand on the street car rails if the street car is close by and not stopped, if you see one coming towards you get off of the rails so you don't get hit it takes a little while to stop the car.

Hurricane season begins in May and ends at the beginning of November

People in New Orleans keep pet chickens and some of them just let them roam the neighborhood. So it's not uncommon to see a chicken walking around in a residential neighborhood

Some people in Louisiana have houses raised on stilts because of flooding, their are stairs to get to the house (I've had tourists ask me about this before that's why I'm mentioning it)

Yes we can tell when you're a tourist it's pretty obvious (typically it's because they try to hard to fit in or they wear beads outside of Mardi Gras and get drunk at 12 pm)

New Orleans is the largest city in Louisiana

You will find many different cultures in Louisiana not just Cajuns and Creoles because of immigration, these cultures are all very much celebrated in Louisiana

The most common non English languages spoken in New Orleans are Spanish, Vietnamese and Arabic as currently.

Here's some food from Louisiana:

A quarter of New Orleans (not the French quarter) smells like coffee because of the community coffee plant and during certain times of the year with strong winds the whole city smells like coffee

We eat red beans and rice on Monday's to honor deceased enslaved persons as they would typically eat red beans and rice once a week because they were only allowed to eat protein once a week. Not everyone knows that, I learned about this from Whitney plantation they might have information about it on their website. Not everyone eats red beans and rice every Monday or only on Monday's that's just tradition.

For creole version remember to add tomatoes

Seasoning blend is onions, red bell pepper, celery, parsley, and garlic

Jambalaya:

A dish where you cook down meat and seasoning blend and seasonings, typically the meat is chicken and sausage together then add rice and water into the pot and cook until rice is soft.

Sometimes people add cubed pork or beef, peeled shrimp, peeled crawfish, or other left over meats they have on hand.

Gumbo

A thinned brown stew with seasoning blend, at least chicken and sausage and seasonings, served over rice with fíle (a ground sassafras seasoning)

Other meats included peeled shrimp, peeled crawfish , deshelled or soft shell crab, and oysters

Cajuns sometimes add smothered okra Creoles typically add stewed / smothered tomatoes, I've seen some people add both it's up to preferences and family recipes.

Often served with potato salad

Étouffée

Peeled shrimp or peeled crawfish, seasoning and seasoning blend served in a cream shellfish flavored gravy served over rice

Sauce Piquante

Chicken, shrimp or catfish stewed in a mixture of seasoning blend, seasoning, Rotel , crushed tomatoes, diced tomatoes and tomato sauce, served over rice

One of few dishes that have no changes between Cajun and Creole recipes

Boudin

Rice dressing in a sausage casing, typically steamed or smoked

Cracklins

Extra crispy fried pork skins with some meat still attached covered in spices

Po-boy

Warm deli meats or fried seafood, sometimes in gravy on French bread (not baguettes) with mayo, lettuce and tomatoes

Sometimes has cheese, pickles or mustard typically left to customer preference on this one

Beignet

Square fried donuts covered in powdered sugar

Typically eaten with coffee, tea, hot chocolate or chocolate milk

King cakes

Cinnamon roll log made into a ring formation with vanilla icing and colored sugar on top, has a baby inside that means you buy the next king cake if you get it and good luck

Can have different fillings

Seasonal to January through March

Natchitoches meat pie

Pie dough filled with ground beef or crawfish baked into a hand held pie.

Sorry that this is so much information I hope this is helpful for people who want to write about characters from Louisiana.

Hope this helps @lifes-line sorry it's so long.

[forsworned]

JINX! YOU OWE ME A SODA! ft. KYLE 'GAZ' GARRICK

Author's note: Because Kyle does not get enough love and I really wanted to write for him and the little interactions between the 141 :)

Tags: Sexual Content, Masturbation, AFAB!Reader, Brainrot convos amongst 141 men, Team Building and Banter w/141

It's breakfast time in the mess hall and Kyle is navigating to the usual spot that the 141 hangs out in. Clandestine, blue rusty bench right against the large panel windows, with a clear view of the crisp evergreens and wildflowers stretching out in the horizon. A peaceful outlook for a proper meal and some banter.

"Brekkie for a champ." Johnny winks up at him, noshing on his breakfast burrito.

Kyle chuckles as he takes his assigned-unassigned seat next to the friendly Scotsman and they start chatting about last night's fútbol game. It is followed by Simon sliding his tray, seating himself opposite Johnny with a quiet clatter as he attempts to slip his large body onto the bench. And then it's Price coming from behind him, jostling the skull-masked behemoth to scare him, but it's lost on Simon because he's just giving him an uninterested stare that causes the table to shake with laughter.

And you? You're sitting there from the outside, munching on your home fries with a pang of envy at their camaraderie. Never really having a taste of it as you sit alone most days unless you're on the go, rushing to a mission and you're sharing a ration bar with whatever squad they stick you in. But let's face it, no one really wants to be around you.

Jinx.

That was your nickname. Luckless, star-crossed with death, always skulking closely in your shadow.

Your reputation presided over you. Seven squads KIA, and you were the only one to survive them every single time.

So, it's no wonder you're a lone wolf in a mess hall full of lively, rowdy soldiers.

"Why don't we sit here?" A new recruit inquires to their Sergeant.

Their superior takes one glance at you before giving you a tight-lipped smile, "Actually, I just remembered Corporal Dunn (s/o to my mans) needs us back in his office, so let's just have lunch there, yeah?"

The rookie's wide, naive eyes peer over at you and they wordlessly nod at their CO and you don't even bother to see if they've glanced over their shoulders, whispering to one another about you.

"...seven...?!"

"Keep your voice down, soldier..."

"...sorry."

But somebody seems to have their sights set on you and your sharp, feline-like eyes are on the Sergeant tables away, tucked away into a corner and he can't help but jump a little as he's downing his morning brew.

And suddenly he's snorting it up and his teammates are throwing jests his way.

"Keep y'er coffee in y'er mouth, dammit!" Johnny bellows as he erupts into laughter, patting his back.

And there's something inaudible said by Kyle and you're studying the way his pretty, plump lips move.

"'s that Sergeant over there."

And suddenly four Brits are shamelessly turning your way and you're not tearing your gaze away from them as you're scoffing down your scrambled eggs.

"Heard she's lost seven squads, only one to make it out alive." Simon speaks in a nonchalant tone, popping a piece of celery into his mouth before his face contorts into something that resembles disgust.

A "Bloody hell, that's disgusting." is drowned out by the continued conversation between the three of them about your unfortunate rep.

"'s not the lass's fault." Price adds, leaning back a little to crack his spine. "Oh, yeah, tha's the stuff." A satisfied groan leaves his lips as he rests his elbows on the table, listening in on the little shred of gossip.

This time, it's between Johnny and Simon as Kyle zones them out and his honey eyes are training back on you. A frisson runs up his spinal column when he realizes your gaze never strayed. Like a cat, you're fixating on him, wagging your tail, not yet ready to strike just simply observing with a piquing interest.

And then the subject changes when Simon decides to make a jab at how Johnny's overgrown mohawk resembles a porcupine and he's chuckling to himself as the Scot gets riled up. Kyle thinks that one last glance won't hurt, but you're gone. Not even a trace of maybe some crumbs left from your English muffin. He's intrigued to say the least.

Kyle is spending his days in search of you. You're like an apparition that only gets spotted on odd days of the week at unsuspecting time frames, nestled snugly into unfrequented areas on base. He's trying hard to remember the way your hair looks, your lips, the curve of your nose but all that's burned into his memory is your pointed gaze burring holes into his vision.

He stays up late when he catches a glimpse of you in the armory as he's passing by it, in deep conversation with his Captain about how Koala bears do indeed have chlamydia. And he's backstepping to gaze through the window, but you're gone and he's starting to think that maybe you are a ghost.

How stealthy and lithe your body must have to be under that black, compression tee and those tight, tight tactical pants...

And he's fisting away at his dick, half frustrated and half aroused by the allure of your mystique. Little black cat, thumping her tail against the concrete with enigmatic, hypnotizing eyes that entrance him.

"Fuck!" And he's spilling all over his sheets, taut, heaving abdomen, and humiliatingly enough, right on his chin. He dabs at the cum that's dripping on his face and then gazes over the opulent arousal, before throwing his head back and groaning.

Why was you being such a quandary turning him into a fucking pillock?

"...Kyle...Kyle!" Price's hasty voice rips into his stupor, slinging him back into reality.

"Goddammit, Kyle, ya missed th' shot..." Price clicks his tongue, shaking his head under his gilly suit as he makes up for his mistake. "Are ya soft in’t head or summat?"

"No, sir." Kyle mumbles, embarrassed at the fact that his Captain is cleaning up after him.

"He's gey glaikit" Johnny pokes over the comms.

"English, MacTavish." Simon presses the Scotsman.

"He's fuckin' dazed." Johnny quips. "Fuckin' cunt."

And then there's a collective laughter amongst the four soldiers and Kyle can breathe again, the memory of you tossed into the backlogs of his mind as he's back in the fray.

But then it's 2am on the base, and he can't sleep so he's in the kitchen trying to whip up some Pinterest drink,

"Angel's milk?" He scrunches his brows at his phone screen as it casts a blue shadow over his flummoxed features.

He shrugs his shoulders as he squeezes the bottle of honey into the bottom of his mug, followed by a generous amount of milk, and then he pops it into the microwave for a minute and a half. He leans against the kitchen island and lets out a sharp exhale.

"You were supposed to add vanilla."

He practically feels his skeleton jump out of his skin at the voice, but he can't lie about the fact that he was more than elated to see who was standing beside him.

Hell's fuckin' bells, as Johnny would say.

She was standing beside him, arms crossed, hair in a cutesy haphazard manner, dark circles carved under your eyes, dressed in a little pink striped VS lounge set. And fuck, you smell so good. Like warm vanilla, candied almonds, and maybe coffee? It is difficult to say because he is too flustered by your abrupt appearance.

Your presence and how striking you were up close as you were far away, breathing, existing right next to him.

"Bloody hell, you scared the shite outta me." He swallows thickly, and for the first time, he sees the corners of your lips gracefully turning up into a smile. And oh man, it's making his dick twitch pretty violently in his blue-white tartan pajama bottoms.

"Did I?" Not bothering to hide the satisfaction in your voice nor your expression.

"Ya did, indeed."

And the tension is so palpable. His eyes are skimming over the exposed skin of your thighs, from the fresh baby pink manicure on your nails to your shiny, lacquered lips. You were a sight for sore eyes.

Thump, thump, thump.

He can practically hear your metaphorical tail thudding against the kitchen tiles right now.

The beeping of the microwave rips through the suspense and he pushes himself off the counter to retrieve his heated mug. Opening the utensil drawer to pull out a spoon to stir the little concoction, but his brows are raising when you reach over to squeeze two drops of vanilla extract into his drink.

"Tryna poison me, are ya?" He teases, peering over at you. You have a mischievous glint in your eye as you put the cap back on and carefully tuck it away into the cabinet for later use.

"Don't need to."

"Why's that?"

But you've already turned away, walking back to wherever you came from, hips swaying in your satin pajama shorts that outline every curve of your sweet body.

"Because you'd already be dead by now if it were up to me." You state over your shoulder and then you disappear into the abysmal hallway.

And then he's back in his room again, tightly coiling his hand around his slippery cock that's soaking with his own saliva and maybe a little bit of lube. Same shit, different night, though, this time he was blessed with an addition to his hyperactive imagination.

This time he's thinking about how you would look bouncing on his cock, smiling down at him with your hands around his neck. Pretty, shimmering lips parting as those sharp eyes drift to the back of your head and--

"Shiiiiiiiit."

He's shamelessly cumming all over the hardwood floor of his room, milking out his semen as it comes out in steady ropes and he is heaving. He feels how his cock is convulsing in his hand and he lets out a winded breath before tossing himself against his mattress with heavy eyelids. He goes to bed wondering how worn out he'd be if he ever got his hands on you.

"Oi, Johnny, how many bloody times d'ya need me to tell ya? Pick up y'r fuckin boxers after ya've had y'r shower, ya daft twat!" Simon's roaring echoed through the hallways of the base, shaking up the new recruits but just another day to passing soldiers who had been there for longer.

Price and Kyle merely observe the pair from the sofa in their living room as Johnny's form peeks out to an irate Simon who is standing in the doorway to the shared washroom. Johnny is nonchalantly drying off his mohawk that's now touching the nape of his neck as he peers at the rubber ducky boxers pinched between Simon's fingers.

"Why, ye get frightened over a pair o' kecks?" Johnny is totally poking the bear that is Simon 'Ghost' Riley, and Kyle and Price have to stifle their laughter. But truly this was better than reality TV, so they let it go on.

Simon merely blinks down at the impish grin on Johnny's face.

"You fuckin'..." Simon begins to say.

"No, you are fucking YOU ARE FUCKING!" Johnny boasts out and there is a twinkle in his eye and the two are at it.

"Fuck YOU BLOODY BASTARD BITCH!" Simon plays along as he starts shouting back at Johnny and that just riles him up like the giddy puppy he is, continuing the brainrotting bit. Add that to the laundry list of things that's already on the post-mission 141 routine.

And then there's a rapping at the door that cuts off the laughter and the ridiculous comedy skit that Johnny and Simon are playing out.

"I'll get it." Kyle volunteers getting up from the couch to peer through the peephole, but he feels a lump in his throat at the sight.

"What is it, Kyle?" Price asks in a hushed tone. He must've seen the way the Sergeant visibly stiffened.

"It's her." Kyle emphasizes in a way that lets on a little more than he's willing to admit.

"The lassie from the other day?" Johnny pipes up, suddenly very intrigued.

There's a chorused 'Shh!' at Johnny, who's baby blue eyes widen a bit as a small smile appears on his face.

"A'right, sheesh."

The room is quiet for a brief moment before Kyle just decides to bite the bullet and jingle the door open. And there you are, dressed monochrome as hell, like a second skin in your normal attire. Long-sleeve, slate-grey henley fitting snugly around your upper extremities while the black cargos are hugging tightly around your thighs, but is falling baggy below the knee.

He shifts his weight against the doorframe, supping up your every feature, pretending like he isn't falling apart on the inside at your mere presence.

"Can we help you?" He asks, coolly.

Smooth, Kyle. Smooth.

You narrow your eyes at him. "Actually, yes." You mimic the way he folds his arms across his chest before you take a deep breath.

"Laswell sent me over."

Price enters your line of sight, pressing his palm at the base of the casing, and peers down at you with a cocked brow.

"Laswell, you say?"

You shamelessly size up the Captain, not caring how your eyes are lingering a little longer than they should on him and his Sergeant. The pair cock an amused brow at your behavior before you shift on your other foot.

"Yeah, she said you could use my expertise, I suppose." You shrugged indifferently. Whether they choose to bring you on board wasn't really a huge concern of yours. By now, you were sure that they knew of your reputation, so if they took a chance on you right now, you'd be more than elated to join their elite task force even for just one mission. A huge part of you was itching to get back in the field, and honestly, you had a feeling that these men were a lot more resilient and capable of handling themselves enough to not get killed in the line of duty.

Price turns around to Johnny and Simon who approach from behind and they all share a look before peering down at you

"Let's get to work then, yeah?"

It is laborious work withholding himself from not jumping over the table and biting the flirty Scotsman's head off when he sees the way he was making you giggle. Using his boyish charm to woo you as he puts his arm around the back of the sofa to show you just how easy it is to hack into Russian portal sites to access any organized terrorist emails, threads, or private chats on any relevant intel they could muster up.

Making dirty hacker jokes like, "Ye got an access point fer me?"

To which Price shoots Johnny a knowing 'down boy' look and, of course, he just gives him a coy smile in response. It's infuriating.

So instead of simmering like a twat, he gets up to make himself a cup of coffee. And if it weren't for the smell of candied almonds and vanilla drowning into his senses, he would've never felt your presence standing beside him.

"Ya followin' me or are ya actually after a brew?" His eyes fall on you as he moves to lean against the counter and sip at his coffee.

"Make me one?" You ask with a reticent smile.

He swears he can feel the lump in his throat expanding as his pretty honey eyes flicker to you. He licks his dry lips before casting you a half grin and sets aside his mug. Kyle is a gentleman. He would never deny a lady's request. If the lady wants a coffee, then she will get a coffee.

He wordlessly prepares the machine once again, popping in the K-cup, letting it run until the mug is full and offers it to her. She sweetly thanks him and even her voice is enough to get a little rise out of him, but not long enough before he watches her hand the fucking brew to Johnny. Fingers tighten around the handle of the ceramic, but before it can crack a gloved skeleton hand reaches over his own and puts it down for him.

"Don' let tha' twat get to you." Simon's gruff voice cuts into the Sergeant's head. "He's jus' takin' a piss on ya."

They both glance over at the two who are back to being friendly, kicking their feet up before returning to their respective roles. But Johnny flickers his gaze to the hard stare he's feeling on him and gives them a cheeky wink and grin, toasting his mug to him before sipping at it. Kyle scowls at him.

"A Twat, he is."

The day of the mission is like any other day, but your scent is literally driving him into a maniacal state as he's adjusting the laces on his leather boots. This time it's reminiscent of musky prickly pears, and figs that are infused with your natural scent, and it's making him break a sweat.

