#maybe a few more than 500 words each

[theonlythingimfuckingisstupid]

Oh god. Even the prompts for whumptober has my word count at over 700 words

[kirozai]

—HSR YANDERES AS TROPES.

Forced Proximity? Soulmates..? Amenesia! Common tropes that always end up happy! Your favorite characters love you so so much! But.. is it in the way you want?...

content warnings: yandere, toxic love, unreliable narrator, descriptions of gore, unrealistic relationships, unwanted PDA, depressive elements, suggestive, gn!reader (maybe ideas for makeup but most of the part is gn) pairing(s): sunday x reader, blade x reader, aventurine x reader, jing yuan x reader word count: around 350-500 each, 2100+ words in all A/N: I got a tiny bit carried away

Aventurine - Amnesia

WHAT’S PLAYING: engravings - Ethan Bortnick

Your eyes are blinded by the casino lights. The sound of chips being thrown and cards being shuffled fills your ears. Things feel so familiar, but at the same time, completely foreign. You turn your eyes to your lover. At least you think he’s your lover.

Two weeks ago you woke up in the dead of night on a hospital bed feeling numb from your head to the tips of your toes. The hospital lights were blinding making you feel dreary. You slowly regained movement by wiggling your fingertips and finally being able to sit up on the comfortable bed. As you gazed around the room you felt shocked to see gold engravings on the trim of the walls. It’s obvious it was a hospital, but it felt too expensive.

And you? You felt out of place.

A nurse walked into your room with a pan of what seemed like a new IV bag and other things like syringes and such. She turned wide-eyed and gasped as she suddenly dropped the pan of expensive medical equipment. You couldn’t make out what she said as she mouthed something out loud. The drowsiness hit you and you passed out.

The next time you woke up to a man sitting beside your bed in the most luxurious clothes you ever laid eyes on. He looked worried, very worried. Realizing you woke up once again his Avgin eyes-

Wait Avgin?...

“Sweetheart! You’ve been out for months. How are you feeling? Is there any pain? How… Can…?” He spoke quickly but after the first couple of sentences, his words faded into mush.

He called you sweetheart though, you deduced he was someone close to you. Someone that must have cared for you. 

But then why do you feel-

Cutting your thoughts you paused. Thinking was causing you too much pain and headache at the moment. You tried to recall what happened. 

And at that moment you realize you couldn’t even recall who you were.

After some time of recovery, you were able to get a couple of things down. The handsome man’s name was Aventurine. He is your lover. (?) You two have been together for quite some time now. You were diagnosed with severe amnesia, but your lover was kind enough to explain everything to you. Although, he was still hesitant to explain what happened to you and the reason why you were in the hospital.

You tried to get something out of the many doctors and nurses, but they seemed… scared.

Aventurine never left your side when other people were around. It was either you and him or no one at all. Leaving you lost and not being able to truly be clear about your condition. Everything went through Aventurine. 

One day during your walk around the large hospital, Aventurine got a call. He looked at it and furrowed his eyebrows, smiled at you, said it was an urgent call, apologized, and left for a brief moment. 

You dragged your IV stand a couple of steps more and abruptly stopped in your tracks as you overheard a pair of nurses talk about… you?

“IPC… they… lies… Aventurine… hiding.” Those were the only few words you were able to make out.

It no longer mattered though because Aventurine’s bright smile found you again and you walked back to your room first. If only you could see the piercing glare that he sent to the nurses. He wouldn’t know what to do if you heard about the fates of them after spreading lies to your pretty head.

After the recovery, you settled in enough to “your life”. Now you sit next to your lover whose luck shines more vibrant than a newborn baby’s laughter. You feel content for the most part.

I wonder if you would still feel content if you were able to take a good look past Aventurine’s perfect poker face. While you sleep he watches you worriedly, wondering if you’ll remember one day. Remember that this perfect love story he crafted isn’t so perfect after all. He wonders how you would react if you were to find out again the atrocities he’s committed in the name of “love”. He holds his chips tightly, but luck has always been on his side.

So tonight like any other night, you’ll smile with no idea of what had occurred in the past. At the end of the day, occasionally it is better to live unaware.

•••

Jing Yuan - Grumpy x Sunshine

WHAT'S PLAYING: Carousel - Melanie Martinez

The Luofu General was known for his joyous laughter and the positivity that he spread throughout the entire planet. He joked and was an infectious smiler. You on the other hand were known as the Yin to his Yang. If Jing Yuan was the sun, you were his moon. It’s adorable on paper, isn’t it?

You do nothing less than agree with the fact that your husband Jing Yuan was very positive. The reason why differed from others though. 

You believed the reason he was so happy was because he sucked every smile, every laugh out of you. 

Your story was the average fairytale, opposite attracts and then they fall in love. The End.

Unfortunately for you, Jing Yuan was anything but ordinary, and maybe that played a part in your perfect tragedy. 

Jing Yuan loved you. You knew that for sure. He had always been a PDA person, always close to you and you would most likely be seen dead than without his arm around your waist. It wasn’t a big deal though. This is what lovers usually do right?

Until you tried to back away. Things got… messy. 

Arguments ensued and you realized that he never really treated you as an equal. He loved you, yes, but he viewed you as lesser and somehow put you on a pedestal at the same. exact. time.

“You don’t respect me.” You stated firmly.

“But I love you.” He replied as if nothing was wrong.

You never thought your husband to be a jealous person and truly he was not. The possessiveness is what got you through.

It began small from making excuses on why you shouldn’t go out,

“It’s my day off!” or “It might rain soon.” Both are lazy excuses you’ve heard again and again. Yet you still seemed to fall again and again for his sunshine charms and wits.

You were the perfect lover to Jing Yuan, loving, kind, and malleable to believe whatever he wanted you to believe.

At some point after the large argument you two shared, you didn’t remember the last time when you had left the estate. 

You felt stuck, stuck on a carousel that kept going around and around and stuck trying to read between the lines of Jing Yuan’s perfect facade. If you caught him at the wrong time you wouldn’t see him for days and when he would return he would haphazardly apologize with the stupidest excuses. 

You never raised your voice anymore after THAT argument though. You were too scared to. So even when he scratches his name into your skin, even if he hugs you so tightly to the point that you feel like your lungs are collapsing, you find excuses for him. For yourself. To make this entire relationship work

Because you love him.

And you don’t not what scares you more anymore. The slight warning in his tone and the ever-present toxicity seeping its way into your originally “perfect” marriage. 

Or.

The fact you’ll still stay even if it gets worse.

Why?

Because you love him.

•••

Blade - Forced Proximity.

WHAT’S PLAYING: This is Love - Air Traffic Controller

There’s blood on the walls, the floors, and even on the couch. Anything you’ve been able to find you’ve smashed onto the ground. Your hands are covered in blood. No worries to Blade though. He sits on the couch covered in the blood of a man. Your eyes flicker to the dead body right in front of you. The now dead man who tried to help you escape from this prison Blade oh so lovingly calls “your” home to no avail.

Blade’s red eyes stare into the distance of space. Perhaps he’s wondering what he should do next for your transgressions. Perhaps he is wondering what he can do to make you smile again. Or maybe, he doesn’t care. Maybe he finds happiness and contentedness in your suffering. After all, a being who is forever stricken by mara might find peace in others' pain. 

But.

Past this mara-stricken being is a man who does have some semblance of love for you. Blade knew your every like and dislike. He would trail kisses up your neck and on your lips. You’d joke together. You both were disgustingly domestic at times. At least that’s what appeared. Loving Blade wasn’t difficult when every moment you breathed you were near him. 

You wear outfits perfectly fitted to your style sponsored by your self-proclaimed lover himself. Anything you want you’ll get. Jewels, clothing, books, anything you could ever desire. It’s nothing but pocket money for the Stellaron Hunter. 

Your mascara has been smudged after all the tears. Your sniffles fill up the room, you look at your palms. Hands covered in scratches and blisters from broken glass and accidental burns. You don’t have to worry though, Blade will patch it all up for you. This situation will fade into the past just like all the others. Your head peaks again at the dismembered and maimed body on the floor. You stop breathing yet again. You shut your eyes and open them once again when you feel a warm breath on your neck. 

It’s Blade, you can tell that the mara had warned off him. He tightens his arms around your body and somehow pulls you closer than he ever did before in your “relationship”. You blink once again as a tear rolls down your cheek and pray to any Aeon out there for help. Despite this, you're well aware it’s no use. There’s no place in the universe where Blade won’t find you. So you close your eyes to hum a broken chord as you prepare for the cycle to begin again.

•••

Sunday - Soulmates

WHAT’S PLAYING: Butch 4 Butch - Rio Romeo

Fairytale love stories where the prince and the princess lived happily ever after were something that you grew up with on your home planet. As you grew up though, “soulmates” left your mind. Other things like making credits and exploring the galaxies were more on your agenda than finding “true love”.

True love was a fairytale. Something that didn’t exist and that’s what you stood by ever since.

Ever since your planet was destroyed by its inhabitants. If people couldn’t love the homes they lived in how could they ever love one another?

You enjoyed travel, you enjoyed learning about other planets, cultures, and people. You didn’t have time for the nonexistent love. Though you enjoyed hearing the stories of it. You’ve met others who found their “soulmates”, their one and only blessed by the Aeons themselves. 

On your travel across the world, you stumbled on Penacony, The Planet of Dreams and Entertainment. The perfect and endless days are what brought you in the most. You could be there for days on end but turn out to only spend a couple of hours outside in the “real world”.

Real world huh?

You think you miss the real world a little bit. 

“Are the pastries not to your liking love?” Sunday inquires.

“They’re… fine.” You reply.

Sunday smiles. You don’t know what it means though. He smiles at everything, he smiles at gatherings, at your laughter, and even at the tears you desperately try to hold in. He thinks of you as something to be protected, something that should be kept safe in a cage, away from the tainted lies of others.

Everything feels uncomfortable, from the moment you met Sunday you felt an odd gravitational pull towards him. It was truly as if he was your soulmate. 

Except,

Something begged you to run away, something deep in the back of your soul. It all went away when you laid eyes on him though. 

You wish you listened to your fight AND flight response.

Everything you wear is coordinated by the Head of the Oak Family. From the tiniest detail to your entire personality. Sunday is a firm believer that only the true you can come out behind closed doors, with locks only he has access to. His mansion was the perfect enrichment for a now flightless bird like you. 

Perhaps the fairytales were somewhat true. The prince and the princess always seemed to stay forever together.

[attapullman]

Pretend | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: You aren't sure what's worse: having to share a bed with the boy who was your first boyfriend who you haven't seen in years, or having to pretend he's your boyfriend when you wish he actually was.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: f!reader, light smut, 18+ only as always, unprotected pinv, fake dating trope, one bed trope, lots of switching between present and past tense whoops

A Note From Mo: It's Choose-a-Fic! Thank you to everyone who voted and has been part of my 500 Follower milestone! Hopefully you like the fic I wrote just for you (with a little extra one bed trope as a special thank you)! 😘

Coupe glasses tinkle and laughter rings out as the rehearsal dinner draws toward an end. Everyone’s had a little too much of the hotel’s signature white sangria. On your left, Isabel and Reuben are frozen in blissed smiles, the outdoor lights casting an ethereal glow. An idyllic night before the wedding.

You should be relaxed. You’ve had a little wine, the most delicious dinner, and tomorrow your college roommate is getting married at this stunning resort. But every time that big hand grazes your shoulder or his breath heats the skin of your cheek, you’re reminded none of this is real and you desperately wish it was.

The only difference between six-year-old Robert Floyd and the man standing in front of you is the broad shoulders. Those pink cheeks are just as prominent and his eyes are wide behind updated corrective frames. Sandy hair politely brushed off his face. Even his thin lips warp in that same warm smile that instantly relieves tension. The only significant difference is those shoulders that fill out the entire doorway as he checks his rooming assignment with Isabel.

From where you stand behind her, suitcase in tow, you feel your cheeks warm and your gaze drop. You haven’t seen him since the engagement party where you muttered, “it’s a small world after all” more than once. It seemed all too coincidental that your college roommate would be marrying a guy who just happens to be in the same Navy squadron as your first grade boyfriend. 

To be fair, you had “dated” Bobby Floyd for a total of a week before your parent’s divorce landed you on the opposite side of the country. There hadn’t even been a formal breakup. He’d simply been the guy you jokingly referred to as your “first love” at wine nights. Occasionally you remembered his collection of vintage Coke bottle caps. 

He was practically a figment of your imagination until Isabel introduced you to the man in the nicely ironed pale blue button down and you sputtered out that you already knew each other.

You’re so lost in how bizarre the coincidence of it all is that you zone out through Bob’s check-in and the next few guests that arrive. It’s not until her line of relatives has dwindled that she remembers you’re sat behind her, sorting out the favors for after the reception. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I should have given you your card earlier!” she apologizes as she flips back over her clipboard to find your room number. It’s all forgiven, you were waiting to finish up your bridesmaid duties before checking in. Get the work out so you can slip on your bathing suit and enjoy the amenities - pool, sun, and cabana boys - before dinner tonight.

She hands you a room card and walks you through the map of the hotel. You miss the second half while gathering up all your items, mentally trying to remember exactly how many rights before a left. Dinner is at seven and anything else surely she will remind you. With a kiss to her cheek, you head off to your room to begin the fun part of this destination wedding.

The property is stunning, all sun-washed sandstone and lush tropical plants. Deep blue terry cloth draped over the sun loungers you would live on all weekend. Some sun to compliment what should be a flawless wedding weekend. Maybe you’d get lucky and one of Reuben’s hot Navy friends would join you for some eye candy. You deserved a little one-weekend-in-paradise romance.

Suite 4. It’s a little deflating to remember that you’re in this big suite alone because all the other bridesmaids have dates. A least you have some privacy. The intricately carved door accepts your room key and you push the heavy wood open, ready to change and relax.

W-why was Bob in your villa?

Standing amongst the floor-to-ceiling windows draped with ochre that overlook the ocean, white oak furnishing topped with plush linen bedding, and a trailing pothos overtaking the wall, was Bob Floyd - right in the middle of changing his shirt. Equally wide eyes taking you in as he held the bunched heathered grey cotton right in front of his head, thumbs through the head hole, mouth open in shock.

“What are you doing in here?”

What was he doing in here? This was your room. “Why are you in my room?”

Despite knowing he’s not in the wrong, his cheeks tinge a deep pink. Takes a moment to pop his head in the hole of his shirt and brush out the wrinkles. You cling to to the annoyance of him interrupting your afternoon instead of focusing on how toned he’s gotten as an adult.

“This is my room. Suite 4. See?” He holds up a card identical to yours, the glossy ‘4’ reflecting the sunlight. The same ‘4’ that looks back at you. 

Clearly there’s been some sort of mistake, someone at reception accidentally typing in the wrong number while going about their busy day or Isabel reading her meticulous list wrong. An easy fix. 

You bite your lip. “Oh. Maybe I grabbed the wrong card. I’ll go find Isabel and sort it out.”

“I’ll come with you, she might have handed me the wrong card. Probably supposed to be sharing a bed with Fanboy.” He’s impossibly sweet as always. 

You have no idea who or what a Fanboy is, but you accept his company back to reception, leaving your bag in the room purely because the bridesmaid dress alone weighs a half ton. The walk back there - with a few long turns - is a tad awkward as you both walk in silence, occasionally jerking your heads in the direction to turn.

Isabel has wandered away from reception, and is now soaking in one of the poolside bars with Reuben, their lovesick smiles contagious. She gives you the warmest smile when you approach, face splitting in two as she takes in your companion. “Hey, you two! You get settled in okay?”

God, this is awkward. Thankfully before you can muster the courage, Bob steps in. “I think there’s been a mix up with one of our rooms.”

Her eyebrows furrow as takes in what he said. Eyes flit to her lounger where her clipboard of rooming assignment lies within her tote. Reuben sips his frozen margarita in casual interest, not involved in the logistics.

“Which room are you in?” Even without her clipboard, Isabel is pretty sure she knows who is in what room. She spent months perfecting these details.

You hold up the glossy ‘4’, now slightly sticky with your sweat.

“Four? Hmm, I’m pretty sure that’s right. Was there a problem with the key? Both your keys?”

You give her a bewildered look. “One of us has the wrong key. We’re not sharing a room.”

“Why not? Your prude parents aren’t here to care if you share a room with your boyfriend.”

Every muscle in your body freezes. What is she talking about?

And while you’re paralyzed on the spot, Reuben looks like he’s about to throw up the margarita. Because he knows exactly what just happened. And not only is it his fault, but he does not have a solution.

Before you can question Isabel, the pilot is throwing his arm around your shoulders and grabbing Bob’s elbow, whisking you two away, calling out to his confused fiancée not to worry, he’s got it handled. The controlled hands of a fighter pilot steering you back in the way of Suite 4 while his face reads like he’s watching a plane crash.

Reuben won’t answer any of your questions, holding up a palm while you sputter out the who, what, where’s? of what is going on. Bob silently allows himself to be directed, confusion upon his brow, but patient enough to wait for an explanation. 

Once you’re privately within the confines of Suite 4, the soft scent of bergamot and sandalwood wrapped around your bodies, Reuben finally confesses his mistake.

“Isabel thinks you two are dating.”

You expect to see eyeballs on the floor from how violently they pop out of your head. What? Bob doesn’t look much better. You two have barely spoken in decades, let alone are in a relationship! Why in the hell would Isabel think that?

Reuben drags a hand down his face, wishing he was back in the pool drinking. “When Bob over here told me that you two dated way back, I casually mentioned it to Is. When she asked the other week if he’d be good sharing a room, I thought she meant Fanboy or Harvard.”

You skip over the fact that Bob has talked about you to other people to focus on the details. “She meant me.”

“How was I supposed to know that?” By this point he’s rubbing the skin on the back of his neck raw, eyes wildly desperate. “Can you two share? It’s only two nights.”

Your eyes meet ocean blue as you both look at the single bed, then at each other. Bob intervenes calmly. “Why can’t you just tell her we need another room?”

Reuben crosses his arms across his chest, suddenly defensive. “We don’t have any other rooms. We booked the place out entirely. Short of Aunt Muriel keeling over, one of you would have to be at another hotel.”

“That’s fine,” you quip, grabbing your suitcase and ready to get the hell out of this situation.

“There’s nothing within a half hour drive. And you’re both in the wedding, that is not going to fly with Isabel.”

You’re tough, you can do hard things. Two nights at a gorgeous resort where you have to share a king-sized bed with the sweetest man on the planet? Could be so much worse. From a look at Bob’s face, he’s having the same realization.

And right as you’re about to tell Reuben that it’s not a big deal, he sends in the clincher. 

“You’re also gonna have to pretend you’re dating.”

“You’re joking.” Your tinny voice rings out in the room. You can do a lot of things - go to a wedding alone, sleep in the same bed as Bob - but you draw the line at pretending you’re dating someone you hadn’t seen until an engagement party six months ago. Nope, no way.

You look at Bob, standing with his hand resting low on his hip, watching this entire scene unfold. Giving him an expectant look, he smooths out his face and gives you a little nod. He’s on whatever team you’re on.

