#like just replacing his inner layers with a T-shirt

[haliaiii]

Val’s Hover bike! (oc)

[youaremyhome]

Pieces of the Night: Resisting the New Moon

Warnings: Dark!Rafe Cameron x Reader, 18+ NSFW, smut, HEAVY non-con/dub-con, drug use, possessive behavior, blackmail, manipulation, DARK. More to add. Read at your own risk!

Notes: 3.0k words. I just to thank everyone that has been patiently waiting for my updates and i am SO SORRY for how long this took. Bad news: this is pretty plot-heavy so no smut, good news: next chapter is Rafe's POV! so i really hope yall like it so tell me if you do or don't, i just wanna hear from ya'll!! it means so much to read what you guys think as you read and i find it just as entertaining as writing the series lol

Taglist: @belcalis9503 @ACRAZYBIOTCH374 @fangirlwithlou@malfoytargaryen @RAFECAMERONSBADUSSY @takin-care-of-business@watersquirtpewpewboomm @magnificantmermaid @mk15x @abbybarnesstuff @lavenderhue

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! (And I’m sorry if I missed you, I love you)

Coming home should be relaxing.  

Instead, a ball of dread sits in your esophagus as you turn the key, inching the door open. Silence greets you, shoulders dropping with the weight rolling down your back. You’re truly alone now, with no greedy hands or nipping teeth to get you.

It was a struggle to leave Rafe’s apartment. A wake-up call of kisses and an encore of his performance in the alley started your morning off, followed by an insufferable breakfast with his roommates, Topper and Kelce. Both boys seemed confused as you sat at the dining table, dressed in Rafe’s t-shirt and boxers as he placed the coffee in front of you. The boyish leers and whistles followed you down the hall when you excused yourself, their eyes pinned to the various bruises scattered on you like exploded stars.

Rafe tried insisting on you skipping class with sweet promises that escalated into whispered threats. Fortunately, you were able to escape. It costed you another pair of underwear.

Dragging yourself to your room, your body and mind argue about who’s more exhausted.

While muscles felt strained and bones felt weak, your mind had no inner voice for once. On autopilot as you change, dumping your things to the ground. A muted consciousness fogs your senses, moving like a sim controlled by a child; clumsy and aimless. Collapsing on the bed is the last thing that happens before the screen turns black.

“Get up!”

Your name is being yelled in layers, crusty eyes peeking open as your friends storm in like an army brigade. Andi squeals and jumps into your bed as their voices overlap.

“How could you keep this from us you bitch?!”

“Everyone’s talking about it –"

“Talking about what?” Your sleepy voice cracks.

“You and Rafe, duh!”

Springing up, an instant flush blisters your face, the girls hitching up an octave as they point it out. Their eyes and questions are like needlepoints poking at your skin.

Rubbing your face with both hands, you press the heels to your eyes. “It just sorta… happened.” Little specks of black and silver sprinkle your vision once you’re done squishing your eyes. There’s no point in lying to them. Well, more than you have to.

Looking between the three of them you ask, “How’d you even know so fast? I left his apartment this morning.”

“Oh, please.” Dan huffs, flicking her wrist. “Those frat boys are worst gossips than us. I heard from Mary, who got a text from Liz whose sleeping with Matt, that Topper told him how you did the walk of shame straight to your class."

Louise strikes out, pulling the neckline of your sweater down, revealing the fresh bruises on your skin. They titter, the girls settling on your bed as you pull your knees up, hugging them tightly to your chest. You tell them what they want to hear.

How Rafe had been persisting you in class while you secretly – hated – loved it, cautious because of his reputation. Leading him to beg for a date and the modified version of the dirty details. As you weave the story, struggling is replaced with play fighting, crying with giggling. The lies stumble through your dry mouth, but they assume it's from your shy demeanor.

“So, do you like… like him?” Louise asks with an impish grin and wonder in her eye. Ever the romantic.

“Personality-wise?” You can’t help the grimace on your face. “He’s alright, I guess.”

Clearly, it isn’t the answer she was hoping for; she shrugs, saying people start dating from being fuck buddies nowadays. Controlling your bodily reaction to your relationship named as that is difficult, a weak nod is all you give.

You can see the excitement they hold for you like little offerings you’re supposed to lap up. In any other case, you would be squealing along with them, maybe even having butterflies in your stomach with fuzzy wings instead of knives.

They probe for more intimate details, something you all do after a new boy. Only this time feels…dirty, that these details should never see the light of day for how dark they are. Further despising Rafe for another thing he has unknowingly ruined: the enjoyment of gossiping with your friends. You’re holding back now and it doesn’t feel right. You should be telling them how you cry at the sight of him, not that you orgasm every time (though that is begrudgingly true, too).

“Just be careful, okay?” Danielle says after the conversation winds down. Reaching over, she lays her hand on yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. It’s a simple caring gesture that has you almost breaking. The touch is innocent and good-natured, something you haven’t felt in weeks.

It reminisces the first time you had told them about Rafe. Danielle always had a better judge of character than you. Repeatedly telling you how there were some people that rather burn than put a fire out. Now, you were encircled in a hellish blue fire that licked at your skin.

You hold eye contact, a wall trembling to fall but you reinforce it with a smile. “Of course.”

Over the course of the next couple weeks, other Greek life people you knew were asking about you and Rafe. You knew the community was big enough to not know everyone, but small enough for word to spread like a slow forest fire, contained in an area before it latches onto a lingering branch, lighting its way through the whole campus.

Questions of if you were dating seemed constant, a hardy no was always the answer. Not understanding the fuss of a random frat boy sleeping with a random college girl. Frustrated with it, you had asked a sorority girl that shared the same class with you and Rafe why it even mattered.

“You’re kidding, right?” You frowned and shook your head. “Everyone knows the rich, crazy VP that loves partying more than girls has never had a girlfriend. Especially one so nice.”

You repeated to her and anyone with ears that you and Rafe were absolutely not dating.

That didn’t stop him from heightening the rumors, walking you to and from classes, a kiss hello and goodbye. Arm stretched behind your chair during lecture, playing with the ends of your hair. Public displays of affection that curdled low in your belly. It only reminded you of the leash he has on you. So taut, that with any wrong move, he’ll turn it into a cage.

Even parties weren’t as fun anymore, Rafe making an appearance more likely than not. Those nights usually ended with you drunk, high, fucked out, or a combination of the three. It didn’t matter if you tried hiding somewhere in the packed houses or fought with him there, it ended with you in his bed.

Today you were especially ticked off.

Hungover and crabby, you’re grumbly and feeling like all over shit. You don’t know why your body hurts more, from your intense hungover or the way Rafe had slammed you down to the bed last night. He was already up when you awoke, only in sweats as he ruffled through his desk drawers. He gave you a distracted morning as you got up and dressed. Though you’ve been appeasing him as of late, you don’t bother with a response.

The sound of sharp inhaling has your eyes rolling to the back of your head in annoyance. After a few moments, you feel his stare as you push your last night's clothes into your bag.

“Wanna bump?” He thumbs his nose, lounging back on the chair. “Make you feel better.”

“Yeah, no thanks.”

The words are clipped and maybe a little sarcastic, focusing on getting everything you need so you can leave. Easily ignoring him as you round the bed to head to the bathroom.

“It’ll get that stick outta your ass you woke up with.” He mutters, but you know you’re meant to hear it.

Mild annoyance flicks into anger. Anger that has you whirling back to him, letting it dominate you like he has done so many times. Arm lashing out, you swipe the rest of the cocaine off the desk. The collected powder floats into a cloud of dust as its disturbed, satisfaction thrumming through you.

“What the fuck?!”

Rafe’s up in a blink of an eye, chair clambering back to the floor. Your delight dries up when livid eyes pierce you, and before you know what you're doing, you're running away.

There’s shouting of your name, bare feet slapping the floor as he gives chase.

The hallway between his door and the entrance narrows before you, distorting into something longer, inescapable. You don’t know where you're going to go with being shoeless and phoneless but you need to get out of here before –

You’re pushed to the side, inches from the front door and your temple bounces off the wall. Hands spin you around, facing Rafe with his eyes wide and skin taunt as he gives you a jagged shake.

“You stupid bitch –"

“Fucking jackass –"

“Hey, woah!”

You both freeze.

As Rafe turns his head to look behind, you cock your head to the side. Topper stands at the small dining table, dimpled chin hanging low and a bowl of cereal sitting in front of him. Bewildered eyes asses the way Rafe is hunching over you, the twisted grip on your upper arms.

“Rafe, man…let her go,” Topper says calmly, one hand lowly reaching out. Something akin to concern filling out his expression.

With a grunt tickling your ear, Rafe releases you, his chest still pressed to yours. He commands under his breath, “go back to the room.”

If it weren’t for the essentials you left, you would’ve disregarded him completely. Glowering, you check shoulders with him as you go, Topper’s worried questions echo down the hall.

Fear, anger, and misplaced embarrassment from the witnessed scuffle rattle up your head down to your chest. The scene plays in your mind’s eye over and over, a loop that changes only in perspective like a movie. One that doesn’t happen to you, only to a girl that’s looking for her lost voice. She had it before.

Only once under the shelter of being in public does relief settle over you like a cool mist. You don’t know what would’ve happened if Topper hadn’t been here.

🌙

“So, what are your plans for spring break?"

“Um, to go home?”

Confused, you tilt your head to stare down at the phone, Lauren combined with numerous heart emojis displayed on the screen. Your laptop is set on your knees as you complete homework while chatting with her. Hair still wet from your shower and Rafe’s texts unanswered. Apologizes filled the text history from him, all left on read which led to missed calls and increasingly agitated texts.

“Uhhh, no.” The crinkle of fabric as Lauren packs for an upcoming trip accompanies her words. “Dad didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“He and mom are gonna go back to that little island we stayed at for Christmas.” Your heart drops, your oblivious sister continues, “…yeah, apparently Dad and that Wade guy hit it off and they’re doing business.”

Your dad’s a commercial architect, designing retail and office spaces across the west coast. He sometimes takes the odd job at the beginning of the new year so your family would be able to enjoy your summer in a new city. It usually took months of permits and construction to fully finish the project, your dad liked to stay with them till the end. You don’t even know what Ward does, just that he must’ve made a good impression, yet you can’t remember because you had a nuisance sitting beside you.

A gnawing pit opens at the bottom of your stomach, feeding on the fear that drips like a broken faucet. If this deal with Ward goes through, you’ll be spending your summer in Kildare, possibly longer with no job lined up for yourself.

A summer of Rafe. A summer of suffering through all the shit he’ll pull. No doubt he’ll be hearing of the news soon, having been privy to the calls with his dad, wanting to be a part of the business.

Before now, you’ve resigned yourself to placating him until May, until graduation and then you’d be across the country, far away, and never looking back. As Lauren’s voice hums in the background, your eyes stare at the keyboard in thought. A hand grazing over the tender spot of the side of your head.

This changes how you’ve been dealing with the situation. Handling Rafe like a spoiled child, giving him limited access to his favorite toy. It was the best strategy you had, believing you had an end date to this mess. However, with summer looming towards you with its long shadows and unrelenting heat, you know you can’t do it any longer. You can’t deal with the constant touching, the faux sweet gestures, and the rough treatment. It makes your head flutter with sickly butterflies just thinking of it, your chest feels light as you breathe in deeper.

You need a new plan, now. One that frees you from the shackles of Rafe Cameron. How you were going to do that…you had no idea. Once he learns of the deal, he won’t let it go. He won’t let his dad say no to it, and won’t let you say no to coming with.

The rest of the phone call is a distant thing, the laptop closed and you don’t even know if you saved your work. Amongst the quiet of the night, you drift into your mind, visualizing an alternate world.

A world where you never saw Rafe on the beach that night, or even went to the Outer Banks at all. How after winter break, you still would’ve had a class together. Still had that fated reunion. With no pogues around to deface him, you might’ve liked the attention from him.

Played it coy, compelling him to make the first move, maybe after lecture one day and walk you home. Having a nice, normal conversation with him. How you would’ve agreed to see him again, to have sex with him again.

This other you gets the Rafe you had first met. A jerk, yes, but one that listened to you, that had self-control. Was soft with you. She gets the normal progression of fuck buddies to a situationship. Because despite all the faults he clearly has, other you would’ve been able to look past them. Giving him leeway with his transgressions, not considering it a big deal since it wasn’t a serious thing anyways.

Other you has weeks and months to see the red flags rising up, one by one. The excessive drinking turns him nasty, the blow that levels him out and becomes emotional. Other you would’ve ignored them, chalked it up to typical college behavior until he eventually hurt you. You’d like to think other you would immediately end it, no matter how much he had manipulated you into liking him.

It's at this point of the dark tale where you know the universe is out to get you, an age-old revenge set upon your very soul. Because if other you tried to end it with him, would he have turned just as vicious as before?

Yes, you think, yes, he would in a heartbeat.

Separate paths: one with a smooth, sandy trail as the other grapples with high seas. These two lives are so separate, so unlike the other but still converging in the end, the same destination. A desisted beach with just a blond boy, ready to meld hands and bodies together. No path to take and no boat to ride on.

Gusts of wind brusquely whip around you like nature herself is propelling you forward, toward him. A warp of stumbling and muted colors as the rough waves crash to the shoreline, deafening and ferocious. The blond stays there, waiting. As if he knows you’ll be coming to him, even though you don’t want to. Like he knows no element will stop this journey of yours deeper into the sand.

You can’t see his face but fright ghosts over you like a disembodied entity. You want to go the other way, back to what was before.

The sand starts to flow, gentler than the water, luring you nearer to him, closer to what you know is bad, bad, bad. You think you scream, or maybe there’s another roaring of the waves as your arm's length away now. Details filling out his face come into a sharp focus, the edges around him blurry as Rafe smiles at you.

He seems unaffected by the storm happening viciously around the two of you. Spontaneously, you’re in his arms and you’ve never felt so small. Resisting only seems like it's the sand moving your bodies to and fro, not the intense effort you give. There are words being eaten around you, Rafe telling you something with that giant grin of his.

What? You mouth, your voice is sucked into the vacuum of noise and boomerangs back at you.

YOU’RE MINE. Rafe shouts with a manic glee like a god’s voice booming down below from the heavens. His laughter pushes the waves closer, sand and sea mixing together.

Terror is all you know, from the beginning of time to the end of your days. Rafe’s hold feels more like tentacles than hands, squeezing and capturing you tight. There’s merely the scream of delight by the ocean and the sob of horror from you.

Just as you’re there, you’re not.

Woken in a slick sweat that coats your hairline to the back of your knees. Your heart sputtering from the nightmare and the harsh yank back into the conscious world. After taking a moment that this is reality, that you’re not being swallowed into the vortex of Rafe; do you relax back into bed. Smothering your face back into the pillow, you whimper with the ruminants of irrational fear. That little nub in your brain is lightened up, alarming you that there is real danger near you.

A danger you have to face head-on.

[ri-ahhh]

what about sitting on grays lap and him wanting to plwase you so he rubs your clot and fingers you until you come

Oof yes. Doing it in front of a mirror too. He’s still completely dressed in those grey sweats and pink hoodie, and you’re in his lap in nothing but his T-shirt with your legs spread and draped over his.

You watch his hand trail up from your knee to the middle of your thigh, making little circles with his fingertips as he does. Grayson rests his chin on your shoulder and catches your eye in the reflection, a little smirk playing at his lips as goosebumps flare across your sensitive skin with his teasing touch. You bite your lip and ease back against his chest, arching your hips to try and urge him to get to your pussy.

You expect him to keep up the featherlight brushes of his hand until you’re writhing in desperation, but you’re surprised when he cups your center with his whole palm, applying just enough pressure to give you a modicum of relief.

He nuzzles into your neck, his breath hot and ticklish as he sucks not-so-gentle kisses there. Your eyes roll back, and you sink into him further, both of your hands gripping his forearm that’s got you secured to him by the waist.

“You want me to make you cum?” he asks, voice rough and deep. It makes you shiver and you nod blindly, bucking into his hand as he bites down on your shoulder. You moan out his name loudly, and you can feel his grin when he soothes the mark with a lick and a kiss. “Then you have to watch.”

It takes some effort, but your eyes do flutter open, meeting his briefly before darting down to where he’s still palming you roughly. True to his word, Grayson starts moving his fingers dexterously up and down your slit, grunting softly at the wetness seeping out of you further down. He spreads it around your lips, even brushes over your clit.

“Grayson,” you whine disapprovingly when he leaves your clit in favor of squeezing the soft skin of your inner thigh.

“I told you, baby, you have to watch,” Grayson reminds, his voice maddeningly sexy and smug when your eyes fly open once more; you hadn’t even been aware they had closed again, but him touching your clit must have made them do so in bliss.

“Good girl,” he whispers, eyes shining when they meet yours in the mirror once more. If you had any sense left in you, you might have reached back and lightly smacked that irritating little smirk off his lips, but he’s suddenly rubbing circles on that little bundle of nerves, and you’re melting into him once again.

Your gaze becomes glued to the reflection, fixated on the way he rubs you slow and steady, just how you like. He’s big and warm behind you, beneath you, his hard-on pressing against your ass and adding another layer of eroticism to this whole experience.

But really, you’re surprised at how much you’re actually enjoying watching. Your pussy is slick and swollen and his hand looks even more masculine and beautiful than usual when you get to really see it working you up.

“I can literally see how wet I am,” you observe, your voice raspy and laced with pure arousal. You swallow and let out a quiet giggle, your head falling back into his shoulder as it becomes almost too much. “Fuck, that’s actually really hot.”

Grayson moans, the sound going straight into your ear and down to your pussy, making it even more drenched. He shakes his head and moves his fingers down lower, watching you with his full, pink lips parted in aroused fascination as he sinks his long middle finger inside you.

“More,” you demand. You feel empowered in this new, strange way — turned on by your own body as much as you are by Grayson. He slips his ring finger in next, and you moan appreciatively at the fuller sensation. “God.. Gray, please...”

“You like watching yourself, huh?” Grayson mutters as he hooks his fingers and starts pumping. Now you can hear as much as you can see your arousal, and your eyes threaten to fall shut as your body just starts to feel too good.

But there’s no way you’re risking anything to make him stop, not now. You nod and whine out a pretty “uh-huh,” letting that pressure build inside your lower belly as he presses on just the right spot with those long, thick fingers. “Fuck, right there!”

Grayson grunts and keeps going just like you asked, but his breath shudders wet and hot against the skin at the back of your neck when he watches you suck two of your fingertips between your lips before dropping them down to your clit.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” he growls out, nipping at your skin with little love bites. “Get you there with me, baby. Wanna see you cum so bad. Wanna make your pussy cum...”

His rushed, heated words in combination with everything are more than enough to send you over the edge, just like he wanted. Your fingers falter on your clit as you moan and writhe on his lap, but Grayson is more than happy to move your hand to the side and replace it with his own, drawing out your orgasm until you’re slumped in his lap, tired and sweaty and spent.

Grayson hugs you to him with both arms, kissing your cheek with a smile. “We should utilize this mirror more often, you know?”

Eyes still closed in bliss, you laugh and lean your head back with your lips puckered, humming contentedly when he plants a warm kiss there.

You slide off his lap, off the side of the bed, and onto the floor. You see his look of surprise in the mirror right before you turn your back to it, whipping your shirt over your head and reaching up for his waistband.

“Let’s start that right now, then.”

[tenderlyrenjun]

the one with the morning classes

summary: you don’t really want to go to class, and Yangyang half-agrees.

↛ ↛ ↛ psych major!Yangyang x art history major!reader

↛ ↛ older female reader, college au, mentions of alcohol, yearning, best friends to lovers/ish, smut (18+) - there is literally sex in every scene, best friend!ten on both sides, study dates, love confessions in bed

↛ word count: 11,9k (I am so sorry lmao)

part one > part two > part three

if you are under 18 and interact with this at all, i will block you

An obnoxious ringing interrupts your day, way too early, and you whine at it, suddenly reminded about the terrible decision that you made last year with the on-call academic advisor: selling your soul to Satan, or, as they phrased it, taking an 8 A.M. class. The default iPhone ringtone seems especially heartless right now, even though you have a class at this time every semester.

Still, it takes Herculean effort to pull your hot, sweaty face out of the pillows and actually get a breath of fresh air. You inhale once, twice, then support yourself on your elbows, tossing all your messy hair over your bare back, like a curtain, to draw it away from your cheeks. The sunlight makes you squint, not having given you enough time to adjust to it yet, because laying in bed, naked, is so much more enticing than actually waking up. Unfortunately, the ringing persists, getting louder, you think. You find yourself clawing through the sheets again, in search of that damn alarm. And when you do find it, screen faced down, you hit snooze via power button, giving yourself extra time before class.

After the annoying sound stops, Yangyang leans toward your naked shoulder, his d!ck thrusting in you at a further angle. He kisses the tip your spine with slightly parted lips, peppering more along your deltoid muscles, directed by his trailing tongue. You cannot tell was tingles more – the goosebumps left in his wake, or the blood rushing to your vulva, caused by the nipping at your skin. Yangyang finds a more permanent spot (that would be hidden by a shirt) above your collarbone and sucks deeper for a few seconds. Instinctively, you drop your cheek into the sheets again and swirl your ass up, before propping your lower body on your knees. His groans fall with you, and he nearly did too, but he stands on his hands. You are very aware of his strength, especially now as you close your eyes and he reverses your moves, grinding his hips forward. One of his hands reaches forward to grab your face and finally kiss you. He is slow and head spinning, and he continuously inclines his head at varying degrees to keep the embrace going.

Then, your phone goes off again and you break the kiss.

“We need to get – Oh, God.” Your forehead redirects onto the mattress, and your breath becomes shallow, cracked by sharp whines blurring out the alarm. As far as you are concerned, Yangyang is all consuming, from the way he kisses you to the way he makes you feel. “Ah, right there, please.” He squeezes your ass, fingers drilling deeply into your skin. His touch feels better than a massage, you think, almost loosening up all your muscle tension.

“So naughty,” Yangyang whispers, strongly. He sounds masculine without being so aggressive. It is very sexy of him. You try to show him, too, that he is hot, by reacting more enthusiastically. Unlike him, you say it silently and hope he knows. He replies, slapping your butt again, and smirks when you moan. “Wanna play hooky? You still, fuck –“ His breath drops, voice getting lower, huskier. He propels his d!ck shallowly, at the same pace your mouth widens in an ‘O’ shape. “- remember your manners.”

“Mmm hmm,” you agree. You roll your hips side to side, slowly stretching as if coming out of child’s position in yoga. It similarly feels satisfactory, like an injection of morphine. “We really need to get up. I have class; you ­– shit –“ His thrust pushes you forward, muting your counterarguments. “- you have class soon.”

Yangyang combs your baby hairs onto your opposite shoulder, gently nibbling around your thyroid, and you whine, knowing that you have an easily swayed mindset right now. “It doesn’t sound like you want to get up yet.” He guides your hips like a figure eight motion. His hand comes around front, between your thighs, holding on in a way that allows him to stimulate your clit with his index and thumb. Every movement gets more intense: the speed, the pressure, even the direction of his fingers, as he elongates all the sensations. It feels like he gets bigger too, lunging more alert with his thrusts. “You need a good wake up call, huh?”

You nod, eagerly, biting your lip. “Mmhmm, my morning ritual is, is really long, fuck.”

Yangyang smirks, motivated even more by the double entendre. And the way his tip rasps against your walls, oh god. You ball the sheets into your fists, putting a protective layer between your nails and palm because he gradually becomes erratic. He comes down to your ear, using his lips to bite at it while whispering, “Wanna turn off the alarm?”

“Hmm?” You open your eyes. “Oh, right.” It doesn’t feel like it has been nine minutes. So, after you pick your phone up again, you turn it over to look at the alarm settings, but it is replaced by the call acceptance slider. You blink a couple times and try getting a clearer look – which is difficult, considering that your head keeps bouncing as he grinds harder and harder, and harder. Then, the call restarts. “Shit.”

Yangyang stops moving to glimpse at what’s wrong. His chest brushes against your back and you can feel his erect n!pples graze your spine. You turn the screen at him, contemplating whether to answer it. Thank God, though, that Ten isn’t asking to FaceTime. You honestly don’t know how you would recover from him seeing Yangyang lay naked on you, especially after that comment at the Halloween party about feeling ‘too comfortable’ with him like this.

“I’m gonna answer it.”

“What?”

“I have to answer it,” you argue. “It’s Ten. He’s going to suspect something if I don’t.” The call ends again, and the notification center shows six missed calls. You turn over your phone again. “Shit, he’s been phoning all morning. I have to answer it.”

You partially expect Yangyang to get up. Instead, he comes down, brushing your hair over your shoulder and pushes you into the blanket. You stretch your arms away from him to redial Ten’s number, although your hands (and thighs) start shakily with his moves. The line rings four times before Ten answers, and you sigh, half-disappointed, half-orgasmically.

“Um, hello?” Ten answers sarcastically, on speaker. “Are you ready? ETA 20.” You hear rustling on the other end that sounds similar to Yangyang ruffling your bedsheets. He is trying to get at your t!ts and you let him, propping up into a true doggystyle. Ten doesn’t appear to discern anything, so you keep the phone on mute – which is necessary because you buck your hips at Yangyang, getting his tip angled on your g-spot. He outlines your n!pples, fingers squeezing over your areola. You almost moan again, but Ten reminds you about his presence: “I’m getting in my car right now.”

“Hmm?” Why?

The silence is deafening, all excess noise stopping, until it is just your heavy breaths and small wet noises. You widen your eyes, thinking that Ten discovered your current … entanglement, so you grab Yangyang’s hand, to suppress anymore sounds. It makes you lose balance temporarily, but expectedly he catches you, by the waist. He waist a few seconds, then drops his wrist to your clit, lightly sliding up and down without thrusting his d!ck. You let him continue, panting with your lower abdomen quivering. He has to stop though, because his exhibitionist tendencies might expose you two. You take his hand off your clitoral hood and kiss his inner wrist before sucking his fingers clean. He shudders his hips. You bite your lip. He smiles. Then, he takes his hand back, planting it into the mattress for extra support so that you can actually answer this call, that the two of you keep forgetting about.