But he snaps himself back into his domain. He spurns any invitation from you to sidetrack him when he's prepping. Humiliating himself in front of his Captain the last go around certainly exceeds the threshold of mortification he could handle. Add you into the mix and it's a recipe for disaster.

It was a simple enough objective. They were conducting a training exercise. A sweep and search to detect and disarm IEDs that were at a high risk to civilians inhabiting the south side of London without alarming the public. You were specifically instructed to wear concealed weapons, plain clothes, and a cigarette or two to blend in, but damn. Your ass looks so good in those low-rise jeans and the henley that's unbuttoned a little too far down...

Focus, Kyle.

"Mission like this is elementary for someone like you, innit?" Price breaks the silence, as he adjusts the gun in his holster. His brows raise at you as he chews on some cinnamon gum.

You playfully scoff, "Didn't make it this far to die on a simple sweep and search."

"Awe, don't look too doonfaced that ye haven't been sent on a real mission yet." Johnny ribs winking at you.

That earns a little chuckle from the gentlemen around you except for Simon. He's gazing out the window in a far-flung daze, and you bump your knee into him. His dark eyes flicker to you and he bumps your knee back in acknowledgement. Just black cat things.

Surprisingly that doesn't wrack Kyle's nerves. Instead, it just brings a smile to his face. Being aware of your status within the base made the small interactions you shared with them all the more charming. The skittish black cat in you began to emerge from the alleyway, hesitant to be petted but still willing to brush her tail against their calves.

Cute.

"Mate, if you take any longer, 'm gonna blow myself up for fun."

"Oh, feck off."

Playful banter is exchanged between Simon and Johnny, as they work in pairs to disarm the 'bombs' scattered throughout the city while remaining undercover. Thankfully, the five of you were out of earshot from any residents because you'd all have a field day with that one and something tells you that Price doesn't exactly have the patience for that kind of thing.

"Suprised you're not complaining." Kyle speaks up as he surveys you to cut the last wire to neutralize the threat. The grass is dewy, and there's a hum of cars passing on the slick streets as civilians shuffle past, huddled in coats.

"Nice work, [name]." Price praises, seeing that you completed your task. You cast a smile his way.

"Thanks, Cap."

And he's moving back to Johnny and Simon who are too preoccupied with one another to see that their Captain is a bit disgruntled with their lack of urgency.

"They're such knuckleheads." You chuckle to yourself.

Kyle glances over at the three who are now bickering over something that was now completely unrelated to the task. His smile grows.

"That they are."

"So, do I pass or what?" You stood up straight, glancing over at your Captain. He gives you a good-natured grin.

"Don't get too cocky now. It's still an op, y' know?"

You nod your head. He was right about that. It still was an active operation that could flip at any moment. Intrusive thoughts flood your mind and you feel frozen.

"Hey," You feel a grounding hand on your shoulder. You glance up to see Kyle warmly smiling down at you. "You'll be alright. We'll be alright."

Price feels pride wash over him as he looks at his Sergeant and then back at you as he folds his arms over his chest. "This isn't like any team you've ever been on before."

"I've heard the stories." You mimic your Captain's gesture. "barely hangin' off a heli and still managing to rush the enemy? Impressive."

"Upside down at that." Price claps Kyle's shoulder, causing him to become bashful at his Captain's words.

Your Captain averts his gaze to Johnny and Simon, who are on their last disarming. "Are you lot finished, yet?"

He goes on to berate the two who were taking a wee bit too long for his liking, leaving the both of you alone. Kyle awkwardly shifts his weight as he hovers his hand over his gun.

Your gaze is intense on him, not even bothering to pick up any conversation. He can practically see your tail twirling, feeling at ease with his presence while he feels himself gnawing away at his insides to say anything.

He takes a breath. "You're a lot calmer than I thought."

You shrug. "Well, when you've outlasted seven crews, what's eight?"

"Yeah, about that," You both pause for a moment, observing as a throng of pedestrians treks on the sidewalk just a few yards away, but they disappear behind the buildings unaware of your militant presence. "you wanna tell me why you're the only one who's made it out?"

You narrow your eyes at him. He is right to be suspicious, but you didn't feel like being scrutinized for the nth time. You were proven innocent in every situation, but something lingers in the back of your mind that makes you feel guilty every time. The memories of your missions have gone south, the sharp sting of adrenaline coursing through your veins as you dodge ricocheting bullets. But you shake the thoughts away. "Another time, maybe. Don't wanna jinx it, do we now?"

Kyle grins at that. His honey eyes fixate on you, searching your expression for anything that will give way to what you're really thinking.

Before either of you can say more, Price's voice cuts through the air. "Enough chit-chat. We've got one more to disarm and I want it done before anyone catches wind of what we're up to."

The tension between you dissolves as a new one accumulates in your shoulders as you refocus on the task and approach the final IED. You begin to feel the reality of the situation hit you when you realize everything could go insanely wrong. The public may be unaware, but the consequences of failure are all too real. Your consequences, your failure.

Price gestures for you to take the lead on this one, after all, you're the one he's really examining. You don't realize it, but he has full belief in your abilities. He's read your file and he knows damn well what you're capable of. You're under the scrutiny of your teammates, but one shoulder squeeze from your Cap gives you the morale boost to drop to one knee and begin your work.

Upon investigating the device, you realize it's like the other devices and you feel yourself relax a little. Kyle is at your side, and trepidation seeps into your fingers as they cruise over the wires.

"Blue or red?" he asks.

You don't even skip a beat. "Blue." you reply, trusting your instincts. "On my count."

Kyle readies himself with his wire cutters. "One. Two. Three."

You both carefully snip the wires, and for a moment it feels like the world stops. Your eyes watch as the device powers down, neutralizing the threat.

"That's it." you breathe out, feeling relief wash over you as allow your shoulders to relax.

Price steps forward, and claps you both on the back. "Good work, Wisp, both of you. Civvies are starting to get curious around here."

Wisp?

"Yeah, Wisp! Tha's a good one, Cap!" Johnny cheers, holding out his hands to give you a double high five. You giggle at the unexpected enthusiasm, but you high-five him back and intertwined your fingers together and he does a mini jig.

"Did a fine job." Simon politely nods, respecting your space, unlike his idiotic, cutesy counterpart.

Kyle clicks his tongue but is grinning otherwise at your success. The Scotsman can flirt all day with you, but he knows there is some brimming between you two. It was simply a game of cat and mouse at this point.

Wisp.

As you gather your gear, a lingering sense of impending doom still skulks in the back of your mind. You feel an itch under the skin where your past scars have healed over, but it's duller than usual. Pushing it to the back of your mind, you fall into step with Kyle feeling as though something has shifted in your dynamic with everyone.

In that crucial moment, Kyle trusted you. They all trusted you. It lingers in your mind, a question left unasked.

Kyle nudges, catching your gaze. His smile stretches beautifully across his face. "Guess we make a good team don't we, Wisp?"

Wisp.

You can't help but return the smile, feeling the butterflies settle in your stomach. You feel reborn. "Guess we do."

As you walk away from the site, blending back into the hustle and bustle of the city, you can't help but wonder what your next mission will bring. Whether the tension that is rising between Kyle and you will go unspoken. For now, you'll allow yourself to savor your victory. You've come out of it unscathed. They came out of it unscathed. As awful as it was, that's more than what you could ever say about your last teammates.

And as the rain falls softly around you, you feel like the hell you've endured is somehow worth it.

[hxxsxxng]

JAKE 심재윤 - LOVE FROM AFAR

MINORS DNI

Word Count : 3.9k

Genre : SMUT, ANGST

Content : bar fight, jealousy, toxic ex, mention on infidelity, unprotected sex, oral f receiving, praising, creampie, implied consumption of alcohol, sloppy make out….. let me know if i missed anything!

Preview : Once Jake finds out that his girl of interest is single, who knows what measures he is willing to take it to protect her?

Authors Note : Thank you to whoever requested this, I definitely had fun writing it!

SUPPORT BY REBLOGGING if you want

You were having a great night catching up with your buddies Felix and Bangchan at the local pub. It had been too long since you all got together like the old days. As they joked and reminisced about the past, you couldn't help but feel grateful for having such caring friends in your life.

Suddenly, Felix's friend Jake arrived, pulling up a chair to join your booth. You vaguely remembered meeting the scruffy-yet-handsome guy with a warm smile once or twice before at other hangouts. He seemed nice enough, if not a little quieter and awkward around you specifically.

As the four of you continued swapping stories and laughing over fresh rounds, something about Jake's furtive glances and blushing kept catching your eye. You couldn't deny the slightly giddy feeling it gave you to rendered this usually composed guy so flustered. He was pretty cute when he got all shy like that.

Maybe it was the liquid courage, or maybe you just felt emboldened by the positive energy. Whatever the reason, you decided to be a little flirty as you leaned in closer to Jake.

"So do you boys always get this rowdy, or am I just bringing out the wild side?" you teased with a wink.

Jake's eyes went wide as his cheeks flushed an even darker crimson. He seemed to be struggling to formulate a response as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Um...w-well, I uh, we don't want to...you know, shock you or anything--"

He was saved by the interruption of your phone ringing. Flashing an apologetic smile, you excused yourself from the booth to take the call. It was your boyfriend wanting to know if you were free later to come over and watch a movie.

"Yeah babe, I'll be there in a couple hours!" you replied affectionately before rejoining the group.

If you had turned back around just a few seconds sooner, you might have caught the way Jake's expression fell when he overheard you refer to your boyfriend. He shrunk back into himself, the brief moment of bravery evaporating.

Over the ensuing months, you noticed Jake never acted quite the same way again when you were around. He was polite and friendly, but also seemed to keep a distance, like he was afraid to let himself get too close. You figured he just wasn't someone who enjoyed casual flirting even in jest. Either way, it didn't really matter since you were happily taken anyway.

Until one day...you weren't anymore. Just like that, a two-year relationship came crashing down after you discovered your boyfriend's unfaithfulness. You were blindsided and devastated.

As you nursed your broken heart, Felix and Bangchan were there every step of the way, rallying around you with movie nights, distraction activities, and a steadfast supportive presence. True friends when you needed them most.

One evening a couple months later, you arrived at a dimly lit bar where the three of you normally met up. You were finally feeling like your old self again after weeks of sadness and anger. Ready to just be around your friends and enjoy a fun night out.

The moment you walked through the door, you heard a familiar voice call out from a booth off to the side.

"Hey! Over here!"

It was Jake, looking as handsome as you remembered even under the low lighting. He had stood up from the booth and was waving you over with a warm smile.

You couldn't help but feel a small flutter of nerves mixed with excitement. Despite the slight awkwardness that encounter at the pub, you always thought Jake seemed like a good guy deep down. And if he was here hanging out with Felix and Bangchan...maybe you could finally get to know him better without that weird tension.

As you reached the booth, exchanging greetings and hello hugs, you noticed Jake's arms linger around you perhaps a beat longer than necessary. And this time when he looked into your eyes, there wasn't a hint of shyness or restraint behind them.

"It's really great to see you out and about again," he murmured once you were all seated. "You're, uh...you're looking as beautiful as ever."

You felt your face warm at the sincere compliment, an unfamiliar bout of flustered energy starting to buzz within you. What was this all of a sudden?

"Uh thanks, Jake...you're not looking too bad yourself," you managed to reply, unable to stop yourself from chewing your lower lip nervously.

Felix and Bangchan traded looks like they were watching a private tennis match, wondering just how heated this newly charged atmosphere might get.

Before things could get too tense though, Felix cleared his throat and changed the subject, regaling you all with a story about a hilarious screw-up at his job earlier that week. You forced yourself to shift your gaze off Jake's intense stare and laugh along with the others.

By the end of the night, you almost felt...disappointed? Like there was some

elephant in the room you wished would address itself directly instead of all this subtext. You brushed it off as emotional vulnerability from your recent breakup making you read into things.

The weeks after, however, proved those suspicions false. Because every interaction, every hangout, every moment with the four of you together continued carrying the same electrifying undercurrent of tension, especially between you and Jake.

The way his warm eyes would linger on you when you laughed, the random innocent touches and grazed caresses that made your skin tingle, the undisguised admiration and want in his gaze when you caught him staring...it was all quickly becoming impossible to ignore or chalk up to simple friendliness.

You couldn't lie, you felt it too - that persistent, gnawing pull toward Jake growing stronger with each encounter. There was just something magnetic about his presence, his humor, his gentle teasing and care for your emotional wellbeing.

But you were still terrified of being vulnerable and opening yourself up again so soon after being burned. Especially to someone like Jake, who clearly had some very intense feelings starting to develop, if they weren't already there to begin with.

That fear reached a fever pitch one evening when the four of you were gathered at Felix's place before heading out. You had just finished getting ready in the bathroom when Jake poked his head in to ask if you needed any help with your hair or makeup.

"Sure, I could use another set of hands back here if you don't mind," you replied absentmindedly, turning away from the mirror to grab a comb.

The next thing you felt were Jake's strong hands gently gathering your hair as he positioned himself directly behind you. His broad chest was nearly pressed against your back, the warmth radiating off him in tantalizing waves.

"Here, let me..." he murmured in that deep, gravelly tone so close to your ear. You caught the intense look in his eyes through the mirror as his fingers deftly began running and separating through your locks.

Every brush of his knuckles against the nape of your neck made your heart skip a beat. The soft, even breaths puffing against your skin raised delicious goosebumps along your arms. And the smoldering, hooded gaze he was burning into you through the mirror reflection was quickly dampening your panties with arousal.

You were both entirely under each other's spells, the thick sexual tension swirling through the small bathroom like an intoxicating fog. All Jake would have to do is turn your chin and slant his lips over yours and you would have melted into a helpless puddle against him.

The trance was finally broken by a muffled shout from the other room of Felix yelling "You two good back there?"

As if getting doused with a bucket of cold water, you and Jake sprung apart, awkwardness and uncertainty crashing back in. You muttered a quick thanks before rushing out of the bathroom, flustered and needing to put some distance between the two of you before you did something reckless.

After tiptoeing around each other for a couple more weeks, you finally broke down one night and asked Felix what the deal was with Jake. Why he was giving you such intense, loaded vibes lately despite having barely interacted before.

Felix let out a long sigh before breaking the truth - Jake had been harboring a massive secret crush on you for years, long before you started dating your now-ex even. But he never acted on it or admitted those feelings because you were already in a committed relationship by the time you met him.

Now that you were newly single, however, all those long-simmering emotions and attractions were bubbling out from Jake at full force. He was struggling with wanting to pursue you, but also not wanting to make you uncomfortable or disrespect any boundaries while you were fresh out of your heartbreak.

You were stunned speechless, your mind swirling as you processed this information. All those small nuanced moments between you and Jake over the past couple of months finally clicked into place. How had you not seen it sooner?

More importantly...what did you want to do about it now? The thought of exploring those sparks between you and Jake made your heart race. But you were also still so freshly vulnerable from being crushed by betrayal and heartache. Could you really take that leap again so soon?

~~~~~

In the weeks that followed after Felix filled you in about Jake's long-standing romantic feelings, you couldn't stop mulling it over. Every time you saw Jake's warm smile or got pulled into his magnetic presence, your mind raced with the possibilities.

There was no denying the potent chemistry and tension that had been building between you two. Even before you knew about Jake's crush, you felt that persistent pull towards him, that fire simmering with every loaded gaze or innocent touch.

Now that you had context for what was truly driving that intensity from his end...it felt like the coals had been stoked into an inferno. You couldn't get Jake off your mind, couldn't stop imagining what it would feel like to finally act on those sparks.

The more you allowed yourself to lean into the fantasy, the more you realized you were falling for him too. Despite the all-too-fresh sting of betrayal, Jake's caring presence and unguarded desire for you were quickly healing those wounds.

Of course, you had reservations about opening yourself up again so soon. But Jake was clearly different - his intentions pure, his affections transparent. Maybe taking that terrifying leap would be worth it after all.

One night, after spending an evening together that had your skin tingling from lingering caresses and eye contact, you finally summoned the courage to go for it. As he walked you to your car, you spun around, grasped the front of his shirt, and pulled him into a searing kiss.

Jake instantly melted into you with a rumbling groan, his strong hands grasping at your waist to pull you flush against him. You lost yourselves in that fervent clash of lips and roaming touches, all those months of unresolved tension pouring out.

When you finally parted, cheeks flushed and chests heaving, the depths of Jake's gaze sparked with pure reverence and awestruck lust. No words were needed as you gazed at each other's swollen lips and tousled hair - you both knew everything had irreversibly changed in the most overwhelming way.

From that moment on, you and Jake were inseparable. You went from months of "what ifs" to not being able to keep your hands off each other. The slightest brush or heated look was enough to have you desperate to jump his bones at any opportunity.

For Jake, it was like a dream come true after pining from afar for so long. Finally being able to worship every perfect inch of you, to tangle his body with yours, to drink in your breathy moans and whimpers...he never wanted this haze to end.

You were both entirely drunk on each other, drowning in the depths of your smoldering passion. Any lingering fears or heartache you had were washed away by the passionate intensity Jake craved you with, how eternal his devotion felt.

Of course, such a whirlwind romance wasn't without ruffling some feathers. About two months into your torrid new relationship, you crossed paths with your ex at a local bar while out with friends.

"Well, well..." the snide voice called out as soon as they spotted you. "If it isn't my favorite dumped loser found someone newer, dumber, and even more desperate to settle for less."

You instinctively shrank back, feeling that old sense of shame and hurt bubble up despite Jake's arm protectively wrapped around you. But this time, you didn't have to face that menace alone.

Jake immediately stepped forward, jaw clenched as he attempted to keep his fury in check. "Why don't you do yourself a favor and get the hell out of here before I make you," he warned in a low, dangerous tone.

Your ex only scoffed, clearly finding amusement in watching Jake's anger boiling over. With a drunken saunter, they closed the gap between you, keeping their gaze locked on yours.

"Don't forget, I know you better than this sad rebound ever will," they taunted with a cruel smirk. "I know all the filthy little things that got you--"

Whatever nasty comment they hoped to sling next was cut off by Jake's hand violently shoving them backwards. Your ex's dumbfounded shock soon dissolved into equal rage as they came charging back at Jake, grabbing him by the collar as the two began exchanging shoves.

"Hey, hey! Break it up!" your other friends tried jumping in to separate the heated tussle, but not before your ex landed a hard punch square on Jake's cheekbone.

That was the final straw. Like some primal switch being flipped, Jake totally snapped. With a feral growl, he tackled your ex to the ground, taking a few more solid hits as the two rolled around in furious punches and choke holds.

"Jake! Oh my god, stop!" you cried out in horror, watching helplessly.

It wasn't until a handful of bouncers finally broke through to pull them apart that the violence ceased. Jake was dragged out back by a couple of the burly guards, clothes disheveled and sporting a split lip while the other patrons sneered at your ex being dragged out as well.

Your heart was still racing from the adrenaline and shock as you rushed out the back exit after Jake. He was leaning against the wall, chest heaving and knuckles bleeding from the brawl.

"Jake! Are you okay?" you rushed over, cradling his face to inspect the damage. He hissed at the contact against his wounded skin before melting into your touch with a heavy exhale.

Those stormy irises locked onto yours, slightly glazed but burning with pure longing and possession. "I'm so sorry, baby...I just..." he rasped, voice dripping with unrestrained desire. "I just couldn't stand the thought of that piece of shit being anywhere near you, talking to you that way..."

One of his hands slid up to tangle desperately in your hair while the other snaked around your lower back, pulling your hips flush against his hardening length. "You're mine now," he growled before capturing your mouth in a torrid, demanding kiss.

You opened for him with a heady whimper, the thrill of claiming this smoldering, dominant side of Jake setting your blood on fire. His tongue invaded greedily as he walked you backwards, pinning you against the wall with his body weighing deliciously against you.