And just as you were about to tell Reuben to get lost, Isabel’s sweet face floods your mind’s eye. That happy smile she always greets you with, and her dismay that something had gone wrong with your room. Her perfectly planned out wedding weekend ruined by her misunderstanding a minor detail. She would insist that you have separate rooms, even if it interfered with plans, and she’d be upset - the smallest tinge of disappointment clouding her bridal smile.

Isn’t the job of a bridesmaid to make the bride not have disappointment?

And now, sitting here at the rehearsal dinner, warm conversation all around you, you can still hear yourself let out a large huff of breath and agree. “Alright, we can pretend for the weekend.”

It’s a decision you stand by, but doesn’t make the subtle way Bob has been playing your boyfriend the last 24 hours any easier. He plays devoted partner a little too well. Carrying your beach bag down to the water that afternoon when everyone wanted to sit by the pool, sweetly rubbing sunscreen into that spot on your back that you can never reach. Grabbing a drink for you when he went up to the bar. 

Your lonely wedding weekend is suddenly filled with this broad-shouldered Navy man who gives you a shy smile every time you make eye contact.

There wasn’t time to put in ground rules before Reuben threw you you to the wolves to socialize with the rest of the wedding party. When Isabel saw you, standing a healthy foot away from Bob and her sculpted eyebrow raised, it was the first test of this “relationship”. Your heart slamming in your chest as you slipped a hand around that thick bicep and rested your hot cheek against his shoulder. His own face fighting anxiety as he allowed you to set the pace. Isabel’s smile brightening as she beckoned you closer, instantly fawning over the two of you and the way Bob’s hand fits a little too nicely around your waist.

Thankfully the copious amount of relatives and friends constantly interrupting Isabel and Reuben prevented your friend investigating too close into this development in your love life. Happy to believe over some intentionally placed hands and the casual way he throws sweetheart in when asking if you want a drink.

“Now that I have you alone, why didn’t you tell me you were together? First loves reunited?!” Isabel drags you away to the other bridesmaids, Bob giving you a small wave as he joins the men. 

You shrug, making a show of looking at the hibiscus to avoid her eyes. Desperate for a believable lie. “I didn’t want to…uh, distract from your big day?”

She wraps you in a warm hug you don’t deserve. “Not distracting in the slightest. He’s the best, you’re so lucky!”

You throw a glance his way, watching his good-natured grin as Reuben’s groomsmen, mostly aviators he’s worked with over the years, joke and jostle on the other side of the lawn. It’s side glances like these that carry through the night; when he pulls your chair out for dinner, asks the waiter to refill your water, and offers you half of his dessert. When your eyes do meet, you drown in the twin oceans that twinkle back at you.

By the time you’re heading back to Suite 4 to share that big bed, you’re pretty sure you’re not pretending to like him anymore.

You’re regretting not putting up the pillow barrier Bob so kindly offered to set up. It seemed childish at the time - you didn’t need a divider to stay on your side of the bed - but now you’re lying here in your little cotton pajamas you did not expect anyone to see and you can hear him breathing and the room is a little too warm. Every sense is on high alert and a pillow barrier would give you an inkling of privacy.

In the silhouette of the moonlight peaking through the curtains, you watch the planes of Bob’s face as he peacefully sleeps beside you. If he’s good looking in the daytime, he’s breathtaking at night. Pale eyelashes against his cheeks, lips slightly pouted, hair mussed from changing sides. You wish you could smooth your fingers over the planes of his face, appreciate the sharpness of his jaw, the roundness of his cheeks.

Tomorrow you have to pretend all over again to be in love with him. A feeling that’s already starting to creep inside you. A whole day of his gentle touches and laughs against your cheek. He was the perfect boyfriend that week in grade school, and even more perfect as an adult. Holding his hand made you want to never let go…which promptly made you want to jump out of your skin. 

This was a tiny white lie to get through Sunday morning. That was it.

You keep replaying the last moment before you retired back to your hotel room for the night. The drunken group sitting around the fire pit, a bottle of tequila making its way around the circle. Not enough chairs so you ended up in Bob’s lap, body cradled in the firm comfort of his chest. 

He made it so natural, the way his hand ran up and down your arm when you shivered in the night chill. You knew he could feel the shock up your spine when you noticed how intently he watched you during your story of how Isabel found a rat in your dorm room. He made you feel like the only person out there by the fire pit. The only person on this island.

When even the tequila couldn’t keep you warm any longer, the group disbanded in favor of cozy beds and hot showers. And even when no one else was in sight he still kept his arm around your shoulder to share his warmth, the pinching heels you’d shed in his hand as he asked whether you wanted to shower first.

Lips accidentally brushing your ear when he said he liked your dress; it matched the bougainvillea.

While you hadn’t spent much time together since your parents moved you away too long ago to remember, you were continually floored by how thoughtful he was still. He remembered how Isabel didn’t like ice, and that a few members of his squadron had allergies. Giving up his water because the woman next to him was without. Not to mention how he seemed to go the extra mile with you. All the years of boyfriends before this and not a single one had ever noticed you picked the pine nuts out of your salad; your new fake boyfriend requesting a fresh one sans nuts.

And it was borderline torture watching him get ready for bed post shower. Face and chest red from the scalding water and slick hair pushed back, towel slung a little too low as he dug through his suitcase. You were still speechless as he offered to put up a pillow barrier or something if it would make you more comfortable, making sure you knew he respected your boundaries.

His eyes were so blue without his glasses…

Caution to the wind, you run a finger over his cheek, brushing away a rogue eyelash and promptly turn away from him. Only one more day and you would be free of wanting a man that wasn’t yours.

The Fitch wedding day was perfect. Wide smiles, bridal lace, stunning hydrangeas, and not a dry eye in the house when Isabel and Reuben officially became husband and wife. It was the storybook start to a happy ever after. 

The sunlight blessed ceremony was followed by a lantern-lit reception, dancing and drinking overtaking the sprawling beach-front lawn of the hotel. You stayed out until the evening ended, the wedding party laughing and overfilling glasses of champagne until the last lantern was blown out. 

You barely remembered your rooming/relationship situation until a warm hand was on your forearm, asking if you were ready to go back to the room. It’s entirely unfair how good he looks in his suit. All day you’ve admired it, from the moment he emerged from the bathroom asking for help with his bow tie to an hour ago, when the wedding party did one last rendezvous on the dance floor. 

Bob has an ease on the dance floor, clearly practiced, the hand on the small of your back gently guiding. A hand big and warm and more distracting than trying to remember your own footwork. The dark-haired woman he seems close with whooping out, “Look at those moves, Floyd!” every time you get close, her own date cheering along. 

You shake the memory from your brain as Bob walks you back to the room. Keep the pining to a minimum until you can get to the airport and not have to see him ever again. You’re doing this for Isabel, your own emotions have no place. Even as you watch him open the door to the room and welcome you inside, looking so perfectly boyfriend-shaped.

Your skin feels too hot, your head clouded by bubbles and loud poppers exploding into the sky. Shedding this satin dress and getting into a warm shower sounds like heaven, washing away the buzzing ill-content flooding your body since you joined the wedding group that morning hand-in-hand with Bob. But a broken zipper interrupts those plans.

“Bob?” He stills on his way to the bathroom, bow tie loose around his neck. You indicate to the stuck zipper you’re fiddling with, warmth flaring at the top of your cheeks at your predicament.

The tips of his ears flush as he walks to you, chest a breath away from your back, admiring the way the satin flows over your curves and dips. Takes a moment to gather your hair over your shoulder before reaching for the zipper. The skin of his pinky accidentally brushes your neck, twin breaths catching at the shock. 

Firm fingers guide the zipper onto the track. As they guide the cool metal down your back, the boiling point that has been simmering below the surface since yesterday afternoon comes to a head. The lace of your bra is visible. Now the silken band of your underwear. The air of the room is still, eagerly awaiting what happens next.

While his voice is shaky, his words are firm. “I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

Your head turns to the side, eyes catching his profile, too scared to look at him directly. 

“What are you pretending to do?”

His face falls into the crook of your neck, fingers tightening along the satin of your hips. “Pretending I’m doing our friends a favor. Pretending I’m not falling for you. Pretending every time I touch you it’s not the best part of my day.”

Your hand wraps around his, rough skin and satin beneath your fingers. Needing to tether yourself to reality to make sure this isn’t a champagne-fueled dream that he’s professing against your neck. 

“In that case, I don’t want to pretend anymore either.”

While you can’t see him, you can feel his realization against your skin. Brow furrowing, lips parting. The soft brush of his nose as he straightens up, uses his hands to turn you to him. Finally forced to look at each other amidst the information divulged.

You aren’t sure who leans in first, who braved the waters of uncharted territory. Time stills and speeds up as his face grows closer. The scent of sandalwood and bergamot that’s followed you all weekend replaced by the woodsy mint of his cologne you’ve treated yourself to when tucked into his side. Anyone outside can hear two hearts beating erratically, anxious and excited. 

His lips are warm and comforting, just like everything else about him. Pressing delicately against yours, taking his time and letting you set the pace. You’re torn between the shock of how divine he feels and the greedy need for more. Senses overwhelmed by him; you want to taste more, feel more, see more.

When he pulls away, a gentleman not wanting to overstep, you’re breathless.

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to kiss you.” His confession is paired with pink cheeks and large hands playing with your fingers. 

You can’t help but to tease him, the banter from your childhood coming back. “Did it live up to expectations?”

“Way, way better.” Your smile is swallowed in his kiss, chins knocking as you trade off enthusiasm. A groan leaving Bob as you grab his hands and walk back to the bathroom. That hot shower still sounds amazing, but you need more of him.

The travertine tiles glow in the soft light as you watch your childhood love remove his suit, taking time to fold the pieces on the counter, letting you indulge in unbuttoning his crisp shirt as you share another sweet kiss. His own hands twisted in the dress barely clinging to your skin. The sounds that escape him as your hands explore his chest are purely sinful, meant only for your ears.

He barely lets you bask in his body, honed from years of Naval training, before he’s stripping the satin from your frame. You beg for another kiss, but he denies you. He can’t be distracted from watching every inch of skin being revealed. From letting his fingers follow the fabric as it pools at your feet. From kissing his way back up your body until your head falls back against the wall, fingers beckoning him to the shower.

“You’re so beautiful.” It’s more breath than words, but ignite the goose flesh along your skin as he adjusts the hot water and shower head to your liking.

Minutes or hours passed as you reacquainted under the steam. Your fingers tangled in wet strands of sandy hair, fingers slipping along any skin you can reach. His own hands tightly hugging your body, holding you close as he appreciates your nude form. Swallowing each other’s moans as his fingers dip between your folds and you run your palm along his shaft.

The universe has ceased to exist by the time Bob kisses you against the shower wall, fingers wrapping under your thighs to hoist you to his level. Loving the way you giggle as your arms wrap around his neck, trusting him wholeheartedly. Eyes trained at where he lines up with you, relishing the way your breath catches in anticipation. He kisses your forehead as a promise to take care of you, a promise you know he’ll keep.

Once he’s seated deep in you, the moment about connecting rather than getting off, he tilts your head up to check in with you. A kiss as his eyes search you for discomfort. The flames of his eyes burning the brightest blue. One final clench around him and he knows he needs to move; if not for his sake, for yours.

It’s the most glorious dream as he fills you completely, hips rocking into yours as sweaty foreheads meet.

When he brings you to orgasm, a steamy moment punctuated by your muffled screams against his shoulder, there’s nothing fake about the affection as he peppers you with praise. Or when he fills you with his own release a moment later, exhaling thank you, thank you, thank you.

A pillow barrier isn’t even discussed as you lay in his arms that night, cheek against bare chest. His arm trails down your arm like it had the night before, a mindless action you now recognize as meaningful to him as to you. Sated and content, as it should be.

You sit up a little to run your nose along his neck, producing a low groan from him. “You need something, sweetheart?”

“I was wondering, after that,” you gesture to the shower, cheeks heating, “does this mean we’re, uh, dating again?”

He smiles at your flush, cupping your face with one of his large hands. Presses the sweetest kiss to your lips.

“You know, we never had a break up. Technically we’ve been dating this whole time.”

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[gilverrwrites]

Meet Cutes Uglies Ft. Bruce, Dick, and Jason

GN!Reader, ≈500 words each

CWs: Mild/nonexplicit threats of violence, slut-shaming (but not really), swearing.

Bruce

The chances of bumping into a celebrity not once, twice, thrice, but four times in one day are low, but not impossible as you’re finding out.

It was kinda cool realising you’re stood behind him in line at the coffee shop, but not spectacularly cool or anything. Almost everyone you knew had a story about meeting Bruce, or another member of the Wayne family out in public so you weren’t overly excited. You just kept your head down, scrolling through your socials and wondering whether his drink was the iced cold brew, the fudge brownie hot chocolate, or the three pump vanilla no foam cappuccino. Your friend Jade was right, he is far ‘hunkier’ than the media gives him credit for, his piercing eyes really are that blue, and he smells good too, like bergamot and cedar.

It became somewhat more exciting when you'd headed to the library on your lunch break to return a book, only for him to already be there, chatting-up the librarians no less. Your friends were not going to believe this. He must sense you staring at him because he turns to look at you, when you make eye contact you smile, wondering if he might recognise you from the morning. He did not smile back.

Upon returning to work, the rest of your shift had been gruelling, job after job being piled onto your shoulders with minimal time to get them all done. You hadn’t even had the chance to tell your co-workers about your unlikely encounters with Gotham’s richest man. By the time you got off for the night, you were exhausted, the thought of having to cook dinner and wash the pots once you got home looming over you like a rain cloud until you decide to grab some take-out on your way home instead.

You’re barely out of the doors of Big Belly Burgers, a handful of fries hanging from your lips when you see him for the 3rd time. Bruce Wayne, on the sidewalk across the street, engrossed in what seemed to be a very intense telephone call. Weird.

You don’t have to wait long for the fourth encounter, it happens just a few blocks from your home. He’s much closer this time, a little too close for comfort maybe. You hadn’t seen it coming, one moment you’re rifling through your bag, looking for your keys, the next you’re suspended a few inches from the ground by a pair of strong hands fisted into the collar of your jacket. Instinctively you paw at him, one hand wrapping around his wrist, the other bunching up in the fabric of his sweater for faux support.  

You think for a moment you’re being mugged, until the familiar smell of wood and citrus hits your senses. Bruce Wayne is pressing you against the cold, damp wall of an alleyway, handsome face marred by its stern expression.

“Who are you?” He demands. “And why are you following me?”

>[Continued]<

Dick

The only thing worse than the feel of the uneven, filth-trodden pavements of Blüdhaven against your bare feet, is the thought of putting the torturous pair of dress shoes you’d worn last night back on. Perhaps you should have asked your hookup for something to wear, but that would almost certainly guarantee your having to see them again in order to return it and you’d happily walk barefoot across Tartarus before you let that happen.

Careful to avoid stepping in anything less than savoury, you keep your eyes glued to the floor, so focused on the things below you, that you don’t notice the things in front of you. The person in front of you, until you plough right into their admittedly firm chest.

The person in question reeks of stale alcohol, his shiny hair is a mess, there’s a shadow forming on his striking jawline, and the half-undone shirt he’s wearing is clearly wrinkled and stained from the night before. A fellow walk-of-shamer.

You stare at each other for a long moment before you realise you had bumped into him, therefore you should be the one to speak first.

“Oh, uh, sorry.” You murmur, voice hoarse.

“No problem.” He replied, far too chipper for his current predicament. His eyes rake up and down your body, and you might be vexed by it if you had not just been doing the same to him. “Why aren’t you wearing your shoes.”

“They hurt my feet.” You shrug, taking a cautious sidestep around him as you speak. “Just want to get home, they were slowing me down.”

That should be the end of it, but the sound of his dress boots tapping against the sidewalk follows you down the street. You can’t be certain, but you were pretty sure he’d been walking in the opposite direction prior to your collision. You cast a glance over your shoulder, and sure enough, he’s just a few steps behind you, offering you a striking smile that almost makes the grey morning feel brighter.

“Proposal?” He asks, and you stop to listen. Possibly because you’re genuinely intrigued, probably because your brain isn’t awake enough to tell your heart that you shouldn’t talk to strangers. “If I can get you home without you having to use your feet, will you go out for breakfast with me?”

“You’re really asking me out during a walk of shame?” You snicker, impressed by his audacity.

“We don’t shame in 2024, I prefer to call it a stride of pride.” He informs you, and he has a point. “Besides, might be fate that we walked into each other this fine morning, gotta give it a chance, right?”

“Right.” You agree, but your raised brow and puckered lips might suggest some scepticism. He doesn’t seem put off however, still beaming that brilliant smile at you. “And how do you plan on getting me home?”

“Easy.” He shakes his head, conveying his confidence as he beckons you closer by curling two fingers towards himself. You follow his direction and before you can comprehend what’s going on he’s crouching before you, threading his body between your legs and lifting you on his back, piggy style.

“So, where do you live?”

Jason

The coffee shop is that perfect level of busy that's not overwhelming but isn't too quiet as to be unsettling. Your drink is the ideal temperature, and the evening sun is seeping through the windows at just the right angle to warm your skin and add a golden glow to the atmosphere. By all accounts, this should be the perfect, relaxing moment, except… this book sucks.

You’d thought after years of recommendations from friends, many critically acclaimed adaptions, and its general status as a must-read classic that it was high time you picked it up, but you were about two-thirds in and thoroughly not enjoying yourself.

“Excuse me.” A low voice draws you from the pages of the book. You hadn’t noticed the 6ft+ mountain of tattooed muscle casting a shadow over your table until you looked into his eyes. Oh wow. You don’t know why he’s approached you, but whatever it is; he can have it. “Are you reading Lady Liatris?”

“I am.” You confer, lazily tilting the cover to show him, despite your reading choice already being apparent.

“Nice to meet a fellow bibliophile out in the wild. What do you think of it so far?” He smiles at you, reaching out a hand, your heart sinks as his strong fingers wrap around your own for a handshake.

“Well….” Handsome, well-read, confident enough to approach you, and you were about to blow it with your brutal honesty. “I haven’t finished it yet, so I won’t commit, but so far I am not impressed.”

“What?” He actually flinched. “No way. Where are you up to?”

“I just finished the bit where Claude professed his love for Florance at the flower show, which was the drollest thing I’ve ever read, and it went on and on for far too many pages.” It was probably impolite for you to be venting so quickly to this stranger, but you just couldn’t help it, the words just kept coming. “Not to mention its total lack of realistic feminism, you can’t just unveil your fencing champion to secretly be a woman and call it a day, every other woman in this book is either a two-dimensional gossiping villain or a two-dimensional love interest for the male side characters.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” The mystery man shakes his head at you in disbelief as he situates himself in the chair across from your own. “First of all, it was a product of its time, and is widely considered to be one of the greatest pieces of feminist literature despite its origins, secondly, did you not read any of Evie’s subplot?”

The conversation continues that way, back and forth. He emphasises his points with big sweeping, passionate movements of his arms. He nods his head and purses his lips when you make arguably good points and grits his teeth when he disagrees with you. Neither of you notice when the sun goes down, or your drinks going cold until the barista informs you both that they’ll be closing in a few minutes.