“It’s my treat, remember?” Ten tries to jog your memory, nearly shouting. You can hear him breaking through your bubble. It is just that you are a bit distracted at the moment to really recall any memories. You cannot be entirely held accountable for Yangyang’s big d!ck.

Yangyang starts sucking on your neck again, pushing his pelvis slowly into your ass harder, to give you a better reminder: that you are currently being a good girl for him, to make up for being so naughty this morning (even though he also seemed pretty close to ditching class earlier).

“For breakfast yesterday, after the party,” Ten outwardly tells you. Right, it’s Monday, and you often grab coffee with Ten on the way to campus because 8AMs are hell – you have to absorb new information when you can barely see through all the crap in your eyes, and he can barely comprehend his notes from the night before without the morning bean juice. There is some shuffling on his end again, similar to shaking his wrist free of a sweater to get a better look at his watch. It isn’t enough to hide the moan trapped in your throat. So, you try biting your fist as Yangyang swirls his hips, grazing the ends of your nerves. You roll your eyes to the back of your head and hit mute, in order to moan. “Unless you want to walk? I don’t think you’ll make it though. It’s, like, almost 7:20.”

“What?” your voice cracks. You are still muted though, so you un-mute and repeat the exclamation, whining a little when Yangyang tries to get you to orgasm faster, also having heard the time. Hopefully Ten does not notice anything. You think that you were quiet enough to push it off as a complaint.

“I’ll be outside your apartment in 20.”

Yangyang pulls your chin to make you look at him, staring at you to ask what is going on. You mouth a quick explanation: Ten. Ride. Coffee. 20 minutes. He is so close, warm breath enveloping your skin. You take the distance, initiating yet another kiss, essentially in front of your best friend, although the latter cannot hear or see either of you. Yangyang holds onto your chin, possibly afraid of being swept away or falling again. But you have enough support for both of you, and you know that if you fell, he would catch you. So, you kiss him again, and again.

“Hello?” Ten calls into the void. “Did you lose signal again? See, I told you not to choose the shitty complex on Main because the connection is so bad there.”

You put a hand above Yangyang’s heart and clear your voice, turning to the speaker. “I’m still here. Just, hold on a second.” You hit mute again, then turn to Yangyang. “Do you want a ride too?” Yangyang contemplates for a second, and you drop your forehead into your elbow, biting your lip because, after all, he is still inside you, inside your clenching and very aroused p.ussy, where you want him to finish. He nudges your shoulder with his nose and confirms that yeah, he needs a ride. You kiss him a few more times, unsure why, just wanting to be close – something about want to say in his presence, enjoying his presence. He swirls his hips. It feels really good to be with him. “Yeah, so Yangyang is in the neighborhood.”

“Wha-“

“A huh,” you whine, more at Yangyang than Ten. “He just texted me. He’ll meet you – us! He’ll meet us at my apartment. I’m going to get ready now, bye!” you say everything in one breath, hanging up as equally abruptly before Ten could insert his two cents. You drop the phone and turn around, kissing Yangyang deeply. As he returns your affection, you enunciate slowly, “Five minutes, then we have to get ready. Ten is getting too suspicious.”

Yangyang finishes a little bit after five minutes, not that you mind. Non-residents have to get buzzed into your building, and Ten doesn’t have a key to your front door. You indulge the moment, laying on your arm bent under a pillow. He looks at you with all the care in the world, no longer that suave fuck buddy from a few moments ago but a young romantic who caresses your inner thigh and talks big game about all the connections you two have in common, or don’t. Your hand dips to the top of his head, combing a small section with your nails to his ends. Yangyang asks you for the time, and you almost don’t give it to him, preferring to spend time with him here than overanalyzing some stupid thesis statement that you wrote at 4AM. You pout, and pull his phone between the two of you, showing him that Ten will arrive in ten minutes – ironic, you think.

Yangyang approaches your face, millimeters from your lips. He waits for you to flutter your eyes closed, anticipating a kiss, then runs into the shower. It takes you a minute to join him, and when he sees you, smirking, like you have some dastardly revenge plan in the works, Yangyang shuts the glass door, isolating himself in the cold shower. He holds on extra tightly so that you cannot get in. You look hot when you are annoyed though – he needs to annoy you more. It is even more fun to mollify you. He pulls you into the shower next to him by grabbing your ass and makes out with you against the wall for a few seconds, until you start stretching at the lavender body wash on the shelf behind him.

This time, Yangyang finishes first, hopping out to sprinkle the roots of his hair with dry shampoo so Ten does not get too suspicious. If he has wet hair, then it would be obvious that he stayed over. He puts the powder back on the shelf and wanders into your room, towel wrapped loosely around his waist – even though it’s nothing you haven’t seen before. There are a few of his clothes in your closet from all the time you stole them, or a couple mini getaways that you two have taken. After he changes into an outfit that he can actually wear in public, he picks out an extra one of his over-sized shirts and drapes it on the towel rack for when you get out. He knows that you really like his clothes, especially the organic band tees. It is another plus that you share the same music taste. Hopefully, none of his friends catch onto the coincidental similarities.

Yangyang likes that you spend a lot of time in his clothes. They always end up smelling like your lotions. It is comforting and reminds him of all the nights ‘studying’ until 3AM. You know, not that he would actually say it out loud (mostly because he also likes to wear his favorite shirts), but you look cuter than him, in his Kendrick Lamar concert tee. And besides, there is a secondary reason as to why he rummaged through your underwear drawer: he wanted to choose your panties for today. It might be a black lingerie set, but how is he supposed to know the difference between a t-shirt bra and a balconette? :^)

Yangyang makes his way into the kitchen, snagging a mini muffin off the island. With the work out he just had, he needs protein but there isn’t enough time to cook anything, not that he actually could; eh, he’ll end up buying something on campus. He tosses two more muffins into his backpack for later – one chocolate for him, one strawberry for you. On Mondays, between classes, he usually catches you in the student experience center, finishing some last-minute assignments. You always end up pushing lunch until after four, ergo he tries to bring you some snacks, whenever he can. Once, his research methods class got cancelled and you didn’t have any pre-lecture materials to work on, so he brought two cups of ramen. You two had a semi-date then. He wonders if it can happen again, today. Ten interrupts the thought though, before it can develop into a real plan, and he sighs. He doesn’t know why, but he keeps thinking about defining this relationship at the worst possible times.

“Yellow?” Yangyang answers, mid-bite. He shifts the phone to his shoulder so that he can check your notification center for any missed calls. You have three. Ten has been going to voicemail all morning, Yangyang deduces, and if he was Ten, he would be damn suspicious at this point.

“Hi, baby,” Ten coos. “I’m outside. Buzz me in, yeah?”

Yangyang reflexively pouts. “I’m not your baby. I’m 20 now.” Still though, he complies, letting Ten into the building, and his friend is upstairs within a minute – not that it is too far. You live on the second floor.

“So,” Ten sings while glancing around the apartment. Yangyang wonders what for – hopefully, not searching for his secret relationship. Ten closes the door, his eyes landing on Yangyang and eying him down suspiciously, in a curious way. “What are you doing in the neighborhood, anyways?”

“I, uh, bought breakfast at Allen’s coffee, down the street,” he lies, “And I didn’t feel like walking back to the frat.” He shrugs too, trying hard to be as nonchalant as possible.

“A huh.” Ten does not seem to accept it, but he lets it slide when you walk into the room, wearing Yangyang’s t-shirt tucked into a pair of black jeans. Yangyang cannot see why Ten would recognize the top because you also happen to like Kendrick Lamar – one of your favorite songs is King Kunta, even though you cannot sing along to save your life. Yangyang finds it endearing that you enjoy rap music, even though you cannot match the flow or pitch.

His gaze is still endearing when you walk into the kitchen, beelining for the last mini muffin. Yangyang catches how intensely he was staring at you, after you blink at him (and Ten).

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing,” they mutter, looking away.                        

“Okay,” you drawl suspiciously, swallowing half your breakfast. You fold the rest of it into the front pocket of your backpack and pick up your textbook. Yangyang meets your gaze but you immediately flicker to Ten. “Can we grab something at Starbucks really quick?”

Ten stares at Yangyang. You just got coffee for yourself, even though you were coming here? Yangyang waves a hand, unsure how to respond. This whole secret relationship has gone on longer than he thought it would. It was supposed to be a one-night stand kind of thing when he first kissed you, the night that Ten introduced you two back in March after Renjun’s birthday party, and not even a one-night stand! He just expected you to make out with him, not give him a blowjob in Kun’s bathroom then let him take you back to his room at the frat.

“What?” You look between them. Yangyang shakes his head, nothing. You stare him down and give in, then turn back to Ten. “I haven’t eaten anything. Please?”

“Alright, fine,” Ten cedes. He holds his hands up in surrender, his keys waving like a white flag. As you all file out the door, Yangyang jokingly asks if he can drive. Ten deadpans at him, protective over the car, and smacks him on the back of his head. “Let’s go.”

Yangyang barely notices when they pull into the drive-thru on 1st, too busy scrolling through Instagram while you and Ten talk about an EDM festival coming this weekend. He only picks up his head when you lean over the gear shift, blocking the GPS from his view (in the middle seat) – he was monitoring the distance to make sure that you get to class on time.

“Can we get two breakfast sandwiches, an iced coffee with 2% milk, and an iced London fog latte, extra pump of vanilla, with coconut milk?” You turn to ten. “Want anything?”

Ten furrows his eyebrows. Neither of them looks at Yangyang, and he lowers his phone, knowing that he is about to be caught in a lie. He didn’t think that Ten would ask anything because of the time crunch. Evidently, he was wrong, and now he doesn’t know how to unspin the lie.

“Who are you ordering all that food for?” Ten asks.

You look at him skeptically, a what the fuck hanging palpably in the air before you point to the backseat. “For the baby.”

“Not a baby,” Yangyang pipes up, voice cracking. He tugs on the collar of his shirt, smiling embarrassed.

Ten turns on his side, back facing the window as he stares between the two of you, ultimately settling on Yangyang. “I thought that you said you already got breakfast at Allen’s.” Ten rotates to you. “That’s why he’s in the neighborhood, right?”

A huh, yeah. Yangyang almost tells another lie but the monitor clerk asks if they want anything else, and they are holding up the line with an empty lane in front. Saved by the bell intercom. Ten orders an extra americano, then you all persist through the awkward silence until reaching the front window. You pay with the app as Ten passes out the round of drinks like a bartender. Yangyang pokes his paper straw through the lid. You can’t baby him if he does everything himself first.

“Uh, are you good?”

Yangyang looks up. You have your iced latte between your legs, holding it at the top of your thighs on your crotch like an ice pack.

“Yeah, what do you mean?”

“I mean,” Ten enunciates, putting this drink in the cup holder, “people only put ice on their private parts when they’re sore.” He widens his eyes, posture stiffening and he points at you. “Did you have that guy over? The best y-“

“You don’t –“ You hold up a hand, physically interrupting him. Yangyang should have known that Ten would never seriously suspect him as your fuck buddy; he doesn’t know whether to be relieved or offended. “- have to repeat it. I just feel sore.”

Yangyang smirks at that, but he has to hide it when Ten looks at him, pinching his cheeks down like a Tim Burton character. The look in Ten’s eyes is confused again, and he knows that one of two questions is going to come out: if he met that guy that you’re sleeping with, of if he is the guy that you are sleeping with. Fortunately, Yangyang sees the navigation touch screen, and the time is two minutes until eight and you are five minutes off campus. Ten has to drop the conversation and speed to the art building so that at least you get there on time. The extra few minutes he has to spend alone with Ten gives him the idea to cool things off with you for a few days.

That sounds bad, like he is blowing you off, but honestly, you agreed.

Yangyang caught you in front of the communal office space for linguistics GTAs, a few minutes before office hours ended. He snatched you into a supply closet, dragging you by the waist, and covered your mouth to prevent you from screaming bloody murder. You two acknowledged the thin ice that has been melting for a couple weeks now. And he brought up taking a break from seeing each other for a while. At first, you thought that he was breaking up with you – or as close to breaking up as possible, because still, you are not dating. But then, he saw your face and reassured you that he does want to keep seeing you, even in secret; maybe next time, you two should talk about your relationship.

Friends do not need to see each other every day, you know. Or, like, at least, casual friends don’t. Sure, you FaceTime Ten all the time and Yangyang lives with Xiaojun so he sees his best friend daily by default, but you two are not similarly close friends, especially not when other people can perceive how you two interact. No one has to know just that you see Yangyang just as often, in person. And you do it because, well, because you like him – which explains how he ends up back in your bed by Wednesday.

“I’m gonna be late again.”

“No, you won’t.”

Yangyang reaches around your collarbone, brushing his thumb along your bottom lip until he can comfortably hold your jaw. He draws you in for another kiss, his eyes mirroring yours - distracted, enamored, aroused. You cautiously spin around, throwing your arms around his neck to avoid getting swept away, which seems impossible because he holds you securely, at your mandible and the beltloop on your waist. He inhales upon the next embrace, closing his pretty mouth over your philtrum like a slow bite – like several slow bites. You meet him, every time, at the end of each kiss when he shifts onto his toes, getting too tall for your lips, and pull him back on the ground to get more. He moans, after you start roaming your hands under his shirt, running your nails over the crevices in his body like a memorization technique for an early class you don’t have.

You feel hungry, for love, wanting to feel warm. The sun will not rise for another half hour, but he is the warmest thing in the room, even though you are fully dressed, not expecting to be late like two days ago. He copies your moves, unbuckling his hand like a belt, sliding it under your shirt and palming your b.oobs. Then, you squeal, giggling breathily, when he spins you around again and smacks your ass, pushing your thighs into the mattress that you two are standing over.

“Do you trust me?” he whispers in your ear, sucking upward on your external jugular vein.

“No.”

Yangyang stops, deadpanned. He hits your butt again, like a punishment – his favorite kind of punishment, it seems because he repeats it every morning like a bad kind of player, the rich one who goes to bars and unexpectedly falls in love with an attendee, as if it is a coming of age Netflix movie. He repeats it again until you fall on your hands over the bed. You look behind your shoulder at him, jaw dropped. And he takes no time to interpret it, stumbling next to you.

You roll over, led by your hips, so that you can match him, latching onto his face with your hands on his cheeks. “Of course, I trust you, dummy.”

He looks down still, picking at the seams of your jeans. And you detect his teasing tone, easily, because he goes directly to your inner thighs, tracing up along the thread until he reaches your zipper. “Really?”

You roll your eyes, then make him look at you. He has that kicked-puppy expression in the way the outline of his eyes falls below his eyebrows, but the glint and the gummy smile have you knowing otherwise. “Yes.”

Yangyang pops your pants button undone, mischievously pulling his lips into a dramatic pout. “And you’re not lying to me?”

“No,” you emphasize. You brush his hair back, scratching your nails along his scalp, behind his ears. His smile cannot help itself, breaking out in a way that has you completely immersed. It reminds you of that time when you went go karting with Ten and a few others. You were undoubtedly a bad driver, bumping into the track walls, even during the straight lanes. One time, you made a particularly excellent sharp turn, surpassing Johnny to the finish line. Unfortunately, you were completing lap 3 of 5 and him 5 of 5, but Yangyang still congratulated you afterward – in bed. He also lit up, when you two were just laying under the covers, staring at the ceiling because the stars were too far away. You held onto the arm around your waist, laying on his naked shoulder as he told you about wanting to be a race car driver as a kid, then an automotive or aerospace engineer as a teenager, before he settled on psychology. He kept talking, as if crafting this beautiful galaxy. That is when you knew.

“Prove it.”

“What?” You sit up and straddle him. “How do you want me to prove it?”

Yangyang starts begging for affection, slithering his hand down your stomach, into your underwear. He pulls you into his chest, giggling when you topple him into the pillows, clearly not having estimated the force. You like that you never have to beg for his attention. He always, for some reason, notices you, and it is so hard not to pick up on it. You wonder just how no one has learned about you two yet. It’s not like you are being subtle. Although, the smallest acts he gives you can be found under subtle in the dictionary. Like now, he tucks your hair behind your ear, gaze flickering from his hand across your cheek to your eyes. You kiss him again – only a brief peck, because he inserts two fingers inside you, making you gasp sharply enough to break.

“Can I confess something?” you ask, suddenly braved by an idea to prove that you do trust him.

Yangyang stops fucking you, his fingers flexed still. He scans your face for an actual lie but knows that he will never find one, mostly because he already knows the next few words out of your mouth; he has felt the same way for months. And maybe, at this point, he owes you some explanation, for keeping his own confession unspoken. He wants to give it to you first, before your own declaration. It is something that he thinks he should do, like a societal norm for the guy to confess – that is what all the romantic movies say, right? Well, there is Princess Leia and Han with their whole I love you and I know dynamic, and while that was really cool in the scene, Yangyang has a fixed scenario in his head.

“I love you,” he blurts, quickly, sitting up.

“You love me?”

His heart drops. You are not supposed to surprised. He was nearly 100% confident that you had fallen in love with him, too, but this might confirm that so much was in his head. You keep staring at him, jaw slacked and hands on his shoulders. Only when he starts pulling away do you react, catching his hand.

“I really like you,” Yangyang reiterates, self-pouring salt into his bleeding heart. He hesitates for a second, unsure if he should even be vulnerable again, but what does he have to lose? “I –“ He swallows, still looking into your eyes – “I love you.”

Then you kiss him.

And he lets you kiss him.

He lets you kiss him because of the way you cradle his face, like he is made of glass, like he is the most precious crystal that you have to protect. Your lips get softer when he wets them with his tongue, after feeling confidence in your embrace. You kiss him in a way that takes away the word the love, wrapping him in a security blanket to return the warmth.

“I love you,” you whisper slowly, barely audibly enough for him to hear it over the smack of your tongue as you lower to him. You pause, mouth slightly ajar on his. “Too.”

Yangyang peers at your closed eyes, almost willing you to open them so he can tell you, again, that he loves you, so he can see your reaction when he really tells you. He grabs your face and sits up again. You roll your head to the side, like you anticipate his kiss. He gives it you, simultaneously returning his hand into your pants.

“What time is it?”

“What?”

“What time is it right now?” Yangyang asks you with a sense of urgency.

You turn around, fumbling around for your phone, which is now somewhere mixed in your sheets. The two of you had spent a good ten minutes remaking the bed after the night you had, and currently, blankets are strewn across, folded into messy piles. With the thought distracting you, Yangyang slips two fingers past your underwear again, twisting the crotch area with his thumb for easier access. You pause, sighing heavily, hand bunching up the linen as he scissors you.

“I asked you a question,” he reminds you, slightly stuttering at the end, hesitant to add a term of endearment. Even with the confessions you both just gave, it does not define your relationship and he doesn’t know how to broach it just yet, only wanting to kiss you closely and hear all the love sounds that he feels deprived of.

“It’s 6:21.”

“Good,” Yangyang whispers in your ear as he prepares you to take him. “We have time.”

Yangyang redirects your face to his, tilting your chin up as he leans to the side, almost inhaling your lips. Upon another kiss, he adds his tongue, tired of the light pecks. They don’t express his affection as much as he wants, because small embraces end quicker, causing you to withdraw – which is the furthest desire from his mind, especially considering that he just confessed, multiple times. He curls his tongue, placing only the tip beyond your lips. You check him, trying to catch his tongue but merely snagging his spit. He smirks because you whine again. Was that not enough? Obviously not, he notes after you pull back, breathing on his lips, making him chase you. Your breath sounds rapid and rough, and he wants to alleviate your nerves. Yangyang extends his neck again, craning to meet your lips. He gives you a second to recover, to prepare, panting the faintest ghost kisses across your lower face. Your hand comes above his shaking heart, stopping there as you bite your lip coyly. He wonders if you want to stop. Both of you just acknowledged a lingering more-than-friends adoration.

But then you slide your hand under his chin, making him really look at you.

“I love you,” you repeat.

The repet!tion exceeds his own confession, and he isn’t sure whether to confess again, but you take the initiative for him, rocking side to side like ridin’ d!ck bicycle. Yangyang parts his lips just enough to blow small, uneven breaths. He feels you open his jeans while shifting over one of his thighs, his fingers still trembling inside you. Sex with you always feels so reciprocated. Your nails graze his c.ock erect, your hand tightening at the tip, where you push your thumb on his pre-cum. It gives almost the same sensation as your tongue and the sensation gets more intense. He starts thrusting in tandem, making you clench, around his bicep, for support. When you start flicking the flesh on the underside of his penis (the part that connects the shaft to head), he stops your hand.

Yangyang comes forward, caressing your mouth and massaging your clit. “I’m gonna cum.”

“So cum,” you taunt him, smirking into the kiss.

Your resolve temporarily falters, dripping into a moan that he swallows up wholly. He keeps sinking his fingers at different depths, at a fast and shallow pace, waiting for you to reach the same point. You certainly feel wet enough. He touches that spongey tissue area in your p.ussy that has you seeing stars. You moan his name over and over again, until the two syllables become a tongue twister. He disentangles your tongue, using his own. All those years tying cherry stems in his mouth as a teenager really paid off. He starts making a come-hither gesture, simultaneously flirting with your lips. After your hand ceases, exclusively squeezing his base, right above his balls, Yangyang slows down, slipping his fingers away from your G-spot, up and over your clit, your orgasm weakening.

“Ugh,” you grumble.

“We have time,” Yangyang tells you, “to have sex.” He looks at you through his eyelashes, gradually lowering his head under your shirt, his shirt. After Monday, he wondered if you ever owned any shirts yourself, or if you donated all of them once you ‘discovered’ his closet. “Tell me you want it too.”

“I want you.”

He doesn’t know whether to clown you or flirt with you. The first option would make you laugh, but the second would get him laid. Luckily, you decide for him, shimming out of your jeans and panties, then you slide his pants down to his ankles. He wraps his hand around your throat, drawing you to his lips, and he unintentionally squeezes when you settle on the tip of his c.ock. As you ride him, your walls hug his d!ck nicely, giving it a nice tight feeling that he can’t help but moan at. You straighten your back to gain some height over him and slip your tongue in his mouth. His hands reach out to your ass, guiding your hips forward in waves. He starts breathing heavier and his grip gets stronger.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum.”

Yangyang kisses you, pulling your words into his mouth, “So cum.”

“Fuck.”

He chases after your high, under the guise of helping you ride out this orgasm, getting his d!ck to twitch deeply inside you. When his hold gets too firm, you whine, suddenly over stimulated. Your nails dig into his bicep roughly, barely soothed by the t-shirt he still wears. He thrusts asynchronously with you before coming undone and dragging you into his chest. You feel warm and sweaty in this post-sex glow, your hand and head resting on his chest. He traces little hearts on your inner wrist, not wanting to let you go completely.

“You need to stop picking my underwear if you’re just going to destroy them,” you joke, kissing him on the cheek. “I have to double wash these thongs you know.”

“Can we –“ Yangyang swallows a lump in his throat. He feels like he is pulling you impossibly close, even though you are not moving away. “Can we go back to that thing you were saying earlier?”

“Hmm?”

“The,” he pauses, indecisive whether he actually wants to bring everything up right now. He ultimately decides for it. “Part with the ‘I love you’?” He knows that his voice sounds smaller than normal and that his eyes are shifting nervously at yours, but he wants to hear it again, wants the validation.

“Right,” you understand, nodding your head equally slowly. You straddle his lap again, and he immediately balances you by the waist, wanting to keep that impossibly close distance. “I’m – I’ve fallen –“ You swallow, looking away, but he needs you to look at him. Because if you can’t say it to his face, how does he know that you’re not just saying it out of obligation? Thankfully though, you see to be on the same wavelength, returning to his eyes, and his breath hitches, abs shaking in anticipation. You confidently give him the sentiment, “I love you.”

Yangyang tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, watching the way his fingers finish, stroking along our cheekbone. “I know,” he whispers coolly, leaning into your ear. “It’s hard not to love me,” he changes the subject, “I’m the best.” You scoff and push his chest, but he fastens an arm around you as equally fast, smiling too wide. He is a little sorry, for ruining the moment, but his laugh isn’t convincing at all. “I love you too.”

Sex, you think, feels infinitely better once the weight was lifted off your chest, once the spoonful of love was added. And the way Yangyang keeps kissing you, absolutely obsessed with holding your waist, tells you that spoonful is a misnomer, too small. The measurement for an entire ocean might be a better description. Still though, you would never call describe sex as love making, especially not to his face. At that point, you would be faced with an ‘oh, my god; that’s disgusting, man’ – not that you mind entirely, because the teasing smile he uses is so, so important to you, and sex feels just like that – the love part, not the disgusting thing. Although, sometimes he can be quite disgusting, yanno. Ah, he just makes you want to skip class and stay in bed beside him all day.

Except, both of you know how bad of an idea that is, with midterms are right around the corner.

Despite that, he spends the night at your apartment again, staying up until 3AM even though he has abnormal psych at 8 on Thursdays.

“I need a study break.”

You roll the cover of your design textbook towards your spiral notebook and toss the pile onto the floor, kicking the blankets off your feet. Yangyang barely spares you a glance, too absorbed in his case study. It is the last of five, and he only has the results, psychometrics, and summary statement left to write for this one before he is completely done for the week. Similarly, you have an exam on Joseon architecture later today and you are a third of a chapter away from catching up on reading, but honestly, fortresses get annoying to look at, especially when you have to compare militia structures against lower-class housing. So, you infiltrate Yangyang’s personal bubble, sliding an arm over his hips and your head into his lap.

“Does this mean I have you join you?” he teases, already putting away his pens. He pushes all his study materials by his feet, never leaning too far up, to keep your head in place. It gets even more comfortable when he relaxes again, resting across the pillows. You close your eyes, melting, when he massages your scalp, like he immediately knows where every knot or corner of tension are.