~~~~~

Any care for location or being seen was abandoned as Jake's arousal ground shamelessly against your core, his big hands gripping and roaming with reckless possession. You gave back as good as you got - raking nails down his back, nipping at his full lips with moans muffled between heated clashes of tongue and teeth.

Just as the frenzied make-out was reaching a fever pitch, a loud clatter from behind the dumpster nearby caused you both to jump apart, chests heaving. Jake's eyes bored into yours, still glazed with lust but now mixed with frustration at the interruption.

"Get in the car," he rasped in a low rumble, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the parking lot. "We're going somewhere more private."

You eagerly followed, legs still wobbly from the dizzying heat coursing through you. The ride to Jake's apartment felt like an agonizing eternity with how badly you were both aching to crash together again. He kept one hand firmly planted on your thigh, thumb tracing maddening circles that had you squirming.

The second you crossed the threshold into his place, Jake pinned you against the door, claiming your lips in another heated, desperate clash. You melted into him as his talented fingers quickly divested you of your dress, palms roaming every newly exposed inch of skin.

You fumbled with his belt and jeans as he attacked the sensitive spots along your neck and collarbone with a trail of opened-mouth kisses. Each graze of his teeth and insistent suckle from those full lips had you whimpering in delirious need.

Somehow you managed to get Jake's pants undone, allowing his thick hardness to spring free as he kicked them off along with his shoes. You drank in a shuddering breath at the glorious sight of his arousal, already leaking with need for you.

Jake's heated gaze followed yours, a prideful smirk tugging at his swollen lips. "You like what you see, baby?" he rumbled, giving himself a slow, teasing stroke.

You bit your lip with a tiny nod, unable to tear your eyes away. That only made his cocky grin widen further as he leaned in close, beard tantalizingly scratching your jaw.

"I'm going to make you feel so good, make you remember that you belong only to me" he murmured, the deep timbre of his gravelly desire sending shivers straight to your core. "Let me worship every perfect inch of you, nice and slow..."

As if to emphasize his point, Jake trailed a series of torturously unhurried open-mouthed kisses down your neck and chest again before dropping to his knees. His smoldering gaze remained locked on yours as his fingers hooked into your soaked underwear and slowly dragged them down your trembling legs.

You were bare before him now, glistening arousal fully exposed to his ravenous stare. Jake's hands roamed back up the smooth skin of your thighs, close to your throbbing center yet making no move to provide relief just yet.

"Such a gorgeous sight..." he husked in reverence. "All mine."

Unable to take any more teasing, you carded your fingers through his thick locks as his lips ghosted nearer to your pussy. "Please, Jake..." you mewled desperately.

That was all the encouragement he needed before diving in. You cried out at the first swipe of Jake's talented tongue, back arching against the door as waves of electric pleasure flooded through you...

He was relentless, sucking harder and deeper, plundering your wet folds until his tongue was completely coated with your slick essence. You gasped loudly with an intense wave of pleasure, leaving you breathless and panting.

The rhythmic motion driving you insane until you suddenly broke down into violent, uncontrolled moans of ecstasy. It was over too soon though as Jake pulled away, sitting back on his heels with a self satisfied smile and dark eyes glittering.

He carefully took the wet, limp package in his large hand and gently stroked your slick slit. "You're gonna be so fucking ready for me tonight, sweetheart," he assured huskily. "Trust me. There's nothing you could possibly do that would turn me off."

And then he lowered himself over you, spreading the moisture around, filling you with such potent satisfaction that you almost screamed in bliss. Your legs wrapped themselves around his waist as Jake sank slowly and surely down until he could bury himself inside you easily. As he started slowly moving, you gripped his shoulders tightly with your thighs, your entire body tensing and relaxing under his weight. His hands tightened around your arms and shoulders to make sure you weren't trying to crawl away. He held still, letting your body adjust itself to his thickness until the feeling started to fade. As your legs relaxed, they found a more comfortable place to rest, and your stomach felt better about being full. After you got used to being filled up, he reached down to gently cup your tit in one large hand as he pressed himself even deeper, burying himself within you with one hard thrust. His long fingers caressed your soft skin, drawing groans from your lips with every flick of his finger.

With the most powerful thrusts, Jake filled you completely in one go, filling you entirely and filling every single space. For a moment it seemed like there wouldn't be enough room anymore in your womb; you'd never been so far gone before with anyone else, but Jake made that possible by holding you so close and filling you so much you couldn't get enough of each other.

You held tight to his muscular back, digging your heels into the mattress as he pounded into you with a relentless rhythm, your walls clenching down on his rigid shaft with a fierce, hungry grip. He let out a feral growl of satisfaction as you writhed beneath him, grinding yourself against him faster and quicker, begging for release. Your whole body shook with pent up passion, the need to come crashing down on you like a tsunami.

With a sharp jerk, he suddenly stiffened underneath you, causing you to cry out. His breathing became labored as your pussy clenched around his girth with unrelenting intensity. You didn't think you'd ever seen his face contort in agony quite like that before. You both took a deep breath at the same time and released it in unison as he let you cum around his dick. His cock twitched inside of you, but you didn't want to break eye contact; he was still so intent on looking at you. Your hands reached up to run through his hair again, and he bent down to kiss you gently as you both enjoyed each other's company. Then it was over in an instant as he came with a deep grunt breaking the kiss, body shaking with the force of his release, painting his white masterpiece on your walls as he slumped forward, resting his forehead heavily against your naked belly with hot tears streaming down his flushed cheeks.

“I will not let him bother you ever again”

[princesssmars]

karlach who doesn’t realize how much you like her strength.

she knows that when she lets herself go she can tear her enemies in half, but she was such a silly little crush on you she doesn’t want to let you see how violent she can be in fears of scaring you away.

but she herself is silly, never noticing the way you fawn over her muscles while batting your eyelashes and not at all subtlety asking just how she got sooo big. she just waves it off as your usual friendliness, talking about how killing demons everyday got her jacked quick.

so when your party is walking through some nasty bog, she does the polite thing and picks you up with ease so your boots won’t get soaked. consider her shocked when you let out a muted groan from your mouth, ignoring the others jests and snickers.

maybe she’ll have a chat with you back at camp that night. privately. in your tent.

[cthulhu-calling]

New Perspective

dark!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: What happens when you wake up in a bed that isn’t yours, next to a man who was supposed to have gone back to the past?

Warnings: dark fic, dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, smut, rape/non-con, l-bombs, friends with benefits

Author's Note: This is a dark Steve Rogers x f!Reader story. Sit this one out if it isn't for you. Please consider the tags before proceeding, this is your final warning, I am not responsible for the content you consume.

Word Count: 2,216

ao3 link

Steve Rogers Masterlsit

“You’re not coming back, are you?” 

He looked down at his feet, not able to meet your gaze. Slowly nodding his head, still not looking up, he reaches out to hold you in his massive, trunk-like arms and you let him. 

You and Steve had always been close, even if he was quite cold and standoffish when you first met. What had started off as a simple and pure friendship had developed into something more dark and dirty.

 In the day, he was your close friend and Captain but at night, he was your refuge. Nights spent with hot, sweaty, limbs tangled in each other, rough fingers tugging at your hair as you drew pleasure from each other’s bodies. 

Your arrangement was unconventional, sure, but it’s how you both liked it. No strings attached, just sex. You both had far too much going on to even consider an actual relationship with someone, so you helped each other out during lonely nights. 

To say you would miss him was a massive understatement but you knew he deserved to be happy. Happy with the love of his life,  Peggy Carter. 

Pulling away, you gently cupped his cheek before brushing your lips lightly against his. “You deserve happiness Steve. I won’t hold this against you, but don’t you dare forget about me.” you whispered as you playfully narrowed your eyes at him, poking a finger at his chest. 

He huffed out a laugh at your poor attempt at jest before pulling you close to him, searching your eyes for something more. 

“Steve, I am happy for you. After all that you’ve done for the world, you deserve a chance at being truly happy,” you said, offering him a genuine and what you hope was a reassuring smile. 

Looking lost, he gently nodded his head before pulling you towards the bed. One last time , you thought to yourself as you gave in to him. 

One last time, or so you thought.

Steve hadn’t meant to fall in love. 

What started out as a simple arrangement  of friendly banter and arguments by day and animalistic fucking by night ended up becoming the most passionate affair of his lifetime, and that in itself was saying a lot.

You were the one for him. He knew it and he believed it was high time you realised it too. 

But you? You were as clueless as they came. It was getting a little infuriating at this point, if Steve was being completely honest with himself. 

It was cute at first. How you would act as if you didn’t realise that he loved you. He bought right into the whole faux innocence act and he would be lying if he said it didn’t make him achingly hard and desperate for you. To have you on top of him, your tight little dripping hole stretching to accommodate his thick length as you moan and mewl wantonly. 

But even after months, when you failed to acknowledge how in love with you he was, it started to anger him. How you would have a flirty back and forth with Sam, or brush a perfectly manicured finger against a random stranger’s arm at the pub, bending over slightly while pushing your elbows together to give them an eyeful of your cleavage. All of it made his blood boil.  

So he decided, he had to have you. No matter what. 

He wouldn’t find a more perfect opportunity than this. Under the guise of going to return the stones, he had you believe that he wasn’t coming back, that he was going back to Peggy. Surely, that would make you insecure and you’d beg him to come back, beg him to not leave you. It was foolproof, he was sure of it. 

But when he told you he was leaving, your reaction shocked him. You weren’t desperate for him to come back, begging him to stay back and vowing to do anything to please him. Instead, you were happy for him. 

At first, he couldn’t believe his ears. Surely, you can’t be serious. Did you really not love him? 

He was quick to dispose off that thought though. He was the love of your life and you were his. You belonged with him. To him. He figured that it was all an act, to hide how you truly felt. It was then that he decided to take matters into his own hands. 

That’s how you found yourself in this predicament; groggy and confused, still half asleep in a bed that isn’t yours. Once you realise the bed isn’t actually yours, the bedding a baby pink as averse to the bright yellow of your own with every square inch covered by one too many pillows, you’re alert immediately. Where are you? 

You push the covers off of yourself and just as you’re about to set your feet on the floor, the door at the left corner of the roughly rectangular room swings open, a smiling Steve stepping inside before shutting and locking the door behind him. 

“Morning sleepy head. You’ve been out for quite a while now, almost had me worried there.” he sighed the last part, the eerily hopeful smile still glued to his face. 

You looked around yourself, taking in your surroundings before looking back up at Steve. You were in a room with clean white walls, a huge bed in the centre of the room with two twin nightstands on either side of it. There were no windows, only the door through which he had entered and that too on closer inspection seemed to be made of thick metal, too heavy for anyone without superhuman strength to even try to budge. 

“Where am I Steve? How are you still here?” you asked, you throat scratchy. 

“C’mon honey, sit up straight,” he said as he moved closer to you, holding a tall glass of water to your lips. 

Gulping down the water, you cleared your throat before asking again, “Where are we? How are you still here? I saw you leaving Steve,” you thought out loud, pushing the thick covers off of your body, suddenly feeling their presence suffocating, only to look down and find yourself in a ratty and oversized t-shirt and  boxer shorts, both you were sure you’d seen on Steve at some point in time. 

Steve took in your form hungrily, loving how you looked in his clothes. 

“You need to relax honey. I’ll answer all your questions, but not right now,” he said as he gently pushed you back on the bed, tucking you in. 

“No, I need you to tell me right now. What the fuck’s going on here exactly?” you said, throwing back the covers to move out of the bed but before you can blink, you’re pinned down by Steve’s body. 

“I will not tolerate such language from you. You’re mine and you’re going to do exactly as I say, is that clear honey?” he said almost sweetly but you knew it was all an act to hide how angry he truly was. You saw right through his facade. 

“Yours? Steve, the fuc-“ you cut yourself off on seeing his glare, “I- I uh, don’t get it. What are you on about?” you breathed out.

“No point in pretending anymore my love, I’m only doing what you were too scared to do. I know you love me, I just had to get you to admit it. What better way then a romantic little getaway. No phones, no one but the two of us,” he said in a sort of dazed voice while you just sat there, slack jawed and wide eyed.

“You-you, uh, you’ve lost it! You’ve gone absolutely mental! I don’t love you, and I’m sorry if I made you believe that I did but you need to let me go,” you said while pushing him back and quickly getting out of the bed. 

He grabbed you by your hips, spinning you around and pulling you close so you were right against his chest. 

“Stop acting coy, I know you want me just as much as I want you. Can’t you see? We’re supposed to be together, together forever. And while I won’t tolerate how you spoke to me just now, I’ll let it pass just this once.

“I know you’re stressed love, but you’ve got to accept it. You’re the love of my life. You belong to me. ” He whispered the last part slowly as his hands travelled down to the small of your back, grabbing your ass and squeezing it, making you gasp. 

His lips attacked yours, swallowing all your protests as he slowly guided you back to the bed, pushing you down on it. 

“Give me a chance to prove it to you, make you see how right we feel, together,” he mumbled as he peppered kisses down you neck and chest, occasionally sucking a dark mark, laying his claim on you. 

“Mine, mine, mine,” he kept mumbling as his hand reached to tug down your shorts, deft fingers prodding at your entrance. 

He rubbed his thumb in figure-8’s around your clit, drawing a strangled moan from you. Arms and legs giving up their struggle as you fisted the sheets, pleasure shooting up your spine. 

“Please, Steve,” you moaned breathily and you knew not if you begged for him to stop or for more. 

The cheeky bastard had the audacity to act innocent as he slowed his movements, “Please what, my love?” he asked and you could hear the smug smirk on his face.

“Let me go, please!” you yelled, struggling against his hold with renewed vigour. 

Smack!

“Wrong answer honey,” he growled as he landed another smack on your bare pussy, making you yelp. 

Easily pinning you down, he ran his fingers through your folds before collecting the wetness there, bringing his dripping fingers to your lips. 

“Suck.” he ordered. 

When you didn’t move to open your mouth, he pushed his fingers into the back of your throat, effectively choking you. 

“Bad girls don’t deserve to be prepared beforehand, do they?” he asked condescendingly before he plunged his thick cock into your unprepared channel. 

Immediately setting a punishing pace as his free hand grabbed hold of both your wrists, pinning them above your head. The sound of skin slapping against skin and the squelching of your drenched pussy only spurring him on. 

“Look at you, dripping for me. You’re enjoying this just as much as me, aren’t you? And yet, yet you deny me of something that can only be right. We belong together, can’t you see?” he said with a low growl. 

You moaned around his fingers, the shame of being close to your climax while he forced himself on you bringing tears to your eyes. 

Letting go of your wrists, he brushed away your tears, driving himself harshly into your dripping cunt, “Don’t cry my love, don’t cry for something you can’t change. We belong together, and I’ll make sure you see it.” 

Making true of his promise, he started pounding into you, deeper and harder, hitting the spot that made your mind go blank, not being able to focus on anything but the pleasure that only his cock could give, that only he could give . 

You let out a sound somewhere between a moan and a sob as you came undone, clenching down hard on his cock, milking him. 