Shit. You’d been debating classic-lit with this guy for at least 2 hours, and you didn’t even know his name. The sentiment appears to be shared because he offers you a comically confused frown as he puts his jacket back on and offers you a hand standing from your seat.

You exit the café into the cool night air together. You’re not sure if you should ask his name and invite him over, or say goodbye, fortunately, he removes the need to decide by handing you a napkin with his name and number jotted onto it in black marker. Jason.

“Call me when you’ve finished the book.” He instructs, and then he gone.

[buckyalpine]

Bucky x civilian reader

JESSY REACHES 500

I wrote this for my most precious bb, @jessybarnes congratulations my angel, you deserve ALL the followers.

Warnings: angstttyy, Bucky's an idiot, fluffyy, friends with benefits to lovers, I hope your chest itches a lil.

Prompt: "I can't keep doing this, I can't keep giving you chances just for you to break my heart over and over again."

"Morning Doll" His husky voice stirred you awake, the cool tips of his fingers sending shivers down your spine as he traced up and down your bare back. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

Bucky barely gave you a chance to respond, throwing the covers off, exposing you to the cool air of your bedroom as he rummaged around for his boxers which he'd tossed off haphazardly the night before.

"Alright" You mustered a smile as he pecked your head, seeing himself out and locking the door with the spare key you gave him. It would be weeks before you saw him again, going back to your regular schedule while he was off saving the world.

You had an interesting relationship with Bucky Barnes.

You'd met when he came to return a copy of the Hobbit at the library you worked at, tossing your a charming smirk before going to browse for more books. One night after a few more flirty comments and innocent touches later, you found yourself with your hands down each others pants, his lips smashed against yours to keep your moans down, the both of you hidden between the bookshelves.

He eventually started coming over to your place instead, exploring every bit of your body like he owned it, spending hours taking you both to new heights until he couldn't move. It was pure sex and the absolute best you'd ever had. Bucky made you forget your own name, only having the ability to moan and take everything he was giving you.

It was the perfect arrangement for him; something lowkey to help with the stress of his job without having to commit to much more. After you started to pick up more shifts at the library, you even gave his own key to your place to let himself in on days where you hadn't gotten home yet.

That was nearly a year ago.

You sighed, pulling the covers back over yourself, his scent still lingering on the sheets and pillow making your heart flutter, already waiting for the next time he'd be over. You hated the feeling, knowing your feelings were going further than what Bucky wanted. You hated every time he had to leave, the butterflies in your tummy fluttering wildly whenever he his name popped up on your phone.

Your heart would beat faster every time he kissed you, biting your tongue from telling him you didn't want him to go, you couldn't just be a person to keep his bed warm, you wanted more, you loved him-

Fuck.

You loved him.

You shook your head, ignoring the tightness that started to constrict your throat, feeling worse than the last time he'd left.

Why the fuck did you fall for him.

-

"Maybe we could go out?" You tried, hoping for once one of your rendezvous wouldn't be just sex. Bucky hummed, holding you closer to his bare chest, your bodies tangled under the sheets after he'd taken you apart, coming straight to your place as soon as he jet had landed.

"Sure, how about we grab coffee next time?" He mumbled, rutting his hips up, already hard again, rolling on top of you, peppering kisses down your neck before you could respond.

"Wait, Bu-oh god" Your words melted into moans as he made himself comfortable between your legs, neither of you brining up those plans again for the rest of the night. He stayed over as always, leaving before you stirred, the bed cold and empty when you woke up the next day to a text message from him.

Had to leave early, see you when I'm back x

You blinked, chewing your lip, debating on how to respond, a part of you still hoping he'd be open to spending time with you outside of just needing something physical.

Sure! Let's go to the cafe nearby? I've been dying to go

You typed and deleted the message 3 times before finally hitting send, tossing your phone aside, anxiety clouding your mind wondering how he'd respond.

Then he didn't.

You waited the entire week for him to respond to your message, the read at 6:03 staring you in the face, making your cheeks heat up from embarrassment, imagining the way he probably opened and closed the chat, forgetting your very existence until he had needs again.

Why did you even try.

You harshly wiped the tears that streaked down your face, chewing the inside of your cheek, freezing when the lock of your door turned, the familiar sound of his bag hitting the floor. You quickly splashed water onto your face, hiding any evidence of emotion when Bucky popped his head into your room, finding you in the bathroom.

"Hi doll" He smiled, wrapping his arms around your waist, dragging you to bed and flopping over, making him self comfortable with his head on your chest.

"Hi Buck" You cleared your throat, hoping he wouldn't hear the shake in your voice, carding your fingers though his hair, instantly betraying yourself and melting into him when his hands made their way up your shirt.

"Missed this" he groaned, his sinful lips kissing down your neck and shoulders, slotting himself between your legs. "Thought about it all week"

All week.

When I waited for you to reply at least once.

You felt your eyes sting, forcing back the way your felt for what was happening in the moment. He made it clear what he wanted from you but you weren't sure how much more you could take. You succumbed to his charm, the sheets warm, your body slick with sweat, your face resting against his chest, his arm holding you securely, letting his warm breath tickle your skin.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" Bucky's nose nuzzled into your neck, pulling away slightly when he felt you tense in his hold, not responding, "Doll?"

"Maybe-maybe we shouldn't do this anymore" Your throat burned with how hard you were trying to keep from crying, keeping your eyes trained on his chest instead of his sweet baby blues you'd fallen for.

"Why not" Bucky frowned while you shifted uncomfortably.

"What are we Bucky"

"Y/n, we talked about this" He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. You hated the way his arms loosened around you, pulling away his warmth with it, your body curling in on itself as he got off the bed to put his clothes on.

"I know but- I just- I feel used, it's like I'm some dirty secret" you brought your knees to your chest, digging your nails into your palms while he pulled his hoodie over his head. "We've never done anything else other than fuck in my apartment!"

"Its not like that" He argued back, sitting back down at by the edge of the bed.

"Bucky, no one even knows I exist. Tell me, does Steve even know?"

He chewed his lip before shaking his head. He hadn't told anyone about you, not even his best friend. You scoffed, feeling more pathetic than ever, your stomach churning seeing the distance already starting to grow between you both.

"See what I mean? You won't even go out for coffee with me, is just all sex. Is that all I am to you?"

"We both agreed to keep this casual, you know I'm not ready for a relationship y/n, I-I never saw you like that" His words cut deeper, the pit in your stomach growing heavier as he looked at you with pity. "Y/n-

"Fine" You blinked back the stubborn tears that kept welling in your eyes, harshly swiping your cheek as they started to stream down your face, "I get it"

"So where do we go from here" Bucky sighed, a part of him wanting to reach out and wipe the tears that streaked down your cheeks and hold you in his arms, hating the way he could see your heart breaking because of him.

"I can't keep doing this, I can't keep giving you chances just for you to break my heart over and over again." Your voice began to crack, wrapping your arms around your knees, pulling them to your chest, "I-I keep waiting for the day you'd feel differently but I get it, it's not happening"

"I'm sorry" Bucky whispered, almost reaching out to hold you one last time, deciding against it as he got up and made his way out of your room for the last time. His chest ached when he heard the first sob slip past your lips, softly closing the door behind him.

You cried your heard out, the pain far worse than you imagined it to be, wishing you'd kept your feelings to yourself because now you'd lost Bucky forever. You wouldn't wake up to him sneaking into your room for cuddles. You wouldn't walk into your apartment to find him crashed on your couch. You wouldn't wake up wrapped in his arms, legs tangled together with naughty kisses first thing in the morning.

Why did you fall so hard for him.

-

"Alright, what's going on with him" Tony huffed, "He's more grumpy than usual and I'm going to lose my billionaire status with how many punching bags I've replaced within the last week. Rogers?"

Steve shrugged, equally confused and worried as to why his best friend was far more moody than usual. There hadn't been any particularly grueling missions recently and there was nothing scheduled for the month. Over the past few weeks, Bucky had been closed off, secluded in his room, only leaving to spend time in the gym, breaking bags left, right and center.

"What's wrong with you" Steve found the soldier in the gym, grunting between punches, sweat dripping down his body, jaw clenched as he landed another hit, causing the leather to give way with sand spilling to the floor.

"Nothing" Bucky shook his head, hardly registering the sting of his split knuckles, panting while his heart thudded against his chest, having gone at it for the past hour, non stop.

"Buck, this is the fourth bag you've broken" Steve sighed, while Bucky huffed in response, already making his way to the rack to grab a new one.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with a girl, would it?" The blonde smirked, carefully watching his face. Bucky's eyes grew wide, blinking while Steve stared at him knowingly.

"N-no" Bucky shook his head, no, this had nothing to do with a girl, nor did it have to do with feelings. He didn't actually care about this girl or miss her, he didn't crave to feel her warmth, he was perfectly capable of falling asleep without cuddling her to his chest. He didn't miss her sweet laugh or cute shy smile. He didn't care that he couldn't hear her voice anymore and she didn't appear in every single one of his dreams, making his heart yearn for her more-

"Buck, seriously?" Steve deadpanned at his best friends lovesick puppy face while Bucky chewed his lip.

"You knew?"

"Not a lot" Steve shrugged. "Saw you talking to that cute librarian once when I was out for a run with Sam. S'not hard to figure out, considering you went from acting like the world was full of sunshine and rainbows to being a grumpy asshole all over again. So what happened"

Bucky only intended on giving Steve the most sparse details but once he started he couldn't stop. The more he spoke, the more it dawned on him that none of it was casual to begin with, that he'd fallen hard, deeply in love with you.

"You love her" Steve stated, seeing clear at day his best friend was an idiot.

"I don't love her" Bucky scoffed, his cheeks blushing at the way Steve cocked an eyebrow, "I love her"

"Go tell her you punk" Steve smacked him upside the head, chuckling as Bucky dashed out of the gym, running straight to his room to shower and change. He trembled like a leaf he entire time, feeling a mixture of excitement and fear, feeling awful for hurting you, awful for bottling and ignoring his feelings while hoping and praying you'd forgive him.

He thought about all the times he wanted more with you, about what it would be like for you to be his girl, fuck there had been nights where he'd even dreamt of spending his life with you. He hid it all away, convincing himself he didn't need anything else, that it was for the best for both of you even if you did make his heart feel whole.

He knew he wanted to be your man, every time he walked through your door, the stresses of his day instantly melting away, feeling like he was home. Nothing comforted him more than holding you in his arms, never wanting to let go.

He hopped onto his motor bike, swerving through the streets, taking the stairs two at a time to get back to you as fast as he could, not wanting to waste another minute. He shamelessly pulled out the spare key, knowing you'd be home around this time considering he had your scheduled memorized by now. Usually around this time, you liked to lounge on the couch under a pile of blankets with your comfort show on.

"Doll?" Bucky quietly unlocked the door, toeing his boots off, the scent of your home already causing his emotions to fly around wildly. He felt like he was home, whole once again, why did he ever let this go.

"Baby, where are you" Bucky called, frowning when he saw your house keys still hanging by the door yet found the living room empty. He continued to search for you, quietly pushing your bedroom door open, melting at the sight of your curled up form, sleeping under a pile of blankets. He felt a pang in his chest seeing tear streaks down your cheeks, evident that you'd been crying.

You stirred at the sound of the door creaking, shifting in your sleep as he quietly made his way over, gently coaxing you awake.

"Hey doll" he whispered, stroking your face with his metal hand, like he always did when he came over in the middle of a night, usually when he couldn't sleep or whenever missions finished and he immediately needed to come and see you.

"Bucky?" Your voice cracked, rubbing sleep from your eyes, unsure if you were dreaming when you felt the bed dip and his cool melt fingers stroking your cheek, the familiar scent of him making you feel giddy after you missed him so much. "What-what are you doing here"

"I- He paused, unsure of where to even start, guilt already consuming him for making you feel like he never cared for you in the first place. "I'm sorry doll. I'm so sorry"

"For what" You scoffed softly, sniffling back fresh tears that wanted to spill, still struggling to mend your broken heart, "Was there something you needed again" Your defeated voice made Bucky feel worse, realizing you probably thought he was back to use you, when you had all the rights to kick him out of your room immediately.

"No! No baby, never. I-I'm not here for that y/n, I promise" Bucky scrambled to your side, reaching for your hands, pressing them to his chest, his heart hammering against his ribcage. "I'm so sorry for what I said to you baby, it wasn't true, I didn't even realize how I felt about you. I missed you so much" HIs eyes were desperately pleading with you to believe him.

"You-you said you never saw me that way" you whispered, shrinking away from him once again, too scared to let him hurt you a second time. "You left me Bucky"

"Baby, look at me" He begged, hesitantly reaching out to cup your cheeks, relaxing a little when you didn't flinch away. "Please sweets, I mean it. I did see you that way. I care about you, fuck, I love you y/n" As soon as the words left Bucky's mouth, he felt complete like never before. It was like his heart stitched itself back together, feeling free, realizing how true it was. He loved you, more than anything else.

"No you don't Bucky" you couldn't bring yourself to believe him, gasping when he pulled you into his arms, his thumb stroking your face.

"I do doll, I promise I do. I was too stupid to realize it even when it was obvious. I thought about you every second of the day, you know that? Whenever the jet would land, I'd run straight to you because I just wanted to come home. I just wanted to come straight to you. You were my everything, i wanted to keep you protected, just live in a world where it was just you and me. I fell in love with you angel, tried to convince myself every single day that what I felt for you was nothing more"

"Bucky-

"Steve knew" Bucky cut you off, chuckling at your confused, pouty expression.

"What?"

"He knew. He didn't know everything but he knew enough to piece together why I was acting like a love stuck idiot. You have no idea what kind of effect you had on me doll. I was the happiest I've ever been with you. My heart was breakin' without you baby, I just wanted my girl back"

"Your girl?" You whispered softly, your cheeks heating up at the thought while Bucky nodded, pulling you down to lay with him.

"My girl. All mine. Can't believe I tried to ignore it, I've been in love with you for so long doll. M'sorry I hurt you angel, I'll never break your heart again, I promise" He held you to his chest, his words making your eyes water, burying yourself in his warmth. He kissed the tears that spilled from your lashes, before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "Will you be mine? Really mine?"

"M'yours Bucky" your voice was muffled, clinging onto him while he wrapped his arms around you, stroking your hair.

"Y'know this means you'll have to put up with Steve and Sam" Bucky playfully teased making you giggle, already aware his friends would probably start to follow him once they officially found out about you. "and you'll have to be my date for all of Tony's extravagant shit"

"That doesn't sound so bad" You quipped, while Bucky rolled over, tucking his face against your neck, needily cuddling into you, craving your warmth after weeks of having been apart.

"That's because you've never seen me drink, sugar" Bucky hummed, sleep already starting to claim him, hugging you tightly as he closed his eyes. "Might even drunkenly ask you to marry me"

"I'd drunkenly say yes" you hummed, wrapping your body around his, he warmth of his skin making your eyes grow heavy.

"I love you doll" Bucky whispered before falling fast asleep in your arms, the world once again filled with sunshine with rainbows now that he was finally with you.

His girl.

His home.

[thegnomelord]

sof and cute hcs of eldritch reader trying to learn how to people (and maybe some raunchy ones about learning how human "mating" works) hhhhnnnngggh

Imagine Learning To Be Human

CW: SFW and NSFW First TF141 with SFW, then NSFW headcannons, sexting, masturbation, sex toys, morning after (no sex), sexual nudity, nonsexual nudity, implied poly141. GN reader, 500-900 words for each blurb, so somewhere around 5.5k words. Imma be quiet for the next week or so as I prepare for an exam so I'm feeding ya'll :Dd

Imagine SOAP— It's safe to say you're not the best with expressing what you think, especially not in this hollowed out corpse a tiny fraction of your consciousness inhabits. The more you try, the less human your attempts come out, only remembering that humans don't bend that way or don't do something after you've done it. You find yourself gravitating to Soap because he is the opposite of you, so open and responsive like an open book.

Imagine; observing Soap as he tries to piece together the fragments of a bomb, muttering curses under his breath as if the object had just called football 'soccer'. He's so concentrated he forgets the rest of the world exists, oblivious to you sitting across from him. But that's not a problem as it gives you a chance to watch and try to mimic what his face does; the slight hint of teeth as he nibbles on his lip, the furrow of his brows, the tenseness of his jaw pulling on his throat muscles…

You try to mimic every emotion he goes through as he tries and fails and succeeds and fails again to fit the pieces together like a jigsaw, but the hardest one to do is that smile of his. For some reason you just can't get it right, lips pulling back too far, teeth too much on display and brows too furrowed so you end up looking like an old savage.

Then as if to spite you, Soap looks up at you and immediately snorts. "What're yea doin' there Bonnie?" He coughingly laughs as your facial features return to your statue like state.

"Trying to look like you." You huff; at least you can do that correctly.

"Oh, look strapping don't I?" He snorts, doing what Ghost calls 'fishing for compliments' (though you're unsure how one can fish for abstract ideas).

"No more than the rest." You shrug and see him roll his eyes, though the corners of his lips are still quirked up, a hint of teeth on display and vestiges of dimples framing his mouth. "How do I do that?" You ask and motion to his face.

"Do what? Smile?" You snorts, already beckoning you over like you're a dog. "It's easy."

You lean across the table, tilting your head to indicate confusion but leaving your face a blank canvas. It takes all of your presence of mind not to give an earth shattering purr when his hands cup your jaw, distant stars quivering as his blunt nails scratch at your throat for a blissful second.

"Here," His thumbs settle at both corners of your lips, putting gentle pressure until he pushes the flesh back and up in a way that's natural to the skin suit but not you. "There yea go." He grins and pulls his thumbs away after a few moments, grinning when you hold the expression.

"Now yea're as dashing as me." He chuckles and you two must look like utter buffoons just grinning at one another; you wouldn't have it any other way.

Imagine GAZ — You're not exactly alive, technically you're the antithesis to life and existence, so to you, simple rules like eating or sleeping are no more than chalk guidelines after a rainstorm. Gaz doesn't subscribe to this idea, he's always trying to get you to indulge in these human comforts and you always allow him, even if it does include eating more things in a week than most of your kin have consumed in a millennia, if that.

Imagine; wandering the halls on a lazy Sunday morning, no drills to run or missions to prep for, and being drawn to the communal kitchen by the sound of boiling water and banding pans. You find Gaz cooking breakfast for the boys; he's the only one who can cook (according to him) seeing as Price seasons his food with hope, Ghost burns everything into coal and Soap's not allowed into the kitchen after he'd tried to make tea in the microwave (which Gaz had later asked you to exorcise).

"Mornin'." Kyle yawns and smiles at you, dressed in shorts and one of your 'lost' shirts. You do your best to replicate his expression. "Help me, yeah?" He asks and nods his head at what he's cooking.

Your expression falls back to neutral. "You'll need to show me how." You admit as you get next to him.

"Not a problem," He chuckles as he shifts behind you, pressing his chest flush with your back with his hands hovering over yours. You feel his warmth when he rests his head on your shoulder, his hands firm and steady as he shows you how to chop tomatoes and sausages, how to hold the knife correctly and pulling your fingers back when the blade draws too close to the flesh, talking you through it until you can do it on your own.