“I would really appreciate it, if you joined me.” You sigh. His touch is heavenly, and it makes you tighten your arm over his pelvis.

Eventually, Yangyang goes back to his homework, this time reclining in a way that lets you curl into his side. And you aren’t actually asleep, just mildly daydreaming with your eyes shut, thinking about literally anything (Yangyang) other than structures. When he raises a book midair, in front of his face, you move positions, sprawling across his chest, leg coming between his thighs. You (purposefully) annoyingly stick your head under his cheek, to ensure that you, at least, moderately block some of the passage.

Yangyang giggles. “Am I officially joining you now?” He puts his papers on your nightstand and wraps an arm around your shoulders, luring you to his lips. Your leg slithers above the waistband of his joggers, and he helps you straddle him again, sinking into the mattress to get a good view of the way you look in his oversize hood, in only his oversized hoodie. “You’re clingier.”

“Than what?” you ask innocently, rubbing his shirt fabric along his chest. You start pouting, as a response to his silence. Does he not want to cuddle? You shake your head. No, he does, given the way he pushes up the hoodie and yanks you further up his lap. “We cuddle the same amount.” You lower toward his ear, holding his neck in place, and whisper, “Do you not want to? Because I can leave.”

Before you can even think about getting off, he kisses you, sitting up. “Don’t go.” His hands come under your ass, squeezing as your arms circle around his neck. “It’s just –“ He bites his lip, suppressing a whine, which you can feel clog his throat. “You can’t sit on my lap like this. I’m getting hard.”

“Again?” you taunt. He slaps your butt, rather harshly, leaving a warm tingling sensation that he kneads away. You grind into his touch and kiss up his neck. “We can try the Pomodoro method.” You blow into his ear, shakily, as his hand presses particularly rougher. “I’ll set a timer for 25-minutes.” You look at him with chaste, despite the way you are purposefully making his blood rush. His fingers move to the edge of the hood, lifting it slightly. “Think we can have fun in just 25 minutes?”

“Mmmhmm,” he agrees early, nodding his head forward to kiss you. You don’t let him meet you though, not that you think he really noticed, what with being distracted by your very naked legs. He slowly sits up, all the way, and you feel his d!ck twitch against your thighs.

“Or do you think we won’t be able to finish?”

Yangyang throws you onto the bed and removes his shirt in one fell swoop. “Bet?”

“Missionary?” you ask, almost sticking your tongue out at him. “You’re getting more vanilla.”

Yanygyang gasps, then whacks your butt. “Take that back!”

You prop yourself on your elbows, eying all the naked parts of him up and down, from his low waisted briefs to his well-defined pecs to the rather cross sulk on his lip. “Make me.”

“Don’t have to.” He takes away your smirk, displaying it across his face. You tilt your head to the left, expression slacking blankly, but you catch on, feeling his fingers outline your sides. He slips his thumb between your lips, pushing it slowly until you basically give him a finger job, like a preview to the actual head he wants. “You’re already prepped.”

Your eyes flicker up, purely, as if he is about to ruin you for the first time. It’s his favorite part whenever you blow him – you looking into his eyes, taking every inch of him. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, dragging your lip down until he lets go, your lips smacking together. You bite your lip, suddenly feeling empty, even though neither of you have really done anything yet. “Are you going to fuck me then?” Your voice sounds so harmless, now lacking the bite as you mentally anticipate his d!ck to stretch you open right now. He shakes his head, no. “So what –“

Yangyang spreads your legs a little wider, strictly, darting in the direction of your main bullseye point. His touches remain light and teasing, not getting there yet, responding to all the little mannerisms that make your lower body so rhythmic. He rubs a finger, swirling the ends of his movements to get your hips riding his digits. You whimper breathily, voice cracking at such a high pitch. He sweeps your bottom lip, pressing his tongue softly, making you wish that he would fuck you already. It is insanely evil, for him to give you a preview of the intense foreplay without actually doing it, barely giving you the imagery of it all. You clutch his shoulder, to steady him for a constant kiss and to actually get on his slender fingers. But he never lets you. Instead, he pulls you by your ass, one-handed, forcing you to roll your hips on the silhouette of his d!ck. Fuck, how can you even feel his c.ock? His joggers are so thick. He maintains the stupid, inhumane taunts, kissing the air between you two, caressing everywhere along your hole. A few minutes pass without him changing the routine, so you reverse the positions, throwing him on your mattress and straddling his lap like a stripper. And with almost the same level of experience, or confidence (you hope it’s confidence), you seesaw over his d!ck. He swiftly locks your arms around his neck and his behind your lower back, palming your ass. You look into his eyes for a second, then kiss him roughly, smashing your lips on his.

“You’re. So. Eager. Today,” he says, muddied by elongated spit noises. His eyes are flittered closed as he smiles smugly, accepting your style of manhandling. Your embraces are light and rapid, doing everything in your power to prevent him from straying too far. But his abs get too shaky, too firm, the familiar build up washing over him, so he has to pull away. When he does, you try chasing him and he brushes your hair behind your ear, slowly stroking your jugular vein like ticking baby hairs. “I love you.”

You smile. “I love you too.” You peck his lips, now sitting sticky on his lap. He looks so pretty, eyes glazed and lips slightly parted. You just have to kiss him again.

Yangyang bends your back to the comforter, guiding you by the throat, simultaneously pushing his pants mid-thigh, c.ock bouncing more freely. It slaps your p.ussy, naturally twitching aroused. He is so close that when he pumps himself a few strokes, his knuckles rasp along your clit and you buck your hips for more touches. You feel his wet tip run along your slit, and you just know that his hand locks above his balls, right around his base, ready to push in. But you stop him.

“Let me ride you,” you pant, slowly opening your eyes.

He nods his head enthusiastically, and you pop off his head. You turn around, back facing him as you take off the hoodie, leaning down to graze your n!pples on the blanket.

Yangyang wails. “That’s not fair. I want to see.” He takes off his pants, to be as equally naked.

You redirect his attention back to your p.ussy, using your first two fingers to pinch your clitoral hood and gently tug it up and down, over his d!ck as you back into him. He lets out a loud moan at the sight; it takes everything in him to not thrust, listening to your command ordering him to wait. You brush your hair over your shoulder again and look at him behind your shoulder, sultry. Your mood changes are so sexy. His body moves automatically, hunching over your spine to litter you with kisses, his hand trailing behind his saliva. You take that palm and put it on your t!t as you grind his c.ock between your ass cheeks, sliding it to the most sensitive nerves of your p.ussy. He aids your building orgasm with two fingers, leaning his metacarpal inside of your thigh to rub circles specifically under your nub.

“Oh my god,” you exhale, walls throbbing in a vacuum of emptiness, needy.

You sit up and push him onto the pillows by his chest, then reach behind to grab his c.ock erect. His breath thunders, encouragingly. He waits for you to do something, scanning your bare back for every little love bite and mark. You slowly descend and use your knees to bounce, ass swirling between his thighs. Your hips oscillate from outward jumping to figure eights, to rocking sideways. And his favorite position seems to be when you take all of him, gyrating shallowly, letting only about an inch leave your p.ussy before you slam back down on him. You mimic his slaps, taking your hand off his inner thigh to grip your ass, dragging your nails up, leaving a tingling sensation. He rolls his eyes to the back of his head, recording the moment in his brain forever, then slaps your jiggling flesh several times. This position gets his big c.ock deep within your p.ussy, causing his balls to bump against your labia. Then he starts thrusting with you, pounding his hips up.

“Fuck, Fuck, Yanygang. Mmhm.”

He copies your expletives, adding some bad girl’s and other lewd nicknames, before slamming with some finality. You think that he is about to cum, but he withdraws, making you whine sharply. Yangyang flips you onto your back, immediately attacking your chest. His hands support you like a wired bra and shakes them, pushing the pads of his thumbs into your sternum so that your hardened n!pples remain level with his mouth. He licks one lightly, circling around the areola, then latches on, sucking with his tongue flattened under your skin. You arch your back to him, drawing him close. He repeats the action on the other, but longer, as he pinches and kneads your b.oob.

“Come on my d!ck again, you dirty little girl,” he orders, voice low and hoarse.

“Then stop pulling out,” you whisper, similarly breathless.

“Okay.”

You lean away from him, supported with your hands on his thighs, spinning your hips in circles and side to side. His hands squeeze your waist, jostling you to his chest brutally.

“Don’t do that,” he growls, teeth barring before he kisses you again, croaking the moan in your throat. He drags you close, fingers digging into esophagus so that his tongue and reach inside.

Your grip scratches on his triceps, pink lines haunting his skin. You keep bouncing up and down, until his chokehold drops. His mouth falls open, releasing strings of curses after gasps. He spanks you hard, twice, then grips your ass, jerking it savagely. You change the motion, grinding in tiny, little, miniscule circles. Your thighs shiver, your entire body following. He rotates his d!ck, thrusting asynchronously. And you claw through his hair, tugging the strands rougher and rougher as your abdomen keeps tightening.

“Almost, almost,” you whimper. “I’m so close.”

Yangyang pulls your bottom lip with his teeth. “Me too.”

You begin slowing down, no longer able to bounce up and down, choosing to rock back and forth. Then, everything stops for just a second, your walls compressing his springy c.ock until you break. All of his muscles grate against you, making you feel each ridge and movement. He follows your orgasm, feeling the way you milk every drop out of him, sucking his entire length balls deep. Your whine sounds like a treble, harmonizing with his lower moan. And you two spend another moment in cowgirl position, collecting your breaths, basically fused together.

“I love you,” Yangyang repeats. Ever since yesterday morning, he has been throwing out the sentiment spontaneously whenever he can: during sex, after sex, while cuddling, in the middle of study dates, behind his cup of coffee at the physics café in the afternoon when no one else is nearby. He follows up with another confession, “I want more than 25-minutes.” And it catches you off guard, considering his previous statement and the other, in the midst of sex, or love making, as some people would call it.

“The 25-minutes is just for right now,” you reassure him, gently patting his cheeks. “We have to study. I still have part of a chapter left to read.”

“Then say it back.”

You pull his face to yours, brushing your noses together. “I love you,” you tell him slowly, enunciating every syllable.

“So, spend the night at my place tomorrow,” he requests. His arms come behind your lower back, his eyes pouting like a lamb.

“Of course,” you answer impulsively, immediately going to kiss him after. Then you pull away, stopping him on the shoulders. “Wait. You have roommates. You have six roommates.”

“Four,” he corrects you – Sicheng graduated last year and moved in with Yuta. “We’ll be fine. Dejun is going with Kun to some conference; I don’t remember what. Hendery is staying at an AirBnB before the EDM festival this weekend. Lucas is …” Yangyang bites his cheek, trying to recall his roomates’ schedules. “I think he’s going on a date. I don’t know, but he bought roses and they’re sitting in the fridge. And Renjun … Renjun …” Yangyang swallows. He almost forgot about the tidbit that he learned at the Halloween party last weekend.

“Renjun what?” you ask, pecking him lightly and chastely.

“Won’t be there either.” Yangyang stops you. “Can I ask you a serious question?”

You sense the serious tone and straighten up, clasping your hands around his neck. “What’s up?” you prod slowly.

“Did you really like him?” he questions so softly that you almost do not hear him. “Renjun?” he clarifies after you stay quiet (even though it was just a few seconds).

“Yeah,” you answer quietly, not entirely sure if you even want him to hear you, the ambience settling into something melancholier. “But I love you.”

It seems like he ignores you.

“Why didn’t you get with him?”

“You don’t mean that.”

You shake your head, pulling back, your eyes painfully dry. All the fuzzy spots from your orgasm earlier connect the dots in your head, and you wonder what this is, if he doubts you, doesn’t trust you.

But he agrees, “You’re right. I just … I mean, why are you with me instead?”

“Instead?” you ask. You come back to him – it’s always him, and you hold his face, making him look at you. “I’m not with you instead of Renjun. There’s no compet!tion. I love you,” you enunciate the confession again to really emphasize it.

“But –“

It doesn’t seem to stick. And you sigh with your entire body, slumping away from him. “Does it really bother you that much?” You shift around, biting your lip while his soft c.ock scrambles inside you. He meets your eyes this time, scanning your pupils for more reassurance. “You are kind and smart and hard-working and insanely talented, and … and I love you.” He stays quiet, and you almost throttle him, needing a bit of affection too. “Say it back,” you beg, differently from minutes ago. You drop your forehead on his shoulder. “Please.”

Yangyang seems to understand and reciprocates, “I love you too.”

You pull yourself to face him and beam, mirroring his tender gummy smile. Then, you kiss him again, toppling him into the pillows. He rolls you over, causing you to giggle loudly as he peppers small bites along your cheeks, across your nose, and whispers the same confession on loop.

“I love you,” he ends, kissing you deeply. He comes up for air, inhaling sharply. “So, stay the night with me tomorrow – tonight. At my place.” He brushes your hair away from your face, to get a better look at the sweet glaze in your eyes. You think that you fall in love a little more, especially with all his domestic acts.

“Okay,” you agree.

“Okay,” he repeats. “Okay.” He nods his head, smiling wider, if possible, and kisses you over and over and over again.

Funny thing about Fridays: Yangyang doesn’t have a morning class, doesn’t have class at all actually; meanwhile, you have another art history class, at eight. The damn class is 90-minutes, so it is held three times a week. His lectures, you recall bitterly, go on for 2-3 hours each, granting him the three day weekend that every college student desires, pushing his classes to the first four business days of the week. That means he can stay up all night Thursday to Saturday, gaming for long hours into the night – not that you get to see it often, because when you do stop by the frat house, you spend time with anyone else. And usually, someone is visiting at the same time. You know, you write yourself into Xiaojun and Sicheng’s pool compet!tion, or watch moves with Lucas, but tonight (really morning, considering that it is 1 A.M.), you sit with Yangyang in his wide gaming chair, thumbing at The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild (BotW) while he plays Overwatch with Haechan and Jeno. Thankfully, you don’t have any major assignments due later or any in-class presentations, so you can just curl up next to your boyfriend and pull an all-nighter, stealing snacks and drinks from his new mini-fridge so that you can avoid accidentally bumping into one of his roommates. Although, you Uber’ed to his place with a box of friend chicken and side dishes.

After the same gold lynel kills of Link for the third time in a row (the one in the Hebra region, outside the shrine, that has a sword you want), you lazily toss the controller onto his desk. Dying again and again gets frustrating, and you need to relieve the buzz. So, you turn to Yangyang, who looks to be in the middle of a campaign (is that what his levels are called?), and start asking him questions about his video game. Like, you know how sometimes people get so desperately horny that they ask their partner to explain Overwatch to them? Yeah, that is exactly how this feels, as Yangyang’s distracted voice describes his location and next move. And it is no wonder that he is a psych major – he is good at communication.

“What does that character do?” you whisper-ask, while the screen refreshes after he wins a battle.

“That’s an attacker.”

“A huh,” you nod along. You vaguely know what that means, based on the t!tle and all your years of the Club Penguin Card Jitsu game. “And that one?”

Yangyang removes his headset to around his neck and faces you, grinning sideways. “Are we sharing interests right now?” He pushes your legs apart, then straddles you over his thigh. His desk separates you and the game, pressing a fine line between the bones in your spinal cord. He turns the microphone down, muting himself from his friends. It is one thing for the two of you to be alone in the frat house and another for his close friends to physically hear you in his arms. “Or are you just needy for my attention?” Yangyang pulls one hand on your skin, rubbing small soothing circles. “That’s a sign of a relationship, you know.” He leans into your ear, whispering, “Like a date.”

You push him against the chair cushions, scrunching your nose at his laughter. “As if we haven’t done that already,” you say sarcastically, rolling your eyes for emphasis.

“What?” he asks. “Go on a date?”

You nod your head. Neither of you really call these types of things dates, but they are. Sometimes you also hang out in public, alone, maybe holding hand or kissing, even though lately it seems like you stay inside and study and have sex all the time. Actually, there is a rave going on this weekend with one of your favorite DJs – one shared equally by the two of you. You have yet to invite Yangyang, but now seems like a good time.

“You don’t really care about my games,” he pouts, “Do you?”

“I’m sorry,” you agree, pouting with him. “I don’t speak nerd.”

Yangyang gasps, sitting up straighter. “It’s not a nerd thing! It’s a game of strategy!”

You shake your head, still not understanding. “I don’t speak virgin either.”

He slaps your ass. “We both know that isn’t true.”

“Am I supposed to be the virgin, in this scenario?”

“Are you becoming a born-again virgin?”

You shrug. “What would you do if I did?” You completely straddle his lap, scooting up his thighs until his d!ck sits at attention between your abdomens, and you whisper in his ear, “Would you leave me?” You bite his ear, softly licking the external side then blowing on it. “Would you ruin me? Take it away?”

“Virginity is a social construct,” he reminds you, growling. He slips his hands into your underwear. “I’ll ruin you right now.”

Except, another round on his game loads, and you find yourself leaning onto his shoulder opposite the microphone so that he can play, despite the insane wetness soaking your underwear right now. Then, two more games go by and you want his attention. He asked you to stay the night with him, and this doesn’t necessarily feel like that. So, you get off his lap, slithering down his legs onto the ground, onto your knees.

First, you untie his pants and spring his d!ck out. It’s not difficult, because (1) he has pyjama bottoms on, and (2) he manspreads like a motherfucker, giving you easy access. Then, the blow job starts. You lick your palm a couple times and angle his tip in your mouth, starting soft. His legs tense momentarily, making you consider stopping, but a hand appears, pushing you halfway down his length.

“You look so pretty down there, angel.”

He obviously did not actually look at you; you know because he usually makes eye contact when he is close to cumming, enjoying the way your eyes glass over. And because his keyboard continues clicking.

You continue on that way – keeping one hand squeezed halfway down his d!ck; hollowing your cheeks, adding extra suction all over his tip; flattening your tongue on the underside and rolling it like sushi at the very top. Despite his d!ck being fully erect in your mouth, his attention is less than enthusiastic, fingers working diligently on those numbers. It gives you an idea. You start bobbing your head faster, in tune with his typing, egged on by his compet!tiveness. And when his voice goes up an octave, your grip gets tighter, only slacking when you drop back down halfway. His groan echoes in your ear, sounding like he lost (whatever that means), so you pull off. He breathes a little bit harder after the smacking sound falls from your lips, preceding all the fluttering little kisses down his shaft. You hold his d!ck up and lick one stripe up between his balls, and he shouts at his friends:

“Alright! I’m done for the night. Play tomorrow. Bye!”

Yangyang pulls you to your feet, standing with you. He scans your eyes, pulling you closer and closer, debating whether to kiss you or not; he never really kisses you after you suck his d!ck, unless he eats you out too.

“Bed now,” he orders you in whispers, patting your butt a little too hard. You fall onto his queen-sized mattress stomach down, bouncing with his fluffy duvet. He kneels next to you, lifting his sweater off your thighs and spanking you again, three times. Each smack precedes a loud, high-pitched gasp. “You’re so needy.”

“Fuck,” you mutter at a particularly hard hit, his hand slipping to the wet p.ussy lips that need some friction. “Is that a bad thing?”

A door shuts loudly down the hall, making you two straighten up in attention. You prop yourself forward on your elbows, staring at the door. Yangyang watches your reaction, his ears alert and back facing the door. You hear Hendery walking up the stairs, something jangling with him, like keys or plates. A second pair of feet march with him, making you look at Yangyang. He shrugs his shoulders, shaking his head; he thought everyone was going to be gone this weekend, which does not apparently start on Fridays for his roommates.

“You’re going to need to be quiet,” he whispers. This is nothing new. The two of you constantly fuck, like rabbits, regardless if anyone can hear you, but Hendery is two rooms down and Yangyang is sliding two fingers knuckle deep until hitting the urethral sponge. His curling has your thighs tensing to the point of shaking. As he settles between your legs (not letting up on the pressure), he taps your sternum twice, telling you to keep still and quiet.

But you moan. It just comes out, not something that you can control. Especially when he nips all around your clit, lip biting at your skin and sucking small bruises. He keeps going like this, nodding his head for more vibrations everywhere except the most sensitive spot. Your breath gets more labored, breaking loudly.

“You need to be quieter,” he reminds you.

“Mmm, I can’t. You’ll have to move slower.”

Yangyang speeds up his fingers. “Not a chance.” He swipes his thumb across your clit once, then twice, then harder, giving it a little pinch. “Even if you cum, I’m still going.”

You whine, disagreeing. “Mmm mmm, you can’t say things like that. Fuck –“ He starts crawling over your body, peppering light touches along your stomach, around your b.oobs, above your collarbone. “- I want to cum.” You mewl, again frustrated, because he pulls his fingers out. He gestures you to shush, putting them in your mouth. With his hands occupied around your face and throat, his d!ck jostles, sliding between your p.ussy lips without actually entering. “Please,” you beg, “I want to cum so bad.”

“Ugh,” Yangyang moans in your ear, this time guiding himself inside your warm and aching hole. “I know,” he tells you. “I can feel it.” He rotates onto his side, propping up one of his legs to get into an easier position where he can pound you better. You grab one of the pillows, briefly arresting it with your nails acting like handcuffs before settling it under your oblique. The new angle puts Yangyang right back at your G-spot, his tip abusing the sponge harshly. “You’re milking my c.ock, huh? You’re – You want me so bad, huh?”

“Mm hmm, yeah,” you agree. His gaze fixates on the way your ass claps against his pelvis. He doesn’t even have to lead you anymore; you start backing up on him, motivated the rougher he tugs your hair. “Please, please,” you chant in whispers. He spreads your cheeks, obsessed with the disappearing act you pull, needing to see it more.

“Fuck,” he groans. He cups your b.oob off the mattress, supporting the other one with his arm, and pinches at your n!pple, swirling it around between his thumb and index finger. “Come on, pretty girl. You need to cum?” You nod your head fervently, face warming intensely. “So, cum on my c.ock. You can do it; come on.” He drops your chest for your neck, pushing your head into the blankets so he can kiss you again, incoherently vibrating broken praises on your lips.

“Yangyang, Yangyang, I’m – I’m – Harder, please. I’m so – Oh, fuck.”

He moans your name seconds after, spilling into your pulsating core, and relaxes, chest falling into an equilibria rhythm with yours. His c.ock softens, finishing its workout, so you swing your leg away from him and spin around, placing a hand on his chest. You stare at him for a little bit, like watching the sun set. He peaks an eye open, then closes it quickly, teasing you because he knows that you saw it.

“You’re going to get cross-eyed staring at me,” Yangyang jokes.

“Then let me get cross-eyed,” you counter, slithering an arm under his head like a neck cushion.

“That’s disgusting.”

You scoff, pulling on the ends of his hair. “You’re disgusting.”

He smacks your butt lightly. It is definitely his favorite punishment. “And you can call it a kink, fyi.” He opens his eyes in time to see you pout, and in return, he pecks your lips, pulling away just as fast.

You look over his shoulder at the time: 2 A.M. and bury your face in his chest. “We need to stop sleeping so late. My body can’t handle this.”

“My body can handle yours.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, even though he would not be ready to go again, at least for twenty minutes.

You chew on your lip a little bit, then repeat a post-sex tradition (well, it has essentially become a tradition this week). “Can I ask you a question?”

Yangyang kisses your shoulder, wrapping a leg around yours to keep you locked nearby. “Of course, anything.”

“Do you want to go to the rave with me, this weekend?”

“Like,” he processes, still hidden the crevice of your neck, “as in a date?” He lays across your arm, and you notice the glint in his eye. “Are you asking me out? I was supposed to do that!”

“Oh?” you return the tease. “We can just not go then, and I’ll wait for you to ask me out.” You start getting up, but he drags you back down, tugging specifically on your hand. He kisses you as a confirmation that yes, he wants to go; he wants nothing more than to go on a real date with you.

[fandomsnfluff]

you better look at me and nothing else

summary: reki is busy fixing langa’s board, but langa wants reki to pay attention to him.

genre: fluff

warnings: none :)

read on ao3

Langa was currently being so, so annoying.

It was a real different side of him that Reki honestly wasn’t used to seeing.

Langa didn’t have to mention that his board was broken before Reki offered to fix it. Unfortunately, since it was a snap at one end of the whole board, he decided that the best thing to do was to replace the entire board. He promised to make it exactly like the original to ensure Langa’s maximum comfort and control, but of course, it would have to take time. Langa had been so well-behaved and so patient the first time around, but this time, he was being very…pokey. It wasn’t a wonder that it was taking Reki a little longer to construct the new board than the original.

Perhaps Langa was just deprived of his attention. Well, they had spent the last several days separated from each other due to an internal conflict that they were able to make up, and Reki had apologized for his behavior. He had promised Langa that he would be by his side for forever to guide him and do the one thing they found the most fun: skating.

Reki resisted the urge to return the boy’s affections. He knew Langa was doing it just because he wanted attention, but he wouldn’t let himself get distracted; if that were to happen, he was certain that he would never finish the board.

Then Langa began the typical cycle of speaking that he had done three times in the past hour and a half.

“Reki.”

“Mm.”

“Are you done yet?”

“Mm.”

“Come cuddle me.”

“Mm.”

Reki could let himself turn around and respond to Langa with real words, but if he were able to focus, the sooner he would finish his task, and the sooner Langa would be able to get these cuddles that he seemed so fond of.

But then, the instant that Reki felt something prod at the space around his toes, his focus snapped completely away from the task at hand. Turning his head to the right, he let out a yelp of surprise when he saw Langa sitting there, facing him. He could have sworn the older boy was just laying on his bed behind him.

“Langa, I won’t be able to finish soon if you keep bothering me.” Reki was tempted to give Langa a sharp-tongued retort, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so looking into his innocent blue eyes.

Then the poke happened again almost as soon as he got back to work, and Reki instantly pulled his leg away from the prying hand. “Can you stop it?” Then a sense of alarm began to grow within Reki’s chest as he noticed a glimmer of mischief in the icy blue eyes.