Grunting as he emptied himself inside of you, he slowly removed his fingers from your mouth, bringing his lips to yours for a rather chaste kiss considering he’d been balls deep in you just seconds ago. 

“I deserve to be happy. You said it yourself, my love. After all that I’ve done for this world, it’s the least I deserve. And we’re going to be so happy,” he mumbled into your ear, more for himself than you as he wrapped his arms around your waist tightly, keeping you close to his body as your eyelids started to droop. 

Oh, whatever were you going to do now? 

[radio-writes]

Hi, will u do a human alastor x side mistress reader, so basically he has a wife, but he doesn't really love her, so when he's on the air he has sex with his side mistress in the radio tower. His side mistress knows he's a serial killer, by the way. You don't have to do this if u don't want to. I love ur fics.

By the Gold Ring on His Hand

Synopsis: He loved you and only you. You were his to cherish, to adore, to worship. Sweet words he whispered softy, promisingly, into your ear. Sweet words he also whispered softly to his wife.

Warnings: smut, oral (m receiving), mentions of murder, heavy manipulation, cheating

Tags: human!alastor, alastor x reader, gn!reader, reader is the other wo/man

MDNI

You've always revered Alastor.

You were entranced by the way his smile never broke. The way he seemed to take control of any situation he was put in. The he always managed to just charm the socks off of anyone he's ever met.

You loved the way he made little corny jokes. You loved the way he danced—barely drunk from the bottles of rye he downed.

And oh, did you love the way he spoke.

You could listen to him all day on the radio, just absolutely smitten and melting where you stood. 

The one thing you didn't love about Alastor—the one thing you despised, really—was his wife.

That naive little thing. So meek, so quiet. You always hated the way she would cling onto his arm at parties. Loathed the way she'd shyly smile at everyone, including you.

There was just no way that delicate stupid girl could satisfy someone like Alastor.

Alastor needed, deserved, a real partner. One that had enough of a spine not to be stepped on, at the very least.

Your fingers twitched, aching to touch him more; to caress his thighs that perfectly framed your head. You wanted to feel him beneath you, reassure your heart that he was here with you.

You groaned as your longing was denied. You felt Alastor press his shoes harder against your hands, pinning your palms to the floor. The fingers in your hair tightened their grip, guiding you more strictly down his cock.

It was enough to cheer you up a little. Although your touch was declined, the little vibrations your sounds made clearly still had an effect on him. You felt a little proud knowing something as small as you moaning around him pleasured the hefty cock in your mouth.

The reality was far more bitter, though. Not that Alastor would ever let you know that.

Truth be told his grip was a warning. He had explicitly told you to be quiet, to keep your hands to yourself. But you seemed to be so adamant on testing his patience today, as you were refusing to do both.

Alastor's smile strained just a tad bit more in annoyance as he spoke into the microphone. "Hate to finish up the broadcast with some sour news, but someone's gotta keep you lovely folks up to date!"

You continued to bob your head between his legs, hidden from the rest of crew by the control panel. You made sure to drag the flat of your tongue over the under side of Alastor's dick each every time you lowered your mouth to his crotch. If your ministrations did anything for him, you couldn't really tell.

His voice was perfect, not a tone out of place as he continued his broadcast. You've never seen a man so well put together while having someone's mouth serve them so reverently.

"Seems the coppers found a couple more for the good old wooden kimonos last night. Grizzly sight it was—so I heard. Hate to be the ones to dig those poor souls out."

Even though he was the one to put them there in the first place, you suppressed a laugh. Not that you were complaining, though. It was part of how you and Alastor finally got together, after all.

Alastor finished up his broadcast, and you continued your slow little prayer on your knees. He waved his staff away when they tried to approach, simply sending them off with a friendly jest that he'd meet them at the bar after he cleaned up his work station.

It was only when the lock clicked behind his crew did Alastor finally acknowledge you. His lovely smile was intact, but you could tell his mood was a little soured by the way his brown eyes narrowed at you from behind his glasses.

The hand gripping your hair pulled you off his cock, a pathetic whine escaping your lips as he did so.

Alastor tried to ignore the—rather off putting—sight of a thin string of fluids connecting your mouth to the head of his dick. He bent down closer to you, keeping his gaze locked on yours.

"My dear, I thought I told you to be quiet while I worked." His voice was as sweet as ever.

You chuckled lightly, you wanted to move your hands to cup his cheek, bring him even closer to you. Perhaps even for a kiss to lift his seemingly bad mood.

The moment Alastor so much as felt your fingers twitch, he stepped harder on your hands again, keeping them pinned to the floor and away from him.

You opted to shrug your shoulders sheepishly instead. "I may have gotten carried away," You responded coyly "You just taste so good."

Alastor did his best not to cringe, choosing to tighten his smile. Ah, you were in one of your moods again, he thought.

"Then why don't you go ahead and have your fill of me now." His hand left the back of your head, resting instead on the sides of his chair as he leaned back. The gold band on his ring finger momentarily caught the light and drew your attention to it.

Your chest tightened just the slightest bit. You absolutely hated the reminder that Alastor wasn't fully yours. That he'd still go home to his stupid wife at the end of the day.

But not for long, at least that's what Alastor had promised you. And not right now. 

You ran your tongue along the thick vein of his cock, from the bottom, up its shaft, and smiled at the sight of his hips bucking up to your touch.

"In your mouth now again, darling." It didn't sound like a request, but you obeyed faithfully anyway. You were rewarded with a soft sigh as you welcomed him back in your warm mouth.

You'd bet your job that his sweet little wife never pleased him like this. Skittish thing like that would probably run at the thought of putting her lips on a hard dick.

Well, her loss is your gain.

You were so far gone in your own head that you hadn't even noticed Alastor wasn't looking at you.

No, instead his head craned towards the ceiling of his studio, eyes closed and tired.

He was trying to focus on the physical sensations you brought him, not that he had much of an interest in it in the first place, but he tried hard to concentrate. All he had to do was finish, and he could finally leave. Leave you here with some sweet promises, and not have to deal with your disgustingly loving gaze on him until maybe his next shift on Monday.

Not that spending time with his wife at home felt any more appealing.

He pushed the thoughts away, willing his mind to stay on you instead. He thought he can finish, at least he could feel the bottom of his gut tightening just a tiny fair bit.

He focused on the way your tongue felt as it swirled around him. How your lips stretched so softly to fit his shaft. How you practically drooled over his cock. How you—

You were noisier now that you knew you were alone, and it wasn't doing Alastor any favors. A rather loud moan cutting through his mind and it almost made the coil in his gut loosen completely, his shoulders tensing instead.

No, no this just wouldn't do. He had much more interesting plans tonight than to sit there and buy your silence with his cock.

His hand reached out once more, much less gentle than it was before. With less grace and care, Alastor's hand rested on the back of your neck, before harshly pushing you down as he bucked his hips up.

Your eyes were wide, a surge of panic filled you at the suddenness of the sensation. His dick hit the back of your throat and you tried to pull back immediately.

Alastor's other hand came up to the back of your head to push you back down. Your nose pressed firmly to his skin as his cock pushed past your throat. 

Your arms strained as you tried to use your hands to push him away, but Alastor merely stepped on your fingers harsher to get you to stay.

"Ah, fuck, darling. Stay like that. Oh that's lovely." You thought you heard him say.

He was finally looking down at you. The way you heaved as you choked on him. The way your body spasmed to get away. The way panic filled your pretty tearful eyes. 

Your throat tightening around him as you tried desperately to breathe felt miles better than whatever you were trying to do before, and it was exactly what he needed.

"Finally," He breathed out softly, almost in a moan, feeling the coil in his gut finally snap. He pressed you down, just the tiniest bit more and you felt his warm seed flow down your willing throat.

"There we go, dear." Alastor's harsh grip in your hair loosened, slowly petting through your locks. The hand on your neck remained, locking you in and rendering you unable to pull free.

Your eyes flickered up to him, part of you ready to beg for mercy, but one sight of his dazed smile made you pliant. Your body relaxed into his touch, simply letting him ride his high out with your bruised throat. 

He must have just gotten carried away, that's all. Simply something new he never got to do with his stupid wife. 

You felt his softening dick slowly pull out of you, his shaft dragging across your tongue and you finally pulled free with a choked gasp of air.

A gentle hand tipped your face back to meet Alastor's before you could be too dramatic. He pressed a gentle, chaste, kiss to the corner of your lips to calm you.

"You'll have to forgive me, my dear. Your body just makes me feel far too good—just couldn't hold back." The charm practically oozed from his smooth tongue.

Your gaze softened immediately. Your hands, now free from beneath his feet, made their way to his cheeks but he easily pulled back.

Really, what on earth made you think he'd let you touch him with filthy hands. Had you forgotten he'd been stepping on them this entire time? Kind of rude, if you'd ask him.

Not that any of those thoughts showed when Alastor simply, gently, helped you up to your feet by your elbow.

"Always so good to me, my dear. How I got so lucky to have a divine thing like you service me, I'd never know." He stood up with you, part of him did enjoy it whenever he got to look down on you in a more literal sense.

He pressed his body against yours, arms on the control panel behind you as he caged you in. His lips barely grazed your ears as he continued his sweet, sweet, praises. "Why couldn't you have shown up sooner, dear? I would have had it all." 

You placed your hand on his chest, failing to notice the way he flinched at the touch. "You still could, you know? All you have to do is leave that naive little thing and I could give you this every night." Your voice was low, seductive, alluring.

Alastor held back an annoyed groan. This again. His eyes rolled, not that you could see it with his head nuzzling against your shoulder.

"We both know I treat you so much better." You continued, hand trailing up to scratch at the hair at the bottom of his neck. "And I'd never hold you back from that little hobby of yours either." 

He chuckled at that, you could feel his lips at the base of your neck. "My dear, we've been through this." His kisses were soft, gentle, barely touching you, just like how he preferred it. "You don't have to feel so threatened by her, it's you that I want."

"Then why don't you—"

A gasp passed your lips.

"Leave her?" Alastor continued your sentence when you couldn't. His warm tongue licked over the reddened skin he bit. "I will, my dear, I will. Things are just a bit complicated at the moment."

More complicated than you knew, really.

He couldn't leave his wife because her dad was a big boss of his station. His ass would be out on the streets in minutes if he ever hurt that shy doll.

But he couldn't just kill you either. Not when your dad was the town sheriff.

He was lucky you were so obsessed with him that fucking you once in a while was enough to keep your pretty little mouth shut.

Honestly, just fuck the day you caught him slicing that man's flesh. That scum was hardly worth all the trouble he now has to go through.

"But I'm working on it." Alastor promised as he finally pulled away from you.

You gazed up into his warm, honest eyes. You adored the way he towered over you, really. It's like you fit together so perfectly—like puzzle pieces, was it? Was that how that cheesy line went.

"And then we can be together?" Your palms move to cup his face, and Alastor caught them on instinct before they could.

But you didn't notice, not when he corrected his actions so smoothly by pressing his lips to your knuckles instead—he tried his best to ignore how filthy they are, just to hide his mistake. "Of course, darling. In fact, I think I can work things out by tonight." 

Your father was going to be alone at the station.

Your eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Yes, my dear. Soon all of this hiding and sneaking around will be a thing of the past." He said, almost with the same amount of excitement as you.

He couldn't wait to toss your body in a ditch next to your old man's corpse.

"But I musn't be late"

He'll miss his chance to slit your father's throat if he lingered any longer.

"Soon you wouldn't have to be jealous of my wife, dear."

After all, the dead don't envy do they?

Alastor willed himself to humor you one last time, pressing his lips to yours before he bid you a good night.

He couldn't have rushed out that door any faster.

Who would have known trying to keep his cover would have eaten up so much of his time? He barely had any left to do the very act he was even trying to cover for.

Honestly, how troublesome.

But no matter, no matter.

He glanced back at the station. He could vaguely see your lovestruck figure through the window. He watched amusedly as you pathetically held your fingers to your lips, absolutely lost on cloud nine.

It won't be long until he was rid of you, and that fact was enough to lift his sour mood.

[boop-le-snoot]

masterlist

untitled

I just had this vivid scene play out in my brain. Dropped to my knees in a local chain grocery store, had to pretend I was grabbin the bootleg brand chips from the bottom shelf. I'm definitely normal about this. Yea, I'm so abso-fucking-lutely normal about this.

So what if I'm ovulatin'? It ain't me sittin' here clenching my fuckin' thighs, no ma'am, nu-uh. Even my predictive text talks like Daryl now- okay, I may have a tiny little problem. I hope I never, never ever get the chance to look Norman Reedus in the eye.

4.5k words. VERY VERY NSFW. Just sweet and a little rough monkey lovin' where Daryl enjoys something for the simple sake of it feeling good. A little undercooked plot-wise but the smut has been grilled to a perfect medium-rare, slightly juicy, collard greens and mashed potatoes on the side with the mushroom sauce. Two packs of cigarettes later (he owes my lungs an apology),

Imagine you and Daryl going out on a - run, scouting mission, whatever - and hunkering down in a secure cabin for the night. It's summer, it's hot and stuffy inside, but luckily, the cabin has running water, even if it's ice-cold. So you wash up and apply some of the essential-oils-homemade-perfume-thing that someone at the community made for you.

You change into your PJs and come downstairs to amuse yourself til the sun sets completely.

He's smoking next to a crack in the boarded up windows and you, being on friendly terms, banter a bit and bum a cigarette off him. He doesn't mind when you use one of his knees to sit down. As you two joke, you ruffle his hair slightly, not missing the way his eyes narrow in pleasure.

That sparks a conversation about letting oneself to feel good things.

You say that it's different for women because they get judged for wanting to experience pleasure just for the sake of it and Daryl says he always thought it to be stupid. You say that he's not exactly the resident expert on that, which briefly makes his natural competitiveness overshadow his shyness and self-loathing.

Petulantly, he places your hand back in his hair and stresses the purring growl of pleasure as your scratch his scalp and let his moist tresses glide through tour fingers.

You laugh and say you're gonna braid his hair one day, in jest, and he growls back "yer pushin' yer luck, pretty girl," but his smile is hidden rather badly.

In revenge, you stomp out the cigarette and straddle his lap fully, attacking his head with a massage worthy of a spa parlour professional.

He grips your waist as his head hangs forward, a low rumble coming from his mouth as his nose comes that much closer to your neck.

Daryl takes a deep breath, and sensing you unbothered by it, says "ya smell good. like apple pie."

"Oh," he doesn't miss the slight hitch in your breath, "'member when I fixed up the 'lectric in number twelve? they paid me in some essential oil perfume they made. feels nice to... not smell death all day, every day. 's a nice change."

He nods, agreeing, remembering your strong feelings about doing some things just because they feel good. Not because it's useful or to survive, but just for a surge of happy hormones in your bloodstream.

Despite his best efforts to distract his body, one wiggle from you is all it takes for his excitement to be obvious. He freezes, but you adjust simply, politely, keeping your weight off his boner. Confused by your chill attitude, he lifts his head, forcing you to brush all of his hair out of his face.

Daryl feels vulnerable and exposed.

Your eyes slide down to his lips, once, twice, but you - just as stubborn as him - pick them back up. As he parts them to run the tip of his tongue over them in hopes of finding something to say, he notices it fully.

He notices the flush of your skin. His hands move on your waist, provoking another blink-and-youll-miss-it twitch of your fingertips and toes.

Gathering his ducks in a row, Daryl leans into you - your neck, not your lips, not yet - softly running the tip of his nose along your collarbone and up to your jaw.

"That feel good?" Voice gravelly low, it sends reverb through your chest.

"Yeah," you breathe quietly, your fingers in his hair shaking slightly. You lean more into him and that is all the encouragement he needs for the time being.

"Wanna make ya feel good," he admits, dry lips and scratchy stubble gliding along the length of your jaw. His breath is hot on the shell of your ear. "Can I do that, suga'-pie?"

"Mhm," you respond, his cheek now against yours - you rub into him gently, like a cat. The affectionate headbutt makes him chuckle quietly in his throat.

He continues nosing around your neck, feeling the muscles in your back and your thighs unclench one by one. You're practically on top of him, almost right there, over the throbbing erection in his pants, and he feels your control slip away bit by bit.

The flimsy wooden chair you two are sitting on creaks; Daryl doesn't place much trust in it. Planting his feet wide, securing his position, he inadvertently lands your cunt right over his cock. Both of you shudder and hiss at the contact.

The damn chair creaks again.

He curses under his breath, hands sliding down to your ass, hoisting you up and urging you to wrap your legs around his waist as he stands up, sending the raggedy chair clattering to the floor.

Your breath catches in your throat, your hands grab at his shoulders, kneading into the meat there. A few steps later, both of you land on the couch heavily; it creaks, too, but your legs have room and your body can finally relax against Daryl as you stabilise yourself on the surface.

He's panting, open-mouthed, looking at you with those stormy blue eyes, searching for something in your earnest, open face.

The corners of your mouth tug up.

He runs his palm over your back, settling on your nape to pull you into him. Your mouths connect; the kiss is slow and unhurried as you take the time to explore each other's mouths. There is no need to rush, no risk of being caught or ambushed; it really feels good. Following someone's advice for once, Daryl lets himself become utterly lost in the sweet kiss.

Your hands are in his hair, tugging softly every now and then, tipping the cup of him ever-so-slightly for short groans to spill into the kiss. Sometimes, you let your hands traverse the hills of his shoulders, the plains of his chest, fingertips poking around the collar of it.