After that he leaves you to your task as he almost dances around the kitchen, stirring a pot here then putting the kettle on there and so many more little things while you remain where you are because you, by nature, are slow; to adapt, to age, to change.

But you do it for him.

"Those look great." He grins when you're done and then herds you in front of the cooking pans, and you're a little apprehensive about the bubbling oil when he dumps what you'd cut up into the pan. But his warmth is at your back again, steady hands guiding you on how to cook the food without burning your skin and leaving you to it when you catch on.

Then you feel a tug on your shirt, his presence once again next to you, but this time he's holding a piece of sausage on the end of a fork, a hand beneath it so it doesn't drop, "Hey, taste this for me."

You contemplate arguing you can't actually taste food the same way he does, but he gives you a look that has you letting him feed you. Though it tastes no different from everything else, from his hand it may as well be sweeter than ambrosia.

"Tastes good." The way he brightens up at your words makes the food only taste sweeter.

Imagine GHOST —You and him are similar in some ways, you both prefer to stick to what you know, who you know. It's harder for you to contain what you are inside your flesh body when there is so much life around you that every additional heartbeat pulls at the edge of your cold existence. So you stick to close to the people who's warmth has grown so familiar it's indistinguishable from the burning starts making up your real body.

Imagine; attending a celebration held by both TF141 and Los Vaqueros after a mission gone well, loud music and lewd lyrics blaring in your ears as men drink like teenagers at their first frat party. You're in a more secluded part of the bar next to Ghost, both of you nursing drinks while you watch the rest act like fools.

You're a little confused when you see Gaz and Soap move in a strange way, grinding against one another and pressed so close you'd think they're trying to mate, their hands roaming the other's body so roughly you're surprised no pieces of clothing come flying your way.

"Got a free show for my drink." Ghost chuckles next to you.

"What are they doing?" You finally ask when you can't contain your curiosity.

"Dancing." He answers and swallows the last inch of booze in his cup, setting it down on the bar. "For fun." He adds, already expecting the line of questioning, as if that's supposed to make you understand.

"They just look like they're trying to mate." You point out, receiving a long sigh in return.

"How 'bout I just show you." Before you can say anything he nicks the cup of untouched alcohol in your hand and swallows it all down in one go, putting the empty cup next to his before grabbing you by the arm and pulling you outside through the back entrance. You go along with him, but you're confused when you catch Soap's eyes and he wolf whistles at the two of you.

The world outside is calmer than the busy bar, the air much colder; closer to what you are. You turn to him once he lets you go, tilting your head and furrowing your brow to convey confusion. "So…what do I do?"

"Just follow my lead." A gravely chuckle escapes Simon as he closes the distance between you two, his rough hands settling on your waist as he begins to slowly rock both of your bodies along with the music, though his movements are more contained than what you'd seen, a steady push and pull compelling you to follow him.

"Why is this different than what Soap and Gaz were doing?" You ask, clutching his shoulders in return, your forehead almost resting on his chest as you look at your feet so you don't step on his toes.

You feel his chest vibrate as he chuckles, "They set a low bar." He rumbles and his hand moves to your jaw, tilting your head up so you two lock eyes, the intensity in his brown irises drowning out the sounds of the bar. "Eyes on me."

You nod. Your eyes stay firmly on him as you sway together to a tune he hums, finding a common ground in the way your cold and his heat mixes together. Above you millions of your eyes peer down at him, for as vast as you are, for this moment your attention is on him.

Imagine PRICE — He can tell how tired you are, not physically but mentally; having to communicate and understand people without the use of a mental link, when even the most complex ideas can be conveyed easily, was starting to fray the edges of your control over your human body. He decided to do something about it.

Imagine; Price taking you and the boys fishing to a remote cabin next to a lake. Knowing you don't sleep he pulls you out by the lake at the ass crack of dawn, having you watch as he sits down on the dock, his pants pulled up to his knees so he can dip his feet in the water while he sets up the fishing rods.

"What are we doing?" You ask but follow his example and sit next to him, the cool water of the lake similar enough to the cold abyss your true body resides to calm your nerves, though you're unsure of what to do when he gives you the fishing rod.

"Fishing." He says as he shows you how to cast out the line. "You look like you need it."

You don't argue with him and just try focusing on fishing, letting him teach you how to watch the line to see when something takes the bait and when to reel it in. You’re unsuccessful your first few attempts, and you have half the mind to just jump in and wrangle the fish in the lake with liquid abyss, but he stops you.

"Catching isn't the point." He says as he smokes his cigar while he takes an old boot off your hook. "It's about relaxing, the fish are just a bonus."

You let out a low sound that vibrates the water, but you settle next to him and cast out the line again. You don’t know how long you sit there next to him, your sides touching with the fishing rod sitting loosely in your hands. After some time you manage to yank out your first fish, and you certainly don't gloat when you pull a few more fish out of the lake while he only pulls out seaweed, but the look of pride in his eyes makes it even better.

Any prospects of catching any more fish are dashed when Gaz and Soap wake up and take running jumps into the lake, scaring all the fish with their splashing. "Like school boys." Price remarks as Ghost comes up to you both, offering beers as he sits down on your other side.

"Summer vacation, captain." Ghost says and slips into the water, and you realize this is calming; in the way you haven't felt before, doing something familiar like watching Soap and Gaz trying to dunk each other in the water but feeling like you’re right there with them, laughing alongside them when Ghost scares the shit out of them by lunging out of the water.

“See sweetheart? ‘S not hard.” Price hums, adjusting his hat though his shoulders are already reddened from sunburns. He offers you his cigar and you accept it, breathing in the nicotine and smoke despite not having lungs or a circulatory system to be affected by it, before you give it back. “Taking it easy is good for you.”

You nod your head, content to sit next to him until something tugs on the line of your forgotten fishing rod and you scramble to reel it in. You give a small grunt as whatever is on the hook struggles, "Yank on it." Price tells you and you do, nearly toppling on your back when you finally win the tug of war. You blink as you look at what you've caught.

A Speedo.

"Well would you look at that." Price chuckles.

Judging by the way Johnny's suddenly bare assed and throwing obscenities in Gaelic your way, you assume that it's his.

“Caught a big one there.” Ghost notes, not yet laughing but his shoulders shake with silent laughter as he slaps Soap's cheeks (of his rear).

He yelps, confident enough to be naked in front of all of you, but not shameless enough to where his cheeks (on his face) don't redden from the way Gaz cackles and wheezes with laughter so loudly he nearly drowns. You give Johnny back his trunks before he can drown Gaz but, maybe you should fish any more.

NSFW:

Imagine SOAP— If anyone ever asks Soap why he would ever send a dick pick to an ancient god, he'll blame anything and everything; on being stood up, on loving himself a little less, on mixing up the numbers, in being black out drunk…

Imagine; him being stone cold sober when the thought invades his mind and he spends the next hour trying to take a good picture: in front of the mirror, on the bed, no clothes, some clothes, the list of positions goes on. He doesn't want to come across like he's compensating by just holding his dick in his hand like some cunt; as silly as it is, he wants the picture to actually tempt you, to make you feel something, though the question of if you even can doesn't cross his mind. He ends up with a picture of him on the bed, the tip of his hard cock peeking out from beneath the band of his boxers.

He won’t admit he holds his breath when he sends the suggestive picture to you alongside a ;) , watching the text bubble appear and disappear multiple times before you just leave him on seen. He deflates and has half the mind to delete the picture and chuck his phone to the other end of his bed but he’s stopped when he gets a message from Price.

‘My office. Now.’

Turns out you were with Price when you saw that photo and without a second thought had shown him it and asked what it meant. Granted Price had seen more than just his dick, but he was less than happy about Johnny sending you unsolicited dick pics.

You quiz Soap for nearly an hour, stone faced and unbothered while he gets redder with every question (what can you send, what not to send, how much to send, etc.) and he gets the impression that's how his ma' felt when she gave him and his sisters 'the talk'. “So, yeah.” He clears his throat, whole face feeling hot. “Don’t do it ‘lest yea’r asked or yea like ‘em.”

Thankfully Price finally lets you go when you’re satisfied with his answers and Soap can’t scamper fast enough out of his office with his whole face in flames.

He deletes the photo soon after but you've already burned it into your memory where it will outlast the stars, and the idea to reciprocate festers in your ageless mind like rot until you find yourself in front of your mirror after a shower. You play with the phone for a long time, snapping a few blurry close up shots of your face while you attempt to change it from the front to the back facing camera.

It takes even longer to figure out what to send as Soap wasn't that clear with his answers. Your siblings give you pointers, and first you attempt to take a picture of your most private part — bones snap as your rib cage splits open into a maw, vines full of eyes wrapping around your ribs like ivy as tendrils of darkness unwind just enough for the anti-light of your very essence sucks up all the light in the room — but the mirror cracks and your phone just shuts off with a pitiful whimper.

After fixing the mirror you end up doing what you do best; you mimic one of the statues you'd seen the Greeks make, the towel wrapped just along the V where your thighs connect to your pelvis, exposed from the waist up with your skin still wet. Your body isn't as demure as the muses that sculptor had used, but you hope Soap will appreciate it as you snap a few more photos and send them to Johnny with the same ;) he'd sent you.

Soap nearly chokes on his spit when he gets the photo, all the blood in his brain flooding south as his eyes rake over every exposed inch of skin, every curve and every dip in the muscles making him drool and cock harden and he's racing to your room before you even have the time to turn your phone off.

Imagine GAZ — For all of your pitfalls and misunderstandings he likes the little hints of inhumanity in your speech, in your mannerisms, in knowing you could be anywhere and anytime but you choose to be next to him. He couldn't imagine himself being enamored with an ant, yet you hang on his every word like he's revealing secrets you don't know, making him feel special; he feels so bad when his thoughts of you stop being innocent.

Imagine; He tries to keep things respectful, but his imagination runs wild when you do the simplest things. Bend down to tie your shoe? He's checking out your arse from the corner of his eyes. Stand behind him? He's suppressing a shiver just imagining your body draped over his in post-coital bliss. Check his skin for injuries? Gaz has to bite his lip to keep from begging you to touch all of him, to explore his body. Work out? Kyle's lucky if he doesn't start drooling imagining going over and licking the sweat off your skin, of feeling your muscles tense beneath his tongue while you continue to work out with him between your legs.

When he can't think of you without popping a boner he ends up having to compromise before the shame eats him whole. He goes on a random porn site; he usually prefers just using his imagination but when his mind keeps circling back to you he has no other option, and his conscience gnaws on him when he ends up finding a porn star with similar features to yours. It's not wrong if he's wanking off to a different person, right?

Heat's already burning in his stomach when he slouches in his chair, his back to his room and one earbud in his ear. Shame continues to eat at him when he's both delighted and disheartened by the fact the porn star sounds nothing like you, that his bones don't shiver like they do when you talk.

He keeps the volume low and instead focuses on rubbing and squeezing his cock the way the porn star does to a second actor, and he can't help imagining what you'd sound like; high pitched and whiny? Husky and low? Completely silent or animalistic? The idea of pulling sounds of pleasure out of your throat has him leaking. His head lolls back and he moans as he squeezes the base of his cock, his eyes open just enough to blur the fine details on the porn star's face so you two become indistinguishable.

His heart stops when you burst through his door, a random question leaving your lips before your ears pick up the moans and slick sounds coming from his direction. You're next to him in an instant, looming over his chair and caging him in with your eyes stuck to the screen. "What are you watching?"

"Get out!" He yelps and tries to push you away but it's like trying to move a mountain.

"Why does that human look like my vessel?" You persist, "And why are you watching humans mating when you told me it's wrong?" You tilt your head, luckily not seeing his hand on his hard cock, the porn reflecting in the blacks of your eyes.

“It’s on the net it’s different! People upload it for others' pleasure and-” He sputters and cuts himself off when he registers your words, freezing in place and that accidentally gets him to squeeze the head of his cock.

Your pupils widen like a cat’s when you hear the little moan escape his chest, your head automatically dropping down to see where his other hand is. "Oh,” is what comes out of your mouth when you see his hard weeping cock. “Can I?” You ask, making an odd motion with your head.

He thinks you're asking to leave and nods. "Yeah-" Gaz wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole, his cheeks burning red like he's a lobster in a pot. “-can you pl-please leave-”

He wheezes when your cold hand suddenly wraps around his cock, your hold firm and just at the edge of pain but still making him throb. A few more eyes spread across your skin to see him while you watch the video still playing on his computer, giving his cock a small pump and shaking the stars with your purr when he moans.

"What are-" He neck nearly snaps to look at you, a shiver raking his body and another moan escaping him as you squeeze the head of his cock, your skin like ice yet it makes him burn with arousal.

"Watch." You order and turn his head with your free hand so his eyes are back on the screen. You don't know why he's watching a fake 'you' mate when he could just ask you, but you know one thing; the person on the screen is competition, and by the way you roughly stroke his cock until he's whining and leaking like a tap, Gaz can tell— you don't like competition.

Imagine PRICE — He never imagined he'd need to have 'the talk' with a god; sure, you may understand how sex works, but you're hopeless in understanding the nuances of it all. If someone doesn't directly say 'let's fuck' you assume any touches from them, even groping, is just them being friendly. It makes his blood boil, seeing you be taken advantage of like that.

Imagine; You're in the bar with the boys and Price is a couple of drinks in when he sees being felt up by a stranger and you're oblivious to his advances. A green eyed monster nips at Price's heels and he doesn't notice when he puts himself next to you, 'accidentally' shoving the other guy back with just his bulk. His presence, his demeanor, and the few harsh words spoken in a clipped tone has the other guy scampering off.

He doesn't remember much after that, only the way you'd looked at him — with the intensity of a ravenous void, like he was a bright star you wanted to devour.

What wakes him isn't his clock, but the rays of sunlight gently streaming through the curtains. He groans as he registers the awful ache behind his eyes before he even has a chance to open them. He feels his bed shift and his eyes snap open automatically, he nearly jumps out of his skin when he sees you laying on your side as you stare at him.

"Jesus!" He jumps up, nearly topples over from the sudden vertigo but your steady hand on his shoulder keeps him upright, making him realize he's nude.

"He's not here." You shrug and as you sit up his sheets pool around your waist, making him realize you're naked from the waist up, though he doesn't want to think if you're naked naked. His fists clench when his eyes roam over your exposed body against his will, settling on the various hickeys decorating your shoulders and neck.

His heart sinks. "What…what happened last night?" He asks and doesn't want to know the answer, his stomach churns with shame.

"Oh, uh, you got drunk, I got you home, you started kissing and biting me." You say, tracing the numerous hickeys and indents of his teeth across your human form like they're medals. "Then you pulled me into your bed and wouldn't let me go. Then you passed out." You say as if nothing's wrong, and even if no sex happened it's little consolidation to the fact he took advantage of you.

“Why didn’t you stop me?” He asks as he takes a shaky breath, shoulders hunched up around his ears and eyes downcast, bile burning in his stomach.

"Why would I?" You tilt your head and shift positions to face him fully, the sheets falling away to reveal you are naked naked. "I may not understand you fully, but I would have stopped you if you did something I didn't want."

Price hates himself for how he can't tear his eyes away from your body. "But you let me." He insists and tries to get you to see reason, to be as angry and disgusted with him as he is with himself.

“Yes.” You are growing annoyed as well, silently cursing the frailty of the human mind; things would be easier to explain if you could just use mental communication… “You are less than insects to my kin.” You sigh and move to straddle him before he can get away, pinning him under you. “You are a sun to me.”

Even calling him a sun doesn’t do him justice; suns die out like firecrackers when your immeasurable body passes over them, when you devour them, him, you want to keep, to protect, to wrap in your cold abyss until he’s warm and safe.

He sucks in a breath, the gears in his head turning as he tries to understand. “What?-”

“Can I touch you?” You ask, your hands respectfully on your thighs as if you’re not pinning him in place with your weight. There’s a dark intelligence in your eyes, the same ravenous void staring at him behind the black of your eyes. You are not a child, you are a god.

"Why?" He sucks in a sharp breath as he breathes in your smell, the scent of dying stars and burn ozone tickling his lungs. "You don't have to." He says weakly, because what would anyone, god or not, want with him?

"You left marks on me, I want to do the same." The way you say it makes him think of godhood; not the bleak madness you are, but the type humanity romanticizes. Your lips part as if you're thinking of marking him, bits of oblivion staring back at him from the darkness of your throat when he looks too closely at your mouth.

He submits so fast. "C'mere then," He pulls you close by your head, kissing you like he's trying to steal your ichor, his body burning hot when your hands grip him tight enough to leave moon shaped bruises in his skin — the first of many you intend to give him, until you've marked him as yours and yours alone.

Imagine GHOST — Ghost prefers to show you rather than spend hours trying to explain things to you, he's more stricter with you when you try to do things you're told not to, both for your and everyone's safety. You never do quite learn.

Imagine; Ghost recently confiscated your phone when you tried to see what humans thought about you, or what they imagined you and your kin to be, on a website called 'Rule34'. Ghost had snatched the phone out of your hands before you could even click the link. After a week he gave you the go ahead to take it back, but got called to run a drill so just said to go find it.

Now, you've been told not to go rooting around other people's belongings, but while searching for your phone you'd fallen back into your old habit and snooped around until you found a small box in the bottom of his dresser. Thinking nothing of it you opened it and found…something. A lot of somethings; handcuffs, rope, weird egg shaped thing, a weird tube with a hole in it that squished like a stress toy but had a cunt molded at one end, but what drew your attention — was the dismembered black cock in the middle of the box.

You and all of your kin scratched your collective heads over the thing you now held in your hand, you'd been under the impression humans didn't carry around body parts anymore so you were stumped why Ghost had a dismembered dick and balls in his dresser. Besides the pitch black color and flat base it looked so realistic and the way it flopped when you turned it in your hand made you feel the same way humans did when seeing you.

So you got up and wen to ask Ghost about it, the thing held out in your hand when you found him with the rest of the boys. "Ghost, why do you a have body part in your closet?"

Your question made them all turn to look at you, Ghost made a strange sound like a strangled dog while Gaz and Soap fell over laughing and Price shielded his eyes with the rim of his hat.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell.” He snarls and before you know it he’s stomping over to you and dragging you by the front of your clothes, “What I tell you about snooping?”

“I couldn’t find my phone,” You try to argue but don’t struggle and just let him drag you somewhere like you're a kitten until you find yourself in his room with the door firmly locked behind him.

"Right." His tone makes it sound like he doesn't believe you, his rough hand pushes you down on his bed and he yanks the thing from your hold. “You want to know what this is for?” He asks and holds the the cock with the head pointed at you like a knife.

You nod your head and try to rise up but he pushes you back down, you're not even sure where he gets the handcuffs from but there's cold steel around your wrists before you can notice it. It's his order to "Sit and watch." that actually keeps you down, and you see the corners of his eyes shift to denote a smirk. "Do what you're good at."

You don't blink as you watch him disrobe until he's only wearing his mask, and your surprise is obvious when he sticks the thing on the floor and it stays up right. "This," He growls and sinks to his knees on the floor, a towel under him, "Is a fuckin' dildo." He reaches over and takes a small tube, squirting viscous liquid on his fingers. "You don't ever take it out of my room. Got it."