Reki anticipated what was coming; he knew Langa too well. Completely abandoning his task, he jumped up and ran for it, hearing the footsteps as Langa chased him around his room. He then pelted out the door to the room and began to ran around the entire house; Langa was hot on his heels the whole chase. Even though he anticipated what Langa would do to him if he caught him, Reki couldn’t help laughing as he ran.

As soon as his chest began to heave and his muscles started to cry out for him to stop, Reki made his way back to his room and, instead of attempting to close the door in Langa’s face, he made the very dumb decision to launch himself onto his bed and attempt to shield himself with the pillows and covers shoved into the corner.

Reki had barely flipped over onto his back before he let out a scream as Langa pinned him down, reaching for his sides. It was a new ‘punishment’ tactic that Langa had figured out was very effective; Reki was highly ticklish, and it was incredibly useful method to get the redhead to do basically anything he wanted.

Langa’s hands had found his sides, and Reki let out a scream that was quickly followed by embarrassingly high-pitched laughter. Even with the double layer of t-shirt and hoodie, he could still feel each and every single movement of Langa’s fingertips, and the hysterical noises and laughter unlike anything else was the only way he could respond to this inner panic. He violently thrashed and kicked in an attempt to free himself, but he was completely pinned on his back in the corner of his bed and he couldn’t move and oh God someone save him—

Then Langa’s hands found his armpits, and he let out a shriek like no other, deciding that he had had enough. “LAHANGAAA!!!” Reki cackled pathetically, hands attempting to grab at Langa’s despite being too slow. “STAHAHAPIT!!!”

Even through his tears, Reki could see the smirk on Langa’s face, and the horrendous sensations on his sides stopped. Even as Reki was panting, attempting to catch his breath, Langa leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his lips. Despite the gesture of affection, Reki turned his head, unlinking his gaze with Langa’s and letting out a huff of annoyance.

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

“Shut up.”

Then the two boys stared at each other in silence, before Langa broke it with a bout of raucous laughter. Reki couldn’t help but laugh along with him; he had never heard Langa laugh like that before. Reki was still figuring out for himself the causes of such a laughing fit in such a quiet boy, but he did know one thing: he wanted to be the only person who could make the older boy laugh in this way.

As soon as the two of them had gotten through their laughing fit, they ended up in a tangle of legs and arms on Reki’s bed. Reki had his head placed on Langa’s shoulder, and Langa’s legs had found their way to wrap around and essentially lock Reki’s to the bed. Reki, despite feeling the need to squirm from the feeling of having his legs pinned, was actually quite comfortable in this position.

“Your hair smells good,” Langa murmured, lowering his head to bury his nose into the red fluff.

“It’s the cinnamon bark shampoo,” Reki responded. “I used it ‘cause I knew you like it.”

“It’s really sweet.” Langa then proceeded to wrap his arms around Reki’s shoulders, pulling the smaller boy so close to him that they almost sank into each other. At this point, Reki was struggling to breathe properly, but in all honesty, he was so comfortable just being here with Langa. But he had a project to finish, and not only was Langa practically trapping him against his own body, he was exhausted from running around all night.

Needless to say, the board didn’t get done that evening. Langa was his for the evening.

[hughiecampbelle]

Parting Gift (Sam Wilson Oneshot)

Character/s: Sam

Word Count: 1,411

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @myriadimagines @lilyswritings @encounterthepast @writerdream22 @brithedemonspawn @megnotfound @ladyeliot @locke-writes @thedarkqueenofavalon @fangirlsarah16 @randomfandomimagine @amirahiddleston @diana-westmoon @valkyrie-2312

A/N: This was supposed to be fluffy, but the closest I can get to that is melancholy lol. The weathers been nice and it got me feeling nostalgic for summer. I hope this gives off that vibe, if that makes sense? Sam just seemed perfect for this and I kinda love this :) It doesn't exactly fit the timeline, but oh well :P There are only Endgame spoilers, none with TFATWS. I can't thank you enough for letting me rest with my health/writing and posting in general. I hope you like it! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💖💜

Summary: You finally got him back 💌

Gif Credit: @biwilson / link 💕

FIC MASTERLISTS 1 -> 3 /WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST?

The low hum of the fan stirs in the quiet heat, restless, a lullaby you've grown used to since the season thawed. The snow puddles disappearing from the hot sidewalks, the grass growing green, the layers shedding around you until there is nothing but skin and the cool air that kisses it. It's old and shaky, the blades twisted, the fixture rattling, threatening to fall from the ceiling with every spin. Another chore you simply never got around to fixing, neglected much like the rest of the house. Like you, it was lucky it was still standing. The floors cried and creaked, needing to be replaced, but where was the time? The paint chipped, falling flake by flake, the shelves in need of dusting, the lawn grown too long, things were rusted, ruining, aging. Everything crooked, leaning, too heavy to stand on its own. One in the same, you and it, a reflection of your inner world, your inner turmoil, your grief defying, humanizing, materializing in rusted pipes, in thorny bushes, and weeds sprouting in the cracks of the sidewalks.

It was your dream. An escape. A slice of heaven he plucked from the skies. At least, that's how he'd described it. His hand, warm and calloused, over your eyes, letting your suspicions get the better of you, questioning like a child. What color was the door? How many windows? Was there a backyard? A steadiness in his voice you knew was not as solid as he showed, leading you past the street, past your new neighbors, the shade of the trees making your skin prickle. Up the path, you tried counting your own steps, anything to cheat the system. A leap of faith, you put so nicely. A house he passed by, one that struck him, caught his eye in a way nothing ever had. You? A house? Romanticized by the shoe box apartments the city had to offer, you never pictured any other life. Not out of opposition, but sheer innocence, a passive, thoughtless gesture you'd never recognized until the opportunity came along. Little convincing, it took. Somewhere far away from danger, from life, where you would always be safe together. That was enough. Always would be.

A fixer upper, that's what it was. Someone to care for in their old age, a long forgotten space only one with a heart of gold could fall for. Whether you were speaking of you, or the house, he'd never get the chance to ask. Where he saw the two of you, together, watching the rain pour from outside, comforted by a warm kitchen, a grand bedroom, nooks you could fill with hints of yourselves, you saw a slanted driveway, an unkempt garden, leaky ceilings and no hot water. He had hope. Dripped in honey,band hope, his voice sang through the thin walls, a symphony of ideas, of dreams for what it would one day be, taking you by the hand, leading you through. A maze of projects, big and small, things you'd add to a list of infinite length, your pen running out of ink long before you ever reached the bottom. For now, a coat of paint, a bucket or two for the leaks. He promised you, in the middle of an empty house, that it would one day be your home. You trusted him, because he was so sure of it, unlike anything else before.

You watched him sleep, the two of you facing one another. The sheets long discarded, too warm to even touch. You could follow the rise and fall of his back, the way in which he held the pillow to him, as if scared to let go. Tracing every line of him with your eyes, taking note of every single change, drinking him up every second you had together. The beads of sweat across his hairline. The upturn of his mouth, a whisper of a smile, as if caught in a sweet dream. The lines you see in yourself not yet reflected in him. Untouched by time. Five years could turn into a lifetime with the right kind of loneliness.

Plastic stuck to the furniture, bloated, sweaty, patiently waiting to be unwrapped. You couldn't bear to look at it, any of it, turning away from entire rooms, going only where it was necessary, using what you needed, not ready to face this place alone. It wasn't that first day, where your things, tightened by the city smog and lack of breathing room, were scattered wherever they might fit, left to expand in their new environment. The kitchen table in the living room. Chairs in the hallway. A couch discarded by the window, blocking the natural light. For the time being, he promised. Too many boxes to count, filled to the brim of glasses and mugs, wedding pictures and high school yearbooks, things you thought you needed, and things you knew you did. All of it wrapped in plastic, paper, t-shirts and towels. Whatever you could find to protect it. Sleeping on the floor those first few days, the mattress late, the frame even later, leaning on one another for that kind of comfort. It wasn't that first day, or week, but enough time to settle. The small things weren't yet opened. Two cups, to dishes, an endless waiting game for supplies to be shipped, of time to be found between work days and exhausted nights. He had a plan though, first the inside, then out. Sometimes there weren't enough plans, or lists, or schedules in the world to stop what would come next.

All of this, less than a month before The Blip.

Things hadn't changed since then, not without him. Five years you carved your path into the floorboards, avoiding everything that hurt like a landmine. His cup, his dish, his knife, and fork, and spoon, untouched. You would not look through your wedding album, or seep into the couch you bought together, or pluck the thorn riddled bushes like you pictured. His side of the bed empty, his clothes tucked away where you didn't have to see. All except one shirt taped up, turned away. His cologne fading from the collar, something out of your control, that made you want to scream. Everything these days, it seemed, was out of your control. Others, they moved on eventually. Started dating. Remarried. Found new friends, had more kids, picked up where they left off. Family reached out, teammates too, but you couldn't look at them. The anger, the sadness, all of it overwhelming. It left you drowning in questions no one had the answer to, everyone asking themselves the same thing: Why him, and not them? Why him, and not you? Why did any of this happen in the first place?

Isolating became the cure, and the corruption. The salt in the wound, a familiar sting you grew to expect, even want. A home for two, he promised, only now you were one. How cruel could the universe be? Hour by hour, day by day, you counted, carrying on for when he'd be back, because he would be. Sam, your Sam, too stubborn a man to give up like that. You would have dusted, washed the floors, made the place a little more welcoming if you'd known he'd be back when he did. Everyone came back, reappearing out of thin air, but where they felt frenzy, uncertain in explaining all that's happened, you were at peace, able to breathe again. Time had stopped when he was gone, your life paused. You could feel it, the moment when, the clocks in the house ticking once again inside their boxes.

Now, you lay together, as you had that first night. Not on the floor, not as naive as you were, but together none of the less. The sunlight strains, wanting to light up the room from behind the curtains. Even without it, you find yourself baking, wishing the fan would have a little more power. Sleeping in, you could have laughed. Five years he had, somewhere else, to rest, and yet you let him, not wanting to wake from what you fear might be a nightmare. If you woke up, and he was gone again, you weren't sure what you'd do, how much longer you could stand it. He assured you though, much like he had with this house, everything would work out in the end. That he was here, and he'd never leave you again.

Ever.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Smell and Memories.”

This went a bit longer than I intended, but I made this based on a request from the discord server. I hope this is what everyone was looking for, and have a great day 

Adam wasn’t sure what had woken him up; by all rights, he certainly shouldn’t have been awake at all. He was so…. Comfortable. Maybe that's what it was? The beds at the academy weren’t exactly first rate, and right at this moment he felt as if he was floating on top of a cloud.

Something wasn’t right about that.

He probably should have fallen back to sleep instead of thinking about it, but the more time he spent thinking the more awake he became, until he noticed something else, and that was the quiet humming of some sort of distant generator.

That wasn’t right either, the academy didn't have a generator anywhere near the barracks. He might have expected to hear the distant roaring of engines, or even the sound of marching footsteps, but not a generator.

He could feel it vibrating below him, a soft thrumm that rolled up from the floor and into his body.

He cracked an eye, and was immediately confused at what he saw.

It was like staring into an abstract painting where the brain fights to find something familiar, and seems to only just fail. 

He lurched upright, staring around the room in confusion.

It took a few minutes, but eventually the room coalesced around him.

And what he saw didn’t make any sense. The bed he sat in was…. Large queen if not king size, with soft grey sheets and a blanket…. Something he would never have been allowed at the academy. There was a TV and plenty of his things scattered miscellaneously around the room.

Turning to the left, he froze eyes wide…. On the massive window and the star field beyond.

What was that! 

It had to be some sort of projection! Because the only other option was that he was in space!

But no, that wasn’t right.

He had never been to space, not yet anyway. He wasn’t skilled enough at flying to take one of the darkfires, and even if that was the case, it didn’t make sense…. This was a large ship.

He turned himself sideways on the bed and went to stand slowly. It was only too late that he realized something was wrong, and he went crashing to the floor. The sudden fall was jarring, and unexpected, but what was worse….

Looking back at his body he realised, from about mid thigh down, he was missing a leg!

Sudden panic.

He crawled gasping back against the wall staring down at the missing limb, his hands trembling over the stump of where his right leg should have been..

WHere was he!

WHat had happened to him!

WHere was his leg!

Movement across the room, and he jerked violently back as a shape came trotting around the side of the bed, only relaxing when he realised it was a dog. The German shepherd walked up to him without hesitation sitting down at his side before pressing her head against his chest.

Voice still shaky he reached out and rubbed his hands through her fur, “h...hi…..I…. what’s your name?” He held out his hand to look down at her collar, but the tags didn’t have the name on them.

She lifted her head to look him in the face licking at him with her squishy pink tongue.

He smiled despite his inner panic.

Instead of walking away though, she pressed closer, forcing him to pet her until the panic slowly died away. As if on cue, she stepped back and trotted away, returning a moment later with something in her mouth dragging over the floor, dropping it into his lap.

He stared at it in confusion for a moment.

It looked like a prosthetic leg….. but …. wrong .

He tapped his finger against the blue outer layer, which felt like….. Nothing he had ever touched. And then the two toes at the end of the foot…. Like no animal he had ever seen.

“What is this?”

His own voice startled him, and he rested a hand against his chest.

Had his voice gotten… deeper?

The dog nosed his hand, and with a little fiddling, he was able to reach down and socket the leg into place. Not seconds after it had happened, he heard a soft whirring noise, and a blast of sensation rolled up from the fake leg. 

He could feel….

Everything.

It was honestly a relief, and he was finally able to wobble to his feet, looking around the room with wide eyes reaching out his fingers to touch the viewing screen. He assumed it was some sort of projection on glass, but still it looked pretty convincing, and pretty cool.

It would have been better if he knew where he was, whose bed that was, and whose dog this belonged to.

He limped awkwardly over to the mirror on the other side of the room. The leg felt weird, and he couldn't help but walk funny on it.

When he reached the mirror, he nearly staggered back in shock.

That wasn’t his face!

Or more accurately, it WAS his face, but….. older .

And then he got a good look at his right eye….. A robotic eye.

He yelped and scrambled back his hand to his face. He could feel the eye inside his head as he bumped into the foot of the bed and pitched backwards into a sitting position. For one horrible moment he wondered if his entire body had been replaced with robotic parts, but a test of his right arm proved that was not the case.

He sighed in relief still a bit wobbly.

He took another good look at the room. All this stuff looked like things he would own. Some of it he even recognized, but other bits of it, not so much.

He walked over to the wardrobe, and when he opened it, he found a pristine grey….. Admiral’s uniform.

He stepped back.

Yes this was certainly not his.

Somehow he had woken up in an Admiral’s room!

He was so screwed.

He looked down at himself. Sneaking out in a T shirt and boxers was not going to do it though, so he quickly shuffled through the closet coming up with a pair of grey BDUs pulling off the little velcro star on the shoulder. It’s a good thing this Admiral guy was almost exactly his size. 

Hopefully no one would notice and he would be able to sneak out.

He turned around and patted the admiral’s dog on the head, “Good girl” He said before standing up and reaching for the door.

It opened with a hiss, and he stepped out into the hallway rather sneakily. Closing the door quietly.

“Good morning, Admiral!”

He nearly leaped out of his boots and went blasting into the ceiling. He turned around hand to his chest in shock and surprise, breathing hard. The sharp 

British accent belonged to a tall woman with dark hair pulled up into a tight bun, and a pristine grey uniform, holding a  clipboard.

She didn’t seem surprised to see him.

He straightened himself up.

Just act natural, “Good morning….you….person.”

She blinked at him, “is everything alright, Admiral?”

Uh…. what?

He was a cadet, not an admiral. How was it that this person seemed to recognize him.

And how did he end up in an Admiral’s quarters.

There were a few options, most of them too outlandish to consider, one of them involving the random chance of hooking up with a superior officer who happened to look exactly like him, and being so drunk he lost all his memories about the encounter form the night before.

That didn’t seem right.

Even drunk he couldn’t imagine that scenario.

And if it was what had happened, than this admiral apparently had a thing for people who looked exactly like him…. Which was weird…. No, there had to be another explanation.

He just had to act…. Natural.

He straightened himself up, “Yes uh…. Of course… everything is alright.”

He just had to act more…. admiral -ish.

The lieutenant tilted her head at him, eyes narrowing in confusion.  She suspected him already?

Great.

But if she did suspect him, she didn’t say anything and let him out down the hallway. Teeth gritted, he followed after her back straight walking how he thought admirals should walk, though the weird feel of the prosthetic leg surely wasn’t helping.

They began to pass others in the hallway, and he assumed he would be recognized immediately, but they just waved and saluted.

“Morning Admiral.”

“Morning Adam.”

“Morning Sir.”

Adam? 

They knew his name?

He just smiled vaguely. The men frowned, but he passed y feeling their eyes on him as he made his way down the hall.

WHat was this place?”

He wanted to ask but knew that would be a dead give away.

He turned the corner as he was led into an elevator and took a short ride up into…. Something awesome.

It was like star trek…. Or or star wars or something. Or like walking onto the command deck at NASA: a massive circular room with dozens of seats, all manned by a uniformed officer, speaking to each other quickly and passing holo projections back and forth, all under the light of a massive star field, which could be seen out the front viewing screen.

And then, the quintessential captain’s chair in the center, sitting on a pedestal high above the rest.

He stood with his mouth open.

The lieutenant waited.

He looked at her, and she looked at him.

What now?

“Sir, morning diagnostics?” she motioned towards the chair.

He was about to motion to himself in surprise, but then stopped, “Oh… yeah yes of course…. Diagnostics, how could I forget.” He smiled awkwardly earning another strange look from the lieutenant as he walked over, and paused before the chair.

How could he say no to an opportunity like this.

He slid into place and took a deep breath.

This was so cool!

Now for…. diagnostics ?

He stared at the controls.

And recognized…. nothing .

Awkwardly, he reached out a hand to make it look like maybe he was doing something, but he wasn’t. He had had dreams like this before, but this was way way worse.

He had to get out of here.

He stood.

“I just remembered I forgot…. To do a thing.”

The Lieutenant stared at him in consternation as he walked past her and back into the elevator, closing the door quickly before she could follow him. The elevator began its descent.

Ok, what did he know? He was missing a leg and an eye, everyone here thought he was an admiral…. And he was…. Where?

The door before him opened up and he stepped out into the hall. Okay, he just had to find a door out of here.

He took one more step.

“Hey Adam, have you seen Sunny.”

“Er, no I.” he turned and froze on the spot like a block of ice, as the massive alien leaned its head down to look at him.

Frozen, hands out to his sides, he stared up at the creature mouth open at the massive, hulking shape.

Two toed feet, bipedal, with four pairs of arms, a bird-ish head and bright golden eyes.

An ALIEN!

That was an alien!

One of his legs began to tremble, either in excitement or fear he did not know.

This was it, this all made sense now! He had been abducted by aliens, and thrown into the matrix into a scenario that would keep him complacent while they used his body for probing and scientific purposes.

The alien tilted its head, “Adam, are you ok.

“Fine.” he squeaked “I have to go!”

And then he turned and ran. It wasn’t  a graceful run, and it certainly wasn’t being nonchalant, but to be fair, he was panicking! He had been abducted by aliens, he was sure of it, there was no other explanation for what was going on.

He skidded around a corner and pitched himself right into a wall, falling flat on his side, not used to the prosthetic leg. People stared at him as he scrambled to his feet and continued running, trying to find the best nearest hiding spot.

He eventually found something down in a dark maintenance tunnel, shoving himself into a vent or crevice next to a pipe where he could hyperventilate in peace.

Was that alien really cool, yes.

Was he scared out of his mind, yes.

Did he know what to do, no.

Was hiding here especially manly?... that could be debated at a later date.

He sat there brooding in the dark for a long moment until he heard footsteps coming up the hallway.

“Adam…. Adam are you in here.” 

He threw a hand over his mouth, eyes wide, breathing softly.

“Adam, hey is everything alright, I brought waffles.” He frowned. What the hello did that mean.

He figured it out with the wet snout poked it’s way into his hole and prodded him with her nose.

Shit

The german shepherd, of course. No wonder they had found him.

“Adam, are you ok.”

He scooted further into the hole as she shadow passed over his hiding spot, not that it was much of one any more. A foot stepped into place before him…. Bright blue, and with two toes.

Just like his prosthetic leg.

He yelped, then placed a hand over his mouth watching as the alien knelt before the little opening, staring in at him.

He wanted to say she looked….

Concerned.

Something about her was almost.

Familiar.

“Adam, what’s wrong.”

The dog scooted up next to him and rested her head against his chest.

More footsteps up the hall, and the alien stepped back. He sat there in the darkness, arms around the dog. What was happening! He had been found.

“What’s going on, Sunny.”

“I don’t know. I think he might be having an attack. Someone get Conn.”

Footsteps faded into the distance.

An attack?”

The alien knelt before the door again, reaching inside with her four fingered hand.

He stared at it.

She rested a hand on his leg, sending a strange burst of tingling bubbles up into his body, and for a moment he felt…

He recoiled from her in shock at himself.

She moved back.

“Krill, Dr Adric, thank spirits you’re here?”

“Whats wrong?’ 

“I think he’s having some sort of episode.”

“Well I am a medical doctor, there is not much that I can do here. Dr. Adric, this might be your area of expertise.”

The voices continued, “I'd suggest everyone step back then. Crowding is only going to make it worse.

He heard the shuffling of feet, and then another person kneeled in front of his hiding spot. A dark skinned man in a blue suit. He looked very distinguished, trustworthy.

“Adam,” His voice was soft, “Are you with us.”

He was caught, might as well talk with it, see what he could find, “Who are you, and where am I.”

The man seemed surprised, “I am doctor Adric, and you are on the UNSC Omen.”

“What is that.”

Though the man seemed surprised his voice was still and calming, “The UNSC omen is your ship.”

Adam stared at him, laughed and then shook his head, “If you want to trick me, you have to do better than that.”

The man stared at him, “Why do you think i’m trying to trick you.”

“Because I’m not an admiral. I’m a cadet. I haven't finished training yet.”

Dr. Adric pulled back for a moment, and he listened to the voices as suddenly, a cold tingling sensation entered his mind.

“Oh dear, admiral, what have you been doing in here, everything is very jumbled.”

He flinched and cried out, grabbing at his ears, though the voice continued inside his head.

“Where did you put those memories…. Didn’t get rid of them did you, that would be unfortunate…. No…. here they are. Going to have to fix this.”

“Who are you! Get out of my head.”

“That has never worked before.”

Voices in the real world this time.

“He’s still in there, though it seems he cannot access his most recent memories.”

“SO he just woke up this morning and had no idea where he was.”

An annoyed voice, “Dr. Adric, no one told me this could happen to humans.”

“It is…. rare . A fugue state or partial retrograde amnesia usually doens happen without a…. Reason. Hold on, that flower on the planet we were exploring yesterday, it got pollen all over him. Perhaps that had something to do with it.”

He didn’t understand what they were talking about.”

Dr. Adric knelt down back in front of the door, “Adam, it seems as if you have an acute case of partial retrograde amnesia.”

He laughed, “Sure thats what the matrix would say.”

Dr Adric sighed and tapped his fingers against his chin for a moment, “Adam, if we were the matrix, we would be much better at integrating your memories with your new reality. The whole point of the matrix is to make sure you don’t find out you are in the matrix. Otherwise we would have metal rebellion on our hands.”

That was a… good point he supposed.

“So…. you think I just forgot everything.”

“Yes.”

“How could I forget ALIENS!” He pointed a finger at the blue alien peering at him from the side of the hole.

“The mind is a strange thing, Adam, now please come out of there, so we can try and help ou remember.”

Should he do it?

Well… he had always wanted to meet aliens.

If this WAS the matrix, he might as well enjoy it for a while.

The group of them looked relieved when he crawled out of his hole and stood, and immediately stepped back in shock.

Three aliens.

He stared at the tiny insect like alien with its wide orange eyes for prisms.

“Woah…. And what are you.”

“A vrul, and the acting physician on this ship. The person who TOLD YOU NOT TO TOUCH THE FLOWER!”

He stepped back i surprise at the little creature’s hostility.

The blue alien rested a hand on his shoulder, “Ignore him, hes just a bit grumpy.”

He stared at her hand and then looked up at her. Another shot of fizzing tingles ran through his skin and he…. His heart hammered in his chest. He fought back the sensation confused and a bit distrurbed, ‘Who are you?”

She seemed, almost hurt by his words, but didn’t say anything other than ,”Sunny. I am the ship's weapons specialist. I am a Drev.” 

“Cool.”

And then he turned towards the last alien, ethereal and billowing like a fish in water, with its white skin and wide dark eyes.

The voice prickled inside his mind again, “I am starborn, conn, and I enjoy annoying you.” “Ok, thanks for being honest, I guess.”

Dr Adric rested a hand on his shoulder, “Perhaps a walk around the ship will help.”

He nodded and was led up the hall wide eyed as he stared.

A spaceship.

HIS spaceship.

“So you're telling me this is all mine? I fly this ship. I’m like the Captain of this ship.”

“More than that.” Sunny said, “You are the acting fleet Admiral of the UNSC and the GA.”

“What is the GA.”

“The Galactic Assembly. The intergalactic government of planets run by all sentient species in the galaxy.”

He couldn't help the smile that passed over his face, “Like the senate in star wars?”

“Yes, pretty much.”

“So cool!”

The group laughed, “Still the same Adam in there.”

They walked out into the hall, and he stared wide eyed as a troop of small fluffy round aliens walked past up the hall.

“Aw they’re so-” A hand clamped over his mouth, holding him until they passed.

“You don’t want to do that Adam, those are the Celzex, and while they may be adorable to humans they have nasty tempered and a heightened sense of honor. If you insult them they will not hesitate to turn their weapons on us.”

“Oh, whoopse.”