It's overstimulating but at the same time, it's not enough. To give you a hint, Daryl timidly strokes the single bare inch of skin between your shirt and your pants, feeling the goosebumps even through the thick, calloused skin of his working hands.

The way your hips respond: restless and fluid, pressing into him just that much closer, prompts him to slide his hands further under your shirt, mapping the bony ridges of your spine. The skin along it is sensitive on any mammal, that much he knows, so he expects the twitch, expects the breathy moan leaving your lips; he revels in it, the kiss growing humid and sloppy.

Your hands slip into his shirt, finally, your warm palms on his hot skin. He's burning up inside out and you're- you're diligently adding fuel and accelerant to the fire. Blunt nails scratching over his uneven skin, you snag his bottom lip on your teeth as moisture gathers in the corners of your mouths.

The need for oxygen is strong.

Daryl inhales deep as he rests his forehead against yours.

Both of you are panting. Necking like horny teenagers, not a care in the world, no worry for tomorrow; it's near impossible to focus on anything else but the pulsating need at the spots where your bodies are pressed together.

It's all too much but neither of you want it to stop.

"Holy shit," your awed mumble causes Daryl to smirk lightly; as you shift in place, he swears he can smell how wet you are. His jeans must've gotten ruined by now, if not by you then by the weeping of his own cock.

It feels almost regretful to proceed. This exact feeling, if someone could figure out how to bottle it, would have people sellin' their soul for it, Daryl is damn sure.

It's the moment before lightning spears open the stuffy air of a muggy, stormy day. The millisecond before a heavily pregnant cloud gives birth to a solid wall of ice-cold rain; the blink of skies as they generously cool the overheated earth, filling up its parched cracks with invigorating liquid.

"Fuck," Daryl groans, tossing his head back onto the backrest of the couch, watching you through lidded eyes, "whatchu doin' to me, girl?"

You offer him a shaky, sheepish grin before your lust takes over your senses, pushing you back up to him. Your mouth connects with his neck, suckling, licking, nipping at the caramel skin there.

Daryl tastes of cheap soap and clear sweat, that musky scent of gasoline and leather unfurling into notes of pinewood and smoke as you nose deeper; right next to his ear, tickled by his hair, he smells and tastes like the best dessert at the carnival inside the town fair.

A little greasy and drenched in spices. You can't get enough of him. Opening your mouth, you stick your tongue out flat and lick.

Daryl groans. It's open-mouthed and loud. His hands grab your hips firmly, dragging you over the tent in his pants.

Both of you hiss at the friction.

Your knees wobble as your stance widens in an attempt to cover more surface are, to bring the feeling closer to your clit. There's at least four layers of fabric between your skin and his and it is something that is so sweetly, arduously annoying.

He pushes down again, harder this time, offering another delicious groan that you can't help but swirl in your mouth and recreate. The noise attracts his attention; Daryl watches you, watches your face, the flush on your chest, your heaving breasts. Like many men, he licks his lips utterly unintentionally when his eyes settle on your hard nipples.

Inwardly, you find enough clarity of mind to chuckle. Men and breasts nevel fail to amuse you when placed in close proximity. You push them outwards and his mouth is immediately right there, shirt and all, rolling a stiff nipple gently between his teeth.

The soft, damp cotton adds an edge to it; you feel your underwear slide over your cunt, the fabric absolutely saturated with your arousal.

Daryl's hands knead your ass as he takes in his fill of your breasts.

"That's, fuck," you pant, needing him to know, "that's really fuckin' good."

"Yeah?" He groans wetly before taking in as much of your breast as he can fit in your mouth; there's no finesse to it, just raw, unadulterated need.

"Uh-uh," you nod: his eagerness is what takes the cake.

Daryl tugs your shirt up; up and over your head and fuck knows where it flies, forgotten the moment his lips are back on one nipple, his fingers on the other. He rolls, he bites, he sucks.

Your breasts are wet with spit and sweat.

His breath ghosts over the damp areas, pebbling the tender bud to a state almost frigid.

You moan, loudly, wetly and openly. You gasp, you squirm, anything to quell the restlessness. It's like an army of fire ants trotting their primal, tribal dance under your skin, reducing you to a disoriented mess with a one-track mind. Your fingertips are pale where you hold onto Daryl in a feeble attempt to ground yourself.

He's smirking when he surfaces up. There's spit glistening on his chin, his lips are puffy, the deepest, most delicious shade of maroon. It's obvious the state of your undress and the intensity of your want is echoed by him.

"Feel good?" He has the audacity! to ask.

"Yeah," your response is lackluster in words but the tone and the pleading expression on your face conveys it all: your desire, your desperation.

With you on top of him, the only relief to your aching cunt so far has been provided by his bulge rubbing against your clothed slit. It's not enough, it's not even nearly enough.

Daryl's biceps bulge as he effortlessly lifts you up, "c'mere," placing you back-to-his-chest.

Your legs fall open on your own accord, hanging limply over his muscular thighs. The meat of his cock digs into the cheeks of your ass; you feel it twitch along with you when Daryl's thick palm cups the mound of your pussy in a gesture both tender and possessive.

"Fuckin' shit," his low mumble travels down the shell of your ear, "this all fr'me, sugar?"

"Yes," you breathe out as he slides his middle and ring fingers up and down your slit. There is no hiding it: your cunt had soaked right through your panties and the cotton of your pajama pants.

With some more maneouvering that comes unfairly easy to him (in your opinion), your pants join your t-shirt somewhere in the deepest pits of hell (a far corner of the room). The panties stay on and for that, you're grateful - a little - as the simplest, straightest of touches on the sensitive meat of your cunt feels like clear honey being poured over a-

Daryl taps two fingers at the top of your slit, right where you outer lips part to reveal your swollen clit.

"Fuck!" You yelp.

"So responsive," he mumbles. He sounds fascinated as he spreads his fingers, the rough tips gliding along the skin and the thick meat sliding over the soaked fabric. You quiver and he can't resist running his mouth, "that feel good?" His smirk is a little mocking, a little breathless.

Your resolve hops between strangling Daryl and begging him, the rabbit of your heart leaping in your chest, doing a binky when your lover shows you mercy by moving aside the sticky fabric covering your crotch. It immediately cools and you wince as it touches the hot flesh of your thigh.

Daryl's inhale is sharp, deep and loud as he dips the same two thick fingers inside your slit.

You're swollen and so wet, its practically dripping. Your clit twtiches under his fingers.

"Jesus Christ," he exhales his disbelief, "you like that, huh? This all for me?" The question proves to be rhetoric when the arm that holds you by your waist tightens on you and Daryl grinds his hips up into the small of your back.

The pitch of his voice drops impossibly low, "bet you taste sweet," as he scoops up some of the fluid, fingers snagging on the snug ring of your entrance, before bringing them up to his lips. He noisily sucks your cunt off his fingers, slurping, "fuck yes!"

Your eyes flutter shut as you cunt pitifully clenches around nothing, no doubt making an ever bigger mess between your legs and on his jeans. Your soft whine is an earnest compliment to the man doing his best to clean up your mess.

Daryl repeats the motion several times, scooping up the sticky droplets of your cunt juice, immediately sticking his fingers in his mouth.

You feel a little sad you can't see it, but your imagination supplements that which is lacking. You imagine his brow, furrowed; his eyes, closed; the tight 'o' of his lips around his fingers. Your cunt flexes again, spasming.

Daryl's reward for it is to circle your clit with a featherlight touch of a single finger. His breath is heavy as he reaches lower, same finger sliding to your entrance: not breaching it, just circling, like a predator circles its prey. He must have the patience of a saint.

You, however, do not. Your hips have a mind of their own as they arch into him, your cunt so empty, it practically hurts.

"Tell me whatcha need," Daryl orders, the low of his voice seasoned with a pinch of pride and a pinch of desperation, "tell me, sugar."

"Inside," you keen, out of your mind, "I want you. Inside." There's drool gathering in the corners of your mouth.

Daryl obliges, but not before lubricating the entirety of his thick finger by sliding it over the outside of your cunt, causing another loud keen to fall from your lips.

When he pushes in, you swear you could cry from the sheer relief of finally getting something for your hungry cunt to wrap around.

Experimentally, he drags his finger in and out, slowly, tense as he watches your reaction, before adding in another. To say they're big would be an understatement: long and thick and textured, it's everything your cunt has craved for the past some minutes. Daryl pumps them in and out as you pant through the new sensation, acutely aware of the loud squelches coming from your hole with every plunge.

Your swollen lips and throbbing walls attempt to keep him hostage with every pull.

Daryl curses, something completely unintelligible, his rough voice completely lost to lust. "Gonna cum for me, eh?" He breathes as the contractions of your cunt become quicker, more rhythmic.

Your neglected clit pulses, your nipples are stiff as rocks, your breathing is uneven and shallow. You couldn't find your voice even if you tried; you don't try at all, letting your body do the talking. You fuck back onto his fingers to the best of your limited ability to move as short, loud, primal noises choke their way up your throat.

The throb of his cock against the small of your back is what sends you over the edge.

Daryl's panting, whimpering himself at the unabashed state of your being; you don't think he realises it, even, his eyes set on your cunt gripping onto his fingers.

When it clenches for one last time, you arch, you paint the walls of the room with curses and whimpers that would make even a prostitute blush as more sweet slick drips out your spasming hole and onto his fingers. Your legs tremble as your entire body goes limp in Daryl's hold.

Soft lips rest on the crown of your head, hot, uneven puffs of air frizz your damp hair.

As your brain does a factory reset, you become hyperaware of the hard, thick flesh pressing into you; a stark realization comes over your being, washing your body in a new layer of shivers. Your cunt still tingles, still aches for more.

"Daryl," you mumble, feeling him go stiff and hot, his name like the sweetest honey on your lips, "I want you inside me."

He shudders, he pants, his cock twitches pitifully once again in his pants. The tight denim had provided some relief, enough to focus on you, enough to stretch the time a little bit more. But now, with your body warm and lax and fucked out of your skull, how could he resist?

He didn't want to resist. He wanted to feel good.

In your dazed state, it was easy for him to pick you up, bridal-style, and carry you towards the singular bedroom in the cabin. He grinned at the clumsy way you immediately reached out to him, tangling your fingers in his hair, placing sloppy kisses on the nearest inches of skin you could reach.

The whine you let out when dropped onto the cool comforter?

Daryl's cock twitched demandingly.

The man stood at the foot of the bed, admiring the view: you, blinking up at him, breasts moving with each shallow breath, feet on the comforer and legs bent at the knee, a hint of flushed, swollen pussy peeking out from the crooked gusset of your underwear.

This may not be heaven but it was as close to it as he'll ever get.

The buckle of his belt clinked, denim shuffled as it was left somewhere behind him- Daryl wasted no time dropping to his knees, using two strong hands to bring your cunt up and into his face. The force of his inhale made your sensitive pussy quiver, it was something that made him smile against the fabric of your panties as moved it aside once more - this time with his teeth.

"Oh, fuck!" You yelped as the broad, wide, flat expanse of Daryl's tongue licked messily up your cunt, hole-to-clit.

"Mmm," he groaned, "fuckin' candy apple pussy," taking another taste. And then another, and another until your skin was raw from the stubble of his beard and you were left in a shaking, whimpering, wet mess of a human. His face was drenched. "Messy girl," he chided in a soft mock as your cunt provided him with another gush of arousal, "ya like bein' messy for me, don't cha?"

"Uh-uh," you arched, your usually concise vernacular reduced to whimpers, groans and two-syllable words that barely made any sense to your own ears, much less anyone else's.

Daryl was like a wild animal, lapping up the liquid, uncaring of the mess he made of you and of his own face.

"Please," you fought with your tongue and finally, finally won, "I wanna- uhh," well, maybe not quite.

Momentarily, he withdrew, wiping the side of his face on the inside of your thigh, "you want what? Tell me."

In your state, he could have touched you anywhere and it would have reduced you to a mindless, blabbering mess. So you settled on the next best thing. Your hand, the one that was in his hair, tugged him up - or tried to.

Daryl's responding growl, the shift of his shoulders, the absence of a single hand on your thigh - you knew the tug had him palming himself through his boxers. Another, purposeful tug was given, another growl followed as he stood up.

You weakly pushed yourself up higher on the large bed.

In the dim twilight of the bedroom, Daryl stood, shirt soaked through and through with sweat; his chest heaved as damp strands of hair fell over his face. They were unable to conceal the glistening layer of you on his chin, neither they could hide the blown pupils of his stare. There was almost no blue visible in his eyes.

You licked your dry lips, forcing them to cooperate, "c'mere," your hands stretched out towards him.

Daryl crawled on the bed and over you, sitting between your spread legs. Obedient, he leaned into you, placing sloppy, damp kisses over your face as you wound your arms around his neck. The tent in his boxers hovered less than an inch away from your bare cunt.

"I need ya'," you breathed, tasting yourself as you licked into his mouth, hoping to convey with you body what you couldn't with your words.

"Ya sure, sugar?" Ever the gentleman, Daryl pressed his clothed cock over your bare cunt, ruining his underwear even further; his muscles flexed under your palms.

"Uh-uh," the heat, the feel of his thick cock backtracked any progress you'd made on getting your vocal cords and your brain cooperate. There was nothing but lust and saliva gathered in your mouth now, something that both of you shared during another slow, wet kiss. Your teeth clashed, your tongues ran over each other, all graceless and sloppy.

With one swift, ragged motion of his hand, Daryl shoved his boxers down and over his cock, freeing it from the tight confines; that action alone was enough for him to let out a grunt as the cool air hit his leaking, flushed tip.

The same tip that slapped against your clit, jerking your body and his.

"F-f-fuck," Daryl wheezed, fisting his cock at the base, running the tip slowly over your lips, your clit and down to your hole, "m'not gunna last for shit like this."

Just get inside me!!! You wanted to scream. Instead, you wiggled your hips, you squeezed his shoulders.

The fat head of his cock slipped in, slowly, steadily. More wet, sticky noises got lost in the growl coming from Daryl's gritted teeth.

Your cunt was sucking him in, all wet and hot and snug and constantly flexing, rippling as it adjusted to his size. The roll of your hips that followed was utterly unintentional, driven by the most primitive of instincts.

"Oh, sugar," Daryl grasped your hip tightly, holding it in place, "fuckin' shit. What're you doin' to me, woman?" His speech slurred.

All you could reply was a series of small breaths, 'ah-ah-ah's' with every inch of his cock sliding into you, until you felt his heavy balls pressed against your ass.

If your eyes weren't clenched shut, you would have seen the wild look in Daryl's eyes, the way they darted between the blissed-out look on your face and the root of his cock secured against the entrance of your cunt.

Slowly, he withdrew, hissing at the smooth pleasure of your wet pussy sliding over his cock, and then he slammed back in.

Your body curled, arched; a shriek left your lips at the sudden realization. You held onto him tightly, his shoulders, his arms; the sweet feel of his skin, slick with sweat, bombarded your senses, drowning you in that natural, masculine smell of him.

You babbled some nonsense, something about how good he felt, how he fit just right and so nicely, how he was so good to you-

"You're so good to me," Daryl objected, Daryl stated, "s'fuckin' sweet. My sweet, messy girl."

The words alone brought you closer to the edge as he hammered away inside your oversensitive cunt. In fairness, he could have flicked your clit just once, or even taken his mouth to one of your hard, throbbing nipples-

Daryl's need to feel you come, to clench and gush around his rock-hard cock was at the forefront of his mind, followed closely by awe at the way your body molded perfectly against his. The way your thighs quivered as they attempted to wrap themselves around his hips, the desperation in your grip on his shoulders.

"Fuck!" He cursed, teethering at the very edge of his orgasm, "come for me, pretty girl, c'mon," he urged, swallowing his own moans and gasps.

"I- uh," you, too were almost right there. The coil in your stomach at its most tense, it sent small tremors inside your cunt, shocks of pure, hot, liquid ecstasy-

That traveled down Daryl's cock. Like damn rings during a heated game of muckers, the spasms of your cunt collected at the root of his shaft, one on top of the other, until he could do nothing else but rut roughly, sloppily into the equally sloppy mess of your cunt.

He felt it. It began somewhere at the deepest part of you, squeezin' the head of his cock firmly and traveling all the way down his shaft, until each ring of pleasure popped, releasing his seed into you-

Throbbing, your cunt pushed and gushed, a flash of lightning zapping your clit as Daryl's pubic bone ground into it with force. A hoarse scream tore from your throat, your body curling inward with the force of your orgasm. Strong, heavy spasms of his cock shooting hot ropes into you lulled you into the aftershocks.

It made both of your bodies limp with exhaustion. The cord had snapped and tension finally leaked out, dissolving like smoke and fog into the open air.

Sweaty, sticky and hot, the two of you panted your relief onto each other's cheeks.

Your lips connected with the rough stubble on Daryl's. Hair hung over his face, obscuring your smile.

"Whatchu grinnin' at?"

Boy, did he sound fucked-out. All smoke and gravel and spice and everything nice.

"Feels good."

"Heh," he chuckled, the noise coming from somewhere deep within his chest, "sure does."

[the-s1lly-corner]

Toby x Fem!YN in which they’re both oblivious, pining idiots 😔 And the rest of the creeps are like 😑

If possible, can you put in some shenanigans as well?