He leaves no room to argue and you rapidly nod your head. You find yourself breathless as you watch him reach behind himself and you don’t even notice how a bit of your oblivion leaks from your pores and spreads across the ground like spiderwebs, eyes blooming in the small pools all around him so you can see the way he roughly pushes a finger into himself, your hands clenching as his rim flutters around his large fingers.

"What is it for?" You find your voice, the sound ringing like the inside of a dead star the longer you watch him roughly stretch himself, pushing two then three fingers into his ass.

"Fun," He chuckles and feels so powerful when your eyes have all but turned black with hunger you've yet to notice. "It's a toy, for adults." He pulls his fingers out and squirts more liquid on the dildo, before sinking down on the toy in one fluid move that leaves him hissing at the stretch, his rim fluttering around the thick base.

Something about the way the toy is of a similar color to your real body has you wriggling beneath your human skin, the air vibrating as you groan and try to reach out to him, wanting to cover him in your body and have all of him feel all of you.

"No." Just one word has you sitting back on the bed like a dog, a pitiful sound rumbling across the void as you can do nothing but watch. "This is what you get for snooping." He's so smug with the way he has such control over you without even touching you, his thick thighs tensing as he slowly bounces on the dildo, "Now watch. Maybe if you're good I'll let you touch me."

You'll do whatever he says so long as you get to feel him.

[jointherebellion215]

Flowers

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x female!reader

Summary: You're living a perfectly content life on Geidi Prime with your husband. It's a shame your mind can't rest, sparked by glimpses of a life unknown. Loosely based on the song from Hadestown.

Word Count: 1.5k

TW: Dark!Feyd-Rautha, Dead Dove Do Not Eat, yandere!Feyd-Rautha, manipulation, gaslighting, like SO much gaslighting holy shit, descriptions of violence, abusive relationship, emotional abuse, isolation, tragedy, nonconsensual drug use, nonconsensual medical treatement, induced memory loss, amnesia, dubious consent, pregnancy, songfic, happy-but-not-really-happy ending, I know I said female!reader but there's virtually no pronoun usage or descriptive words in thisfor the reader besides titles so maybe GN!reader??

A/N: I'm blown away, almost 500 notes on His Kiss, the Riot? Holy shit, all of the thanks! Here it is, the final part! I'm ending it with the song that actually started this whole idea. Listening to Eva's interpretation of Eurydice singing Flowers gave me the most delicious, fucked-up bit of inspiration and this came out. I was clutching my own metaphorical pearls writing this cause damn, this gets dark. Like, way more than I thought I could write. Anyways, I hope you enjoy the end of this twisted tale. Thank you for reading! As always, I appreciate you taking the time to like, comment, and reblog.

Read Part One and Part Two

AO3

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Dune properties, characters, or storylines-- nor do I own anything related to Hadestown. The images used in this are not my own, and any similarities to stories or events other than what are directly referenced are strictly coincidence.

Lily white and poppy red

I trembled when he laid me out

“You won’t feel a thing,” he said, “when you go down”

Nothing gonna wake you now

Drops of blood. 

A wicked, black smile.

“You won’t feel a thing.” 

You wake up with a gasp. Your doctor had warned you about dreams like this. They weren’t real, just an aftereffect of your accident.

The medical staff for House Harkonnen had been gracious enough to inform you of your predicament. When your family had recently hosted the Harkonnens, you quickly met and fell deeply in love with the na-Baron Feyd-Rautha. Your love for each other was so intense that you had demanded to get married right away. Your father disapproved of the union, so he disowned you and banished you, demanding to never see you again.

On the journey back to Geidi Prime, a stray asteroid hit the ship and caused you to hit your head. Feyd had apparently worried for your life, which saddened you and warmed your heart. It was nice to know that someone truly cared for you. However, your mind wasn’t quite the same afterwards. Your life before Geidi Prime was completely unknown to you. Your memories were in a fragile state.

That was just a few months earlier. Unfortunately, your mind has not yet recovered your memories prior to the accident. You were diligently taking a specially brewed tea that would calm your mind so it wouldn’t fracture under the immense pressure to try and fix itself. When you asked how long it would take for you to recover, your heart cracked when they said that it may take the rest of your natural life.

While it broke your heart to hear of your father’s dismissal of your feelings, you believed that you were strong enough to carry on. Having no further ties to your home world made it better to settle in with your new family.

You are a Harkonnen now.

Now, your footsteps make the quietest of echoes as you traipse down the narrow corridor. Heads of nearby servants and slaves bow, and eyes snap to the floor as you pass by. You feel the barest of sympathies, for not being allowed the simplest of human connection with their na-Baronness. But it was paradise considering the consequences should anyone ever feel bold enough to try otherwise.

Your husband wouldn’t allow that.

Dreams are sweet, until they’re not

Men are kind, until they aren’t

Flowers bloom, until they rot and fall apart

“Can I not have a single friend on this planet?!”

You burst into your shared chambers, rage rushing through your veins. All you had wanted was to have lunch and tea with one of the few female palace advisors you had taken a liking to. Maybe share a laugh or a story. Make a connection outside of your new family. That was all ruined when Feyd barged in and gutted your companion, stomach-to-throat, while she sat in her chair.

You were sure that your shoes had trailed blood down the hallway, but your mind was focused elsewhere at the moment.

“What use would you have for friends? I am right here.” He closed in on you, grasping your arms and forcing you to look in his direction. “Am I not enough for you? Do I not give you everything you should ever desire?”

His hands tighten around your wrists, making you flinch. A stray tear falls from your eyes, guilt starts to overcome your anger.

“No, not at all, husband! You have given me everything I could have wished for and more,” You wrench your hands out of his grip and grasp his face. He showered you with gifts, never let you go hungry or thirsty and this is how you repay him? “I just… I didn’t think you would want to hear me talk about certain things. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful.”

“I know you don’t, my darling.”

You take a deep breath as you feel the tension in the room start to settle.

“Your mind is already fragile from the accident… I just want to keep you safe.”

Safe. That was the key here. He takes step back and retrieves a small dagger from his belt.

Feyd holds it up, showing you the weapon. “Did you know that your friend had a blade dipped in poison strapped onto her person?”

You can feel the blood rushing from your face. No. You didn’t know.

“I-I didn’t see a knife on her. She couldn’t have-“

“She did.”

He drops the blade and leans in closer to you, forehead aligning with yours. “There are people out there who seek to harm you, who seek to harm me through you. I can never let that happen.”

You nod furiously. You couldn’t believe that you had been so stupid. 

Trust is unbelievably hard to come by in the Galactic Imperium. Your few months’ worth of memories can even attest to that. It seems that the only people you can truly rely on is family.

“I only want what’s best for you.”

You understand now.

Is anybody listening?

I open my mouth and nothing comes out

Another argument discussion had emerged from your telling of your latest dream. Your husband was convinced that you were entirely too exhausted to put any stock into what your subconscious was telling you, but you thought otherwise.

Fingers run through a patch of bright pinks, yellows, and blues—

“I swear to you, it felt so real! It was almost like a memory, like something I-,” A firm hand is placed on your shoulder as you give a slight stumble. Feyd puts a hand on your back, leading you to the edge of your bed, setting you on the bench that was placed against the footboard.

“Please, have some of your morning tea, my darling. You look a bit peaked.” You accepted the cup he gave you, settling down and taking a few sips of the warm, spiced drink. Your mind instantly calms, anxieties evaporating from your body like puffs of smoke. Never mind the memories that you had just… Floating.

Your husband is now on one knee in front of you, arms encasing your body, as his hands cup your face. He brings your eyes to meet his, seemingly searching. For what? You do not know.

“What were you saying about this dream of yours?” A pause reverberates throughout the room as your head tilts in confusion.

“My…?” You stutter, mouth opening to complete a thought that was no longer entirely there. “I can’t quite remember. What were we talking about?”

Your husband gives a smirk, analyzing your face once more before placing his hand on the dark fabric covering your swollen belly.

“Nothing of import. It seems that my heir is set on scrambling your thoughts.”

There seemed to be nothing in this world that brought more joy to Feyd-Rautha’s face than the sight of you and his unborn child. He’s more protective of you now than ever, having guards always posted near you, having you wear a shield during all public appearances. Not to mention, he was damn near insatiable in private. His hands and mouth are practically dragged away from you and your growing stomach every morning.

You give a chuckle. “I’d heard about pregnancy brain before, but never knew it to be this taxing! Perhaps I’ll take a walk later if I’m feeling up to it.”

Feyd gives your cheek a soft pat before rising to his feet, “Rest, my darling. I shall check in on the both of you later.” His hand rests next to yours, giving your belly a quick rub before he walks towards the door.

Your head goes to set on your pillow, the warmth from the tea running through your body. You must be really tired, since you fall asleep so quickly.

Quick enough to not hear the deadbolt lock clicking from the outside once the door is closed.

Flowers, I remember field of flowers

Soft beneath my heels

Walking in the sun, I remember someone

Someone by my side, turned his face to mine

The dreams start to encroach your mind while you are awake. You continue to follow your doctor’s instructions: take your daily tea, rest often, don’t overexert your body or your mind. But, ever persistent, they push through, finding parallels with your daily life to latch onto.

A hand, gently enlaced with yours, guides you through a meadow—

You husband’s hands lead you to stand with him by his uncle’s side, preparing for another ceremony.

A laugh, familiar and warm—

A chilling cackle of laughter reaches you in your viewing box, watching your husband gleefully slay another adversary in the arena.

Bright, yellow sunlight caressing your face and neck—

The black sun of Geidi Prime pulses in your periphery as you wave to a crowd below, your husband standing stoically next to you.

A kiss, given freely—

Feyd ravishes you in your chambers, lips melding together with yours.

My darling—

My love—

My darling—

My darling—

My darling—

My darling—

My darling—

“Is everything alright, my darling?”

You blink, snapping back to the present. Pale, smooth skin and blue eyes, your husband extends his hand towards you. Safe. He gives you everything. You and your child will never struggle or suffer with him. You are safe with him. Aren’t you?

Blood splatters over a patch of bright pinks, yellows, and blues—

You give a bright smile.

If you ever walk this way

Come and find me lying in the bed I made

[kuroosdarling]

POSITIONS — ༉‧₊˚.

ft. sanji vinsmoke !

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : sanji always liked missionary, but he was eager to broaden his horizons with you once you give him a proper taste.

꒰ CONTENTS ꒱ : MDNI. brief mention of blood (this man & his nosebleeds) mentions of creampie, overall vanilla sex — wc : 500 words

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : starting to post my fics that are just sitting in my drafts. i asked risu which character to post first and here we are with sanji <33 enjoy !!

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)♡*.ﾟ

sanji always loved to take you in missionary. there was something so special to him about seeing your pretty face, slotting his body on top of yours and being as close as possible.

loved pressing his forehead against yours to gaze into your eyes. or better yet, when you carefully push back his slightly damp bangs out of his eyes so you could see his face better.

loved to wrap his arms behind your back, pulling you towards him to press your chests together — utterly driving him insane when he feels your nipples brushing against his.

above all, he loved seeing your precious face. intently watching each beautiful expression morph into bliss as he drove you closer to your pleasure, using your reactions to guide his way there for you.

but one day, you insist on changing positions.

he wasn’t so sure, in fact, he hasn’t ever done anything besides missionary so he didn’t even know how to go about it. but luckily, he had you to show him the way.

it started when you climbed into his lap, effectively kickstarting his old habits. after the initial gush of blood coming out of his nose and a few overly enthusiastic compliments — he simmered back down the moment you slid down on his cock.

it took him a second to try to not come instantly, but the way you were perched up in his lap, your chest directly in front of his face, your hands delicately resting on his shoulders — he couldn’t help it.

but he always had so much more to give you.

he soon realized that maybe new positions were a good thing. a different way for him to worship and love your body. his tongue running all over your chest, circling around your nipples as you bounced on his cock.

it was truly heaven watching you use him to get yourself off. your soft mewls fired up his core, driving his hips up further to meet yours. there was no way he’d want to stop having you like this. it might have even taken over as his new favorite position.

but something else overcomes him when he has you on all fours. the way you look so beautiful presenting yourself for him has his mind going drunk with satisfaction.

knowing that only he could ever have you like this, driving himself further into your warm cunt, deeper than he has ever gone — has him losing his control.

he’s still sweet, but there’s an edge to it now. his hips erratically snapping against you. he feels so high, so overwhelmed with the control you graciously gave him.

it’ll even have him reaching over to take one of his cigarettes, smoking it while his thrusts never falter. the view he has is one of the best ones he’s ever seen. screw the all blue, this right here was his life’s dream.

being able to admire your body from any angle is a new game he adamantly wants to play. so expect him to try and throw you in any position at any time. he has a lot of new things he wants to explore now that he knows how willing you are to help him.

[jetii]

#22 with Wrecker x Reader NSFW where team locks them in a closet and leaves for like an hour not knowing they were already together

been writing a lot of angst lately so this was a nice break from the sads. enjoy!

Something Sweet

Pairing: Wrecker x fem!Reader / Wrecker x Medic!Reader

Words: 4,103

Tags/Warnings: fluff, smut, established relationship, reader has a nickname, semi-public sex, fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk

Prompt: 22. “Kriff, this closet is smaller than I remembered.” / “Wait, when the hell have you been in here?”

500 Follower Celebration Masterlist | Main Masterlist

It's sweet, really.

You try not to take it the wrong way, how committed the others are to getting you and Wrecker together. After all, they have no idea. They don't know you're both already...something. Maybe they just think there's a chance the two of you are unaware. That you're both pining for each other, and if they could only give you both a little shove in the right direction, the rest would be up to you.

You can't blame them for not knowing. Wrecker is nothing but respectful and proper around you, keeping a careful distance between the two of you when you're around the others, and it doesn't take much of an effort to seem like just another comrade on his part. He's friendly with everyone, openly affectionate with most. You're one of the guys. And that's all.

Well, it's a little more complicated than that.

But as you see it, it's not your job to explain anything. It's not Wrecker's either, and so you're both playing the parts his brothers have written for you. You're the awkward medic with a crush, and he's the oblivious, lovable trooper who can't see what's right in front of his face.

The first few times the others tried to get you alone with Wrecker, you played along. You let yourself blush when Wrecker was nearby, kept your voice soft and flustered around him, and even let him catch you staring a time or two.

It wasn't hard. Wrecker's eyes are very distracting, especially when they're turned in your direction. And it's not like he had to be told. He's not a great actor, but he does a good enough job at seeming a little clueless. It's enough to make the others laugh, and they all have a good time at your expense.

You're not sure how long this little play is going to continue, or what's going to happen when it comes to a close, but you're determined to enjoy the ride.

And there is plenty to enjoy.

Wrecker is always happy to be a part of any scheme, especially one that gets him closer to you, so the smiles come easy for him. The others are in high spirits too, laughing more, cracking jokes. You can almost feel the tension lifting, and you don't have to say a word.

You know it can't last, but you're determined to keep a lid on it as long as possible. To keep everyone happy.

But this is... a bit much.

As soon as the door to the closet slides shut behind you, leaving you in the dark, you hear the familiar, unmistakable sound of Wrecker's laughter. You've been locked in.

Again.

"Oh, no!" Wrecker cries, trying, and failing, to sound surprised. "Looks like we're stuck here, Doc! Whatever will we do?"

You bite back a chuckle as you turn and bang on the door. "Guys? Come on!"

There's a click as the door locks, followed by the sound of Hunter's voice on the other side. "Oh, hey, sorry, this door's not working! I guess we'll just have to wait until the maintenance droid fixes it."

"I estimate that will take approximately two hours," Tech’s dry voice adds.

"Two hours?!" you hiss.

"Give or take," he replies. "It is hard to say. Maintenance droids aren't exactly known for their efficiency."

"Well, better make yourselves comfortable then," Crosshair's drawl comes through the door next.

You can just picture the four of them standing there outside the door, smirking and giving each other high-fives, proud of their handiwork. You can also picture yourself punching each and every one of them.

"Seriously?" you mutter.

"We'll check in with you in a little bit," Hunter says.

"Have fun!" Echo adds, and the four of them tromp away, still laughing, leaving you and Wrecker locked in.

You turn around and fumble for the light panel, squinting a little when the lights come on, bathing the small closet in a soft, golden glow. Your eyes settle on Wrecker, still standing there, hands clasped behind his back, trying very hard to look innocent. The moment your eyes meet, though, the act crumbles, and a grin spreads over his face

"Hey, Doc," he says, looking pleased. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Yeah," you say, leaning against the wall. "Fancy that."

You're not upset. Well, not much. You know they mean well, and you have to admit, it's kind of sweet. But you're a little tired of this. This is the third time they've tried to lock the two of you in a closet, and they've gotten more obvious with each attempt. They've stopped trying to make up excuses. Instead, they just herd the two of you into some cramped, dark space and shut the door, as if that's going to force the two of you together.

You suppose they're right about that.

"What a day, huh?" Wrecker asks, stepping towards you. He leans his shoulder against the wall beside you, still grinning. "Just the two of us. All alone."

You can't help a smile as you tilt your head back against the wall to look up at him. "I'm glad one of us is enjoying this."

His smile only widens, and he shrugs his massive shoulders. "It’s not that bad. Could be worse."

You look around the closet. There's barely enough room for the two of you, and the shelves are crowded with a variety of odds and ends. You recognize some medical supplies among them, a few things that you haven't used in years. The space feels even smaller with Wrecker's tall, broad body filling it, and you're already starting to feel a little warm. 

"Kriff, this closet is smaller than I remembered.”

“Wait, when the hell have you been in here?” Wrecker demands, crossing his arms over his chest and raising a brow at you.

You smirk, looking up into his eyes, enjoying the way he leans in a little. As much as you want to, you won’t give in. Not yet. You hold his gaze, your expression coy. "Wouldn't you like to know."

He huffs out a laugh, then reaches up to scratch the back of his neck, looking a little nervous.

"I'm just messing with you," you say quickly. "You're the first person I've been locked in here with."

"Lucky me," he says with a smirk.

You bite your lip, unable to resist teasing him a little. "If you play your cards right.”

Wrecker laughs again, a deep, full-bodied sound. It's your favorite sound, the one that makes your heart squeeze every time. The sound makes the closeness easier, the space between you smaller. You don't feel so claustrophobic when Wrecker is smiling down at you, his eyes dancing.

"So, uh... How long you think we're actually gonna be stuck here?" he asks, leaning a little closer.

"Dunno." You shrug, looking around the closet, feigning boredom. "Hours, Tech said."

"Well, isn’t that a shame," Wrecker replies, his voice low. His gaze flicks away from yours, and you watch his eyes trail slowly down the length of your body, lingering at your hips and your chest, and you bite back a sigh. The way his eyes darken as they rove over you, the way he licks his lips and swallows hard before meeting your gaze again sends a wave of heat through your body.

There's no doubt in your mind what's going to happen now.

You let your head fall back, tilting your face toward the ceiling. Your hair falls around your shoulders, and you arch your back a little, stretching. Wrecker sucks in a sharp breath. You smile and turn your face to the side, peering at him through your lashes.