The blue alien grabbed him by the hand and hauled him down the corridor, the group of them showing him everything he should remember.

It all seemed…. Oddly familiar.

But he just couldn’t access the memories.

Either way this was so cool!

It wasn’t long before they were having trouble controlling him as he raced around the ship with wide eyes to look at all the strange new things he was seeing, pointing them out, saying hi to people asking them what they did. THey looked confused at first until someone told them what was going on, and then they gladly told him.

He was led into the rec room at some point where he met a group of marines that claimed to be his good friend.

A short blond woman who gave him the sneaking suspicion that she could kick his ass, a tanned marine, with a bright white smile and looks that were way too good for him to be a marine.

A dark skinned engineer, who was probably the sun goddess reincarnated.

He opened his mouth to ask her a question and she held up a hand.

“No, before you ask. I cannot make a lightsaber.”

He frowned, “Some future this is.”

She rolled her eyes.

The others laughed.

“Didn’t change much even without your memories.

The blond one, named maverick leaned forward a bit in her seat grinning wolfishly, “You know, what about smells. I hear they are connected closely to memories.”

Dr Adric nodded, “Not a bad Idea Maverick.”

Adam sniffed at the air, “but I don’t smell anything.”

“Just wait here a second and we will see if we can find anything. ramirez , watch him for a minute will you.” The marine nodded giving an easy smile.

The others left and he stared at the two marines, “So, how do we know each other.”

“Well i’m your best friend, your best human friend anyway. We met on the Enterprise, discovered aliens together.”

His eyes were wide, woah.”

“Hmmm, an associated smell.”

He tapped his chin for a moment before grinning and reaching down to pull off his boot.

Maverick recoiled, “Anything but that.”

“Oh come on, its the strongest smell I have.”

Adam backed away, “I am not curtesy sniffing your feet”

The man held out a boot, “Oh come on, you want your memories back, don’t you.” he took the boot hesitantly.

“I, guess…. I doubt this is going to work though.”

“Won’t kill you.”

“You sure about that?” Either way, he took a tentative sniff at the boot.

He shouldn’t have worried, he could smell it from here and sweet lord above, he was almost knocked off his feet. Yes partially from the stench and partially from a wave of memories, not related to the horrible smell, but a strange undertone. A smell associated with this specific marine. It was like…. The desert, warm concrete and sunlight on leather.

He staggered back, remembering snippets of laughter, space suits, the sound of blades on ice, cold washing over his skin, and warm laughter. He fell onto the ground head spinning, and felt the dog press up against him. He clasped her around the neck and buried his face in her fur breathing in deeply. Another wave hit him.

Fear.

Trembling 

The sound of gunfire. Being curled up in a room somewhere rocking back and forth as memories assaulted him. A room full of bodies, a shambling corpse in the dark, a flooding of traumatic memories that made him want to scream, but all with another undertone. Something warm, and something understanding.

When he came out of it, he was gasping.

The two marines were standing over him.

“Angel…. Maverick?”

They grinned, “Damn straight, you remembered.”

“I don't remember…. Everything.”

He was still sitting there when the others made their way into the room holding various items.

Dr. Krill walked over first handing him a little container of rubbing alcohol. Sniffing at it, he remembered nothing at first, that was until he was flooded again with memories. An alien hospital, his missing eye, the little doctor that had taken care of him. Taking krill aboard the ship, thousands of missions they had been on together.

He gasped a bit.

“Its working.”

Dr. katie moved forward, handing him a space suit helmet, which still smelled of space, a slight burnt smell, and the fabric interior.

Another wave crashed over him. Flying the F-90 for the first time, meeting aliens, spacewalks, nebulas and stars whirlin around him. His head was still spinning as they dragged him to his feet, walking him around a ship that was becoming more and more familiar as he walked. He knew where things were without being entirely sure where he had learned it.

Until he walked into the cargo bay and was hit by a wave of smells, that had him nearly toppled over. He remembered the ship, his old ship, he remembered the battles and stepping to her for the first time. He remembered the burg war and all that had happened during that time.

It was all coming back to him.

And when he finally straightened up he remembered who he was.

It was such a relief.

He looked around at his ship and took a deep breath. Everyone stared at him, “Remember, Admiral.”

He nodded, “I remember….. That was…. Wow.” he shook himself.

“That was strange. Poor simon must have been so confused I-”

He turned his head surprised to catch sight of the blue Drev vanishing out of sight behind a corner. That was when he realized she was the only one he didn’t remember.

He looked over at Ramirez who stared back at him.

“Ramirez, Sunny…. Who is she.”

The other man stepped back in shock and consternation so profound that he realized he must have forgotten something horribly important. Ramirez took him by the shoulder and walked him away from the others.

“Did I offend her somehow.”

Ramirez looked at him with an expression of pity, “Adam.” He said quietly, “I…. i mean yeah….. Your dating her.”

That revelation hit him like a slap in the face, and his mouth opened and closed for a moment.

“I what!”

“You heard what I said. You love her.”

He shook his head in confusion, “I think I would remember something that important wouldn’t I…. but I can’t be dating her….”

“Because shes an alien?” Ramirez snapped.

He held up his hands, “No! Because i’m to much of a chicken to date ANYONE.”

Ramirez poked him in the chest, “Well you better go after her and FIND a way to remember.”

He was surprised at his friend’s hostility towards him, looking over his shoulder to where she had vanished, “ok, ok.” 

He followed after her, moving down the hall. That couldn't be right, just thinking about dating someone made his skin all tingly and send blood rushing up into his neck and face in embarrassment.

And an alien.

That was…. So strange.

He turned a corner following where his memories were vague, knowing he would likely find her there.

He was right, he found her in engineering sitting quietly on a workbench staring at her hands.

He paused in the doorway.

“Sunny?”

She looked up at him, and the expression in her eyes was…. heartbreaking . He had no idea why it hit him so hard, but the pain was almost physical like a kick in the stomach.

He grimaced, “I…. Ramirez told me that…. We.”

His ears flushed red, his heart hammered in his chest. His hands were shaking. This all seemed so strange.

She turned her head, ‘Its alright…..”

She didn’ say it, but he knew what she should be saying. If she was the last thing he remembered, than clearly she wasn’t that important. Even thinking that made him feel horrible, and he knew that wasn’t right either.

He stepped a bit closer, and as he did the small workshop send a gust of wind into his face. The smell of oil and grease, the burnt smell of plastic and paper and metal together.

Then the smell of.

Moss.

He nearly fell over as the weight of the new memories hit him. A battle under an ashen sky, the pain in his leg, fear, and then following that, something else. A feeling he couldn’t describe and didn’t want to try. Memories rolled in front of his eyes and as they flooded in they seemed to glue all of his other memories back into place, pulling him together as a whole person once more.

The last piece that held the puzzle together.

He staggered forward.

And she caught him, supporting him with all four hands. And when his eyes opened he remembered.

He smiled resting a hand against the side of her face. Her relief and his relief together was obvious, “Gotta save the best for last, right.”

[unholyplumpprincess]

Brat

I wanted to write smth self indulgent with Crypto as a bratty bottom and reader as his top. Whoops.

Summary: In which Crypto has been teasing and being a bigger brat than usual and you slap him around a bit until he remembers his place. Beneath you.

(Older content. Y’all remember when I wrote this as SOON as Crypto came out? Omfg.)

Reblogs > Likes. It costs zero dollars to reblog :D

Minors and ageless blogs dni or you will be blocked!

Relationship: Crypto/Reader

Fandom: Apex Legends

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, S/D dynamics, slapping, pain, asphyxiation, Reader is in lingerie and is more femme but is gender neutral, cutsey aftercare at the end

Words: 2.3k

____________

There was a lot about your partner you didn’t know.  

What you DID know was limited to: His favorite smell on you was lavender, being little spoon was top priority, he liked home cooking over dinners out, he preferred to be called Crypto nowadays, and of course-

He was a massive fucking brat.

Crypto was an enigma to most. When you got rid of your fingerprints and your entire thing was hacking, you could get quite a few people interested in what you had to hide. Of course, you yourself had been interested in him. Getting to know him was hard, but finding out he liked you back was all the sweeter when you hadn’t seen it coming.

You had surprised him too in return, of course. When he had tried to assume a position above you, his eyes nervous even if his smirk hadn’t been. You’d taken that moment of nerves to push him back. Throwing him down onto the bed and telling him that he was going to be a good little boy for you and learn his place.

Finding out just how much he liked it beneath you was a surprise to you both.

~Rest under the cut~

Well, that is, you’d had plenty beneath you before. You liked taking a dominating position in the bedroom, but just as soft as a lover in the daylight. Of course, you both still went on dates, sat at home in your pajamas and slept all curled up in each other’s limbs.

However, some nights. Some nights you both liked to indulge in a bit of rough play.

Normally it occurred if he had a bad game. He’d come in pouting, smelling of dirt and gun smoke, and look at you with this little expression that said he needed you. You had made it clear in the beginning, there was to be no angry sex, nothing that would mean venting his frustrations into more frustrations.  

But some nights, like tonight, he just wanted to be difficult.

Crypto had been a brat since he’d come home yesterday. Just little things to get your attention. Not showering the night before just so he could in the morning so you’d get an eyeful of him upon waking up. Towel wrapped around his waist and feigning innocence when you’d whined at him.

Then it had been during lunch. You’d curled up on the couch, idly playing with his hair as he tucked himself into your neck to play on his phone. You’d been writing something down with your free hand when soft lips had kissed at your neck up to your ear where teeth replaced them on your lobe. You’d yelped, yanked at his hair as he laughed at you breathily in your ear.

“So cute when you are caught off guard, hm?” He’d teased at you, squeezed your thigh before leaving.

He’d been testing your patience.

It’s why you’d dressed the way you did tonight. A babydoll night gown with a low plunge on the breast, black sheer thigh highs with lace at the tops of your thighs and a garter connecting to your panties. His jacket hung off your shoulders, his plain black one he’d used to sleep in. Left unzipped and comfy on your body.

When he’d come into the bedroom and found you waiting on the bed, his eyebrows had raised in delight. But when he didn’t immediately whine and crawl over to your feet and nuzzle at your thighs for forgiveness, that made you hum.

He wanted to be treated roughly.

Written all over Crypto’s face was defiance as he slid the door shut. Leaning back on it with a smirk on his soft, plush lips. Eyes shining in delight as he looked at you. Awaiting your command.

You give him a moment, let him stay in the silence. Let him weigh in if he wanted to play this game with you or not. He knew his safe word, he knew his signals, he knew what would make you stop.

After just a moment, you instead, beckon him closer. “Come here, little boy. You’ve been testing my patience far too long.” You speak clearly, head held high and keeping your body language clear. Your hands, manicured with black nails rest on the side of the bed by your thighs. One leg crossed over the other and body left open otherwise. Regal. Royalty.

Despite Crypto’s little smirk, he does come closer. Sliding out of his jacket and leaving himself in his black t-shirt and sweatpants for the day. Bare feet padding on the carpet to reach you like a slinking cat.

He stands before you, right in your reach. Legs brushing yours. You can taste the anticipation on him, can see it in how his fingers twitch for his pants.

You scoff instead at him. “No, no. Keep them on. If you wanted to be an eager little thing, you could have played nice.” You say, keeping your voice even, if not as if scolding a child.

When his lips twitch downwards in a familiar pout, you mock pout back at him. “Aww, what? Not getting your way? Poor thing.” You nudge at him with your foot, gently pushing at his thigh until he gets the hint.

His body twitches, wanting to fall into the role you set forth for him. To get on his knees and obey you. And yet, he holds upright, a grin playing at his lips at your mocking. “No...I am merely amused you assumed I would undress so willing for you.” His voice is taunting, teasing. Biting.

It does its charm. You sneer at him, moving too quick for him to calculate. Your leg hooks around the back of his, moving off the top of your own thigh and yanking forward. Forcing him to fall to his knees with a dull ‘thunk’ at hitting the floor.  

You expect him to gasp, expect him to look up at you with an apology in his eye.

When he instead, grins and tilts his head to the side to flick his hair from his face and says, “Eager?” In that familiar tone of his, you realize just how rough he wants it.

You slap him. Right across his face. Open palmed across his cheek, making sure your fingers smack rather at his cheekbone rather than his ear. His head moves with the motion, and you take the opportunity to grab his hair, yank his head back and leer over him. Your eyes are steel, lips pulled into a snarl to remind him he is the prey in this scenario.

When he laughs, eyes fluttering in delight even as red blossoms over his tanned flesh, you could forgive him. He liked the pain. Plain in his sweatpants how hard he is.

But. When he looks up at you from his lashes, flicking his tongue over his lips and practically purrs out, “Is that the best you can do?” You can no longer allow him to play these games.

You yank his hair as you move off the bed, forcing him to come with you as you instead shove him onto the bed face first. He whines at first, rolling over onto his back and quickly finding you on top. Straddling his hips and grinding harshly down into his erection. Your thinly clothed heat felt through his layers clearly.

Crypto hisses at the friction, hands coming up to grasp at your hips but stopping when you growl at him. “You have earned no right to touch me. Keep your hands where I can see them or you can kiss any orgasm you’ve been wanting good-fucking-bye.”

His hands are quick to drop by his head. Face flushed and lips parted as he takes in your appearance. You aren’t mad, no, you can control yourself better. But your eyes scream dominance, your entire body language screams to be obeyed.

You’ve dealt with brats enough to know how to take care of them. Crypto was a special case of just happening to be your lover as well as your sub. You knew to withhold the affection, withhold until he broke and begged and pleaded. Ever the tough cookie to crack, you start slow.

Seeing him obey, you allow him a bit of praise. “Good boy.” Murmured low, overheard from his own heavy breaths.  

You watch as his eyes flicker from your thighs, up your body to your face upon the praise. Watch as he struggles with his own inner turmoil to want to be a brat, to be punished properly, to taking your affection. Your cooing and you taking care of him.

You let him think on it. Let him whimper as you roll your hips expertly and make sure your ass grinds downwards into him. You can feel his cock twitch, undoubtedly flushed with a shiny wet head peeking from foreskin.

“You want to be my good boy, don’t you?” You coo out, nice and low and how he likes. With his fingers now twisted into the sheets by his head, you have the delight to watch his head turn. Eyes unfocused and seeing his pulse in his neck. Watch as his face and ears flush and he sets his jaw.

He’s playing hard ball.

You splay out on top of him slowly, knowing he could take your weight but being mindful regardless. You rest your chest to his, nosing at his throat and lick up his pulse point slowly. Savoring the taste of his flesh and nibbling just below his ear.

You whine there, low and wanting as you breathe into his ear. “Come on, baby. Be my good boy tonight, don’t you want me to take care of you?” Temptingly low, promising everything good as you roll your hips again and relish in how he full body shudders with a gasp.

When you suddenly grab his hair, sitting up partially to yank his head to the side to force him to look at you. You nearly grin at his surprised look. “Answer me or you’re sleeping on the floor like the mutt you’re trying to be.”

“Yes!” He quickly gasps out, pressing his hips up into yours and you know you’ve broken him this time. “Yes yes- fuck, please, please take care of me I’m sorry-” His words are stressed. Rushed and slurred as his hands twitch by his head, reaching for you and you allow it. Letting his hands settle on the swell of your hips to push your weight down so he can grind up into you desperately.

You pout then, mocking as ever. “Aw, poor little boy. You wanted to put on a show didn’t you?” You coo cruelly, watch as he nods desperately but keeps his eyes closed. Doesn’t want to be ashamed of his own actions.

You wrap one hand around his throat, applying pressure on the sides and feel how he groans in his throat. Desperately dry humping you and keeping his nails pressed into you. Trying to get you to grind with him, but you remain still. Let him hump you like a dog.

“Who do you belong to, Crypto?” You murmur, applying more pressure and have to bite your lip to keep from grinning when he loudly whines. His body shaking as his hips lurch up, but you quickly clench your thighs to keep him still with your strength.

Even through his sweatpants you can feel him throbbing. Feel how wet you are and how wet the front of his pants are. Poor thing wanted it so bad. But, this part was always the hardest.

You apply pressure with your nails on the sides of his throat, little stabs of pain that make him shake in your grasp.

“Who,” You grind your hips down harshly. “Do you,” You let up on his throat and let him gasp in air, head falling back with pleasure. “Belong to?” A small slap to his cheek, grasping him firmly and forcing him to look at you.

“You!” He cries out finally. Eyes fluttering and trying to focus on your face only to disappear as his head falls back. Releasing his hips and grinding into him, letting his hands grip you again to force you to move quicker. More his speed as he sobs out in pleasure how he belongs to you, how sorry he was, something in his native tongue you don’t quite grasp but then that little rubberband just...

Snaps.

He cums with a cry of your name on his lips. Humping into you frantically as you grunt in pleasure when he keeps brushing your clit. Certainly carving bruises into your flesh with his grip before he finally stills. Easing up on you and petting over your curves in his stupor.

Crypto’s lips are flushed from biting them, plump and soft in appearance. His eyes are unfocused, teary and you can’t help yourself. Leaning down to kiss at his face softly and making over exaggerated ‘mwah’ and kissy noises.

You only let up when he laughs, reaching a hand up to curl his fingers around the nape of your neck to pull you down into a hug. You press little kisses where you can on his cheek and neck, nosing at his jawline and humming. “Good?”

“Good.” He murmurs back, rolling his hips then making a face. “Sticky.”

You laugh in reply, placing a wet, sloppy kiss on his jawline and laugh only harder when he whines and wipes away the slobber as you sit up on his hips. “Yeah. But that’s what you get for being a dick- HEY!”

You cry out as he shoves you backwards, only to pull himself onto you and jabbing relentlessly at your sides as you giggle and shake with laughter from the tickling.

Even you needed aftercare to be taken out of your headspace, after all.

You’d punish him later. Maybe tomorrow. After a much needed shower and laundry day.

[secondhand-trash]

BNHA but it’s thebonappetittestkitchen

A/N: I watched one Test Kitchen Talks and now I’m obsessed. I’ve been binging BA vids and this is the end result lmao (might write a part 2 later if I can think of other characters to put in there)

Bakugou Katsuki

Gourmet Makes but angrier

very serious about everything

*tch* “The weight of this layer of the cookie is off.”

“...you said 14.9 grams.”

“Yes and this is 0.1 grams off, we have to do this again.”

constant swearing when he is by the stove

the staff might have give him constant new topics just to see him tick off

always bickering with the other chefs

“Hey, kacchan-”

“Do not fucking call me that on camera.”

the fan favorite meme

(Kaminari is bitter about that)

“Taste this.”

“I think-”

“Say anything and I’ll burn this place down.”

“...it is great.”

Midoriya Izuku

the helpful one

always wandering in the background of every single video

works under the editor

is not actually a professional chef but kinda learned enough by being around everyone 

the one that got sent to deliver bad news because he is less likely to be stabbed by a kitchen knife by annoyed chefs

“...they send you here to tell me things that will my job harder, aren’t they.”

“Yeah..”

the one who will drop his own things to help around the kitchen

doesn’t normally cooks, but when he does it is always for very homely recipes

“This is not the most common way but that’s what I grow up eating...”

“My mom taught me how to do this.”

“I found this recipe in my mom’s old cookbook.”

Kirishima Eijirou

the “big friendly dog in human form”

started out as a butcher

gets appointed to do all the heavy work

prime thumbnail material

(he still has no idea why the editors are always telling him to roll his sleeves all the way up or where a tank top whenever they are filming outdoors)

campfire specialist

“Bro, this is sick dude.”

“Eyyyyyyy Bakugou-” *hand in the air*

“(sighs)” *high five*

very popular among older viewers??? 

(grandson material???)

Aizawa Shouta

the “tired guardian”, as always

puts booze in e v e r y t h i n g

“Now add a splash of white wine.” *proceeds to pour out half the bottle*

it’s an inner joke among chefs and fans that he never sleeps 

showed up in a video in a crisp shirt with his hair up like, once, and the internet went into a frenzy

comments like “WHY IS THE HOBO SO HOT” flooded the comments 

compilation videos with titles like “Aizawa being done with everyone’s bullshit for 10 minutes straight”

(it’s basically him sighing and staring with dread in his eyes in someone else’s background throughout the entire video)

gets undermined a lot because of his demeanor, but will casually namedrop his credentials which shocks everyone

“When I was working at (insert famous prestigious restaurant)...”

“Wait hold up a second wHAT????”

Yaoyorozu Momo

the “properly trained in some renounced culinary school and probably comes from some impressive background but we don’t talk about that”

ridiculously accurate tastebuds

often act as the guinea pig for other chefs

recreating (blank) by taste videos

gets oddly specific realy quick

*munch munch* “Is that prosciutto that was made in winter by hand and dried for two years in Italy?”

“I’m sorry what now???”

gets cranky when people misplace things 

never raises her voice, never swears, but somehow intimidating as all hell

when Yaomomo tells you to put the flour on the forth shelf counting from the left, you do it

unintentionally expensive taste

“Wait, you’ve never tried European white truffle (which can sell up to thousands a pound btw) before?”

“No?????”

Kaminari Denki

the “how the hell does he even get in here anyways????”

blog editor, but people like him so much that he keeps showing up

always causing chaos

always butting in when the others are filming 

the prankster

“I hide tiny babies all over the test kitchen”

“I replace all the extra virgin olive oil in the test kitchen with virgin olive oil and see how long it will take for people to notice”

No one has ever seen him cook on camera but he still has a fuck ton of screen time

“Make Kaminari film a cooking video” is now the no. 1 requests among fans

Todoroki Touya Dabi

the “I need this job or else I’ll have to go home and inherit the 1 billion dollar net worth family business”

how the fuck does he make the chef uniform slutty???

(the trick is to unbutton enough until you can see the line of his chest)

does that thing where he looks into the camera while chopping every video

how the fuck does he make basic instructions sound suggestive???

(the trick is to lower his voice enough until it almost sounds gravel but you didn’t hear that from me)

“Can you pass me that salt, doll? Thank you.”

the only one who has his nickname in the credits

“So I learned how to cook this because my dad told me that it wouldn’t work and I want to piss him off.”

sleeves are always rolled up because “these tats are expensive, why not show them off?”

rumors are that he has beef with Shouto from the office, but it’s just a rumour though

Asui Tsuyu

the one who will actually teach you something

gives very clear instructions

back-to-back cooking 

“Why is this not working-”

“Have you tried adding more butter?”

“Oh.”

you can physically see her growing more and more concern by the second whenever she walks by someone messing up

she’s like your mom, somehow she’ll be able to find everything that you couldn’t even though you both look through the same places

her siblings showed up in the kitchen once and everyone was immediately smitten

[thebisexualdogdad]

can you do a sweet pea imagine (or headcanons) about going camping with him and doing the dirty ;) in a tent? thanks!

Co written with @inhumanshadows

· So Sweet Pea has been trying to get you to go camping with him for months 

· Now that summer vacation was upon you he finally convinced you into going camping in the state park for a weekend

· You were definitely not a happy camper about it. 

· You were a city kid. But you suppose it had it’s perks.

· The bed of his truck was packed to the brim with supplies. 

· "We're only going for a weekend right?" 

· "Always need to be prepared babe"

· “Wait why are there two sleeping bags...” 

· “we can zip them together you cuddle bug” sweets says as he ruffles your hair.

· It's a 3 hour drive and Sweet Pea has rock music playing the whole time, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as you watch the scenery pass by through the window 

·He takes your hand and smiles at you. “You okay?”

· “Mhhmm... just thinking.”

· "Don't worry, I've been camping a dozen times it'll all go smoothly... Well unless there's a serial killer in the forest" 

· "Sweet Pea! Not funny!" 

· When you finally get to your camp site you watch Sweet Pea unload all the gear 

· "My ass must be looking good for you to just sit there and stare"

· “Yes yes it does look amazing.”

· “Thanks baby.”

· “Looks even better bare and spread...” you tack on.

· "Save the dirty talk for the tent," he winks 

· You give Sweet Pea a hand setting up said tent and by the time your done the sun is starting to set so he sets up the portable burner and grills some hot dogs

· "Hot dogs? Really?" 

· "Hey, hot dogs are a camping staple"

· “And so are smores.” 

· “Exactly which is why I brought stuff to make em. And extra marshmallows for you.” 

· “Yay!” You then proceed to unpack the food from the truck

· Sweet Pea notices you shivering so he gives you his extra jacket 

· The extra layer and the fire keeps you warm while you guys make smores

· You nuzzle the sweatshirt into you nose. The soft fabric smells just like sweets.

· “Hey your marshmallow is on fire”

· “No! Aww... farewell dear sweet sugar.” You replace the marshmallow and warm it.

· “How do you eat so much sugar and crap and be so skinny?” 

· “Easy. I work out with you and fangs as well as freerun

· When the smores are gone you decide to call it a night

· Sweet Pea puts the fire out and you guys cuddle in your combined sleeping bag

· You of course pass out on Pea’s chest. 

· But somehow woke up half out the sleeping bag

· Along with that you wake up to the smell of bacon and eggs cooking

· You get out the tent and Sweet Pea is making breakfast in his boxers and a t-shirt

· You pull on the sweatshirt and walk behind him.

· "Morning." You say into his back hugging him.

· "Hey... sleep well?" Sweets asks.

· "No... I woke up alone... but breakfast makes up for it."

· Sweet Pea is a surprisingly good cook and you love when he cooks for you 

· After breakfast you go out in a hike that Sweet Pea mapped out through the park

· You thankfully like hiking and freerun so Sweets has to keep up with you.

· And you climb a lot of trees.

· "How did i not know you were this wirey" he says out of breath

· "You never asked!" You say jumping to another branch, giving Pea a heart attack.

· Cue Sweets taking off after you. "What am I dating a monkey?"

· The hike leads to a secret mini waterfall and pond that you guys take a swim in 

· "Last one in does the dishes tonight!"