Toby x fem!reader but theyre both oblivious

no scenarios since my brain kind of.. dried out </3 but i hope you still enjoy this regardless! notes: reader is fem, you guys are crushing on each other but youre both too dumb to notice/lh cws: none

poor guy is so convinced that hes not really... worthy of any love, so thats what leads to him being oblivious to any hints you may send his way

its just pure denial and refusal on his end of things, though its uncertain if the same can be said for you

his hints usually come in the form of teasing you a little more than he would anyone else- any even then hes a lot less mean to you than he may be with others

light jests compared to his usually snarky comments intended to get under one's skin

lingers around you a lot, too, and remembers tiny details about you that you didnt expect him to remember

likewise if you remember something small about him its going to bounce around in his head- not that hes going to realize that you remembered his favorite candy to give him on valentines... that doesnt really register as anything more than a friendly gesture

finds himself thinking about you a lot, too

not only is he oblivious, but hes obvious... so painfully obvious, anyone around him can tell in seconds that hes head over heels for you even if hes insisting he doesnt

internally screaming when you look at him with a completely innocent and clueless look when he shoves a fistfuls of flowers towards you, quite literally one of the most stereotypical romantic gifts... and it goes completely over your head

blankly stares at you as you thank him and tell him what a good friend he is, is dying a little inside as you do

stares right through you if you try your hand at a pick up line, he just doesnt get it at all much to the distress of anyone around the two of you

[sailoryooons]

hiiii :3 i’m a VERY silent reader (i’m terrified of my irls finding me on this god forsaken app) but i just love your writings so much so i had to participate in the agust event!!!!

childhood bffs yoongi x reader smut where they’re definitely probably too close, way closer than bffs should be anyways. reader goes to yoongi one night complaining bc no matter what she does, she just can’t cum! good thing yoongi’s actions speak louder than words <3

pls pls pls get totally creative w this, i love ur brain sm and i love seeing what you come up with!!!

❀ Pairing: Yoongi x f. reader

❀ Summary: Yoongi has always been your closest friend, but it’s always been a little closer than everyone else. He takes it one step further, offering to address a silly little problem for you. 

❀ Word Count: 2,320

❀ Genre: Friends to something more, PWP 

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

❀ Warnings: Explicit language, some feelings of insecurity but like barely, talking about orgasm struggles, explicit sexual content including vaginal fingering, nipple stimulation, a hint of choking, a lot of sucking on neck/throat, nipple play, mostly reader getting finger blasted sdfnodsifgj, reader is completely naked and Yoongi is still clothed, mentions of oral (f. receiving), a little bit of cum eating

❀ Published: August 23, 2022

❀ A/N: Okay so this was supposed to be posted way earlier than 10:30 PM EST but I completely forgot I had this sitting and waiting to post (it was a long day) but HERE IT IS!!! I love the idea of Yoongi casually just being like yeah I’ll get you to come or whatever, let’s do it sdfjdfogijdfrgi thank you so much for being a reader and requesting something - silent or talkative reader, I'm just happy you're here and that you enjoy my writing! Thank you for being here.

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

| Masterlist | Ask | Hali’s Happy Agust |

“You what?” You ask Yoongi, breath shaky. “Don’t play around like that, it’s not very funny.”

It’s rare that you can’t tell if Yoongi is making a joke or not. Though his humor is quiet like the night sky outside and soft like the sweater he’s draped in, you know Yoongi. Know him well enough to detect the subtle notes of a joke in his hushed words, know to listen amid the loud voices of your friends for a quiet jest, spoken softly just for you. 

Now, though, you’re a little unsure. 

Everyone has said for years that your friendship with Yoongi is too friendly. You vehemently disagree: affection between friends should be encouraged and treasured. Being able to platonically hold hands, share beds, and offer physical affection isn’t something reserved for lovers. You adamantly believe in this - always have. 

But… it is different with Yoongi. You think about how you always hold Taehyung’s hand, how you let him curl into your side during movies, or how he nests in your bed when he grows too tired for parties. Taehyung is particularly affectionate, but it does feel different.

“Let me make you cum,” Yoongi repeats, as though he’s reflecting on the weather outside. He’s on his knees on the couch next to you, hands resting in his lap. “No one should have to go through their adult life without partners making them cum.”

You roll your eyes. “Plenty of people can’t cum for a number of reasons, Yoongi.”

“Okay, that’s fair. Let me try anyway.”

“Why do you care?”

He tilts his head. “Because you’re you. And I’m good at making people cum. It feels like an obvious answer.”

“We’re best friends.”

“My point exactly. Look, if I’ve made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry, I-”

You shake your head and wave him off. “No, I just. Didn’t expect the offer and it made me nervous.”

“Nervous how?”

Letting out a long exhale, you rest your head on the back of the couch and look up at the ceiling. Your warm mug of tea is abandoned and the drama on the TV plays on, silent in the background. You chew the inside of your cheek, wondering how to string your words together. 

With anyone else, you’d feel embarrassed or nervous. With Yoongi, your anxiety is significantly less. Even if you speak the words on your mind, you’re sure it won’t change things. You’ve been through your fair share of oversharing, never shamed, never turned away. 

It’s how you started this conversation about your sex life in the first place.

So you decide to be honest. 

“Nervous like, I’m into it and I want to try it out, but I don’t want it to make our dynamic weird.” 

“It’s not weird for me if it’s not weird for you. I’m sorry I offered so bluntly.” 

Your lips twitch and you reach out, taking his hand in yours. Yoongi has beautiful hands. Long fingers with knobby knuckles, blunt nails and gentle fingertips, calloused palms. You’ve mapped the structure of his palm hundreds of times, know the shapes of the lines on them, and watched a palm reader chart the stars on them. 

Yoongi’s hands are where you’re safest. 

“Don’t apologize, you didn’t violate a boundary.” His mouth is soft when he smiles, his eyes are dark when he watches you. He’s so pretty. A soft thing with round cheeks, kind eyes, and gentle smiles. Quiet. Confident. “You really wanna try?” 

Yoongi’s grin turns feral. “I do.” 

“Alright.”

It starts with him leading you to your room, hand holding yours gently. It starts with a shy smile and hungry eyes, Yoongi watching you as you sit on the edge of your bed, unsure and giving him a questioning gaze. His hands are confident when he makes you move backward, shuffling until you’re in the middle of your bed on your back. 

Yoongi joins you on the bed, kneeling next to you. He watches as he reaches out, brushing his fingertips over your thigh. His touch is featherlight, making you shiver. He doesn’t do anything but this at first, tracing the shape of your clothed hip, up the sides of your rips, under the curve of your breast. 

Your breath catches, fixated on Yoongi as he outlines your curves. His eyes flicker to your face, drinking in your expression when he draws his fingers over the swell of your tits and over your nipple. The stimulation is barely there but it spikes. You inhale sharply and he smirks as he keeps going, brushing over your throat, and under your jaw, feeling your pulse. 

“Pretty,” he murmurs. He takes you by the chin, thumb pulling at your bottom lip. “What do you like?” 

It’s hard to answer. Yoongi’s hand leaves your mouth and trails back down to your neck. He wraps his fingers around your throat but doesn’t squeeze. It’s a barely-there ghost of a grip and he raises his eyebrow. You nod, unable to string together an answer. He squeezes gently before continuing his exploration downward again.

Your tongue is heavy in your mouth. This Yoongi is one you’ve never experienced. He’s quiet as always, but the silence is heavier. Pointed. He bites his bottom lip a little as he passes your stomach and dips between your legs, pressing against your clothed cunt. 

“Yeah?” he asks when your hips twice. 

You feel heat lick through you, pooling between your legs. Your fingers twist in the sheets in anticipation. Heat pulses from your pussy, panties getting damp and Yoongi’s has barely touched you. It’s the way he looks at you, the way he presses his thumb against your swelling clit. 

“Yeah,” you breathe, voice watery. “I’m pretty into it.”

“I can tell,” he teases. He leans down, keeping one hand between your legs, gently applying pressure and circling his fingers as his lips search for yours. “You’re already wet, huh?”

Yoongi doesn’t let you answer. His lips capture yours and you sigh into his mouth, hands coming up automatically to wrap around his neck. It feels so natural. His hair is soft between your fingers and his mouth is warm, tasting faintly of the peppermint tea he drank earlier. 

Kissing Yoongi is heady. He controls the kiss, keeping the pace slow as if he’s savoring you. Your thighs close around his hand as he presses through your shorts harder. When he introduces his tongue to your mouth, it takes your breath away. 

Breaking the kiss, Yoongi mouths at your jaw. You arch into him, running your hands down his chest, feeling the warm skin beneath his sweater. One of your hands goes to his wrist pressed into the mattress by your head, holding onto him, the other goes to his hand between your legs, laying your fingers on his, pressing.

He hums, the buzz of his mouth against the underside of your jaw maddening. Together, you peel your shorts down your legs. Yoongi shuffles closer to you, your thigh pressed against his as he continues to kneel next to you, heat radiating from his body.

Yoongi traces the trim of your panties. You watch him, your mouth parted as you breathe unsteadily. He is solely focused on you. You can feel the slick sticking to the silk, watching as he drags a finger near your hip, his touch tantalizing. 

Maybe this is what you were missing. Yoongi takes his time, dragging out the feeling of his hands on you. Works you up as he removes your shirt and bra next. You feel drunk on him already, nipples pebbling in the cold room. His nails scratch lightly up your stomach to your chest. He smirks as he traces slow, lazy circles around your nipples, eyes glancing up to watch your expression. 

“Why?” you ask, hissing at the light stimulation. You want more. 

“No one is in a rush,” he mutters. His voice is low, raspy. “Are you?”

When you shake your head, he smiles, pinching a nipple between two fingers. A curse drips from your mouth and your hips buck. You close your eyes, letting Yoongi tweak one nipple then the other, letting him guide you through. The stimulation feels good - otherworldly, even, when he bends down and flicks the tip of his tongue over one playfully. 

“No,” you sigh. “Not in a rush.” 

His teeth scrape your sensitive bud and your head rolls back, pushing into the mattress. “Good. Relax, let me take care of you.”

Tension melts out of your body. You didn’t realize you were so tense until he pointed it out. You let yourself sink into the feeling of Yoongi sucking gently on the peak of your right nipple while his thumb brushes back and forth over the other. The stimulation feels good, your head lolling to the side as you breath shakily. 

Yoongi is slow. He takes his time running his tongue across your chest, air cooling is spit as he goes. You squeeze your thighs together, feeling your cunt throb for attention. He notices, nipping his way back up to your neck as he slides a hand down between your legs, pressing your panties into your sticky folds. 

“Fuck,” you sigh. He nuzzles your neck, tongue swipe over the sensitive spot of your throat. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this fucking wet.”

“Good.” His words are muffle as he sucks at your tender skin. You angle your head, giving him better access. It feels like the bed is spinning wildly, a compass lost in an electromagnetic field. “Tell me at any point if something doesn’t feel good or you want something else.”

“Okay.”

You open your eyes and smile. It’s so Yoongi to make sure he asks what you want. So Yoongi to remind you that he’s here for you. That as he slips his hand under the waistband of your underwear, he’s determined to provide for you. To get you off. 

A moan slips out of your mouth when it comes into contact with your dripping cunt. He avoids touching your clit directly, fingers spreading your folds as he teases your hole experimentally. It feels good - whether it’s because it’s Yoongi or because you’re already worked up, it doesn’t matter. 

Yoongi circles around your clit deftly a few times, making your hips wiggle. A tingle settles in your stomach, fingers twisting in the sheets.

When he retracts his hand, you open your eyes. He watches you steadily lifting his fingers to pop them between pink lips and oh. He hums around his fingers, making a show of rolling his tongue around them, tasting your juices. He slides them slowly out of his mouth, hypnotizing you. 

“Mmm.” He grins and reaches to slide your underwear off. “Can’t wait to eat you out. First, I’m gonna make you come.”

Never in your friendship would you have imagined Yoongi to be like this. It would be a lie to say you’d never thought what it might be like to have him like this, his hands peeling your underwear off. The scrap of the silk on your legs is heady, every part of your skin extra sensitive. 

Lips parts, eyes fixed, you watch him toss the underwear to the side. He shuffles so that one knee rests against his leg, the other spread flat on the mattress for him. There is a split second where you feel vulnerable, spread open for him to see how much of a mess you are at the barely stimulation. You start to close your leg but Yoongi shakes his head, hand brushing down your inner thigh.

Slowly, Yoongi drags a finger up your slit to your entrance, massaging lightly with his finger before sinking in slowly. You let out a long breath, your walls clenching around his finger. It doesn’t provide a lot of stretch, but it feels good, the pad of his pointer stroking your inner wall. 

At first, Yoongi is slow. Familiarizing himself with your warm, wet heat. He picks up the pace then, stroking deeply, ensuring to push up against that soft spot inside of you. It drives you crazy. Crazier, still, when he leans down and attaches his mouth to yours, tongues tangling as he fingers you leisurely. 

“Fuck,” Yoongi mutters against your mouth. “You’ve got a wet little cunt.”

“Not usually,” you admit. You card your fingers through his hair, pulling at the ends a little. Your entire body is radiating with heat, sweat slicking your skin. “Fuck, it feels good. Doesn’t usually.”

“No?” he sucks harshly at your jaw and your eyes flutter shut. 

“No. Usually they jack hammer their fingers into my pussy.”

His laugh is hot on your skin. “Nah, just gotta find the spot.” 

Yoongi has found the spot. Makes it ten times better when he adds another finger, giving you something more substantial to grip on. Your cunt grips his fingers like a vice, slick sounds filling the room. He adds his thumb to the mix, pressing down on your clit. You gasp his name, hips bucking against his hand, dripping into his palm.

“Fuck yeah,” he grunts. “Fuck yourself onto my hand the way you like.” 

Together, you work yourself up to the edge. Yoongi doesn’t pause for a moment, doesn’t complain that his wrist is tired, doesn’t stop tonguing your sensitive spot on your neck until you’re clinging to him, coming around his fingers in a wet, messy squelch. 

You shake as he thrusts his fingers a few more times, the slopping sound of his palms smacking your pussy intoxicating. You feel like liquid, blurry at the edges and warm. 

“Holy shit,” you sigh. Yoongi pulls his fingers from your hole and you immediately squirm, hating the empty feeling. “That was just from your fingers?”

“Uh huh.” You watch as he licks his fingers again, grinning around them. Your stomach flips, cunt still leaking, begging for more. “Now watch what happens when I eat this pussy.” 

[brittle-doughie]

in sugar swan cookies relationship chart she’s friendly with timekeeper and actually enjoys her antics, so I’m just imagining her tagging along when timekeeper takes y/n on another chaotic adventure through time

“Even mischievous jests are but a part of this world...”

“I hate being bored! It’s nice to have fun, don’t you think?”

While it is true that Sugar Swan thinks that sillies like TK are only natural to crop up in the world, she’s always making sure to supervise the keeper of time. It wouldn’t sit well with her if she didn’t watch over you when Timekeeper took you along for one of her little ventures.

You just made anything Timekeeper had in store so much more fun! Ah! That was why you’re her favorite employee! Peeking into the future isn’t possible with you, there was so many ways you could change the plot, go off script in ways she couldn’t expect!

Timekeeper shouldn’t push her luck with you in front of Sugar Swan, if Sugar Swan finds that Timekeeper is getting out of control of her fun with you, she’ll bring her right back down to earthbread via a firm grip to her (lack of a) neck, Sugar Swan also opening her eyes was a pretty bad sign too.

If there was one thing Timekeeper can always predict by a longshot, it would be how deranged you make these cookies sometimes. Herself included.

[comfortless]

Syl, my lovely, please. I need to see this vision come to life through your words. Would König take his darling to the Ren Faire?🌷

VANI!!! my angel!! of course he would… König is a just a hapless knight at heart & it gives him an excuse to treat you like an actual princess! 🗡💕 i can not promise you that he will not force you to sit in his lap and play skyrim or something when you get home though…! /:

“Danke for agreeing to come,” he whispers to you once you’re out in the sprawling field, an abundance of colorful tents, partitions and others in similar dress surrounding the two of you.

It’s a lot to take in, as though you’ve been whisked away to a separate world entirely; the air smells faintly of fresh food, a bard strums a lute somewhere out in the distance, and… was that supposed to be a dragon’s roar?

König dons a veil of tightly woven chainmail, only a glimpse of his jaw visible, lined with prickly stubble. The rest of his armor leaves little glimpses of him, his thick wrist between cuff and glove, the bob of his Adam’s apple as he curls his arm around you protectively. If it were possible, he seems even larger wearing the plates of armor, far more imposing like this.

Tucked at his side, stands you in your linen bliaut, a soft woolen cloak dyed a royal blue thrown over your shoulders; a stark contrast from the shimmering and hardened armor of the knight guiding each of your steps with his arm around your waist.

König has to look at everything— marveling at the handmade objects and shiny, smithed weapons in each booth.

When you give him a quizzical glance as he ghosts his gloved fingertips over the angular blade of an exceptionally smart spear, he pauses his frantic admiration for a time to explain to you that it reminds him of one he read about once— like Odin’s Gungnir, fierce and proud. Even you take a moment to admire its craftsmanship, to which the pale blue of his eyes seems to light up; he makes the purchase without a second thought.

You find yourself enjoying the atmosphere, especially with that ever-present grin on König’s face; he’s in his element surrounded by fantasies drawn from history. It’s a nice change, seeing him so filled up with whimsy as he whisks you from tent to tent, buying you anything that catches your eye, taking your picture any chance that he gets.