"So,” you start. “Should we do it?"

Wrecker snorts, giving you an incredulous look. "That's how you're gonna ask? Really?"

"Well, what else would you suggest?"

"How 'bout something like..." he clears his throat. His voice drops to a husky murmur, and the sound of it sends a shiver through you. "Hey, Wrecker. You know how we're in this tiny closet, all alone? There's no way anyone would bother us in here, especially not since your brothers have locked the door. Maybe we could..."

"Wrecker, stop," you laugh. "Stop."

"What? Just sayin' what's on your mind," he teases. "C'mon. Say it. Ask me."

"Fine," you groan. You suck in a breath and smile, batting your eyelashes. "Hey, Wrecker. We're all alone in this closet. Want to fuck?"

He chuckles and steps closer. "See, now you're gettin' it."

You shake your head, still smiling, but you don't have time to make another quip. Wrecker closes the distance between you, one hand going to your waist, the other sliding up the back of your neck. He tilts his head and captures your lips with his, and the smile falls from your face.

Your hands fly up, grabbing at his chestplate, and you cling to him as you open your mouth to him. He kisses you hard, and you're breathless by the time he pulls away, trailing his lips down your jaw and neck. He tugs at the collar of your shirt, exposing more skin for his lips to explore, and you moan quietly, tilting your head back and pressing closer.

You're not sure if the others can hear, or if they're just pretending not to, but you've learned to keep your moans quiet, save them for the rare moments you can get Wrecker alone. Even now, your voice is soft, a mere whimper that only Wrecker can hear, but you can't help yourself.

The sound seems to spur Wrecker on, and his teeth scrape across your shoulder. Your hips buck forward, and the hand at your waist slides around, down, and his fingers brush over the front of your pants, teasing.

"Wrecker, please," you whisper, arching against him.

He lifts his head, eyes dark, a smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, yeah, I gotcha. Here. Let's get this off," he says, his hands finding the edge of your shirt.

You reach up, helping him pull it over your head. Your arms get tangled, though, and Wrecker laughs, struggling to free you.

"Hold on," he mutters. "Damn shirt, why you gotta be so— aha! There we go!"

Your arms are finally free, and the shirt hits the floor, quickly forgotten. You grab the edge of his chestplate, ready to remove it, but Wrecker has other plans. He's already pulling down your pants, yanking them down past your hips, taking your underwear with them. You gasp, grabbing his shoulders to steady yourself as you step out of them, kicking them aside.

"Wrecker—"

He kisses you again, softer this time, his hands going to your bare hips, holding you. You lean against him, your hands roaming, finding the latches for his armor, stripping him quickly. You focus on the lower half, too impatient to strip off the rest, and as soon as you've stripped him to his blacks, he pulls away, turning you.

You grab onto the shelf, and Wrecker's hands cup your ass, spreading you. Your breath catches, and a quiet moan escapes your lips as his thumb slips between your legs.

"Shit, you're already so wet," he murmurs, his voice low. He gives a quiet laugh. "Bet they can hear us. Bet they're listening."

"Fuck," you groan, resting your head against the shelves, heat flooding your cheeks.

"You like that?" Wrecker asks, his thumb moving faster, his fingers teasing your entrance. "You want them to hear you, huh? Want them to know what we're doing?"

You whine softly and push back against his hand.

"Yeah, thought so," Wrecker says. He slides a finger inside you, making you gasp, and a moment later, he adds a second, his thumb still moving.

You whimper, biting down on your lip to stifle the noise. His fingers move fast, and he doesn't ease into it, his movements eager, almost rough. But he knows you can take it, knows you like it. Your hips are already rocking back against him, fucking yourself on his fingers, and his free hand goes to your hip, pulling you back harder.

It's a lot. Wrecker's always like this, his desire for you overwhelming, and he can't seem to get enough. Sometimes he takes it slow, savoring every moment, drawing it out until you're shaking and begging, and even then, he doesn't always give in.

Other times, he's like this.

But the others have never heard it before, not like this. You're not sure if Wrecker is putting on a show, or if the thrill of being caught has him just as worked up as you, but he doesn't let up. His fingers are relentless, curling just right inside you, hitting that spot that makes you weak. And his thumb is still circling faster, the pressure almost too much, too good, making you dizzy.

"Shit, that's hot," Wrecker groans. "I can hear it, how wet you are."

Your cheeks are burning, but your hips rock harder, the sound of Wrecker's fingers slipping in and out of you is obscenely loud.

"Feels good," you whimper, "Wrecker, fuck, just like that..."

"Yeah, you like it?" He leans over, kissing the back of your neck. "I know you do. Always so good for me, aren't you, Doc? Always so wet, so good, you're perfect."

You groan, squeezing your eyes shut. Wrecker's dirty talk always does you in. His words wash over you, sending a shiver down your spine, and the heat between your legs is getting more and more unbearable.

"That's it," he mutters. "Keep going. Fuck yourself on my fingers."

You don't have any trouble following his orders. You rock your hips, pushing back and meeting him thrust for thrust, his fingers filling you perfectly. They curl just right, making your toes curl. Wrecker's thumb is a blur between your legs, and you're close. So close.

"Wrecker, fuck," you whine, clutching at the shelf. You're just about to fall over the edge when suddenly his fingers are gone.

You cry out, jerking back, searching for his hand. You find it at your hip, holding you steady, keeping you from falling. You try to catch your breath, to ask him why, but before you can, you feel him pressing against you. The bulge of his cock is hot, even through his blacks, and you can't help but grind against him.

He's still for a moment, letting you rock back against him, the friction making you shiver. You can feel how wet you are, smearing his blacks.

"Kriff, Wrecker, please," you moan. "Just fuck me."

"Gettin' ahead of yourself," he growls, his grip tightening on your hip.

"Please," you beg, desperate, writhing against him.

Wrecker chuckles, low and warm, and his hand moves, reaching down. You hear the familiar sound of his blacks being pulled down, and then the head of his cock is nudging against your folds.

"Wrecker, oh," you gasp, arching your back. He takes his time, dragging his cock through your folds and letting the tip tease at your entrance. You can feel his precum mixing with your own wetness, his cock slipping against you, coating himself. You moan, trying to push back, to take him, but Wrecker holds you in place, stopping you.

"Wrecker, please," you pant, looking over your shoulder.

He's leaning over you, his eyes dark, watching your face. He grins, his tongue poking out between his teeth, his eyes dancing.

"Yeah, yeah. Gotta get a good look, though," he murmurs. "Always look so pretty when you're beggin'."

"Wrecker—"

His hips jerk forward, pushing just the tip inside you. Your jaw drops, and a groan spills out, unbidden. Your eyes squeeze shut, and the sound is followed by a whimper as he pushes a little further, stretching you open.

"That's it," he murmurs, his hand tight on your hip, holding you in place. The other hand reaches around, sliding between your legs, finding the bud of nerves that he's been neglecting. His fingers brush over it, light and teasing, and the sudden pleasure makes your legs tremble.

"Oh, oh," you gasp, jerking against him.

"So fuckin' tight," Wrecker groans, his hand moving, stroking slowly. His cock inches deeper, stretching you open. It's a lot, it's so much, but he's careful, taking his time, letting you adjust to his size.

"Wrecker, please, please, please,” you whimper.

"There you go," he mutters, his voice tight. "Just like that, Doc. Just a little more."

You bite down on your lip, fighting the urge to moan. The further he sinks into you, the harder it is. It feels good, so good, and you can't stop the sounds from escaping.

"That's it," Wrecker whispers, his hand still working between your legs, his fingers sliding over the swollen nub. "There we go. Almost all the way, c'mon, take it, c'mon..."

You let out a soft, choked-off moan, feeling him slide deeper, deeper. His fingers flick against you, rubbing tight circles, and you can feel the tension building, coiling in your belly.

"Please, Wrecker," you pant, rocking back against him, trying to take him, desperate to feel him filling you completely. "Fuck me, please, fuck me."

"Shit," he hisses, and the hand at your hip tightens. He jerks his hips forward, and he slides the rest of the way inside you, filling you completely.

The moment his hips meet your ass, you're finished. You feel him bottom out, his cock pressing deep, and the pressure between your legs builds, and bursts. The sound that tears from your throat is a cross between a moan and a scream, and your entire body tenses, your walls fluttering around him. 

Wrecker curses, his hips jerking forward, but he stays buried deep, letting you ride it out. He keeps his hand still, but his fingers press down, adding to the pressure, and your legs shake. The orgasm rolls over you in waves, leaving you gasping for air as you cling to the shelf.

"Fuck," Wrecker groans. "That's so kriffing hot, Doc. Did you just...did I make you...?"

You nod, unable to speak, still twitching, aftershocks rippling through you. Wrecker lets out a low chuckle, and his hips rock, pulling out a few inches before pushing back in, slow and deep.

"Yeah? You gonna do it again?"

"Oh," you gasp, nodding, your head spinning. "Yes, please, Wrecker, yes."

He laughs, then, louder, a full-bodied sound. "Alright, then. Guess we better get started."

You manage a laugh, breathless and delirious, but it's cut short when Wrecker's hips start to move. He slides out slowly, his cock dragging through your walls, before pushing back in, just as deep. Your mouth falls open, but no sound comes out. Your eyes are squeezed shut, every nerve ending is on fire, every movement sending another wave of pleasure through you.

You can feel Wrecker's breath on the back of your neck, hot and uneven, and his chest rumbles as he lets out a low groan. His hips speed up, rocking into you, and you push back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust. His cock stretches you perfectly, his length filling you in a way that only he can.

"Kriff," Wrecker growls. "You're so tight, fuck, that's it, c'mon."

His hips slam forward, harder, and his pace increases, the sound of his thrusts echoing off the walls. The shelves rattle, and there's the clink of glass, but you don't care.

"Yes," you moan, bracing yourself, pushing back against him. Your eyes fly wide, and you bite back a squeal when Wrecker's fingers move again, rubbing you faster.

"C'mon, c'mon," he pants. "Gonna make you come again."

"Wrecker, oh, I'm close," you whimper. “Please.”

"You're so cute when you're needy," Wrecker chuckles, and then he's pressing close, his mouth against the side of your neck. He leaves kisses, hot and messy, across your skin, and his thrusts are growing rougher, more erratic.

It's all you can do to hold on, his fingers still working between your legs, and he's pushing you closer, closer, each thrust bringing you nearer to the edge. Your legs are trembling, your heart pounding, and you feel like you might explode.

"Fuck," you moan.

"Close?"

"Yes," you whimper, nodding frantically. "I'm...I'm gonna come again."

"Good," he growls. "Do it."

You cry out, and his fingers speed up, flicking against you, faster, faster. Your thighs are soaked, and the air is heavy with the scent of sex, the wet sounds of his cock pounding into you, the harsh, ragged gasps of his breath.

It's too much, too good, and his movements are growing clumsy, his thrusts harder, rougher. You can feel him swelling inside you, his cock throbbing, and his breaths are coming faster.

"Fuck," he pants, his fingers moving, rubbing circles. "Fuck, Doc, gonna come soon."

"Oh," you moan. Your entire body tightens, your toes curling, and the heat in your abdomen is almost unbearable. Your legs shake, and then, just as his teeth sink into your shoulder, you snap.

You let out a muffled scream, burying your face in the crook of your arm. The noise is high-pitched, a whine that quickly turns into a whimper as your whole body spasms. You cling to the shelves, the only thing keeping you upright, and the world spins.

Wrecker groans, and his hips jerk forward, once, twice, before stuttering, slamming deep. He presses his forehead to your shoulder and comes with a growl, his hands on your waist, holding you still. You feel the warmth spreading through you as his cum fills you, and it’s enough to send a last shiver through you, a final weak burst of pleasure. You sag, going limp, and Wrecker's grip on you is the only thing holding you up.

He's breathing hard, too, his chest rising and falling against your back. He holds you close, and you sigh, letting your eyes drift shut.

After a moment, he chuckles, nuzzling the side of your neck. "Feel good?"

"Yeah." You giggle, wiggling your hips, and you hear him groan.

"You're so kriffin' cute." Wrecker gives you one last squeeze, and then he's pulling out, his fingers moving between your legs to catch the rush of wetness that follows. You shudder and gasp at the sensation, and he chuckles.

"Hold on," he says. "Gotta get cleaned up. Here, just stay there."

You can only hum in response, too exhausted and sated to argue. You glance over your shoulder, watching as he steps back and starts searching for a rag or some towels. You catch a glimpse of his cock, still glistening with your combined fluids, and you bite back a grin.

"Here, lemme get you," Wrecker says, crouching beside you.

He reaches between your legs, cleaning away the mess, and then gently wipes the rest of the evidence from your thighs. You giggle as he straightens up, and you reach out, grabbing his shoulder for support as you stand.

He's got a self-satisfied smirk on his face, and he winks at you as he starts to clean himself up. "Well, that was fun, huh?"

You roll your eyes, but can't help laughing. "Yeah, Wrecker. That was fun."

He flashes you a grin and reaches down to pick up your shirt, handing it to you. You pull it on quickly and turn around, watching as he tucks himself back into his blacks and fixes his armor, making himself decent.

"You think they heard us?"

Wrecker's grin widens. "I'm pretty sure the whole base heard you."

"Hey!"

"What?" Wrecker laughs. "You're not exactly quiet."

You groan, rolling your eyes, and reach up to fix his collar. "And whose fault is that?"

"Mine," Wrecker agrees. "And I'm very proud of that."

He's smiling, and you can't help but return it. He reaches out and takes your hand, tugging you closer, and he wraps an arm around you. You lean into him, letting him hold you for a moment, enjoying the quiet.

But it's not long before the silence is broken by the sound of Hunter's voice, shouting from outside.

"Hey, uh, are you two done?"

You sigh, resting your head against Wrecker's shoulder. "Guess we better let them know."

Wrecker's arm tightens around you, and his other hand goes to your hip. He pulls you flush against him and tilts your chin up with his thumb. He kisses you again, softly, and your eyes flutter closed.

"Let's give them a minute," he says with a grin. "Let 'em sweat."

You laugh and close your eyes, listening to the muffled voices outside, and you lean into Wrecker.

"Yeah," you agree, your lips brushing his. "Let's."

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @qvnthesia

@spicy-clones @kindalonleystars @cw80831 @totallyunidentified @heidnspeak

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@floofyroro @veralii @chubbyhedgehog @meshlajetii @heaven1207

@808tsuika

[nrdmssgs]

CONGRATS ON 500, you 100% deserve it and more !!! 🥹🌷💐 i just love your art and work so, so much!!

if it's alright, can i request 37 with könig? my husband, i need him !!!! 😮‍💨

Masterlist List of prompts What? An author, who practically inspired me to come here and start writing? An author, who gifted me the biggest brainrot for many sides of König? Sends me a request? Orla, I am such a huge fan!!!!!! I love your style, love your bold, picturesque oneshots, love your eagerness to discover so many themes. I owe you so much, you don't have an idea. I made a text and a picture in case, you don't like the text. Sorry, I'm fangirling and I'm nervous)

Does it make you nervous, when I stare?

Pairing: KonigxReader Warning: this is NSFW. And König here is not the shyest guy on Earth, because this is colonel edition.

Oh, the things, you would let this man do to you. Unspeakable, ungodly things. Things so unhinged, you wouldn't mention them even after a few rounds of shots with your besties.

One sight of his fingers tapping the tabletop during the debriefing, and you can't think about anything other than the salty taste on your lips, left by his thumb. It would take him just one word, or maybe even one glance to make you cover his index and middle finger in saliva, as he would slide them against your tongue. You'd be so good - standing on your knees for him, sucking his fingers so eagerly, fighting your own gag reflex.

One glance thrown at his forearms, tightly hugged by black cloth, and you imagine his massive hands picking you up like you weigh nothing at all. You'd freeze, learn to hold your breath for as long as he wants, until you'd feel only the brush of his mouth against yours and the grumble of his impatience when he pushes in. The intoxicating thickness of his tongue against yours would be a taste that would rocket to your core and melt you from the inside, as he'd hover over you, pushing apart your legs with the brush of his massive thighs between yours. He'd take and take and take. And how obediently will you keep giving him anything, he demands.

Looking at his hips is a serious danger. Slick outlines of his muscles, his fingers brushing up and down his lap, black holster straps spanning his thigh make you go absolutely feral. You'd be standing still, feeling his low growl with your entire body. You'd hold your hands high against the wall and arch your back, so he can have access to every single part of your body. You'd accept him reminding you, with each his hungry thrust, where your place is: wrapped in his arms while he rubs you senseless, his teeth on your neck leaving you on the edge of pain.

All that fantasies you could hide from König, if it wasn't for his eyes: deep cold silver light, sparkling with interest, every time, he caught you staring. You couldn't make yourself look away: his stare was a predatory gaze, luring you closer, easing you into a thought of coming closer, stripping you of any bit of self-preservation instinct. Yes, when he caught your eyes - König took his time, ravishing in a sight of your desperate blush, letting go of you and turning his gaze away only when you were literally choking with shame, trying to drive away the visions that he awakened in your mind. This man was to become the end of you, and every next day it was only harder to fight that feeling off.

So when you hear, he is expanding his team, it feels only natural to surrender and use this ghostly opportunity to get closer to him. You know, your chance to join the team, his inner circle, is almost zero. By no means, you can be considered a poor professional, but the Colonel is a legend here. He doesn't want just 'the best' he wants those outstanding even from the best. And your personnel files scream 'just good' at best. But you have a motivation, the one so strong and specific, that maybe only you here have. Your obsession with König is pushing you to the darkest void, you were too scared to come to earlier - the threshold of his office.

"Come in." His voice at it finest: not too loud, not too harsh, all honey and slumber. When he wants, he can be mesmerizing as a siren.

You clench your hand into a fist behind your back, thus trying to calm the trembling that is rolling up to your knees.

"Just don't look him in the eyes, and it would be ok. Hands, yes, you can bear looking at his hands and not lose it. Afterward you can have whatever you want - your toys, your fingers, your cushions... Just look at his hands, breathe deep, and it all will be alright." Your inner monologue is interrupted only when he is pulling a folder from your hands, obviously tired of waiting for you to finally give it to him.

"What do we have he- oh..." Your breath hitches, you practically hear an uncanny smile spreading across his face.

"Die Kleine will in meinem Spiel?*" König sounds amused. And although you don't entirely understand, what he said - you get the message and nod, not daring to look him in the eyes.

"Very good. I could use such a treasure..." He flips the pages and clicks his tongue when some of your personal indicators impress him. And before you manage to exhale, he adds: "But I'll need to test you. See, if you are... ready."

"Anything, Colonel!" You blurt it out and immediately shut your mouth, realizing that it might sound ambivalent. But that's enough to make König raise from his seat and lead you from offices to firing range.

You blame it upon a rush of blood to your head, but you pass his test with flying colors. Physical tests, advanced weaponry, strategy, even sparing with König leaves you alive and just a little trembling.

The thing, that breaks you, is not even a test or a check. It happens late in the evening, when you two end up in the locker room. You just need to remove one layer of the tactical gear you were using, you'll still have your shirt and jeans on. But you stop, paralyzed, seeing out of the corner of your eye how König leans against the wall, arms folded on his chest. His gaze, you feel his gaze: lingering and hungry.