· Sweet Pea gets a second wind and runs behind you, grabbing you and jumping in with you in his arms

· "Hey that's cheating" 

· "All is fair in love and war" 

· You guys swim in the lake until Sweet Pea being Sweet Pea goes 

· "You think i jump off the waterfall?"

· "I think you can but I don't think you should."

· "Ah come on babe..."

· "you wanna explain to the others why your dumb ass is in the hospital again if you get hurt again?"

· "well..." You swim up to him and get close to his ear.

· "Besides if you get hurt... who's gonna fuck me later?"

· Sweet Pea gives in now eager for what that night will bring 

· "It's getting late we should head back to the camp site" 

· You gather your things and hike back, Sweet Pea taking many breaks to kiss you

· You stop him halfway back. "Be patient and you can kiss me all over"

· Sweet Pea groans but realizes how hungry he is 

· "Dinner than sex deal?" 

· When you get back to camp Sweet Pea whips up a quick meal

· You guys eat then clean up what you didn't need.

· Then you practically jumped into the tent as you stripped naked.

· You're in Sweet Pea's lap making out 

· "So this is why people love camping so much" 

· "The fun's only just beginning" 

· Sweet Pea easily lifts you up and lays you back on the sleeping bag

· He starts to kiss up each of your thighs biting them every couple inches. “When I’m done everyone will know you’re mine...”

· He effectively marks up your thighs, skipping over where you need him to do the same to your stomach and chest

· He reaches your nipples and sucks on them hard before giving each a gentle nip.

· “Sweets....” you while, moving yoyr hips to make him look at your abandoned cock

·  "Is there something you want?" 

· "You know what i want jerk" 

· Sweet Pea laughs and moves further down teasing the shaft of your cock

· He kisses the base and your inner thighs avoiding what you want.

· “Someone’s impatient...” he laughs. 

· “I will crush your skull between my thighs Pea...”

· "Well since you asked so nicely" 

· And he finally takes you in his mouth making shallow bobs

· You tangle your fingers in his hair and lightly push his head down.

· Sweet Pea takes the hint and takes all of you in his mouth 

· He sneaks a hand underneath you and teases your hole with a finger while he pleasures you

· You’re biting your lip to be quiet. Despite being in the middle of nowhere.

· "Oh I'm gonna need you to be loud for me," he says pumping his finger

· You’re quiet until sweet pea pushes on that spot inside you.

· “Oh shit!!!” You yell.

· “That’s my good boy....”

· He feels like you're thoroughly worked up so he gets to his knees and grabs a condom from his bag 

He lifts your waist so you're resting on his thighs as he eases he cock inside

· You’re moaning over and over Sweet Pea bottoms out

· The whole tent is shaking with how vigorously Sweet Pea is thrusting into you 

· He's still not content with how loud you're being 

· "There's no one around to hear you so scream my fucking name Y/N"

· You do just that and are a shouting mess as Sweets pounds into you, hitting your sweet spot every other thrust

· He has you cuming in minutes and yelling his name so loud birds are flying away from your camp site

· He doesn’t last much longer as you tighten around him.

· Sweets pulls out and takes off the condom. He cleans you up and you cuddle in post sex bliss

· "So how was your first camping experience?" 

· "Pretty great" 

· "So would you want to do it again sometime?" 

· "Yeah, I'd like that Pea" 

[wienerbarnes]

Old Friend

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Cheek to Cheek)

Word Count: 2,333

Warnings: nothing this time! warm feelings

A/N: ok so I have an idea but it'd kind of be a bigger plot point for this universe so I'm gonna try and do some head cannons to fill in some gaps before writing the next big part! feel free to send in any ideas! ill write em if they strike the inspo :)

MAIN MASTERLIST | CHEEK TO CHEEK MASTERLIST

“Bucky! You’re finally back!”

Your body jumped into his arms with excitement, happiness and joy radiating off of your body immediately causing a toothy smile to grow on his face. He caught you in his arms, wrapping both around your waist and lifting up off the ground, your arms curling around his neck.

“Sorry, I was longer than expected.” Bucky says, slowly letting you down back on your feet.

What was supposed to be a week long investigation in London turn into seven weeks as a string of human trafficking crimes were tied to more and more people, forcing him and Sam to extend their stay.

Bucky enters your apartment and makes his way to one of your cabinets, taking out two placemats, a set of plates, and silverware as he watches you make your way back to the stove. Regardless of the fact that he’s been away for a while, the two of you seem to fall back into rhythm as though nothing’s changed.

“I found this easy tomato soup recipe so I made it with some grilled cheese sandwiches,” You explain, slowly stirring the red liquid in the pot. You don’t turn around but Bucky can hear the proud smile in your voice. “I even remembered to wash my hands this time,”

“I missed you.” He says suddenly, seemingly not being able to hold himself back. You pause your stirring and look over your shoulder back at him, “I missed you, too, Bucky.” A wide smile spreading across your face.

Something changed in him the last seven weeks.

He couldn’t stop thinking about you. At first it was worry; constantly wondering if you were safe, if you had gotten yourself into any complicated situations without him around to help you. Everytime Sam’s phone would ring, a part of him was terrified that it was a phone call to inform him that you had been found and were being transported back to prison. You don’t have a phone or any other means of communication, so it was hard for him to constantly be worrying without any way of checking in on you.

Soon, the worry was replaced with longing. He began to miss your different colored hair, always changing it up for appearance, but also you making him guess what color you were going next before not telling him anyway. He missed the way you were always coloring your nails, changing out your earrings everyday with something new and colorful, the way you would tell him awful jokes he’d heard a thousand times before, jokes that would make blush and cringe, the way you’d tell him stories from your past; the fact that you trust him enough to do so in the first place.

Everything he saw in London reminded him of you in some way. Everything he saw, he wished you were there with him to share it with. He couldn’t wait to tell you about the people, the buildings, the food; he could only imagine the way you’d fake an accent to see how long you could get away with it around locals or the way you’d tease about how “they’re driving on the wrong side of the road.”

“Oh! I forgot to tell you, I did a thing!” You snap him out of his thoughts with the placement of the soup bowl and two sandwiches on the table in front of him. He sits down and his eyes widen as you pull down your pants.

He doesn’t have time to be distracted with your lime green cheeky underwear because he’s distracted by the large outline of a tattoo running down your leg.

There’s no shading or color, only black lines that outline countless flowers and leaves, lines filling in the spaces in between. The tattoo spans from the top of your thigh, disappearing in between your inner thighs and trailing down to your ankle. You twist your leg in a bit to show how it wraps around, and you're completely unaware of the look on Bucky’s face. He never knew he had a thing for tattoos until now.

He closes his eyes while you're not looking, trying to calm the heat he can feel against his neck and ears.

“How did- How did you even do that?” He asks, glancing up at the smile on your face as you stare down at your own leg.

“Okay, so- I found this cool tattoo shop, right? And I go in and they tell me that I need an ID and money, both of which I obviously don’t have, so I left. And then,” You pause to shove your tomato-soaked cheese sandwich into your mouth, red liquid dripping from the corners of your mouth, barely making it onto the plate and dirtying the cloth underneath.

“Then, this guy comes out of nowhere from the shop and he says that he’d be happy to tattoo me for free so he can build his portfolio! So, that’s what I did!” You finish explaining.

“Was he like… sterile?”

“Duh, Bucky. What kind of person do you take me for?” You reassure him.

He pushes both thoughts of another guy rubbing on your thighs and the amount of risk that came with pulling that stunt as you both catch up on each other’s lives. He tells you about London, you tell him about the tattoo experience, he tells you about London life, you tell him about your trips to the fresh market and how you’ve been getting better and better at cooking.

He’s washing the dishes while you towel dry them and put them away in your small cupboard when he brings up an idea to you.

“So, I want you to meet a friend of mine.” He suggests to you.

“Bucky, you know I can’t meet any of your friends.” You respond, deflated, after a moment of silence.

“I know what you're thinking, but I promise this guy is as safe as safe can be. I was thinking of taking a drive to visit him tomorrow, and I think you guys would get along well.” He continues soaping up the china in the sink, but doesn’t look at you; he can guess the nervous look on your face as he senses your tension and hears the increased beat of your heart.

“... Are you trying to set me up with this guy?” You ask, offense present in your voice.

A chuckle escapes him, “I think this guy is… a little out of your age range. Look,” He turns off the water as you dry off the last plate. “Do you trust me?”

“With everything.” You say without an ounce of hesitation.

“Then come with me tomorrow.”

After a moment of thought and consideration, you agree.

…

“I didn’t know you had a car!”

“Got it just for you, doll.”

“Is your license even in date? Have you had your vision checked recently, old man?”

He closes the door behind him and makes his way to the passenger side to open the car door for you, “We’ve got a bit of a drive, I figured this was more comfortable than the bike.”

You’ve dressed up today, a pair of shorts that show off your tattoo, with a large long-sleeved t-shirt adorning your frame, a mis-matched jacket and sweatshirt hanging off of your shoulders. He likes that you’ve got a thing for layers, and he’ll never get over the comfort you take in having fun with your appearance.

A two and a half hour drive leads you both to a reserved house, trees and bushes decorating the front of the property and a basic Welcome Home sign hanging from the door.

“Bucky… who do you know that lives all the way out here?” You ask as he parks. As much as she trusts him, she had nightmares about who she would be meeting today. Her biggest fear was Sam or Sharon. As full of love Bucky is, she wasn’t sure his friends would feel the same; they have a large responsibility and clearly value their job and their morals, which would make it hard for them to see her in the same light Bucky sees her in.

“You’ll see, babe. Just relax, c’mon.” Bucky says, turning off the car and opening the door. You can’t help the warmth flooding your face at the pet name and you hope Bucky doesn’t notice enough to tease you about it as he opens your door for you.

Bucky flips through his keys as you both approach the porch and he finally sticks a silver one into the lock, turning it to the left.

“Must know them pretty well to have a spare key.”

“You have no idea,” Bucky mumbles.

“Steve?” Bucky calls out into the house.

“Back here, Buck!” A raspier voice echoes back.

A elderly man steps out from a side hallway. A friendly smile sits on his face, and you return it, not being able to help it at the sight of a nice-looking old man in a sweater and soft looking slacks.

“I’m Steve. It's a pleasure to meet you.” He holds out a hand, and you shake it, replying with your name as well.

“Sweetheart, this is Steve Rogers.” Bucky informs you.

You freeze, smile dropping from your face and hand pausing in Steves.

“Steve… Rogers? The Steve Rogers? Like- Captain America? But… You-You died!” You exclaim.

“I did, didn’t I,” Steve laughs out, releasing your hand. “Have you eaten?” He asks.

“What the fuck?” You ask, seemingly more confused by that question than the fact that Steve Rogers is, 1: Old, and 2: Alive and well living in a beautiful home in the outskirts of New York.

Another laugh sounds from the older man, “Why don’t you have a seat, I’ll make you guys something, I’m sure you’re hungry after the drive.” He trails off, making his way to the kitchen.

“Wow, nice to see you're a chef now. You’ve come a long way from having no taste buds a century ago.” Bucky jokes, a light smile on his face as he makes his way after Steve towards the kitchen island.

This isn’t fucking real right now. Who else is the government hiding? Cobain? Kennedy? How the fuck am I in Captain America’s super nicely furnished-old-timey style-house that’s hidden away in paradise? It’s so different for you to see Bucky so relaxed. He looks incredibly carefree, joking around, teasing with his best friend. It makes you feel warm inside to see him this way, because as much as the two of you get along, it is rare to see him so happy and bubbly.

You glance around the walls, the place definitely embodying the aesthetic of Steve Rogers, with wooden accents to furniture and decor  and copious amounts of pictures everywhere. Him and his wife, pictures of young adults and children, his kids and grand-kids and great-grand-kids you assume, some of Bucky, both old and new, some of Sam and Sharon.

As the three of you talk, Bucky realizes that he didn’t remember the fact that you were dusted in the snap as he was. You were in the prison when it happened, and it was where you returned when everyone was brought back, but it was large news that Steve Rogers sacrificed his life for the world, along with Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, and other heroes. He watches you and Steve interact easily, as though you’ve known each other forever, as he tells you about his time returning the stones, the way he lived when he returned to the forties for good, what it was like seeing life evolve as he already knew it in his mind.

You asked question after question, like a child meeting their favorite celebrity or going on a field trip to their favorite place. You were animated with your questions, exaggerating your thoughts with your hands, all while cursing like a sailor with your vulgar language, all of which Steve loved.

He knew the talking-to he was going to receive from Steve later, he saw it in the look he gave him when he entered the kitchen behind him. He has never brought anyone to see Steve, besides Sam, of course, let alone a girl. This most definitely looks like you and him are in some sort of relationship; this is pretty much the equivalent of meeting the family. Or at least, as much family as he can get away with for now.

He’s not going to know what to respond when Steve asks him about you. In regards to anything; whether or not you two are dating, whether or not he’s going to tell Sam or Sharon, what his feelings are for you. Does he have feelings for you?

The rest of the afternoon is spent sharing stories, looking at pictures, and more and he can see how happy you’ve acted since being here. It’s definitely been a change in your routine for the past two years as you’ve really grown into yourself again.

Bucky’s brain doesn’t shut up the entire drive back to your apartment. He thinks about long drives with you every weekend, he thinks about you meeting the other people that are important to him, he thinks about finding a way to get you a new identity, but cringes at the thought of having to call you another name other than your own. He constantly glances at your sleeping body in the passenger seat next to him, facial features soft as you dream, mouth open just a bit where he can hear the softest snores. You’re using his jacket as a pillow as your sock-covered feet are curled beneath you in the seat.

He sits in his car for a few minutes after dropping you off at the door of your apartment, refusing your invitation inside with a made-up excuse about checking on Alpine and needing to change her box and food, even though he’d bet anything that that cat is fast asleep on his pillow.

He takes a deep breath before taking out his phone and selecting a contact from his favorites. It rings twice before he hears a voice on the other end.

“Hey, Sam? You free? I wanna… I wanna talk to you about something.”

[discotenny]

!Sleeping in Their Shirt!

[Twain, Chuuya, Junichiro]

Sweet talk will get you everywhere when it comes to me 😘

Twain

Does the guild have like, extra clothes packed in their luggage when they went to America or did they just pack one outfit and fvck off

So, let’s go under the premise that you’re Twain’s new s/o who he met in Japan

Twain often visited your apartment, so him coming in and asking to take a shower wasn’t of the norm

On an especially cold Yokohama night, you wished for nothing more than to cuddle up with your lover

He never stayed the night, so any moment with the mysterious man you’ve come to grow attached to was a blessing

You snuck into the bathroom, going to brush your teeth for the night. “Do you want me to fold your clothes T-Mark?”

It was hard adjusting to using his first names, but he insisted

“Oh yeah thanks y/n!”

Grabbing his clothes, you made your way to your sofa, carefully folding them. Suddenly, you got an amazing[?] idea

Slipping on his shirt, buttoning the last button like he always did, you relished in the comfort it provided

Sinking into your couch, you slowly drifted into the darkness of sleep

Twain stumbled out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist. “Hey y/n where’d you put my- oh”

He started dumbfounded at you wearing his clothes, a smile finding itself on his face

Putting on his pants right there, he slipped the towel on his shoulders and sat down next to you

Not bothered by his intrusion, Twain took it as an okay that he could rest his shoulder on you

He could ask for his only shirt back later

Chuuya

I don’t actually know what counts as his ‘shirt’. Is it the white one underneath his vest? Is it the vest? For the sake of my sanity let’s say that you steal his inner shirt

It was an accident. You had taken his shirt mistaking it for your own. He had noticd something missing from his closet but thought no mind; at least it wasn’t his hat

Coming back from work, you were exhausted. So tired in fact you collapsed on your shared bed without bothering to change out of your day clothes

Chuuya came home pissed off. After seeing Dazai and striking a fight with him [not to mention losing too], he couldn’t be fvcked to deal with any bullsh¡t now

He saw you on the bed, drool leaking out of your mouth. All anger dissolved in an instant, replacing itself with a fuzzy feeling. Not even noticing your outfit, Chuuya threw off all unnecessary layers[leaving him in his undershirt and slacks] and climbed into bed with you

You two slept until you woke up, Chuuya opening his eyes shortly. You rolled over to face him, giving him a blissful smile and saying, “hey.”

Chuuya, not to be bested by how cute you were, took you in his arms and pulled you closer. “We look the same,” he said, roaming your figure and stopping at your shirt

Yawning, you replied, “I think I took your shirt in the morning haha. You texted me saying you were missing something right?”

Humming slightly, Chuuya looked into your eyes and gave you the most peaceful look you’ve ever seen come out of him

“You look hot when you wear my stuff. Do it more often.”

Nnnnn the original draft of this didn’t save

Junichiro

Naomi was out for the night which meant you got to stay in her place

Your loving boyfriend, Junichiro of course who else would it be, decided you two would have a movie night

As he was getting the popcorn and drinks ready, you were tasked with picking out something for you guys to watch

After everything was set up, you two cuddled up on the couch and pressed play. Sometime into the movie, you brought up the mug of cocoa to your face. However, Junichiro accidentally pushed your arm and your drink went all over your shirt

Panicking, he brought over napkins and offered you his shirt in guilt

You would never pass up being able to snuggle in Junichiro’s large avs sweater so how could you refuse 🥺

With his arm around you, and you leaning into his chest; you slowly fell asleep, forgetting all about the movie you were watching

He didn’t notice, instead being way too invested in the story of some girl and her dog [would have included a movie reference but I kinda brain farted]

After an hour, the movie concluded and Junichiro shifted to stand up. In your sleep, you had an iron grip on his wrist and our boy realized that you fell asleep

It takes him even a little longer to realize you fell asleep in his sweater

In his sweater

Lowkey gets all embarrassed about it [maybe sneaks a picture if he’s confident enough dkdkd]

He loves the way you look in his sweater, high key wants you to wear it more

When you wake up he’ll be a blushing mess, attempting to blow it off as he remarks having to play another movie while you slept

Shut him up with a smooch and he’s putty in your hands uwu

!hallo!

Be Mod Ioten: write a request you got hours ago instead of writing the requests you received weeks ago.

In all honest, Chuuya x reader oneshot in the progress I swear dkdkdk. And the two ikevamp requests I got. Fics and scenarios take so much longer than headcanons because I write them on my computer lol. Hope this was fluffy enough owo. I love all these boys and I’d gladly join the twain stan club 🥴

Enjoy~~

[strawberrysoup]

Let’s Review || Chapter 19

Peter Parker knew that his big sister would do anything for him to be safe and happy. She’d given up everything for him twice over already and would do it again in a heartbeat. And that’s why, when the criminal mastermind Tony Stark started inextricably following him around, he didn’t say a word. Because he knew without a doubt Penny would do whatever she had to if it meant keeping Peter safe. He had to protect her, just like she always protected him. He never considered what would happen if Stark decided both Parker siblings were worth taking. Never considered who else in Stark’s inner circle would agree. He just wanted to protect her and yet somehow, they both ended up with needles in their necks.

relationship: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character/Bucky Barnes, background Peter Parker/Tony Stark rating: Explicit warnings: Dark Steve Rogers, Dark Bucky Barnes, Dark Tony Stark, Dark Avengers, kidnapping, non-consensual&dark sexual situations, underage Peter Parker, emotional and psychological abuse, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat more warnings: i’m going to start including detailed warnings to the very ends of chapters in order to avoid ruining the shock factor in chapters while still being mindful of potential individual triggers. open the read more, CTRL + F and search “content warnings” to skip to the extra tags if you so choose.

Penny did not, in fact, stop earning extra swats at all and by day 3 had stopped sitting on her butt entirely, much to the quiet amusement of the soldiers. Steve had ordered more silk shorts and a pair of joggers that were soft enough she could wear them without too much pain. She was petulant and precious and far too tired to be as angry as they knew she wanted to be. He and Bucky had rotated taking days off since the incident, doing their best to try to engage with her. 

Some of the things they'd learned were as follows: 

1.    Penny's father had died when she was very young and she didn't remember him. He'd been Israeli, Jewish, and had lots of family Penny had never met. Peter's father was who she meant if she said 'my dad', a man from Queens who'd married her mother and loved Penny like she was his own (she missed her parents awfully, at all times and got tearful while talking about them). 

2.    Penny called herself stupid and dumb and an idiot on a regular basis and truly believed that Peter had gotten every IQ point her mother had to offer; it was a bad habit and bothered both of the soldiers—she was so smart and they regularly had difficulty keeping up with her intellect, her thought process was just very different from most people's. 

3.    Penny liked watching TV and movies and anything that had come out since her uncle Ben died was new and exciting. She would let them hold her for hours while they watched movies and talked through all of them with a witty and precious commentary. She didn't care for movies that made her cry. 

4.    Penny hated reading. Steve was pretty sure it was because it was difficult for her and wondered if she had the disability that flipped letters around but couldn't ask lest she got upset. If there was something that needed to be read in a movie or show, the soldiers had taken to reading it out loud immediately and unprompted.

5.    Penny desperately enjoyed and craved skin contact, to a point where Steve and Bucky were wearing less and less clothing because Penny would come to them when they weren't wearing shirts. She would ask to watch movies or TV because it was an excuse to lay on them with her cheek against their skin. Her tiny shorts were a constant but she'd shifted to wearing tank tops instead of long sleeves shirts and the soldiers liked it.

They'd thought from the beginning that skin contact could be their ticket in, Penny preened under careful touches even if she tried to hide it but it became more and more clear as the days went on. The daily spankings made her incredibly sensitive, mentally, and the extra contact seemed to be a coping mechanism. On the first day she'd tried to curb the desire with the kittens, carrying them around as much as possible but it quickly became clear it wasn't quite the same. While the little short-legged kitten had come to basically live in the spot between and directly above Penny's boobs, the orange one with impossibly chubby cheeks was more distant and preferred to simply be in the same room with people rather than held and touched (Bucky adored both kittens but the fucking tiny legs killed him, he loved it so goddamn much). But kittens were not a good replacement for a very warm super-soldier. 

Steve had gone for broke the night before, sleeping in a pair of briefs instead of joggers and a beater. Penny had stayed firmly on his chest the entire night while Bucky, wearing boxers and a t-shirt, had been left with just a single cuddly kitten tucked up under his chin. The brunet had gotten up early for work, scowling jealously at the way Penny cuddled against their lover so sweetly; he almost told JARVIS to call in for him, he could've shucked his shirt and joined the pile of warm sleepy bodies. Tony was still not entirely pleased with them though (especially once Steve had dropped their plan to head into the Rockies for a few months) so it was better to head into the office. He kissed Steve soundly and pressed his lips gently to the back of Penny's head before heading out, depositing the kitten in his hands onto the cat tree in the living room on his way. 

Steve laid awake in bed for another two hours, savoring the way Penny felt against him. Their babydoll was small and precious and fit so well against him. Her legs splayed wide over the smallest part of his waist, her head cushioned against his chest. She'd been sleeping or laying on them in similar positions since the first spanking (she'd even let Bucky carry her around after her spanking the day before, as long as his hands stayed far away from her ass). He could feel her slowly starting to wake up and ran his hands up and down her back under her tank top. 

He wasn't expecting the way she started to tremble, or the tears spilling down onto his chest. She didn't make any noise but her breaths came in little hiccups, her head tilting further down as she tried to curl into herself. 

"Baby? Penny doll, what's wrong?" He sat up, keeping her legs wrapped around his waist and enough of an angle to his torso that her weight wouldn't press her down to sit on her ass. 

She said something, but it was disrupted by hiccups and a small sob and Steve's heart broke just a little when he couldn't understand. When Penny spoke in Hebrew it was usually on accident, she was either too distressed or too scared to notice she wasn't speaking English. Steve's ears perked at the sound of bells, eyes going to the door of their bedroom where both kittens were trotting into the room. The short-legged kitten often appeared whenever Penny cried and the orange one followed but stayed near the door. It was far too small to jump onto the bed so Steve dangled an arm over the edge until he felt fur brush his fingertips, scooping the kitten up and depositing it between his and Penny's chests. The little thing purred like a motorboat, tucking into Penny's shirt and between her boobs where it generally spent most of its time. 

"Shhh, baby, it's okay," Steve brushed his lips against her temple and her cheek, continuing to run his hands under her shirt, "can you tell me why you're upset?" 

The sounds she made were borderline heartbreaking and he figured for a minute she wasn't actually capable of answering until she spoke haltingly between hiccups, "it hurts, it h-hurts, s-so much." 

Penny's ass was already shades of blue and purple, even if Steve was sure Bucky had gone easy on her the evening before. The little smacks she earned in between spankings only served to ignite the burn. 

"Oh, doll," Steve cooed, his expression pulled tight and his chest feeling even tighter; he hated the distress she was in, the pain, "hold on, I've got the arnica right here." 

She whined when he moved her legs and slipped off her shorts, leaving her naked from the waist down, and grabbed the tube from the bedside table. They had hidden several of them throughout the apartment so they'd be handy at all times. In general, Penny appreciated the relief it provided but the application made her cry even harder, even as Steve used the gentlest touches he could. Her ass was still hot to the touch and would be for days and days. 

"All done baby, I'm all done," he'd applied the cream as thickly as possible, a visible layer on her bruises, "let's leave your shorts off, okay? You don't need them." 

Personally, he'd like for her to walk around naked at all times, he liked seeing her little pussy peeking out, but it really would feel best for Penny not to have anything on her ass. She was still crying, not quite as hard but he could still feel the tears against his skin. 

"Okay baby, okay," he murmured, lips returning to her temple, "we're gonna skip your spanking today, alright? We can't tell Bucky or he'll make me, so you have to pretend I did understand?" 

Penny nodded tearfully against his chest, "thank you, thank you, thank—" 

"Shhh, it's okay baby, it's okay." 

Steve spent the entire day with Penny in his arms, carrying her carefully from room to room or laying on his chest on the couch or in the bed. The pillow on her chair in the dining room (her Princess Pillow, a term Penny did not like and had led to her refusing to use it for meal times—but only until dinner on the first night, after two spankings had left her very uncomfortable) went unused just because she never actually sat on her own, instead rested on Steve's hip while they both ate over the sink. 