You humor him, lifting your skirts a little when you pass between two of the fabric structures, hidden away from the eyes of any other grinning merchants, pretty ladies, and bellowing bards.

Seated in his lap he tells you of holy grails and swordplay tactics while feeding you from a dish on a wooden countertop, a pastry stuffed full with apple.

You only think to offer a complaint once you note the three now emptied pewter goblets of mead in front of him as König proclaims he wants to act out a proper sword fight with one of the others donning armor in the small, hastily fenced in area serving as a knight’s training yard.

(It was certainly a coincidence that the one he chose to spar with happened to be the very same man who offered you a friendly wave in passing.)

He makes a display of his swordsmanship, swift knocks and parries that leave your eyes wide as you clasp your hands over your mouth; even a prise de fer as you dig your nails into the wood of the shoddy fence. You’ve never seen him so swift, so brutal, as when he finally knocks his opponent into the dust, the sharpened edge of his blade pointed downward. Had this not all been pretend, you could imagine the bloodshed that would have occurred here.

Thankfully, König backs off, dips his head in a begrudging bow to his opponent before wandering back to you.

Your hand is pried from the fence, a kiss placed upon every knuckle as you praise his talents. He smirks, proud, and whispers to you something about how he had to show off for his lady. Even has the audacity to tell you that he would kill for you, and you knew very well it was not said entirely in jest.

When the sun finally dims and lanterns are lit, bathing the green below your boots in a soft, tangerine glow, you find yourself helping to loosen the straps of König’s armor. Poor thing had not thought to wear a proper shirt beneath, or.. perhaps, that was intentional. The sweat glistens off of him when you’ve tossed his dark top and curved metal into a heap, the curls of his chest hair sticking to pale flesh.

You rove your hand over him to dull the ache of those straps digging into his shoulders. He groans, contented as he pulls you up to your feet, leaning down just enough to kiss you, to desperately grope at your hips, your rear, before the strumming of a lute and the cheers and giggles accompanied by dancing fills your ears.

Attentions turned, you find yourself curling your hand into his, tugging him towards the feathery songs and shuffling of feet.

“We should dance,” you suggest, all giggles when you tilt your head to offer a pleading glance to him over your shoulder.

“Anything for you, meine prinzessin.”

[shadowbriar]

Regulus Black - Asking for a Friend

Pairing : Regulus Black x (she/her) Reader Word Count : 4.4k Warning : I'm not sure if there's any, but let me know if I missed any. Synopsis : Regulus comes to the realisation that the admiration he holds of her was more than a platonic one and it just so happen that Valentine's day was just around the corner. Notes : Post no 2 for my 1 Year Anniversary Celebration. Don't forget to fill the form here if you'd like to be tagged for my future works. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕ Regulus Black's Masterlist click here. Taglist : @jsjcue @coffeehurricanes @ell0ra-br3kk3r @kaz-mf-brekker @sofiacblair @when-you-cant-think-of-anything

“Have you ever had a friend that you're just so fond of and you wish that your partner would be just like them?”

Regulus’ question broke the stillness of the table, making his study mates to look up. Now Pandora, having been known to be the most studious of the group, has always hated it when someone causes any distraction in their study sessions yet for this one particular topic, she seems to be intrigued rather than looking bothered. It isn’t everyday your best friend of 5 years would talk about their romantic interest, after all.

“Elaborate.” Pandora says, her brows knitted together.

“I mean, you know.. You wish that your partner would be just like them.”

Evan squints his eyes, seemingly confused at his brief explanation, “I’m not sure I’m following you, mate. Doesn’t that just simply mean that you fancy them?”

The nonchalant expression on Regulus’ face turns blank in an instant. As if someone has just flicked the light bulb on top of his head, clearing the haze that has been fogging his mind. The sudden clarity has knocked him for six. Is that truly what it means? Days spent silently praising her beauty and nights wasted recalling their conversations were because he fancies her?

Over the years Regulus would find more of her personality to be his weakness, growing the softest spot in his heart specially reserved for her. He would always admire her witty comments, how she always conveyed her mind with the most articulate and intelligent words. Her friendly and warm nature is always something he adores and the way she would always listen to every worthless remark Regulus has with that magnetising smile and understanding eyes, it was impossible for Regulus to not wish his partner would be someone like her.

“So,” Barty asks, nudging on the raven haired boy with a teasing smile “Which friend do we fancy?”

Regulus’ cheeks turn rosy. All hell would break loose if Barty or Evan found out about it. Those boys are as good as a toothpick for a door bolt. The moment they knew about his growing affection for her, they would most immediately spill the beans and make things awkward between them.

And no, Regulus could certainly never have that.

“No one.” Regulus lies as he looks back down to his parchment paper “We fancy no one.”

“Oh come on now, Big Boy.” Barty whines “You’ve ripped off the bandage, might as well show us the scar.”

Regulus rolls his eyes, attempting to look as nonchalant as he could, “You’re fond of Evan’s presence, doesn’t mean you fancy him now, do you?”

“I don’t know, I wouldn’t say that’s impossible.” Barty jests as he begins to make fake kissing expressions to Evan.

“Oh, my Darling, Barty Bear.” Evan indulges in his best friend’s stunt, fake snogging Barty.

Regulus’ lips twitch into a smile, amused at the play-act his best friends are performing. He let out a relieved sigh, knowing that he’s just flee himself from being pestered by questions about his crush, but when he turned his gaze to the only girl at the table, Regulus knew that the little smirk plastered on Pandora’s face would be a form of nightmare he’ll be facing from that day onwards. He knows that she wouldn’t rest until he gives out a name and though she looks like she already knows who the lucky girl is, Regulus is certain that Pandora wouldn’t show him any mercy from the teasing and taunts.

—-

Dinner has been hard to swallow ever since the realisation of his budding infatuation for her. Regulus finds it impossible to not glance at her table, watching her from his peripheral vision as she chats and laughs with her group of friends. Whatever joke Barty throws or moans Evan has about his class have entered and left his ear like an insignificant noise, mind completely enamoured with her candid beauty.

His grip on the fork only tightens as he realises that she was walking to their table, a brilliant smile decorating her face as she takes a seat next to him, “Evening my favourite Serpents.”

“Fantastic, you’re here!” Evan exclaims gleefully, taking her hands to his that made Regulus’ stomach drop a little “Regulus here has been so out of it since this afternoon, we think he’s broken.”

Barty nods eagerly, “He didn’t even twitch a muscle at my joke and mind you it was bloody brilliant!”

She let out a chuckle, looking at Regulus lovingly (at least in his mind) before turning back to face Evan and Barty. Now the words exchanged between the five of them have gone from a trifling noise to a completely deafen sound. His eyes were glued on hers, taking mental notes of all the little gestures she made. How she would close her eyes shut whenever she laughs, how her brows crinkled more often than not, and how her cheekbones pop wherever she smiles, making her look a thousand times more hypnotising.

Now it was nothing out of the ordinary for Regulus to be the most quiet party of the table, but the little to no words uttered by him was making her suspicious. Sure it wouldn’t be the first time he would watch her intently and just agree with whatever is being discussed, but something’s different this time. The way his shoulder relaxes and how the small curl on his lip never waters was making her feel a little bit flustered to say the least.

“You’re awfully quiet,” She says as she turns to the lovestruck boy, resting her chin on her palm to stare back at him ��Cat caught your tongue?”

Regulus blinks, gulping at the close proximity, “Just— Didn’t really have anything to say, is all.”

“Really?” She asks with a raised brow “That’s very unlike you.”

“How is it unlike me?”

“Well, you always have something to say. Whether or not you speak of it is an entirely different conversation to have, but you always have something to say, Regulus.”

Regulus bites his inner cheek. How is it that she could read him like an open book? Was he really that transparent or was he really that spellbound in her charms?

“Don’t bother him. Big boy here is trying to sort his feelings out.” Evan retorts.

“Really?” She replies, amused “What sort of feelings?”

“The loving, sappy kind of feelings.” Barty mocks “Regulus is in love.”

“Shut up, Barty!”

Regulus turns to her, uneasy over the fact that she might figure out his little secret but the look on her face was disheartening. As much as he wished he could have just half of her ability to read him, it was nearly impossible for Regulus to decipher her expression. She was staring back at him, her brows knitted as if she’s trying to read through him too but wasn’t sure on what to look at. It was a whole new expression he’s never seen before.

“Reggie wouldn’t give us the name,” Evan continues, completely oblivious of the awkward tension rising “Can we take a guess, Reg? Say yes if we guess correctly?”

“I bet it’s that girl Regulus always sits next to in Potion.” Barty mutters.

“Or that girl Regulus did his Herbology essay with. They spent weeks on that assignment, remember?” Evan counters “Or maybe that Gryffindor—,”

“It’s not any of those girls,” Pandora cuts.

“How would you know?” Evan asked.

“Oh, I just do,” Pandora says with a confident shrug, turning to Regulus “Don’t I, Reg?”

Regulus shakes his head, still trying to do the most possible damage control though he knew that such effort seems fruitless now. Cat’s out of the bag. It would only be a matter of time now until she realises that she’s the girl he’s been swooning over.

Ironic how long it took for him to realise that he fancies her yet it took no time for the secret to be spilled.

“Don’t push his buttons, guys,” She says with a warm laughter “If Regulus doesn’t want to drop names, then let him. It’s not our business now, is it?”

Now Regulus frowns a little. Her words sting a way he was never familiar with. What does she mean that it isn’t their business? Does she not care about who he’s crushing on?

“If you say so,” Pandora said to her, winking as if there was some secret message sent between the two.

Regulus studies her expression intently, trying to see if Pandora has cracked his secret and is now spilling it to her. Salazar, Regulus hopes that that wasn’t the case. He needs time to sort out his feelings, as Evan said, and if she found out about his budding infatuation before he could figure out a proper way to profess it— Well, Regulus hoped that it would never get to that point. Ever.

—-

If Regulus was ever asked, which of the following could ever compare to the beauty that is her: sun, moon, or star, Regulus would argue that she is the beautiful crescent moon with its bright yet soft light washing over his skin as he stares at her silently on his window pane. Regulus would argue, if he ever allows himself to be so bold, that she is his ideal. Her intelligence not to mention beauty would be the sweet honey to his tea, the butterfly to his garden of flowers.

But Regulus was never half as confident as she is. Never half as open and friendly to others. He was reserved, quiet, oftentimes perceived as cold and callous. But not to her. She could always see him through his distant exterior, involving him in every discussion they would have and perhaps that was the one thing that made him yield his heart to her.

Regulus never paid any mind to big dates and celebrations, but something about the upcoming Valentines date shakes his core. Perhaps it was the fact that it fell on the very day of their Hogsmeade trip this week, or the fact that all of his friends were buzzing about who they're going to ask to be their Valentines date, or maybe the fact that for once, Regulus might have a proper chance to ask her to be his date.

Chance. That word felt too optimistic for his presumptive mind. It was as if she ever looked at him that way.

“Regulus?” She called and squeezed his forearm lightly, making him burst his bubble of thought. He turns to her, cheeks slightly rosy from the shame of having ignored her. Just how pathetic he is to zoned out about her when she's sitting right beside him “Are you alright? You've been off of it all morning, I’ve noticed.”

He nods, flashing a shy smile, “All is well, no worries.”

She smiles, taking her hand off of him and continues her work.

Regulus turns his head, stopping at the sight of some Ravenclaw boy asking some Hufflepuff girl by the library entrance. The bashful gesture he’s showing and the giddy smile she shows makes it easy for him to tell the situation is happening at the spot. Another couple for the Valentine's Hogsmeade trip, he reckons.

A little twist in his stomach grows. With the many people asking each other out for the Hogsmeade trip, it would only be normal for him to ask her too, right? The timing was right, they could just go as friends in the worst case scenario. All he has to do is ask, but why are the words stuck at the tip of his tongue?

“Actually,” Regulus starts, secretly playing with the hem of his robe in nervousness “I have something to ask you.”

She looks up, meeting him with a warm smile, “Shoot.”

“I was wondering if you have a date for the Hogsmeade trip?”

“Oh,” She answers, utterly taken aback by his question. A hint of rosiness spread on her cheeks, something Regulus has to convince himself has nothing to do with his question. She always has that natural flush on her face, surely it must be nothing as pleasant as his stupid heart is hoping for “No, I don’t have a date at the moment. Why do you ask?”

“Just.. Asking for a friend.”

Regulus mentally slapped himself, having to be defeated by his anxiety once again that he has to come up with a lie. She stares at him with a confused look, the glimmer on her eyes dims down from the words he uttered. It was as if she was disappointed at his answer.

“I see,” She says with a nod “Do you plan to ask anyone?”

“Not sure,” He answers truthfully “Do you have anyone you hope would ask you?”

She plays with her quill, tapping it to the parchment paper as if she was piecing the right words to reply to him, “I suppose I do but I’m not counting on it.”

Regulus frowns, ignoring the slight crack of his heart, “Who?”

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

Regulus pursed his lips, acting to be in a deep thought, “No.”

She chuckles, turning back to her paperwork.

“But, if—” Regulus calls again, not wanting to end their conversation just yet “If my friend were to ask you, would you say yes?”

“Well it truly depends on which friend you’re talking about now, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but what is the possibility of you saying yes to my said friend? 50%? 60%? Or are you fully waiting for your prince charming to ask you?”

She stares at him with a smile, looking completely amused at the questions thrown at her. If she didn’t know better she would think that Regulus was asking for himself from all the persistent queries, but then of course, we all know how Regulus Black is. No girl in this castle is good enough for him and this rule applies to her too.

“Why don’t you just tell this friend to come to me himself, hm?” She answers, resting her chin on her palm and stares at him fondly “I truly can’t give you any answers unless you give me a name, Reg.”

“It’s Evan.” He blurts, cheeks feeling hot from her gaze.

“Rosier?” She asks with a raised eyebrow “I thought he’s going with Pandora? I was sure she told me he asked her last week.”

“Did I say Evan? I meant Barty.” Regulus fake coughed, clearing his throat “Barty wanted to ask you to be his date.”

The soft and gentle expression on her face turns into an appalled one, bewildered at the answer Regulus gives. His brain has haywired that he neglected the fact that Barty was her cousin, and though cousin romance is deemed acceptable in the wizarding world, Barty and her would never pursue each other romantically for one too many reasons. If Regulus could just tame his nervousness for just a degree, he would’ve realised how idiotic his answer was.

“Barty wants to be my date?” She asks, trying to confirm his answer that sounded like a death sentence for her.

Regulus nods, “He does.”

She narrows her eyes, trying to catch his lie but the stern and rigid expression on Regulus’ face makes her question her own mind. Regulus was never one to be deceitful yet the idea of Barty wanting to ask her to be his date is just as illogical. The only plausible reason behind such a stunt would be them trying to pull some prank on her, but even with that, Regulus was never one to ever indulge in the mischief her cousin and Rosier would always find themselves in.

“I— Well, I guess you should tell him to ask me himself?” She answers, questioning herself.

“I’ll do that,” Regulus nods firmly, trying to keep his act in place “I’ll tell him you said that.”

—-

A couple of days has passed ever since that incident of him blurting Barty’s name at the library. Regulus was still ever so stressed out to ask her himself that he still hasn’t realised the stupid mistake he’s done. Now with the Hogsmeade trip coming closer, Regulus really has no other time but now to ask her.

Yet before he could do so, the universe crushed his dream.

Barty entered the Slytherin Common Room with the brightest grin on his face, making Evan, Regulus, and Pandora look at each other from the strange sight. He jumps to the sofa, sighing with delight as he lay on it and rests his feet to the hand rest. Barty turns to see his friends who now still look at him with a baffled expression, enjoying the sight and looking forward to stomping on one of them in the next minute.

“Gentlemen,” Barty greets before turning to Pandora “My Lady.”

“What’s with you?” Evan asks, an amused smile plastered on his face “You look like you’ve just won a lottery.”

“Even better, I just got a date.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow, “A date? Who?”

Barty coos, saying her name.

“Wait, isn’t she—”

“Brilliant, indeed.” Barty cuts, not letting Evan to correct the fact that they’re cousins. He shot him a look, one that conveys I’ll tell you later and Evan nods in understanding.

Colour drains from Regulus’ face. Just when he finally gathered enough courage to come forward, he just has to be beaten to the race. By Barty of all people. Supposed she came and asked Barty about their conversation that day and knowing Barty, he would never let such an opportunity slip. Who would ever not want to have her as their date after all?

“Who would’ve thought, right?” Barty fawns, pouring Regulus’ jealousy with petrol “Barty Crouch Jr having such a beautiful bird as his date for Valentine's.”

Evan was eyeing his friend with a sceptical look, clearly lost at the scheme Barty was pulling, “Barty, can I see that Transfiguration homework you promised me now? I have quite a lot to catch up on.”

“Sure,” Barty says, catching Evan’s bullshit right away as he stood from the sofa “It’s in my room.”

And so the two boys left, leaving Regulus who looks like he’s second away from vomiting all contents of his stomach and Pandora who’s casually flipping the pages of a magazine in her hand, an all knowing smirk present on her lips.

“Pandora,” Regulus calls, eyes still vacant “Do you have your wand with you?”

Pandora hums.

“Please hex me to death right now.”

The girl laughs at his request. Pandora put down the magazine and looked at Regulus with a teasing smile, “Why would you ask me that, Reggie?”