"What's wrong, treasure? Are you hurt?" You are afraid to answer and reveal your trembling voice, so you just shake your head.

"You don't know, how to loosen those straps? Want me to help you?" Again: you only shake your head, hiding your gaze.

"Is it my eyes, that make you that nervous, Schatzi*?" His accent thickens, voice drops low, as he steps closer.

You instinctively lean back, but hit the wall behind you. He takes one more step towards you and places his hand between the wall and the back of your head, so that you don't hurt yourself occasionally. But very soon, he guides you to finally look up at him. There it is: silver light, that you can never look away from, once you saw it.

"Talk to me. There can be no secrets inside my team." His voice is soft once again, but you know, it is a trap. And you fall for it.

"I just get distracted. Don't worry, Colonel, I'll learn to ignore it or to live quietly with it. Sorry..." Your voice, your entire body, is trembling.

"There's nothing to apologize for." Something sparkles deep inside his eyes. He moves his veil up, so you can see his lips, and leans right to your ear. "In fact, how about you come at the same time to my office tomorrow, treasure? After all, you've proven, you can be so good for me... It's my turn to convince you, I too can be good for you, Schatzi."

Die Kleine will in meinem Spiel? - Little one wants in my game?

Schatzi - little treasure

[kingkatsuki]

— mess

When something that’s supposed to be a 500 word drabble turns into almost 2k.

Bakugou cums in his pants, but luckily for him he has you to help clean him up.

Warnings: 40 year old virgin!Bakugou, inexperienced Bakugou, experienced reader (or just more experienced than Bakugou), dry humping, premature ejaculation- Bakugou cums in his pants, blow jobs, cum swallowing, not proofread.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Word Count: 1.8k.

It was no secret to you that Bakugou Katsuki is a virgin.

Spending the majority of his earlier years chasing his dream of becoming number one, he’d barely found the time to form any sustainable relationships. The few that he’d started barely managed to last a few months before they broke down into nothing, the focus on his goals and dreams too strong to be pushed to the side.

Of course that didn’t stop the Internet and mainstream media from portraying him as a sex icon. Headlines and new stories would often talk about sordid exploits and the lines of women that he’d shared steamy escapades with, when in reality that couldn’t be further from the truth.

And even pushing forty, Bakugou Katsuki is still a virgin. Something that had never really bothered him before, content with working out his frustrations with his fist in the shower to ensure minimal clean up after. Bakugou hated making a mess.

But things were different with you.

You make it difficult for him to think, to remember to breathe as your tongue flicks against his parted lips to delve inside and your hips grind against his lap. The air is hot and heavy as rough hands scramble for purchase, settling on the plush of your hips as he tries to slow you down. To give him a second to think—

Maybe it was naive of him to expect a warm mug set down in front of him when you invited him in for coffee, and not your warm body straddling his hips instead.

Not that he was complaining.

Everything is all too much and not enough at the same time, as he finds himself using his grip to push you down against his crotch with purpose. Chasing that sensation as your lips pepper scorching kisses against the rough stubble littering his jawline.

In the three months you’d been dating, you’d never done anything like this. And Bakugou found himself wondering why you hadn’t, especially when it felt like this—

“Is this too much?” You managed to make out from between heated kisses, trying to stop yourself from grinding down on top of him. But it was easier said than done when your body craved the delectable friction he gave your needy clit.

“No,” He growled, “Fuck—”

The word tumbled from Bakugou’s lips as a desperate groan, your palm pressed against his sternum as he’s certain you can feel the swift thud of his heartbeat. As if you’re controlling it’s pace while your pretty whines are like music to his ears, a sound that has his cock throbbing desperately between his thighs. Everything feels so new, and yet he’s certain he’ll never tire of the sensation as your hips press down harder against his bulge.

“Katsuki.” The one word that seals his death sentence, the sultry lilt to your tone has him throwing his head back to rest against the couch as his hips jerk beneath you. Pushing his throbbing cock into your clothed cunt as he feels the heat radiating from you, crimson eyes rolling back as he feels it.

That sweet release that he’s been craving wracks through him in harsh waves, the euphoria inexplicable as for the first time he allows it to take over. Each muscle in his body relaxing as the pleasure consumes him whole, raspy groans tumble from deep in his chest as you pull back to stare at his face.

“Did you just—?” You smile, your fruity gloss smeared against his lips and cheek as the words finally have Bakugou crashing back down to earth.

“Shit.” He grunts, as the shameful reality begins to permeate his body, “I’m fuckin’ sorry, alright. I didn’t—“

What was he even supposed to say? He just came in his pants like a fucking teenager.

“I’ve never—”

“It’s not a big deal,” You smile, soft hands sliding up his body to stroke against his shoulders, “It’s kinda hot actually.”

It’s easy for you to say when you can’t feel the effects— his hot spend leaks from his engorged tip, his boxers stick to his skin uncomfortably as his release mattes in his trimmed pubic hair.

“Sorry,” He grumbles as you press a final lingering kiss to his cheek before starting to climb off his lap.

Embarrassment continues to seep through his body, feeling a heat rise to his cheeks as he prepares more apologies. Missing the closeness of you already, your warm hips in his hands as your body fits snug against him. He’s fucked it up this time—

But imagine his surprise when your knees nudge against his to spread his thick muscular thighs, dropping your body between them as you stare up at him with mirth.

“What’s so funny?” He almost snarls, the shame overpowers any other emotions as he prepares to stand up to excuse himself from the whole situation.

“Nothing,” Your eyes sparkle with mischief as you reach up to begin unbuckling the heavy belt he wears, “You have no idea how hot that was, do you?”

“What?” He frowns as his muscles stiffen when you unbuckle his belt and begin to pop his zipper, unable to stop the groan from slipping between parted lips when the metal grazes his softening bulge.

“You made such a mess, Katsuki.” You coo, the fabric of his boxers a dark grey from his spend as you press your thumb against it.

Baku you sucks a sharp breath through gritted teeth when your fingers slip beneath the hem, tugging them down to settle around his throbbing balls as you discover the mess he made. The mess that’s your fault, if anyone were to ask. The wet fabric tacks to his sticky skin as you peel it back, the air in the room hits wet skin as his release begins to dry.

“What’re ya doin’?” He mumbles, sliding a large palm along the length of his face to shield his eyes. As though that’ll stop the shame that still floods his body, the reality that he’s still an inexperienced virgin.

“Is this okay?” You answer his question with another one, leaning forward as your breath fans against his skin.

“Fuck—” He grunts, “Yeah— I—”

The question falls apart the moment you lean forward to lick a long, languid stripe against the underside of his semi-hard cock. Following the silvery streaks of his release as you taste the sharpness on your tongue, hips jerking when your tongue reaches his frenulum.

You can feel Bakugou getting hard again, heavy balls throb as your lips wrap around the blushing head, the tip of your tongue prods against his slit as you lap at the beads of cum that continue to ooze out of him. Wrapping a warm palm around his sticky length as you stroke him back to life, strong thighs squeeze your shoulders as you pull more delicious sounds from his throat.

Bakugou’s mind is hazy, uncertain that he can even cum again after the mind numbing climax he’d just experienced, but you’ve already made his mind up for him. Fingers circle around the base as your palm presses against his pubic bone, taking him deeper as his tip hits the back of your throat.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” He rasps, calloused hands ball into fists as blunt nails dig into his palms, “Is this what they’re callin’ coffee now’a days.”

“You don’t seem to be complaining, Katsuki.” You coo.

He’s already pent up as he tries to think of anything else to stop him from coming undone quite so fast this time. But it’s near impossible with the way your glossy lips feel wrapped around his cock, your tongue tracing the prominent veins that bulge along the underside as he bucks into your mouth.

A low hum vibrates in your throat as you take him deeper, teasing his balls with your fingers as you feel him begin to stiffen. His chest heaving with rough, labored breaths as you stare up at him from beneath thick lashes. Tempting him to give you all he’s got to give.

You subtly rub your thighs together for some kind of relief as your clit throbs beneath your soaked panties, imagining how the sheer size of him would fill you up and stretch you out. Imagining the delicious ache when he finally slides into your tight, wet heat.

Bakugou can already feel himself teetering on the edge of another climax. His fist no comparison to the way your warm, soft lips feel around his cock. Certain he’ll never be able to cum again without you, no way to scratch that itch without feeling you like this between his thighs.

“I’m gonna— fuck,” He groans.

A soft stroke of your thumb against his taint is all it takes to have him soaring into his release, his hips bucking wildly off the couch as he forces himself inside your mouth to the hilt. The neatly trimmed hairs at the base of his cock tickle your nose as the throbbing tip hits the back of your throat as he comes undone.

Catching his mess in your mouth as ropes of his warm spend begin to spurt from his thick cock. The desperate grunts that rumble deep in his chest do nothing to satiate the desire that brews inside you as you taste him on your tongue, taking everything he’s got to give you as you move up to circle the pink tip. Claiming the last few pearls of milky cum as Bakugou’s large palms move to the back of your head to pull you off his oversensitive cock.

“What was that?” He rasps hoarsely as you press a final, lingering kiss to the underside of his cock. The heavy weight of it lays flat against his crotch as you lean your cheek against his thigh, smiling up at him as you lick your lips in satisfaction.

“I was cleaning up the mess you made,” You tease, reaching up to playfully squeeze his balls. But this time Bakugou is quicker, his hand catches your wrist before you make contact has he frowns down at you from half-lidded eyes.

“That was all your fault.” He murmurs, the embarrassment still ebbs at the back of his mind as he’s reminded painfully how much of a virgin he still is. Certain that if that’s how your mouth felt, he wouldn’t last thirty seconds plunging into your tight cunt.

“My fault?” You part your lips in mock surprise, “You made a mess of me too, you know. You should be the one cleaning me up.”

“What?” He certainly didn’t do anything. Sitting back on the couch as he allowed you to use him as you so pleased.

“Yeah,” Your lips curled into a mischievous smirk, slipping your legs from beneath you as you spread your thighs on the ground between him. Your skirt riding up from the position as you gave Bakugou a show of your lacy panties, already feeling your slick staining the material, “You wanna see?”

[vixstarria]

Are you mine?

So I was initially going to do maybe 500 words worth of them being cute and cuddly, but then this happened. I have no control at this point, I am just the messenger. 

Astarion x F!Reader, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Bard Tav, soft Astarion, Astarion POV 

Mostly fluff and comfort with a bit of hurt (Astarion’s past recollections), basically just pillow talk, cuddling, banter, non-explicit, no spoilers 

Very late Act 1 / early Act 2 (pre-confession). I’ve already written past this point earlier, but I think it’s such a fun time to return to for anything flirty, with Astarion being in love but being pissed off and / or in denial about it.  

Approximately 2,000 words 

AO3

Being able to get by with little sleep was both a blessing and a curse. In no time at all you were ready to take on whatever the day would throw at you. You were rested, alert, ready for battle. The downside? The amount of time you had to spend alone with your thoughts.   

You weren’t fully alone, not exactly. You laid on your side with your nose buried in her neck, one of your arms underneath the pillow, the other wrapped around her, your leg following the bend of hers like you were chasing her warmth, bare skin on bare skin, your bodies filling each other’s nooks so perfectly.  

You could have been up and doing something useful, you supposed, but you didn’t want to waste a precious second of being able to just hold her. 

You winced and sighed, having caught yourself on that thought.  

Pathetic idiot... 

The truth was, you knew you were living on borrowed time.  

Oh you toyed with the idea of amassing more tadpoles for more powers and seeing how long and how far you could take this, but in your heart of hearts you knew this was a lunatic idea. The absolute best-case scenario was that one way or another, the tadpole would be removed from your brain, removing all its benefits alongside it. 

Then, you would spend the rest of your eternal life in the shadows, forever looking over your shoulder in fear of being dragged back to Cazador.  

You would never see the sun again.  

You would probably never see her again.  

Suddenly feeling choked up, despite not really even needing to breathe, you pressed your lips against the small of her neck, pausing then landing a few more small, soft kisses along her shoulder. 

She stirred and rolled over onto her stomach, looking at you with a knowing smile through her mess of hair. 

Shit. 

“Oh... I thought you were asleep,” you said. 

“I know...” she replied, stretching lazily. “You only kiss me like that when you think I’m sleeping.” 

So many implications in that statement. Your mind immediately churned out a dozen ways to respond, deflecting, denying, joking or otherwise brushing it off. But you wanted to see where leaning into it might take you.  

“Do I..? Here, I’ll fix that.” 

You leaned toward her, placing a soft kiss on her lips. Just your lips brushing against hers, petal-soft. She closed her eyes and hummed in pleasure as you trailed your lips further along her skin, leaving featherlight kisses from the corner of her mouth further up the side of her face.  

You were careful to keep the kisses tender rather than sensual. Not something you were accustomed to, at all. She smiled and squirmed a little as your lips dipped below her jawline near her earlobe. 

“That tickles...” she murmured, making you chuckle.  

“My sweet girl,” you whispered, nuzzling her ear. 

Ugh, where in the hells did that come from..? you thought, startled. 

She noticed. Of course she noticed. 

She shifted onto her side, propping herself up with an elbow and resting her head on her hand.  

“Am I? Yours?” There it was again, that knowing, quizzical look.  

“Are you not?” you asked.  

“Hmm... How can I tell?” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” you flashed her a roguish grin, which she ignored. 

“Should it be? Is there something you’ve done to claim me as yours?” 

Her words might have stung, had her tone not been so playful rather than mocking. She was encouraging, not denying you.  

I don’t suppose she’s going to count all the unspeakable things we’ve done to each other. I guess I wouldn’t either. 

“Is that what you want me to do?” you asked, slowly tracing a finger down her arm.  

“That depends... Do you want me to be yours?” 

This conversation was idiotic. Why was it making you increasingly giddy? 

“Come now, we have been doing this for how long? Are we really going to be coy about whether or not we like each other?” you asked, trying to sound assured rather than flustered.  

She leaned forward, as if to reveal a secret for your ears only. 

“That’s not quite what we’re being coy about, now is it?” she whispered, before placing a lingering kiss on your lips.  

You were completely out of your depth in this kind of flirting, if one could call it that. Concentrating on the physical and sexual, dropping innuendos, hinting at promises you had no intention of keeping, teasing, arousing, adding in just the right amount of vulgarity to otherwise honeyed words to make them blush and stammer in trepidation... That you could do all day as an afterthought, all while mulling over something you had read earlier, or otherwise being a thousand leagues away with your thoughts.  

But this... It was like she was playing with and delicately caressing your innermost, rawest feelings, all whilst inviting you to do the same with hers. Sex was barely even a consideration. This was an entirely different dance. And it was exhilarating. 

Before you could think of what to say, she moved on. 

“You know, Lae’zel propositioned me earlier,” she said, briefly burying her face in her hands and shaking her head with a quiet, incredulous laugh.  

“She did what? ...And how did that go?” 

“It was very... Lae’zel. I wasn’t sure whether she was offering to kill me or fuck me at first. I had to politely decline.” 

“And you didn’t tell me?” you frowned. 

“Should I have?” She studied you with a curious look, resting her chin on her hands. “How would it make you feel? If I accepted her offer?”  

Like the whole world was pulled out from beneath my feet. Again. 

“You and Lae’zel? Hmm. Sounds like something I’d pay to watch.” 

“That’s not what I asked.” Her eyes seemed to be piercing straight into your soul. You had to quickly do a double-take on whether your tadpole might have been betraying anything to hers, before rebuking yourself. She wouldn’t pry like that.  

Your eyes roamed around the tent as you tried to assemble some words that weren’t too far from or too close to the truth. 

“Lae’zel is... exotic. Far be it for me to stand between anyone and such an... ‘outlandish’ experience. But I would prefer to have you all to myself, if it’s all the same to you. I don’t devote all that time to making sure that pretty head of yours stays on your shoulders just to have Lae’zel decapitate you in her throes of passion.” 

“That’s still not what I asked, but I’ll let it slide,” she rolled her eyes. “Getting a straight answer from you is like trying to seduce a blushing maiden.” 

“A riveting challenge?” 

“A tiresome one. That’s most likely not worth the effort.” 

How many blushing maidens have you seduced?   

“Alright, fine, I admit I might be a bit jealous. ...On top of being concerned for your wellbeing, darling.” 

“Just a bit jealous?” she teased. 

“Matters of honour would demand that I challenge her to a duel,” you sighed. 

“You have no honour. And she would crush you.” 

“I know. But I would die a hero’s death. Songs about me would live through the ages. ...You might need to write them for me.” 

“Sure, right after I wrote songs about how I conquered a githyanki,” she snorted. “Or perhaps songs about being conquered by one myself? I could spin it either way. Which do you think would stir more loins?” 

“I don’t know and my own loins are taking no part of this. Now are you going to keep talking nonsense, or will you go back to sleep already?” 

“Why, so you can sneak more tender little kisses on me?” she laughed. 

You didn't really want her to fall back asleep. Talking with her kept your darker thoughts at bay. What you did want, was to feel her wrapped around you again. 

“You know what? If you’re not going to sleep, you may as well carry on with your business, and I’ll meditate sitting up for a change.”  

You snatched the blanket from her, making her exclaim a sharp “Hey!” as the cold mountain air touched her bare skin, and wrapped it around yourself, settling in a cross-legged position. Moments later, she was on your lap, facing you with her legs wrapped around your hips. Just as you anticipated. You smirked and accepted her in your blanket cocoon, wrapping an arm around her waist and holding her close as you kissed her. 

“So, my blushing maiden,” she said as she leaned away from you, slightly, stretching her arms around your neck and resting her forearms on your shoulders. “It seems I have you backed up against a wall. I won’t force you – do what you will with your virtue. But you must decide. Will you give in willingly? Or deny me, and spend the rest of your life wondering: what if?” She leaned in to whisper the last two words dramatically. “I will ask you again: do you want me to be yours?” 

You wondered if she had any idea how apt that comparison really was to how you felt. 

Or how eerily similar it was to some of the tactics you yourself employed when luring in your victims. Hells, even the words were almost identical to some of the ones you’ve used. To make them surrender with reckless abandon, throwing all caution to the wind, blinded by your promises. Cattle rushing happily to the slaughter. 

You knew all this. You’d seen it countless times. But just then, you also saw there was no malice in her eyes. Only something like hope that she was trying to mask with mischief.  

Wherever she was leading you, you wanted to follow.  

“Fine,” you said softly, looking into her eyes. “I do want you to be mine. And no, I don’t want to share you with anyone.” You felt oddly elated as the words left your mouth. “I’d feel compelled to dismember any hand that touched you, so to give me a fair chance at survival, could you stay away from Lae’zel? Please?” 

She grinned and grasped your face in her hands, pressing her lips against yours. 

“Good girl,” she purred, still grinning, earning herself a sharp pinch on her bottom, making her jolt before she continued. “This leads me to my next question: do you want to be mine?” 

There it was. The trap beyond the lure. You saw it clear as day. And still, you wanted to follow her. 