He honestly hadn't intended for anything sexual when he forewent her shorts that morning and he knew Penny didn't have any salacious goals either. It happened purely on accident while they lounged on the couch watching an action movie, Penny enjoying the way Steve could pick apart the movie's shortcomings. She'd sat up for some reason and her pussy had ground against his abs causing her entire body to still, an aborted noise escaping her lips as her clit hit a ridge just perfectly. Steve's hands found her hips quickly and he kept her from lifting up, gently stroking her bare skin. 

"Hey, hey, you're alright," he murmured softly, hoping not to trigger an escape attempt, "that felt good, didn't it babydoll? Here, do it again, lemme help." 

He used his hold to manipulate her hips, rolling her cunt over the bumps of his abs again, twisting her slightly at the end to really grind her clit. She moaned, breaths coming just slightly faster as he continued to move her hips in the same pattern, carefully holding her to prevent her ass from brushing anything that would cause pain. 

"That's good doll, that's so good," he praised, feeling her thighs clench ever so slightly as she started to work herself against him, "good girl, Penny, chase it. Make yourself feel good baby." 

Her wetness spread over his abs, aiding the slide of her cunt against his skin. She even canted her hips the way he'd manipulated her, the twist at the end dragging her clit against the ridges of his abs in a way that made her pant. Her lower lip found its way between her teeth and Steve did his best not to moan at the sight; she was working herself over beautifully above him. Her pussy was so slick he imagined he could feel her arousal dripping down his abs and rolling over his skin onto the couch. She rocked hard, hands coming to rest on his chest for leverage and he could see how close she was and the exact second she started to get frustrated. A whiney moan escaped her, the twist of her hips more pronounced as she tried and failed to bring herself off. 

"I—I can't, " she whined, thighs clenching tighter, "I can't—"

"Shh precious, come here, let me help you," he lifted her easily by the waist, pulling her up until her pussy hovered just over his mouth, arms coming around her thighs to hold her tightly, "I'll fix it, baby, I'll make you cum." 

His mouth sealed over her clit in and she yelped just before a long moan escaped her lips. Steve was good at eating pussy and enjoyed it deeply, the taste of her filling his mouth and coating his tongue. She was musky and tangy and he decided he could eat her out for hours if she'd let him. Her pussy clenched as he swirled his tongue inside of her, her thighs twitching as his nose bumped her clit. He waited until he could hear her begging for release before refocusing on her clit, the sensitive little button all but throbbing under his tongue as he began a truly exquisite onslaught. 

"Oh.. Ohhhh, I—oh no, oh no," he smirked against her cunt as she seemed to realize she was about to cum all over his face, her cheeks lighting up red at the thought and her thighs attempting to gain enough strength to lift herself up. 

Steve tightened his arms around her thighs and held her firmly, pussy sealed against his mouth with no room for squirming. Her lower body began desperately twitching as her orgasm built. He focused his tongue on her clit, working happily as she got louder and louder, her hips desperately rocking in his hold. The noise she made when she came nearly made his pop off in his briefs, loud and pitched and desperate. It tapered into breathy pants and whines and he stopped just before she became too sensitive for comfort, tongue lapping up into her cunt. Her cum was the same earthy flavor as her arousal and he cleaned her until she started to squirm. 

Her face was so endearingly red when he resituated her on his abs, directly onto the wet spot her pussy had made on his skin. She couldn't meet his eyes and he smiled, stroking his hands over her thighs gently. 

"Lay down baby, the movies not finished yet," he told her softly, pulling her down to rest against his chest again with her head on his peck and she stayed that way for the next two hours, until Bucky for home.  

Bucky's eyebrow had gone up when he walked in after work, the first thing he saw being Penny's bare ass and pussy from between her splayed legs where she lay over Steve's chest on the couch once again. The blond had signed 'don't ask-don't ask-don't ask' quickly before Bucky could even open his mouth, instead choosing to walk over and kiss both of them before heading into the bedroom to change. Well, mostly he just undressed down to his briefs and called it a day, obviously clothing was optional if not frowned upon in their apartment at the moment. His day had been relatively easy, the interrogation he'd done had gone by fast and after that it was just paperwork. Tony's companies, both legal and illegal, had a whole slew of enemies. Steve was good at finding them and Bucky was good at retrieving information from them. 

"Remember what we talked about precious," Steve murmured to her as Bucky walked back into the room, the blond's eyes finding his with a careful expression on his face, "be a good girl, be sweet." 

A squeaky meow interrupted his thoughts and Bucky reached down to scoop his favourite kitten into his arms. The orange one brushed against his ankles with a quiet purr, a little welcome home, before she retreated into the cat tree once again. He was worried because Penny hadn't named either of them yet but didn't know how to bring it up without upsetting her, and she was already so upset all the time. In his head he called the short one Munchkin and the orange one Chubs (for her little chubby cheeks). 

"How was your day?" He asked casually, noting the way Penny's eyes met his from under dark lashes like she had a secret. 

Judging from the way Steve gave a short 'later' hand motion, she did, but it wasn't something the blond was worried about and that meant Bucky wasn't either. Besides, he liked seeing the life in her pretty eyes today (she was half-naked on Steve's chest, unconcerned that her legs were spread, and looked almost happy—she could've killed 6 people and bathed in their blood and he wouldn't have cared because she almost smiled at him). 

"I already called down for dinner, it should get here in just a few minutes," Steve sat up, cautious of how Penny was arranged to make sure no pressure was put on her ass, "Penny needs arnica and her shorts, can you do it while I run to the bathroom?”

Bucky nodded and swept her up into his arms, cradling her tightly in his arms before falling back onto the couch and grinning when she immediately glared up at him, “I missed you today baby.” 

“I didn’t like that.” 

“You don’t like anything I do precious,” he pressed a kiss teasingly against her forehead, “let’s get this arnica on your poor ass, huh? Steve must’a already given you your spanking for today.” 

“Yeah.” Bucky’s eyebrows jumped high on his forehead; it didn’t take a master interrogator to figure out she was lying.

The hesitation to answer was the most obvious give away but she wouldn’t look him in the eyes either, a finger coming up to his chest to trace shapes against his skin. Lying to him was ballsy but he remembered the hand signals he’d received from Steve upon entering the apartment, the blond’s cryptic words to their babydoll while she thought Buck couldn’t hear. So instead of calling her out for the deception her grabbed a bottle of arnica from the end table and started very gently rubbing a layer into the bruised skin on her ass. 

Her little whimpers hurt his heart, but the full tears were what made it crack. She was likely at her breaking point for pain, where the punishment didn’t fulfill its purpose anymore. He’d bet Steve had realized the same thing and had held off. 

“Almost done babydoll. Steve! Bring her shorts with you when you come!” 

There was more squeaky meowing and he dropped his hand over the side of the couch without looking, scooping up Munchkin and dropping her onto his chest right between himself and Penny. The kitten hated being away from Penny even after such a short time. 

“What movies did you watch today? Have I seen them?” 

Penny hesitated for just a few seconds before she gave a short commentary, not noticing the way Steve walked out of the bedroom and up behind her. A quick few hand signals ‘food-sleep-talk’ told him that the blond wanted Penny fed, in bed, and asleep before they got a chance to talk and flashed and ‘okay’ behind her back. It didn’t take long to fulfill the list, Penny was out like a light with a very small dosage of sleeping pills (not enough for her to notice, just enough that she’d sleep through the night). 

The soldiers kind of assumed it was like having a toddler; during the day they had to watch what they said, if they got much of a chance to talk at all, and the dynamic between them had changed while they focused on getting Penny settled. Nights were when they had the chance to talk, it helped that they didn’t need a lot of sleep, and they honestly kind of enjoyed lying in the dark with their babydoll laid out across their chests, talking quietly over the sound of her breathing. It was certainly a good way to decompress after a long day and the pair fell asleep in the early hours of the morning, Penny on Bucky’s chest and Steve wrapped around them both from the side, a kitten or two thrown into the mix somewhere. 

Bucky woke immediately when the blond shifted, slowly starting to wake up for work. It was Steve’s turn to go in and he had a meeting with Tony too—Steve was much better at dealing with the eccentric billionaire than Bucky was, especially when it came to the topic of Penny. Despite the fact Steve had been the one who wanted her originally, Bucky was the one who’d become more overtly possessive and he didn’t like Tony butting into their business. 

“Take care of her, I’ll see you in the evening,” Steve bent over to kiss him lightly, lips trailing to brush against his cheek lovingly before he stroked a hand through Penny’s hair and gave pressed his lips to the back of her head, “love you.” 

“Love you, punk, go to work,” the brunet ignored Steve’s wry smile, instead shifting Penny to lay next to him on her side, curling his body tightly around her and tucking her up against his torso while Steve left.

She’d be up in an hour or so, would probably want to go lay in the hammock in front of the windows. She sunned herself the same way the kittens did, taking little cat naps in the sunshine between attempts at knitting. He could feel the small changes in her breathing as she started to come to and smiled; her forehead burrowed against his chest, her nose brushing his skin lightly. But then she started to tremble and a small whimper escaped her and she was reaching for him and there were tears in her eyes—

Bucky swept her into his arms immediately, carefully arranging her the same way they’d been doing for days to keep the pressure off her ass, “Penny, talk to me baby, why’re you crying? Did you have a bad dream?” 

“The stuff—the lotion—” she hiccuped and he felt her hips jump in his hands when the side of her ass brushed his leg and she yelped, “it hurts, it—”

“JARVIS, remedies for bruises,” Bucky ordered, immediately lifting them both off of the bed and heading into the bathroom. 

“Because this is the second morning Ms. Parker has woken up in pain, I have taken it upon myself to order several items to be sent to the apartment, including hypericum perforatum. There is an aloe vera plant in the living room which can be used for pain relief after a bath, which I shall add witch hazel and lavender to, along with epsom salts for the swelling.” 

“Thanks buddy,” he responded absently, the steam from the hot water immediately settling over his skin when he stepped past the doorway; the bathtub was already filling, “can you hold your weight baby? Just for a minute.” 

Penny nodded tearfully against his chest and he carefully rested her on her feet, gently manipulating the waistband of her shorts over the curve of her ass. He could see in the mirror that her skin had retained its deep red tone, purple and blue splotches concentrated on the fullness of either cheek. It wasn’t anything permanently damaging, just very painful. He pulled her tank top off and dropped it to the side with her shorts, listening as the faucet kicked off. 

“Alright baby, let’s get you into the bath,” He quickly shucked his briefs and stepped into the water, helping Penny in after even when her breathing hitched at the movement, “you’ll lay against my chest, just like usual.” 

Once they were situated, Penny with her head tucked under his chin and his arms around her back, Bucky couldn’t help but smile. He could see why Steve hadn’t gone through with her spanking yesterday, there was simply no need. Penny might not have trusted or liked them but she reached for them. When she was in pain she reached for them to help, to fix it, and knew that they would, where in the past you couldn’t have gotten her to ask them for anything, let alone help. 

It was a significant step in the right direction, Penny succumbing to a piece of her new life. She didn’t chafe under his hold, wasn’t stone still or angry. She was in pain and seeking comfort and help and she knew he’d provide it. He knew she was a stubborn little thing, the concession of just a bit of her space wasn’t the end of her fighting, but it meant something and the soldiers could work with that. During interrogations, the systematic deconstruction of a person’s will and mind meant that when one wall fell the others were very close to follow. Penny could still fight if she wanted, but it was only a matter of time before she conceded the battle. 

Patience wasn’t Bucky’s strong suit but he would wait as patiently as he could for her to crumble in his arms, after all, it wouldn’t take long now. 

content warnings: grinding, dubcon cunnilingus, face sitting

[bave-de-crapaud]

The Darkness within...

CHAPTER FOUR

(Soiltary by @thelamecat​)

Request by: The lovely @belladonnarey.

A/N: So sorry for the delay, here ‘tis - the morning after the curse and Y/N is feeling less than perky. Enjoy and stay safe out there my lovelies.

Sirius x reader Older Sirius Sirius lives/Post Azkaban Slow burn and eventual smut

Word count: 2500+ Disclaimer: All characters are assumed 18+ Warnings: swearing, dirty minds

--- It was cold, sitting on concrete. Even though he had a coat of fur, Sirius was cold.

How does she stand living this far up North? He thought to himself, shivering slightly.

It didn’t help that he was surrounded by wet bush either. Sirius shook his coat and contemplated for the 50th time what he was doing here.

She’s fine. He told himself. 

Both Dumbledore and Madeye have said she is fine. Still, he needed to see for himself. It had been nagging him over the past 24 hours. 

Hangover gone, loose end obviously at, Sirius soon found himself sitting, shielded by shrubbery in front of your place.

For four hours he had been sat in his chilly, damp hidey-hole watching. Sensing no movement. 

Just ten more minutes, then I’ll go. Sirius told himself for the umpteenth time.

---

“Come on Y/N. Get a fucking move on!” You growled at yourself through gritted teeth.

One foot in front of the other, you tackled the stairs. 

Sirius had been right, a delayed curse was agony. It took you the best part of a day to get yourself out of bed, and as soon as you had managed to walk to the bathroom and back, you decided to tackle the stairs. 

One step at a time, holding onto the banister for dear life you made it halfway. Stopping to rest and congratulate yourself you couldn’t help but feel smug that you were up and about, in the loosest sense of the word, in only one day. They had told you it would take at least three before you could get out of bed. Smirking smugly you straightened your shoulders and began to descend the remaining flight.

The smug security would soon wear off as your muscles, feeling like they were made of molasses and slipping further down inside you with every step, gave way and you fell the remaining steps, to land unceremoniously in a pile at the bottom of the stairs.

Your scream of surprise ending in a hollow ‘umpf’ as you landed, rang throughout the house followed by a loud: “Ow, FUCK!”. 

That was painful. Well, at least I’m downstairs now. You thought to yourself. Trying and failing to lift yourself up you contemplated calling it a day and just staying in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. It was certainly easier than trying to recover.

You would have laid there for eternity had it not been for a scramble at the front door. Crawling across the hallway you sat up enough to turn the handle and pull the door open. There stood a shaggy black dog with the most incredible grey eyes.

It whined and looked at you obviously concerned. It looked like your old dog but bigger, and hairier. The memory of her loving face swam in front of your face caused tears to fill your eyes and sobs to break free of your chest. From your seated position on the floor, you held your arms open and slurred “Come ‘ere.”

The dog instantly ran into your arms and you gripped it firmly. Pressing your face into its fur and breathing deep.

Fairly certain this was a side effect of the pain you grasped at the dog's fur, pulling it closer and whispering, “Where did you come from? Tell me are you real?”

It whined again as though trying to answer your question. 

Feeling the fur you gripped for dear life dissolve, and knowing that this must have been a mirage of the mind but not wanting to let it go you pressed your face further into the beast. The soft black fur disappeared to make way for a firm warm substance. You blink looking at it opening your eyes further to see that you are clinging on to a white t-shirt connected to two muscled arms encircling you and rubbing your back.

A scent of vetiver and musk filled your nostrils and stirred a memory inside you. What the? You look up to see Sirius staring back at you, the surprise palpable on your face.

He seemed surprised himself. “Y/N! Hi, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to scare you...I heard you yell.” “You heard me yell?” He nodded rubbing the back of his neck a faint blush forming on his cheeks, one hand still holding you. 

“Yes I didn’t mean to reveal myself though - I thought you would be more comfortable with Padfoot...my dog form.” He added looking at your confused face.

“You heard me yell?” you repeated.

He nodded again.

“Were you outside?”

“I was.” He looked nervous again. “I wanted to check on you.” He appraised your tear stricken face and rumpled appearance. “You look...well.”

This managed to draw a “hrmph” from you as the corner of your mouth curled up a bit.

“Well, okaaay.” You said still looking at Sirius as if he was an illusion your addled mind had made up. 

“I’m sorry Y/N, I really didn’t mean to frighten you by transforming mid-hug, I don’t know what happened?”

You closed your eyes and sighed. “It’s me, remember I told you I can sort of command animals? Well, that works for Animagi as well in their animal forms.”

“You’re kidding?!” You shook your head. “I asked you if you were real, and you answered me by showing me how you are.”

“Well, fuck me!” Sirius gazed into the distance. I’ll be careful never to be Padfoot around you when you’re pissed off with me then.

You smiled. Internally shoving the immediate thought that someone was referring to future contact with you. They all leave in the end.

“Can you help me up Sirius, I was coming downstairs to make tea.”

“Yes! Yes of course!” Sirius wrapped his arms around your waist and stood you up with him.

“Lean on me, love. Ok which way?”

You directed Sirius to the kitchen, leaning on his, admittedly, well-formed shoulder. As you slowly moved forward he couldn’t help notice the feel of your waist in his hands triggering a memory of his sex dream with you and causing him to loudly clear his throat.

“Are you ok Sirius? You are wincing?” You had noticed that he was taking careful effort to walk forward with you.

“I’m not too heavy am I?”

“Not at all Y/N.” He gave you a side smile.

“Just had a bit of a rough night the other night is all.”

You nodded wondering what he meant.

“Ok, here we go.” he gently placed you on the stool in front of your kitchen table then walked to the other side looking for cups, the kettle, and tea.

You directed him where these items were located and you realised that this is the first time you had anyone enter your house for anything other than Order or Death Eater business. No one ever came to check on you before. 

“Y/N, I wanted to talk to you about your ‘powers.’” Sirius had looked up from placing tea bags in two mugs and was staring at you with a concerned look on his face.

Smile suddenly fading at the realisation that he was here just on business, you hardened your mind. 

“Yes. What about them?” Your curt response was not lost on him but he pressed on.

“Why did you not know what the runes meant?”

“Why does anyone know what they mean?” You responded narrowing your eyes at him. “The only known runes are useless to me. I took that class at Hogwarts trying to seek out the meaning to my tattoos only to find them not to be there at all.”

“There’s more extensive research than Ancient Runes at Hogwarts, Y/N” Sirius replied incredulously. 

“Yes, I do realise that.” You spat. “I have looked beyond Professor Laurenzoo’s class, but they aren’t anywhere. I can’t find anything that looks like my tattoos until I saw yours the other night.”

You huffed. Breathing was not coming easy and the pain in your body was starting to ache again with your anger making your insides hot. You closed your eyes, holding your ribs and sigh. You were too weak to retaliate.

Noticing your shortness of breath Sirius stepped around the table over to you and placed a hand on your arm. 

“Y/N, are you ok, you shouldn’t be up - I’ll take you back to bed.”

“No, I’m fine.” You grunt. 

“You are clearly not fine, love.” Sirius gently cupped your jaw, encouraging you to look at him.

As your eyes locked with his they flashed purple. You knew this because the caring concerned look he was giving you a second ago was replaced by one of confusion, surprise, and was that intrigue?

Your hackles stood on end as you realised you were getting close to losing your temper at him and despite your belief that you didn’t need help, some part of you wanted to keep your cool with him. Why? 

They all leave sooner or later. An inner voice shook inside you.

“I’m fine, Sirius.”

Sirius didn’t move away. He was not afraid of you but for you. He could tell when someone was bottling up anger, hurt, and pain. He saw himself mirrored in your face and he desperately wanted to help you.

“You can’t keep doing this Y/N, you’ll burn out.” his thumb softly rubbed your cheek.

It felt so nice and you instantly became terrified. He needed to stop. You could not attach yourself to anyone, or anything anymore - if they don’t end up leaving you they will just meet their demise.

Poised to move away from him you stopped as Sirius’ other hand found yours and squeezed it gently. He moved infinitesimally closer to you and you could feel the faint cool brush of his breath on your forehead. 

It felt good. More than good. You found yourself squeezing his hand back and leaning into the palm that held your cheek. 

The white t-shirt he wore expanded and contracted in front of you with his rapidly increasing breath. You could see an outline of a taut stomach. Thinking of him topless in his kitchen while he interrogated you, you remembered the lines of his pectorals and the thin layer of sweat that hung to his skin, rogue droplets forming on the ridges of his abs and falling tantalizingly slowly to settle on the waistband of his trousers.

You looked up at him to see your lust mirrored in his face. A slow smirk formed on his face. Far from making you smile however, that look hardened your resolve and you recalled that this wasn’t the first time you had been propositioned for sex from someone who found your powers intriguing. 

The second emotion to flash across your mind is embarrassment followed by disappointment. 

You had heard stories of this man. He was not the type to stick around. Even if he did he would be a hard dog to keep on the porch. Think Y/N! Think. This is Sirius Black. He was threatening to curse you less than 48 hours ago, he can’t possibly like you more than just a one night stand.

Well, what’s wrong with that? Another voice in the back of your mind quietly uttered. There is nothing wrong with two consenting adults falling into bed together. 

I bet he knows what he is doing. The same voice piped up - louder this time.

Oh god, he probably would have you screaming his name until sunset, you thought to yourself causing a plucking sensation in your core. Images of his naked body covering yours, touching you, feeling you, pressing against you entered your mind and made you visibly shudder.

Sirius noticed this and raised an eyebrow questioningly at you.

As quickly as this thought train occurred, the gravity of your situation fell down upon you. He doesn’t want you, Y/N. Another, more frequent, voice said.

And even if he did, you are a curse yourself, you cannot and will not allow anyone else to fall victim to your circumstance.

Frowning at him, you dropped his hand and sat up as straight as you could without falling over.

“What do you want Sirius, did you come here for sex? Because it’s not the first time a proposition has been carefully covered in a duvet of supposed caring words.”

Sirius stepped back from you and removed his hands so fast.

“No Y/N, no I was worried about you! I wouldn’t...ah..I’m not…” He paused and looked at you sheepishly. “If you are offering though...?”  he smiled jokingly then immediately forced a somber expression on his face. “No, I wanted to see if you were ok, after the curse...the...what I did.”  Flashes of you on his bed begging him to touch you swam around his brain causing him to screw his eyes shut and shake his head.

He was obviously uncomfortable. This softened you. You looked at him for a moment longer and noticed something. Is Sirius Black blushing?

He cleared his throat again and pressed on. “Anyway Y/N, you might not have found what you are looking for at Hogwarts or Flourish and Blotts but I happen to know of a book that is filled with Ancient runes, runes beyond Merlin and Mordred, that I’m sure could enlighten you on some of your tattoos. Are you interested?”

The desperation in your eyes at this information left him reeling. If you could, you would have jumped toward him. “Yes! Yes, Sirius, I am! Where... how do you know about this?”

“Well, I own it.” He shrugged at your raised eyebrows and answered your silent question.

“Old wizarding families, Y/N. You said you didn’t have a family? Well, then how could you have any family heirlooms? Most ancient magic is owned by collectors or passed down through inheritance, that’s why you have never found anything you can buy or learn in class.”

You held your fingertips up to your mouth in amazement looking around the room. Is this it? Could you finally be finding clues to your past?

Sirius smiled again. It is a warm smile full of compassion. “Come on Y/N. I’ll help you back to bed then leave you to rest.”

He ever so gently picked you up and carried you towards the stairs. As you placed your arm over his shoulders a thought occurred to you.

“Why are you helping me, Sirius?”

He shrugged, squeezing you closer to his chest in doing so, “Why not Y/N? You helped us, it’s the least I can do.”

That is not quite true. You thought looking up at him as he climbed the stairs.

Sirius placed you on your bed, your tea on the bedside table and watched you close your eyes. As you fell into a slumber, the smile slipped off his face and turned to a tight line of determination. He didn’t know why but he desperately wanted to help you.

You are afraid of yourself. You think you are a bad person and push everyone away. The one time you let a little light into your life it was snuffed out reinforcing that anything you touch burns.

Sirius knew this feeling. He knew it too well and he was adamant that it was not going to take you as it had once taken him.

Tag list: @belladonnarey @sirius-lysad @riddikuluslypotter @emmamass24 @evyiione @mylovelykelsifer @sly-vixen-up2nogood @ashkuuuu @virgilwrites-archive @virgilwrites @songforhema @wangmangagavroche @borbole-teias @legalyred @qwertyokok

[bluerose5]

The Precipice of Change: Chapter 1

Rated: T

Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition

Word Count: 4,268

Tags: Male Mage Hawke, Hawke as Inquisitor, DAI Inner Circle, Purple/Flirty Hawke, Canon-Typical Violence, past Male Hawke/Fenris, Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence, Blood & Injury

Summary: The story of Dragon Age: Inquisition, as told if Garrett Hawke were to become the Inquisitor instead.

There's nothing like being the Chosen One for a god that you don't really believe in, fighting to save a world that wants you dead eight out of the seven days of the week. But Hawke makes do. He always does.

Chapter 1:

When Hawke decided to attend the Conclave, it had been out of his heart’s foolish sense of empathy for what Anders used to call “the mages’ plight.” Don’t get him wrong. Garrett wasn’t completely devoid of all sense and emotion. He actively supported mages’ freedom whenever possible, stood up for them over and over again when —for a while there— it seemed as if Kirkwall had nothing to offer beyond blood mages and abominations. Even if he hadn’t factored that in, it certainly wouldn’t do a long-term apostate any favors to support the templars, of all people, but the last thing he had signed up for was this.

The last thing he remembered, he had been roaming around the Temple of Sacred Ashes, hood drawn close to conceal his face. He had been there under the guise of a Circle mage from one noble family or another. A random stranger had mistaken him for this Trevelyan lad from Ostwick, so Hawke had simply rolled with it, figuring that it was better than being recognized as the former Champion of Kirkwall. Not that his possible appearance was much of a secret, given that the Divine’s Right and Left Hands had specifically extended an invitation to him as one of the apostates’ “leaders” or what-have-you.

Still, one could never be too safe.

Anywho, here he was, roaming around the place, minding his own business…

Okay, maybe that was a lie. Hawke may or may not have heard about there being a cheese platter somewhere, and anyone that knew him would know that the mere possibility of there being one was enough to have him searching it out.