Regulus glares, “You know why. I saw your smile the other day when she came to our table. You know about it, don’t you?”

“About what?”

“That I was crushing on her.”

Pandora shrugs, “Maybe.”

“Ugh,” Regulus crowls “What am I to do now?”

Pandora chuckles, patting Regulus’ shoulder in an attempt to console him. Pandora felt cruel now to be the one to suggest the prank, to tell her and Barty to go on a fake date just to mess with Regulus. In her defence, out of the five of them, it seems like Regulus is the only one who doesn’t realise his growing affection for her. It was a public secret for the group now that he’s been sending her heart eyes. All he needed was a push and Pandora felt like it was her duty to help him.

Even when Regulus would surely throw a fit once he knew she was the mastermind behind his distraught now.

“Why don’t you just come to Hogsmeade, Reg?” Pandora suggests, playing the innocent supportive friend now “If their date doesn’t go well, you can go and rescue her.”

Regulus turns to see Pandora, his eyes hopeful at the advice, “You think so?”

“Yeah,” Pandora encourages “I mean, how many similarities does she have with Barty? Almost none. I’m pretty sure their date will turn downhill the moment they step into Madam Puddifoot’s shop.”

“How do you know they’ll go to Madam Puddifoot’s?”

Pandora shrugs, “Don’t all couples go there?”

Regulus bites his inner cheek as he gives it a thought. The idea of her going to such a sappy tea shop with Barty peels his skin. It should be him and her, not Barty and her. What was in her bloody mind to ever say yes to Barty’s invite in the first place?

“Fine,” Regulus says with an exasperated sigh “I’ll go to Hogsmeade.”

—-

Regulus’ tea has long gone cold, untouched as he impatiently waits for her and Barty to enter the tea shop. He figured, if they wanted to have their date here, where else would be the best place to spy on them than the very shop itself? So he got himself a table, ordered himself tea and biscuits that only served as props on his table, while his eyes were glued to the door. Every jingle of the bell felt like an invisible blade thrown to pierce his heart.

He looks down to his watch. It’s been more than an hour now. When would they come? How long should he wait? Will they even come to this tea shop like Pandora said?

Before his head could explode with more questions, Regulus’ breath was held on his chest as she finally entered the establishment. Her cheeks were rosy, probably from the cold wind outside. Regulus wished he could take a picture of her now because Merlin, just how hypnotising could she be?

To think that she dressed up for a date with Barty crushes him, but where even is Barty?

Regulus’ brows were raised now. Did Barty stood her up? Is that why she’s alone now? But she doesn’t look the slightest bit annoyed or sad if such a scenario did occur. She has her eyes scanning the tables now, looking for something, someone, and when their eyes meet, her smile blooms and walks closer to him.

“Hello, there,” She greets, pointing at the empty seat in front of him “Is this seat taken?”

Regulus shakes his head, in loss of words as he tries to assess the situation happening.

She happily took her seat, ordering herself something to drink before turning back to Regulus. Her gaze met his, hands clasped on the table. Her brilliant smile was still evident and it’s making Regulus feel like he could melt and die right on that instant.

“So,” She started, her tone cheerful “What are you doing here, Regulus?”

“I— Uh—” Regulus stutters “I— I was supposed to meet someone.”

“Really?” She asks, intrigued “Who?”

“Just— No one important.” He answers, running his palms to his trousers in nervousness “What are you doing here? I heard you have a date with Barty today. Where is he?”

She shrugs, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? Did he stood you up?” Regulus asked, his anger starting to rise. How dare he stood her up?

“Oh, no, he didn’t. I just cancelled our date.” She says nonchalantly “I find it too cruel to proceed so I bailed on them.”

“Cruel? Them?” Regulus asked, confused “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, you sweet soul,” She says with a gentle chuckle, taking one of his hands softly and caressing the back of it with her thumb “Who is it again that you said was asking me for a date?

“Barty.” Regulus says with a nervous gulp.

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t truly him now, was it?” She asks “Cause I’m pretty sure Barty would never be interested in me in that way, seeing that we’re cousins.”

Regulus closes his eyes, letting out an embarrassed sigh. That day in the Common Room must have been some sick joke the other’s were pulling at him. How Barty entered with such a huge grin and Pandora’s pitiful yet teasing look at him. They both must have been the miscreants behind this humiliating act.

“I’m going to kill them,” Regulus mutters, not meeting her eyes.

“Please, don’t,” She answers with a laugh “They mean well, I promise you.”

“They’re making me look pathetic in front of you.”

“That’s debatable,” She remarks “I find it cute and adorable, to be honest. And to be fair, it was you who lied to me first. They’re just following your ruse.”

“I’m sorry,” Regulus says “Are you angry at me?”

“No,” She says, shaking her head “I was appalled at first, but then I realised that you might just be shy about it so I just brushed it off.”

Regulus nods, smiling at her weakly from her understanding.

Now what? He thought. Cats out of the bag, for good this time. What should he say now? What should he do? Would she like him to say anything about it? Do anything about it? What if she’s just here out of a friendly gesture? That she doesn’t want to embarrass himself further in front of the others?

But the tender gaze she gives to him now, the understanding smile and the gentle touch she’s giving him, it all feels like a supportive push for him to go forward. To finally embrace his realisation of affection and hand his heart to her now.

“So I guess you know already..” He begins “About my feelings.”

“I have a rough idea of it.” She teases.

“What do you think about it?”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, do you think it was okay? For me to fancy you?” Regulus asks, uncertainty bleeding out of his voice “Would it be okay if I like you?”

“If it wasn’t okay with me I wouldn’t be here with you, would I?” She argues, her kind smile still tugging on her lips “I do have to confess that I expected more than just ‘fancy’ or ‘like’. I thought we’ve gone past that phase already.”

“We?”

She raised an eyebrow, “You didn’t really think that this flows one way, did you?”

“I— I don’t know.”

“Oh, you blind child,” She chuckles “I fancy you too, Regulus. Perhaps even more than that.”

“I— Really?” Regulus asks, blushing yet still trying to understand her words as if she’s been speaking in a different language “This better not be another prank you and Pandora or Barty or Evan is pulling on me.”

She chuckles, “It’s not, I can assure you.”

“Prove it.”

She squints her eyes, giving his challenge a thought before standing a little from her seat. She begins to lean in, inching closer to his face and closing her eyes when their hot breaths begin to meet each other’s skin. She gives the lightest brush to his lips, so soft that it felt feather-like but still sent jolts of electricity down his spine. 

She pulls away a little, still so close to him that their noses brush with each other. She gazes into his eyes, lovestruck and content, “Was that enough of a proof?”

“No,” Regulus breathes, whispering “Do it again.”

[fandomfluffandfuck]

A manswear blogger in twitter is talking about seat and bust adjustments in clothing. I can't stop but think about a stucky tailor shop au where Steve goes to get his trousers and jackets adjusted and getting all flustered. I mean Buck doesn't need even be the tailor. He can be a shop sitting friendly neighbour or smtn

spiritually, this ask feels connected to this gorgeous piece of fanart

and while we're here, on the topic, this art too 👀

Oh my god

Oh. my. god.

I can see this so well in my mind, and goddamn, this is such a good idea, too! We've all seen Steve Rogers--and Chris Evans by proxy--and we all fucking know he needs clothes to be custom fitted, so, of course, Bucky would have to step in. It's only fitting.

Every universe, they find each other and take care.

Why wouldn't tailor Bucky make sure Captain America Steve is well-fitted, thus, well taken care of?

I imagine that the whole situation would spring out of the teasing relationship that exists between Natasha and Steve. The first person to ask Steve if he knows how to dress himself is Nat--she asks if he wants some tips to blend in to the background, as she's become so adept to, yet allowing him to choose his own clothes rather than being chosen for him. She cracks a smile when suggesting he stay out of the sizes he used to wear or don't, that's pretty fitting for the modern century, too. Natasha will readily workout with Steve; the contrast in their focus while fighting makes it actually challenging, besides, it's refreshing, too, to have someone look at her and not underestimate her based on her size. It's during those workouts where Natasha suggests, teasing while blowing a sweaty tendril of hair out of her face noisily, multi-tasking as always, that they get matching sports bras. Before he's used to the comments, Steve sputters, but eventually, he laughs them off--he's still working on controlling his blush, though.

He doesn't... it's not, they're not... no.

He doesn't need a bra. It's not like it's uncomfortable. Natasha asks if he's sure it's not uncomfortable once, still grinning like a shark, pleased with their dynamic--her teasing and his batting back once he has his feet underneath himself--because she knows how tight clothes get. Then, Nat tugs at the collar of his clinging shirt, "I don't dress in clothes that tight unless it's for a special occasion."

"Oh, special?" Steve raises an eyebrow at her.

"Yeah," she responds, her mouth twisted, "like when I'm bagging targets."

"Lucky them," he huffs out a laugh.

She's already distracted by the opening their conversation has given her, still sparring, "mmm-hmm."

Commets and jests aside, Steve doesn't stop dressing himself in such tight clothes. Maybe Natasha's clothes or women's clothes generally are built differently, but Steve doesn't find it uncomfortable. Not within himself. Sometimes, he gets stares that drag on too long, sending a weird feeling through his tummy, maybe more than discomfort, but he rationalizes that it's sooner the onlookers recognition of Captain America walking the streets and less barely-restrained-attraction.

Still.

Steve's wordrobe full of tight clothes doesn't change, everything off-the-rack *tries very hard not to make a joke about Steve's rack* until Natasha corners him after another gala, doing her version of begging to just get some clothes that fucking fit.

Basically, she stares him down until he folds like a house of cards. Rolling his eyes but snatching the business card, she's pointing at him like a gun out of her hands and promising he'll make an appointment for himself.

If he doesn't appoint himself, Natasha will, and she'll go with him, and she will list off each and every painful detail in plain clarity to the tailor with Steve there, in the room, standing on that little pedestal under lights and in front of full mirrors, to blush up a storm...

The strain of his shirts across his shoulders, thinning the fabric to near transparency. The screaming of the seams of his underarms, suffering from his biceps. His boob gaps with those little diamonds of pale skin or undershirt showing through that just don't go away, he can't escape them, his chest is just too big. The atrocious extra, wrinkling, loose fabric of his shirts where they bunch up around his ballerina waist, never concealed no matter how desperately he tries to stuff the extra fabric into his jeans, belted tightly. His belts! He can't ever seem to find belts that don't have all this extra length to them, his waist with just the opposite problems to his shoulders, chest, and arms. The line of his lower body always seems to be a little cut off, his pants understandably too short when facing up to those mile long legs. His ass doesn't fit in his too short pants, nor do his thighs! That has to change.

He needs some change.

He looks fucking great, he does, Natasha is not challenged by other people's interest in Steve when matchmaking, she is challenged by Steve's interest in others and she... she would just like to see some confidence in her friend. The easiest, fastest way to feeling like a whole new human, she knows, is fashion.

So...

A tailor.

Steve is going to see a tailor.

One highly recommended and researched by Natasha. Apparently, according to his website (which Steve gets from his card), this tailor normally works with women and women's garments but isn't above making exceptions.

Steve doesn't want to be a bother, but... Nat assures him that he'll be fine. He's curvy enough, more than. This is all out of the goodness of her heart, after all. She just can't stand to see the pain his clothes are in! And if he won't be set up with a nice girl, boy, or whoever for an off-the-books encounter, then she damn will set him up with a professional. Not that kind. Not yet? Who's to say what she'll get Steve into...

Despite how having Natasha with him would help ease his anxieties (and hurt, just mildly hurt, because he would like to retain some of his dignity if possible, thank you very much, Nat, if she were here, he would stick his tongue out at her), Steve makes his appointment and attends it alone.

Alone with this fucking tailor.

This tailor that looks like he might as well have been made by a fucking sculptor. He makes art through fashion but, Jesus Christ, he is also art. When Steve first meets him--led to the back of a warm, pleasantly-cramped storefront by a welcoming, peppy assistent--he is struck dumb by the tailors beauty. He fumbles his words when reaching for a handshake. As it turns out, he doesn't need Natasha here to embarrass himself. Great!

This guy.

His face.

Pale gold skin with bone structure that will actually haunt Steve until he etches it onto paper. Eyes the most entrancing color--blue, grey, nearly silver. Lips pink and soft-looking, shadowed by a beard trimmed down to the prettiest stubble. The bridge of his nose looks like a statue smoothed by one of the ancient masters. And shiny, wavy hair styled into something that's half collected behind his head in a knot and half falling effortlessly over his shoulders. He looks every bit put together, his hair done, his face shimmering with what might be subtle makeup, but if it's not, then he's just the worst kind of perfect human being, his clothes immaculate, fitted ideally, accessorized beautifuly, and--

The way he talks. He's so confident and in his element, but so nice too. Sweet and caring.

The way he looks at Steve, like he's a person, like he's interesting, listening, but also calculating, already planning what he can do for him, how he can flatter him, how, how, how--

That's the fucking question.

How is this guy real?

He wants to hear what Steve has come in for, but based on how he nods along, he doesn't need Steve to say any of it. He already knows. He's that damn good.

After Steve's done, his unsure words stalling out in a stutter, Bucky jumps in immediately, rattling off tailor jargon for what he can do for him. Bust adjustments for the gaps in his buttoned shirts. Underarm adjustments to help his arms fit better in his shirts. Other seam stretching when it can be done to try and fit his arms more, too. Seat adjustments for all his pants from casual jeans to formal slacks. Waist suppression on all his shirts, suit jackets, and maybe even a few of his less formal jackets. Letting out hems on the pants that can be saved. Forming new, custom patterns for all of the above where the existing clothes Steve already has just can't be altered to the extent they're looking for.

And...

After they get to know each other, after Steve comes back again and again, bringing armfuls of clothes with him each time, plus slowly taking more clothes from Bucky's place of work, too, new custom clothes that fit impressively perfectly, Bucky notices something else that should be altered in Steve's wardrobe.

Steve becomes Bucky's most regular client. It seems like they don't go a week, at most, without seeing each other. So, it's natural that Bucky would begin to notice things about Steve. Habits. Bucky is a damn good tailor, and he's learned to pick up on body language to know when a client is having issues that they might not even be aware of. Steve has a habit of--when he thinks no one is looking as he sits waiting for Bucky to be ready for him--of adjusting himself. Sure, whatever, your dick and balls get bunched up in your underwear and pants sometimes. It's normal. It happens. And you gotta do what you gotta do when your dick isn't happy. Normally, Bucky wouldn't think twice about it. But...

Steve does it a lot.

Now, Bucky has a very good spatial memory. A memory that's aided by plenty of opportunities to be close to Steve's body with a fair number of those opportunities being at Steve's feet. Measuring the inseams of his pants, shorts, or what have you, hemming or unhemming his pants, finding the circumference of his muscular thighs, adjusting the fit of the seat of his pants, all very professional. Steve likes to talk, though, so a lot of the time Bucky is down there, and he's looking up at Steve and...

He's just a man.

Just a weak man with the most attractive man he's ever fucking seen in his whole life on his step riser, calling his eyes up, past the crotch of his pants... sometimes he looks. He tries not to. But. He has. He does.

And when he connects how often he catches Steve adjusting himself to how much time he's spent forming a spacial awareness of Steve's body, Bucky knows what adjustment needs to be made to his clothes that they have yet to tackle. Steve, sweet guy, must be too shy to bring it forward. It's perhaps similar to saying, hey, none of my pants fit because my ass is superhuman-ly pert and round and you could bounce quarters off of it, but at the same time, it is much more... intimate... to say, hey, my dick doesn't fit in my pants, either. Could we do something about that, maybe?

Bucky shivers, trying not to think about why and failing miserably... is it too long? Too thick? Both? God, his balls probably don't help, do they? Bucky might be weak at the knees, thinking of his whole package, but especially heavy, heavy balls, fuck, what he wouldn't give to get on his knees and rub his face against them, all that musky vitality, such a big boy, and--

Bucky is so unprofessional.

Jesus Christ.

What is wrong with him?

Steve just needs a gusset! He's done that a million times without fantasizing about his clients' bodies. It's just different now. Why now?! Bucky knows why...

Ughhh.

It's fucking different because Steve is so nice, so shy yet, so witty and sassy when he wants to be, he smells so good, and his hands are delightfully warm when Bucky accidentally missteps and almost falls, but no matter, Steve's lightning fast reflexes will always be there to catch him. It's different because Bucky has a big, fat crush on the one, the only Captain America back from the dead, who's bursting out of all his clothes with his stupid, perfect sculpted body, always obscene no matter what Bucky puts him in, loose or tight clothing. Always genuine, no matter what Bucky throws at him, even if he does get a little embarrassed.

Guh.

Bucky is so fucked.

Steve is so fucked, too, matching Bucky's idioticness. Steve's head is so full of Bucky that he can't think of anything else. Anyone else. He scrounges up every piece of stupid clothing he has to be altered, just as an excuse to be around Bucky. He sweats through his shirts, peering down at Bucky from his place on that little step-stool, riser-thing, whatever fancy name Bucky had for it, and tries not to think about the position out of context. And, worst of all, he has to fight for his life to block out the sense memory of Bucky's hands on his body through his clothes when he's alone and drifting. He can't think about his tailor when he's jerking off, he just can't! That's so bad!

Steve is so fucked.

...if only they could figure out some other way of being fucked. Together.