It was during his snooping that he came across… something, and then his memory goes blank from there.

Continue Reading Under the Cut...

And now, here he was, waking up in some dark, dank prison. Hurray! It almost reminded him of all of his worst nightmares. Surely any moment now, some Knight-Lieutenant would come barging in with the brand in hand, all serious and dour and ominous looking. They would probably spit on him, call him a filthy apostate for good measure. Can’t forget a nice kick to the gut with those damn boots of theirs. There’s nothing like instilling a decent dose of fear in their bound and helpless captives before lobotomizing them, right? Might as well go the whole nine yards. After they’d have him all bruised and bloodied, then they’d finally follow through and position the brand, its heat radiating along the surface of his skin—

The door to his prison slammed open then, causing Hawke to jolt in shock. His eyes snapped open, but it was hard to see much without squinting into the darkness, his narrow-eyed gaze accompanied by a scowl.

Just as he was getting to the good part, too!

The first woman that strolled in wasn’t anyone familiar, but the second one had Hawke doing a double take. Mind you, her garb was a bit different from the last time they met, but he could hardly forget meeting such a legendary character from the Fifth Blight. What kind of Ferelden would he be, had he forgotten the Leliana herself?

“Sister Nightingale?” he asked, head cocked to the side as he tried to get a glimpse under her hood. A single flash of torchlight upon her face was enough to confirm his suspicions, Hawke’s brain registering a second too late that the “torchlight” was suddenly green and coming from his hand. “Long time, no see. Lovely weather we’re having. How have you be—”

His ramblings were cut short when a mind-numbing, all-consuming pain lanced through his palm. It managed to do the impossible and shut him up for once, a sharp hiss replacing Hawke’s words as he tried to clutch his hand against his chest, only to have his manacles stop his hands in their tracks. He keeled over instead when he couldn’t find the relief he sought, curling in on himself with a breathless wheeze. Each flash of light was an assault on his nerves. It felt like lightning licking through his veins, brutal and relentless.

Muffled words poured in through his ears, but he couldn’t make out who was speaking nor what they were saying. Almost as if he was listening to them speak from underwater.

Just as the pain was becoming too much, black dots now clouding Hawke’s vision, the agony of the mark slowly started to recede. The green light disappeared, and the fire retreated back to his hand. It no longer engulfed his whole body, but simply radiated in his palm as a slow, aching throb.

Once Hawke was able to piece together some semblance of coherence, he gasped out for air. His entire body trembled and threatened to come apart at the seams, but having a sword suddenly pressed against his throat was like a bucket of ice-cold water to the face. He sputtered indignantly, golden brown eyes darting up to the Seeker’s sneering expression.

“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now,” she snapped, her patience apparently at its end.

Hawke’s head spun in confusion.

“I—” And because the man seemed to have a death wish, he just had to make a smartass comment, didn’t he? “Uh, because of my charming wit and stunning good looks?”

Might as well try for one of his signature smiles.

The second he grinned at her, though, the Seeker’s frown grew impossibly deeper.

Okay, that’s a ‘no’ to the signature smile then. Understandable. Its effects tend to vary, and this lady Seeker already came off as more sensible and sane than most of his former inner circle. Nice to know.

With a hand on her shoulder, Leliana stepped forward and gave her companion a pointed look, to which the Seeker responded with glare.

It took several moments for her to back down, but she eventually did, not without first scoffing at Hawke in disgust.

After she sheathed her weapon, both of them started to circle Hawke, predators waiting for the ideal moment to strike. It made Hawke tense up ever so slightly, his hackles raised and on edge.

“The Conclave is destroyed,” the Seeker continued, as if Hawke had never interrupted her. “Everyone who attended is dead, except for you.”

Wait, what?

Staring up at her in bewilderment, Hawke gaped.

“Excuse me,” he said. “Could you repeat that back for me? Surely, I must’ve heard wrong.”

“I’m afraid that you heard her correctly, Champion,” Leliana stated, her voice deceptively calm, despite the icy layer to her gaze. “The Temple of Sacred Ashes went up in flames. Conveniently enough for you, you are its sole survivor.”

Hawke pursed his lips at what she was implying, but the Seeker interrupted him before he could defend himself.

“It wouldn’t be the first time that you were involved when a holy sanctuary was destroyed in an explosion.”

Okay, now that was a low blow.

“Now, wait a damn minute,” Hawke spat.

The mark upon his hand decided that now was as good a time as any to make its presence known again, flaring bright green in response to his anger. Thankfully, the pain was slightly more manageable this time around with Hawke expecting it, but its mere appearance was enough to send the Seeker’s temper flaring as well.

Yanking at Hawke’s hand, her nails bit angrily into his palm, adding fuel to the already roaring flames.

“Explain this,” she snarled.

Snatching his hand back, he lifted his chin up in defiance as he stared her down.

“Yes, I’ll get right on that, explaining a mark that I know next to nothing about. If anything at all,” he deadpanned.

She took his shirt in hand and hauled him up to his feet until they were practically nose-to-nose, her brown eyes lit aflame with fury. Her hands were clenched tight into white-knuckled fists, Leliana having to step in once more.

“We need him, Cassandra.”

That was all she said on the matter, though. She didn’t even try to stop her as she did last time, lingering more in the shadows.

With a huff, Cassandra shoved Hawke back onto the ground, turning to Leliana with a scowl in place and her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Apparently, that was some sort of signal because Leliana took it upon herself to address Hawke again.

“You know what happened,” she accused. “How this all began…”

She trailed off, giving Hawke ample opportunity to fill in the blanks.

“If only I did,” he sighed, but he knew that such a lackluster answer wouldn’t help his case. “Listen, all I remember was that I was in the temple.” Come on, Hawke. Think. “Then next thing I know, something is, uh—” He wracked his memories for the details, only to fall short. “Something was chasing me? Oh, and there was a woman there too, I think!”

Leliana perked up at that.

“A woman?”

Hey, whatever worked.

Hawke nodded eagerly, scrambling for something —anything— else regarding that fact.

“She reached out to me, but then—”

And just like that, the memory slipped. Damn it. Was this sort of what Fenris felt like all of those years ago?

No wonder why he didn’t want to sleep with Hawke again.

“Ugh,” Hawke grumbled, head falling forward in defeat.

Cassandra must have decided then that she had heard enough.

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take him to the rift.”

After the two exchanged a look, Leliana nodded and left. Cassandra took the opportunity then to drag Hawke back onto his feet, giving him little time to regain his footing before she hauled him off. In her haste, he stumbled over himself, but one sharp glare from her stopped his complaint in its tracks. Instead, he focused on staying in step with her, all while the gears started turning in his mind. He might not have ever met Cassandra before in person, but that doesn’t mean that he had never heard of her either.

After all, Varric had warned him that he had people searching for him, and how many Seekers were out there that went by the same name? Clearly not a coincidence.

Then again, when doesn’t Hawke have people after him?

Cassandra must have noticed his staring, eyeing him cautiously in return.

“What is it?”

Hawke really should start thinking before he speaks.

“Oh, I don’t know. From the way Varric described you, I imagined you would be taller, is all,” he chuckled.

The second her expression darkened, he knew that he had fucked up.

“From the way Varric described me?” she repeated slowly, scrunching her nose up at that. “Which means that he had written to you after I took him in for questioning. What a fool I am. I should have known that the dwarf was still contacting you. He insisted that he had no clue where you were.”

Oh, great.

Varric was so going to kill him for this.

“Ah, yes, well you see—”

Usually, he was much better at bullshitting on the spot, but his mind was unfortunately too muddled and dazed at the moment to come up with anything even remotely believable.

“Ugh.” Cassandra rolled her eyes at him. “Save it, and come on.”

That was all that was said before she led him outside, the light blinding enough that Hawke flinched, staggering backwards before Cassandra righted him. As they strolled forward, the commotion outside fell silent, like the calm before a storm. All eyes in the surrounding area turned on them the moment the doors opened, many filled with sorrow, and many more filled with a burning, deep-seated rage. All of which was now directed at Hawke.

He didn’t care, though. His attention was focused on something else entirely. Namely, the massive tear in the sky.

“What is that?”

The sheer surprise in his voice was impossible for even Cassandra to deny, her lips pursed in consideration as she turned to appraise the green, swirling vortex.

“We call it ‘the Breach.’ It’s a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It is not the only such rift. Just the largest.” She took a deep, bracing breath. “All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave.”

“Seeker, I’ve seen the damage firsthand that an explosion could do to a city, and it wasn’t anywhere near this magnitude,” he stated, wondering what the hell kind of nightmare he stumbled upon in the Fade. “The amount of power that would be needed to tear open the Veil itself…”

As if his words had summoned its wrath, the Breach flared brightly, causing the mark to hiss and sputter angrily. White-hot pain shot through him, his words cut off with a gasp. His knees hit the ground, but he couldn’t even feel it compared to the wildfire consuming him from the inside-out.

His ears rang, and his vision blurred.

All sounds were drowned out like before, and it was only when the mark started to calm again that he was able to focus on what Cassandra was saying, kneeling in front of him with a hand upon his shoulder.

“—ch time the Breach expands, the mark spreads, and it is killing you.”

Great, so not a dream then.

“It may be the key to stopping this,” Cassandra continued, “but there isn’t much time.”

Yeah, of course not. When is there ever?

“So that’s it, huh? The infamous Champion of Kirkwall, cleaning up everyone’s messes again?” Or causing a few more than they started out with. Cassandra’s expression remained unimpressed to say the least, causing Garrett to sigh. “Okay, yeah.”

The way hope lit up her face nauseated him, his hand suddenly feeling like a dead weight.

“You will help us then?” she asked, wary and hesitant.

“I’ll do what I can, Seeker. Whatever it takes.” Hawke nodded at her with a bleak smirk. “Although, I don’t share your confidence that this mark will do anything other than more harm.”

“And here I thought that the Champion would be more lively in person. Varric never told me you were so pessimistic,” she joked, helping him to his feet to guide him along.

“You’re only figuring out now that Varric is an unreliable source?” Hawke asked. “If anything, though, the people who usually hurl insults at me would label me a hedonist, or perhaps they call me a heathen. It’s so hard to tell sometimes.”

“I can’t imagine why anyone would view your presence as anything less than charming,” Cassandra deadpanned, to which Hawke nodded eagerly in agreement.

“That’s what I keep saying! It’ll forever be a mystery to me.” It was then that he noticed the cold reception he was getting, surrounded on all sides by silent stares. “So… wonderful welcome party you have here.”

Cassandra was quick to jump to their defense on the matter, not that Hawke expected anything different.

“They have decided your guilt,” she explained. “They need it. The people mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry. The Conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace between mages and templars.”

“Perhaps the last chance,” Hawke said, his voice little more than a grave whisper. Cassandra nodded.

“She brought their leaders together, and now—” Her voice broke ever so slightly, but Hawke kindly kept quiet about it. If anyone could understand grief and loss, it was him. “—now they are dead.”

She swallowed thickly, standing taller as she schooled her expression back into its cool, calm, and collected mask. The time to mourn would come later, hopefully when the world was in less peril.

“We lash out like the sky,” she said, “but we must think beyond ourselves, as she did. Until the Breach is sealed.”

“And after that?” Hawke asked.

Cassandra paused, considering. “We shall see.”

Well, that was promising.

Once Hawke’s hands were unbound, Cassandra explained that they should test his mark out on something smaller than the Breach, which was fine by him considering that he was the one whose life was at risk. They were interrupted more than once on their trek forward by the mark’s sudden flare-ups, and Hawke could swear that he lost consciousness at one point, forcing Cassandra to practically drag him along at her side. He quickly came back to, but the mark was relentless, the pain worsening by the second.

The next time that Cassandra had to pick him up, he smiled apologetically in her direction.

“You know, I always admire a woman who can pull her own weight. And mine, in this case.”

Maker, he was rusty, but he tried to at least recover from his idiotic blunder by winking at her for good measure. She simply scoffed and shook her head in exasperation, rolling her eyes at his antics.

“If that was supposed to be flirtatious, then you failed. Horribly,” she stated, her expression giving nothing away beyond mere annoyance. “I would give you points for the effort, but even that was lacking.”

“My wounded pride,” Hawke sighed. “Perhaps I could—”

He was interrupted when debris from the Breach came crashing down in front of them, blasting right through the bridge they stood upon. Its foundation gave a loud groan of protest, stones crumbling one by one beneath their feet as they both fell to the icy path below them. The guards that were atop the bridge were sent down along with them. When the dust cleared, several were injured, and one of them had even died on impact, weapons scattered all along the ground as they yelled and tried to regroup.

Of course, fate just had a funny sense of humor because it was at that exact moment that demons started sprouting from the ground like daisies in the spring. The Breach was all but spewing them out without a care in the world, so Cassandra had definitely lost her marbles if she thought for a second that Garrett would follow her order to stay back.

Unfortunately, he didn’t really have a staff on hand, nor were there any spare lyrium potions lying around. Use of his magic would have to be scarce then, but he could make do.

Carver wasn’t the only one among the Hawke siblings that had learned how to use a sword. He was simply the only one that had perfected the skill. Malcolm’s knowledge might have consisted of mostly the basics, but it was still better than nothing, both Garrett and Bethany having learned out of necessity. Not only was it a handy defense for when their magic needed to be hidden, but it was also useful to know when faced with enemies who could dispel their abilities. In the end, though, Garrett guessed that it mattered little in Bethany’s case, but he refused to linger on that.

Right. Need to focus.

Scrambling across the ice, Hawke let his adrenaline flow freely, scooping up one of the swords and shields that had fallen in the soldiers’ wake. Right then, a shade manifested behind Cassandra, who was already busy battling with two others. Letting out a roar, Hawke rushed forward and knocked it down while it was distracted. It gave an indignant screech, which instantly grew louder when Hawke slashed at it with his blade. Blackened blood sprayed out from where he cut, but Hawke didn’t have time to consider it as he attacked the demon once again. Now and then, he would use some spells as needed for backup, but he stayed mindful of his pool of mana.

Soon enough, the demons all fell, one by one. The soldiers that could join them in the fray did so at the first opportunity, but many more still needed tending to.

Before Hawke could approach them, Cassandra was already in front of him, fire blazing in her eyes.

“Drop your weapon,” she snapped. “Now.”

Hawke raised an eyebrow at her, but he complied nonetheless, the sword and shield clattering to the ground as he waved his fingers at her.

“You know I’m a mage, right? Don’t really need a weapon to be dangerous, so far as everyone else is concerned.”

She sneered at him.

“Is that supposed to reassure me?”

He shrugged. “Well, no, but I haven’t used my magic on you yet.”

“Yet,” she repeated.

“Listen, are we really going to stand here and argue my horrible word choice all day, or are you going to let me heal your people so that we can continue on?”

“Heal them?” She blinked owlishly at that, as if trying to root out some ulterior motive hidden beneath his words.

“Well, yeah, not all of them took to the fall as gracefully as we did, Seeker.”

Which was saying something, considering how winded and disheveled they both were at the moment.

Eventually, after much appraisal on Cassandra’s end, she stepped aside. What mana Hawke did store was soon directed towards healing those around him. He was no Anders, by any means —thank the Maker for small miracles— but he knew enough healing spells to do some good.

Unfortunately, only a few actually accepted his help, so he didn’t have much to occupy him for long before he and Cassandra needed to head out.

By a surprising turn of events, she approached him after he was finished with the sword and shield that he had used earlier. When she offered it up to him, he hesitantly took it, wondering if this was some kind of trap.

Picking up on his suspicion, she huffed, arms crossed defensively over her chest.

“There were no mages among this lot, so we will be unable to procure you a staff for the rest of the journey. However, I cannot —in good conscience— leave you defenseless against demons, especially since you agreed to do this voluntarily.”

“Yeah, voluntarily. After you had me bound and gagged. Oh, and threatened me with death! Don’t forget that part.”

Cassandra sputtered, then paused, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Hold on a second. We did not have you gagged,” she protested, because obviously that was the worst accusation out of the three.

“Of course you did, and it was only when I broke free of my chains and escaped my dark, creepy, spider-infested prison that I looked upon all of this chaos around me—” Hawke swept his arms out around himself in a grandiose gesture. “—and decided to save you poor, unfortunate souls from mortal peril. Fighting through an entire demon army along the way, with the occasional dragon and ogre thrown in there for good measure, to reach the Breach!”

Cassandra gave a disgruntled sigh.

“I can see why you are friends with Varric, Champion.”

“Yeah, we are pretty amazing, aren’t we?”

Shaking her head at him, even she couldn’t deny how the corner of her lips quirked up the slightest bit in amusement.

“Not the word that I would use.”

They continued on the path from there, their banter occasionally interrupted when demons popped up or the mark flared. It wasn’t too long until they finally arrived at one of the smaller rifts that Cassandra had described, Hawke perking up quite noticeably when he noticed a specific dwarf there. He had no idea who the bald elven mage was, but he figured he would find out soon enough, he and Cassandra joining the fight against some shades and wraiths.

“Hawke?!” Varric yelled out in shock, releasing a bolt into a nearby enemy. “That you, you bloody bastard?!”

“Ha!” Hawke laughed as he covered a shade in ice, only to break it into a million tiny pieces with a slice of his sword. “Do you know any other Champion that’s this devilishly handsome?”

“More fighting,” Cassandra huffed. “Less talking.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Hawke teased, focusing in on the battle at hand.

Once the final demon was downed, the unnamed mage took ahold of Hawke’s hand without explanation, magic coursing through where their skin touched. It was… strange. Not unwelcome, but almost as if the elf’s magic was guiding that from the mark.

Garrett really didn’t have time to consider it, his palm being thrust towards the rift before he could get a word out.

“Quickly! Before more come through!”

The resulting pain swelled inside him. It grew and grew, large and gluttonous, threatening to rip him apart at the seams. When Hawke prodded at the rift, it felt as if it prodded back, but something in that magic eventually gave way. It pulled and tugged at the edges of the rift, requiring Hawke’s full attention to get the edges to budge. Sweat beaded at his hairline, and his breaths soon escaped in labored gasps. But Hawke knew that, this time, failure wasn’t an option.

He didn’t know exactly how it happened. He didn’t know whether he pulled from the elf’s magic somehow or if the elf intentionally fed his magic into his, but something they did made the damn thing work. Like the last piece of a puzzle finally slipping into place.

With one final burst of energy, the mark snatched the edges together and sealed the rift closed. It was a patchy mess, but it got the job done nonetheless, the Veil scarred where the rift once was.

Tired and exhausted, Hawke didn’t even care how he dragged Mr. Elven-No-Name with him, his legs giving out as they both collapsed back into the snow.

The first one to break the newfound silence was Varric, as eloquent and timely as always.

“Well,” he panted, trying to catch his breath, “shit.”

And on that, Garrett thought as his eyes slipped closed, we can agree.

[imnotcameraready]

chivalry is dead — ball outfits

as of chapter 20, everyone is dressed Fancy™

outfits and ID explanations below! 

Patton — Cat

i gotta start with our kitty-pat!!!!! he’s so cute !!!! his dress is a lot like cinderella’s, actually, now that i think about it. His dress corset has the princess-cut lines down the center that have some silver thread detailing, and the center part is a sparkly grey while the outside is a pale grey-blue velvet. The corset’s waist juts out, and at the center middle of the waist there’s a large bow made of glittery black tulle. The top most layer of his dress is glittery silver tulle, while the next layer (and the one that extends out behind him in a train) is glittery black tulle. i feel like it should bunch in the back, but i didn’t draw the back, but it also probably bunches in the back just given how fabric Moves™. the inner most layer of his dress is a velvet gradient from the same pale grey-blue on his corset to an actual dark grey, similar in shade to the silver tulle! his shoulder poofs are also scrunched up silver tulle, and that’s all the sleeve he’s got. he does have forearm-length gloves, though, which are grey with pink toe beans that mimic a cat’s!

his mask is also pretty standard for a masquerade ball — it’s a grey cat mask, with a silver gem for the nose and with pink ears and whiskers! 

Logan — Octopus

a smart animal for our smart boi :^) also like, my favorite outfit of the bunch, i want it so badly. his blazer doesn’t clasp, but it’s fitted pretty well and clips on the inside to his vest. It’s dark blue, with a black adjustable waist strap that goes around his back, and with four tails that seem more like tentacles. The shoulders of his blazer are also adorned with light blue “bubble” rhinestones. His vest is just a shimmery royal blue, and his undershirt is white, but his tie is iridescent blue and black. It’s tied up in an eldritch knot tho ;0 His pants are pretty tame, just some dark blue slacks. hes got a little piece of pink coral tucked into his lapel, too!

logan’s mask is. like. like i’d die for it. like it’s so cool. there are four tendrils poking out and swirling around it on either side, protruding from the mask itself, and while the coloring of the mask is fairly basic (it’s just dark blue) the “underside” of the tentacles are decorated in silver gems that mimic an octopus’ suckers. this was the first one i did and. like. im still yelling. i want that mask. 

Deceit — Peacock

thought i’d mix it up a little!!!! deceit’s suddenly flashy and, in the bard’s words, “the hottest chick in the coop.” he doesn’t have a blazer, but he does have a half-cape thingie, which has blue and purple and green rhinestones on the shoulder pad while shimmers an iridescent purple and green when he moves. his vest is a matte teal, and his undershirt is mint green, and he has lil arm bands that keep his sleeves pulled up that are dark blue. his ascot is also iridescent, and shimmers blue and purple. His pants are pretty tame, though (as i’ve seemed to do with most everyone’s pants lmao) they’re black with a glittery green stripe down the side. his shoes are. supposed to be black dress shoes. but it seems i forgot to draw them. and his gloves are dark green! i love this outfit but its also a mess of colors asdfgjkl

his mask covers the scaled side of his face and has blue rhinestones decorated similarly to the cape. There are also a lot of feathers. Like a lot of peacock feathers. all coming out of the left side. his scales are well hidden. 

The Thief — Snake

speaking of mixing it up a little, the thief does love being a red herring. his outfit is less snake themed and more deceit themed t b h. idk what to call that blazer, but it’s black, and short in the front with two long coat tails in the back, and is buttoned low and twice with gold circles and chains that mimic deceit’s coat clasp. His blazer also has sequins arranged in diamonds, traveling up his sleeves’ forearms. his vest is black, too, but is sheer while the blazer itself is matte. his dress shirt is a pastel yellow, and the bowtie is black, calling back to deceit’s SvS outfit. his slacks are also pretty plain, just black, and he’s wearing black gloves. 

his mask is literally a call back to deceit — covers the let side of his face, and has sequins arranged in diamonds all across it, mimicking deceit’s scales. If you look close enough, though, you can see his face scar jutting out at the very edge

remember when virgil was tryna convince the thief that he was the virgil-esque roman? :^) 

The Bard — Harlequin

i love love love the bard’s outfit. it’s actually a ball-dance dress, meant for people who are actually doing ballroom dancing, with some red sheer tulle as the skirt. His bodice isn’t a corset, though it is kinda stiff and sinched at the waist by a thick black belt with a heart on it. The belt matches his choker, which incidentally is connected to his dress :^) the bodice also has a red and black checkered pattern throughout, with a large white pearl at every check intersection. There are pieces of tulle from his dress connected to his wrists by thick forearm bands, also with the red and black checkered pattern — good for showy dancing!

his mask is also based on a harlequin/jester theme, with five protrusions at the top in alternating red-black-red-black-red, and with bells at the ends. the center of his mask is white and fades into the red and black checkered pattern at the sides. 

The Artist — Jester

shout out to the artist for his character development, because the boy’s learned to be okay laughing at himself and at things. He’s going as a jester, so his outfit is semi-formal and semi-flashy (good for distracting ;) ). The left half of his suit is a solid black, while the right half has a checkered pattern of red and black. His suit’s sleeve cuffs spiral out a little, and are gold. His slacks are solid red on the right while adorned with the red and black checkered pattern on the left. 

his mask is similar to the bard’s — the top has five jester-hat-like protrusions, alternating black-red-black-red-black, with bells on the ends. The mask itself, however, is white with little marks of all four card suits. 

The Playwright — Queen of Hearts

The Playwright’s dress harkens back to the animated Alice in Wonderland’s queen of hearts dress. The skirt is nearly identical, with an outer most layer that’s half red and half black, and with chevrons on the inside that alternate black and gold. At the tip of his corset’s waist is a large red rhinestone in the shape of a heart, and across his bodice is a large red heart that stretches from the neckline to the waist. His sleeves? Basically remus’ sleeves. Poofy shoulder parts that pinch in near his elbow, then are flush against his skin to the wrist, and then floof out at the wrist. The sleeves are black with glittery red trims around the wrist floofs and in the creases of the shoulder poofs. 

his mask is actually all rose gold wire-work, in intricate spirals. there’s a crown in the middle, on the top, also made of wire. 

Dragon and Damsel — the Prince and flames

ignore the big doodle on the left — that was for another drawing! 

Dragon’s outfit is fairly simple, he’s just wearing Roman’s usual white princely outfit with the gold trims, red sash, black boots, etc. The main difference is that his crest has been replaced with Dragon’s part of the crest, which is just the castle’s outer towers and wall. 

Damsel on the other hand is wearing a ball gown. His corset has a tall behind-head-neck-thing-whose-name-ive-forgotten, taller than his head with orange and red detailing shaped like flames. The corset has stiff gold shoulder pads that actually prevent him from lifting his arms high, and the body itself is detailed with sequins and rhinestones that mimic the red sash. There’s a little bit of rolled up red tulle at his waist, and then the gown. The first two layers are kind of torn up and in tatters (almost as though they’d been physically torn and then burned) and are colored orange, then red, and the inner most visible layer is a dark ashy grey. His eye, usually covered in a bandage, is patched over with a red rose. 

neither of them have masks, but the damsel has a red veil (not in the picture). they want to be seen and identified. 

no taglist bc uhhhh idk if y’all wanna see this (its not writing?? )