“Darling, after the past 200 years, I’m really not disposed to letting anyone else claim ownership of me”. You watched her smile falter, and you hurriedly continued before it turned to sadness or disappointment, or worse, pity, and spread to her eyes. “But I just might make an exception for you… If the offer is mutual.” You took one of her hands in yours. “So, are you? Mine?” you asked, placing a kiss on her knuckles.  

Who’s backed against a wall now? 

"Of course I am. As if you even needed to ask.” She touched her forehead against yours before placing another kiss on your lips. Did she have to sound so triumphant saying that? “I am yours and no one else’s. Now you say it.”  

Ah, still me. 

Still, you fought hard not to laugh as a feeling of relief spread warmly throughout your body. You hadn’t even noticed how tense you were. 

“Alright, alright...” You cleared your throat and held a dramatic pause before continuing. “You are mine and no one else’s.” 

She let out an exasperated growl and grabbed and twisted one of your nipples. You chortled even as you yelped, grabbing the offending hand and holding it behind her back. She immediately made another attempt with her other hand, which you also successfully intercepted, now holding both her arms behind her. Refusing to give up, she went for your shoulder with her teeth, with a maniacal giggle, as you laughed and tried to fend her off with your chin.  

“Yes, I’m yours, I’m yours, you feral wildcat! I’m yours... Only yours.” you declared hastily into her hair somewhere near her ear, as she calmed down. “I mean it. Now behave! I always ask before I bite, don’t I?” you said, releasing her arms. 

She attempted to glare at you, her eyes narrowed, but couldn’t keep her face straight and broke into a grin again.  

“Well... Look at us...” she drawled, placing her arms back onto your shoulders. “Snatched up onto the nautiloid with nothing but the clothes on our backs, and now we’ve each got a whole other person.” 

She looked so pleased and happy... Why..? This couldn’t last. No matter how much you wanted it to. …Could it..?  

You were falling, deeper and deeper. 

My love... My sweet, sweet love... Where are you taking me? 

~~~~~ 

Next in series - Gentle warding bond

Want more of these two? There’s more. Series master list. 

AO3

[beomiracles]

congrats to 500 !! you deserve even more <3 I love pretty princess sm and now my brain is overridden with royalty and txt prince au so I'm sorry to request for your 500 event but I must you write too well. 😭💕 so imagine prince! beomgyu this time and whilst he's so incredibly handsome and the whole kingdom fawns over him, he's also the most mischievous troublesome prince ever so the king (his father), fed up, decides to marry him off and arrange a marriage to reader since he's so reckless and reader is the complete opposite and since she's also a princess and both their families are close and have a good relationship. Back when they were younger, their families would always meet at each other's palaces a lot because they're close but reader and beomgyu would never really get along, especially reader she's always hate beomgyu's guts bc of how reckless and annoying he is to her and reader is really uptight. So they haven't seen each other since they were kids until the arranged marriage and can't say neither of them are too happy about it...+ smut if it somehow works 😭 Idk if that makes any sense but I love you and your work and happy 500 !!

500 BASH SPECIAL

#serene adds ✎... my dear pretty princess you will always be famous. *melancholic sigh* oh but this idea was sm fun! though I might have lost the plot a little along the way oopsies..! HOWEVER I still think it turned out good so I hope it doesn't disappoint ε(´｡•᎑•`)っ 💕 i did see your second ask for sub!gyu hehe so i tried to include it!

wc -> 1.9k

pairings prince!beomgyu x princess!reader warnings maybe a lil angsty? elements of cheating, slight dom/sub dynamics, sub!beomgyu, dom!reader, implied inexperienced reader, handjob, unprotected sex, tiny bit of marking.

The door to your shared bedchamber quietly closes and you can hear the light footsteps darting across the room as your husband carefully makes his way over to the bed you shared. After quickly shuffling out of his clothes, Beomgyu takes place next to you on the large mattress, seemingly unaware of the fact that you were still awake. 

“Where have you been all day?” Your voice rings out into the darkness of the room and you can feel him go stiff beside you. — You knew that your marriage was merely out of convenience and that your husband held no affection for you, yet you couldn’t help but feel hurt at his blatant absence. It wasn’t exactly unusual for your bed to remain empty of his presence. 

Beomgyu clears his throat and you can feel him shift next to you. “I had a few things to take care of”, he mumbles and you refuse a scoff. His words were scattered with yet another handful of lies for you could smell the liquor on him. — “Did you talk to your father about the ball we’re arranging next week?” You ask, though his following silence gave you all the answers you needed. 

He sighs, an exhausted and almost irritated sigh. “I’ll do it tomorrow”, he grumbles and you roll your eyes. You had known him almost your whole life and he had always been like this, uncaring and outright reckless. And while he might’ve gotten away with his deceiving ways of living, as a teen, it was seriously taking a toll on both his reputation on your marital duties as adults. — More than often did you find yourself straying by your work desk until early morning as you plowed through your workload; while your husband spent his days engaging in all but his royal duties. 

“Don’t bother.” You sigh as you lean back against your pillow. There’s a brief pause before you feel him shift once more, “what?”, he asks as he props himself up on his elbows. “I said don’t bother. I’ll do it.” You grit out before turning your back on him, hugging your arms around your body as you screwed your eyes shut. You can practically hear his inner battle as he fumbles for words. “Beomgyu, it’s fine, I’ll do it. Just go to sleep.” You mumble as you pull the duvet over your chest. 

You’re startled when you suddenly feel his warm hand on your shoulder. “Is something wrong?” He quietly wonders and you almost want to laugh. “No, why would it be?” You mutter as you shrug his hand off. — “Well you’re acting…distant”, he comments as he flops back down against the mattress. This time you can’t resist the scoff that leaves your lips, “I’m acting distant? I thought that was what you wanted, no?” 

“When did I say that?” He grunts as stares up against the dark ceiling. You actually could not believe him. “When?” You snort, “you’re asking me when?” The silence that follows makes your eyebrows knit together in a frown, “everyday”, you finally state, your voice merely a whisper. “You leave me alone, cooped up in piles of work while you’re out doing heaven knows what, sometimes you don’t even come home, what are you doing then? Busy spending all our resources on the nearest brothel?” Your rant ends with a small huff as you close your eyes in exhaustion. 

You try your best to ignore the stinging feeling in your chest as you’re forced to listen to the quiet breathing of him next to you, wondering what you could have possibly done to warrant such an unfortunate marriage. “You refuse to look at me”, he then whispers and your eyes snap open at his words. “You always have”, he continues as he draws in a small breath. “Even back when we were kids, you refused to even glance in my direction.” 

Biting your lip, you let his words sink in. You had always resented Beomgyu, even when the two of you were still young, his reckless persona made you wrinkle your nose in disgust. You had refused to ever become associated with such a being. Whilst Beomgyu spent his late teens exploring the town's village, earning himself quite the promiscuous reputation, you stayed at home, your nose buried in whatever book had captured your interest. — When the news of your arranged marriage reached you, the only thing on your mind was to avoid the man you were to call husband at all costs. You had never once stopped to consider that he might not feel the same, that he might… 

“You want me to look at you?” 

Your words feel heavy as they leave your lips, a brief pause accompanying them before Beomgyu breathes out a quiet, “yes.” — You don’t exactly know what came over you, the years of pent up anger toward him or the longing you’d tried to deny whenever he wasn’t around. Whichever it may be, it caused you to abruptly sit up as your head snapped in his direction. “If that is what you wish.” You firmly state before swinging your leg over him, straddling his lap as you leaned over to light the candle by your bed. 

In the dim light casted by the small flame, you finally come face to face with him. Beomgyu wears a startled expression as his wide eyes blink up at your own. “Is this what you wanted?” You frown as you let your hands fall to your sides, leaning back on your knees slightly, your eyes darting across his exposed chest for a brief second. 

His large hands grab onto your waist as he pulls you down on him completely, your lips parting in surprise as you feel his bulge, pressing up against your thigh through the thin fabric of his slacks. “No”, he states before one of his hands trails up to the nape of your neck, pulling you down as he presses his lips against yours, his tongue quickly dwelling deep into your mouth. “Like this”, he mumbles as he keeps you in a firm hold. 

Your initial shock soon fades as you lean into the tender kiss, the kiss that quickly grows hotter and far more lewd with each passing second. Perhaps you had read him wrong all along, perhaps… Pulling your lip between his teeth, Beomgyu’s hand on your waist snakes down between your thighs and you immediately pull back. 

Bracing your palms against his naked chest, you catch your breath as your gaze meets his; brown eyes swirling with desire as a smirk plasters on his lips. “You okay?” He murmurs as the back of his hand envelops your cheek in a gentle caress. You close your eyes, the many lonesome nights lingering in the back of your mind despite your greatest efforts to push them away. 

Finally you look down to him once more as you shake your head. “No. No I am not.” You quietly whisper. Upon sliding back on his thighs, your hands trail along his chest before reaching the hem of his pants. — You had spent one night together, your wedding night. It had perhaps been one of the most drawn out nights of your life, and you remembered it with disdain, it had merely been out of duty. That didn’t change the fact that it remained the only experience you held, so with a small exhale you gathered yourself before sliding the fabric from his body. 

You swallow a small gulp as you eye his hard cock, eyes flitting hesitantly between it and Beomgyu’s almost daring gaze. He cocks an eyebrow at you and parts his lips as if to say something, though his words are quickly replaced by a small strangled noise as you wrap your fingers around his shaft. Truthfully, you had no clue of what you were doing but the way he squirmed as your thumb brushed against his tip caused a spark of confidence to shoot through you. 

You experimented your way forward as your other hand joined in, flicking your wrist over the head of his cock whilst the other gently squeezed around the base, pulling a harsh groan from your husband. — Propping himself up on his elbows, Beomgyu licks his lips as he reaches a hand out toward you only to be forcefully pushed back against the pillow. “Lie back down, and be still.” You command and with a look of disbelief he obliges. 

Your brows draw together as you refocus your attention toward his cock in your hands. Upping your pace ever so slightly as a sheen layer of precum spilled from his tip, running down his shaft like wax of a candle. The soft noises spilling from his lips made your cunt clench around nothing and you rubbed your thighs together in an attempt to alleviate some of the pressure.

His hips bucked up against your hands and the small frown on your face deepens as your gaze snaps back up to his flustered face. “I thought I told you to be still”, you scold as you tug on his cock, making him whimper out into the hot air. Breathing out a quiet “m’sorry”, his fingers intertwine amongst the silk sheets, his knuckles growing white as he grips them tight.  

When the ache between your legs becomes almost unbearable you let out a small sigh as you hike your nightgown over your hips, repositioning yourself to hover above the leaking tip of his cock. Beomgyu bites his lip as he groans under you, eyes pleading with you as he silently asks for you to sink down on him, and you do, wincing slightly at the unfamiliar stretch, taking your time before he’s fully seethed within you. 

You let out a shaky breath as you slowly begin to move on top of him, biting back a moan as his stiff cock brushes against all your sensitive nerves. “I want you to stop going to brothels.” The statement falls from your lips without much struggle and Beomgyu whines beneath you as he tugs on the bedsheets. “Did you hear me?” Your hand grabs ahold of his chin, fingers digging into his cheeks as you force his clouded gaze to refocus on you. He meekly nods and you scoff as you let go of his face. “Then answer me.” 

“I-I’ll stop, I won’t go there -fuck- a-anymore..” He groans as he feels you clench around him. — Increasing the pace of your hips, your head threatens to fall back against the euphoric pleasure coursing through you. “I want you to sleep in here every night.” You practically demand as your nails rake along his chest, leaving angry red marks in their wake, making him arch off the mattress as he nods his head feverishly.

“Can you promise me that you’ll stop seeing those filthy whores?” You drawl as you feel your climax approaching. Beomgyu heaves a breath as he looks up at you, “yes, yes, anything you want”, he whines as he feels you grind down harsher on him, a small moan ripping from your throat as you release all over his cock, making him twitch deep inside of you. “Please, please, please..” he pleads, his eyes rolling back as his hips jerk up against yours. 

Too exhausted to push him back down you lean forward to press your lips against his neck. “Fine, I do suppose you’ve been good”, you mutter against his skin as you tenderly kiss it. Breathy moans and thank you’s leave his lips and his hips stutter as his finishes inside of your aching cunt, arms wrapping around you tightly as he pressed you further against his chest. 

You supposed your marriage wasn’t entirely hopeless after all.

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[planetpedri]

HI! I saw you write for Criminal Minds and I was wondering if you could write for Emily Prentiss where she and reader work alongside one another like majority of the times, and maybe one of them (doesn’t matter who) is particularly irritable where it makes the other want nothing more than to just comfort them and it’s slight angst to comfort? (They’re each others work crush!) 💚

Please be rude — Emily Prentiss.

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader

Summary: This case was getting to Emily. You could see it throughout the day, she was growing more and more agitated. So you take her aside and try to get her to relax.

Word count: 500

Disclaimer/s: Mentions of potential murder , abduction , all the average criminal minds stuff , light angst , comfort !

A/N: clearing out my drafts before my trip yipee !

Emily paced back and forth across the white tiles that lined the mall. A young girl had gone missing, potentially an abduction, and for some reason it was really getting to her. You stood a few feet away, leaning against one of the miscellaneous tables as you watched her with concern.

“Em..” You sigh out, pushing off the table. “Do you need a break?”

“No. No, i’m fine.” She snaps, her eyes widening as she realizes. “Sorry. That was rude. Something just feels off.” The raven haired woman shakes her head, running a hand over the back of her hair until she grasps the back of her neck to rub it lightly.

You nod in understanding, chewing on your bottom lip. “How about we go make coffee and you tell me about it? Hmm?”

Emily reluctantly agrees, dropping her hands to her side. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”

Leading the way, you find the cafeteria. One of the workers agrees to make you two a coffee free of charge. While you wait, the two of you stand back. “So, what’s bugging you?”

“I just…” She glances up at you, “I just have this gut feeling, and it won’t go away.” She shrugs it off, shaking her head. “It could be nothing.”

Frowning, you reach out to the woman, squeezing her shoulder. “Hey, if you feel something, there’s a reason why. Don’t ignore it.”

Emily smiles at the small act of affection. She lifts her hand to cover yours, “okay, okay. Once we get our coffee, i’ll find Hotch.”

You give her a quick smile, trying to ignore the lurch in your stomach at her touch. “Perfect. How are you adjusting to the team, by the way?” You ask as you reach for the coffee’s the barista handed you. “Thank you.” You nod at her before turning back to Emily and hand her one.

Emily blows at the hole in the lid to cool it down. “Good, this is very different from my last job, but still, i’m adjusting well.” She smiles up at you for a moment, “you’ve been a major help, of course.”

Chuckling, you take a small sip. “Glad to be of service.” You’d been watching her intently since she had started talking, noticing what made her relax. “Okay, let’s go find Hotch, and you tell me about this hunch of yours, yeah?”

Emily swallows, “yeah.”

“Come on newbie.” You grin, nudging your shoulder against hers as the two of you make your way to where you knew your boss would be.

“Oh, before we go in,” Emily stops you with a hand on your arm. You turn to her with a quirked eyebrow, waiting for her to continue. “Thank you, for that. I know you were trying to calm me down. I appreciate that, I appreciate you.”

A warm feeling grows in your chest. “Of course, Em. Any time, any place, i’m here to help.”

Emily’s eyes flickered across your face, a small smile on her lips. “Right back at you.”

Likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. Lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future posts.

DTS , @halfwayhearted @spidybaby !

[perfectlyoongi]

HAPPY HALLOWEEN—FROM BTS ⠀⠀summary: there are countless ways to celebrate this holiday, but only BTS knew how to make it special.

⪩ pairing: bts (separately) x gn!reader. ⪩ genre: headcanons, fluff. establish-relationship. ⪩ word count: 3.5k total, ~500 each.

SEOKJIN 𓏲 ִֶָ ๋ ᡣ𐭩

Halloween has always been an enchanting time for Jin. maybe it was the bright colors of the trees, or the quicker dusk of days, but the reality is that, when autumn began, Jin was radiant, almost glowing. and when Halloween arrived it seemed like all the color in the streets and all the excitement in the houses came together inside Jin’s little heart. for him, there was no better time of the year than Halloween.

every year, when Halloween approached, Jin was quick to prepare a perfect celebration for that wonderful day. he started with food, always with food. as the end of october approached, Jin quickly found recipes online that made you smile due to their creativity. there were ghosts of ravioli, tacos that hugged food like a spider hugs its victim, hot dogs that seemed to be mummified by bread — the ideas were endless, just like Jin’s love for Halloween.

with full bellies and satisfied hearts, you and Jin cleaned the kitchen amidst singing and laughter, the soundtrack of ‘nightmare before christmas’ playing happily in your home. it had long since become a tradition of yours: cleaning the kitchen while singing. and on that special day, you had to hear something special. so, when doing duets of ‘rocky horror picture show’ or imitating plants with ‘little shop of horrors’, you and Jin cleaned the table and washed the dishes with as much joy as there was in the world. just for a few minutes the whole world seemed like a stage waiting for you two.

when the music stopped and the songs died down, when the night was about to take you to bed and snuggle up on that lively day, you and Jin sat at the living room table, each with your computer, and passed the remaining hours shouting between laughs. once when researched, it was amazing how many horror games could support two players. as such, during those ninety-so minutes, you and Jin ran away from monsters, built forts, and even mourned the other’s dramatic death. although the genre was horror, the number of laughs released by the two of you made that experience memorable and very dear to both of you — in the midst of all the chaos and terror, you knew you would always have Jin by your side, even if he had you locked away in the room with the killer.

and it was something simple, little moments that marked your Halloween. with small traditions that would always take place in your home, always in the comfort and safety of each other, you and Jin lived each Halloween with the magic and charm of Christmas: just pure happiness that culminated in eternal hours of pleasure and affection. every Halloween was an annual adventure that would forever be respected and loved by both of you.

YOONGI 𓏲 ִֶָ ๋ ᡣ𐭩

Yoongi wasn’t so much a fan of Halloween as he was of the fall season. there was something magical about the colorful destruction of all nature that provided Yoongi with an extreme comfort that only matched the comfort he felt when he was in your arms. as such, Yoongi wanted to make that holiday something magical.

every year, Yoongi spent endless amounts of time on the internet to prepare for the big month and holiday. the first thing Yoongi would look for was recipes for sweets and drinks with a more welcoming and nostalgic magic, making a selection of those that he knew would leave you with a smile on your lips. small colorful cookies and cakes, coffees and teas of the most varied flavors, a whole autumnal treat awaited you when you got home after a long day of work. and every year, without any exception, Yoongi would always wait for you with a bouquet of beautiful dried flowers and a smile so big on his lips you just couldn’t stop yourself from falling even more in love with him.

after having the recipes ready and the ingredients already chosen, Yoongi would look for the most nostalgic pumpkin patch in the region, making sure that its warm and bright colors were enough to make you happy. walking beside you among the pumpkins, listening to the laughter and screams of happy children, left Yoongi in a trance of pure comfort. holding hands with you, fingers intertwined to make sure you didn’t move away from him, Yoongi admired you whenever you suggested a pumpkin and he could only smile. there were no words he could say that sounded as melodious as your happiness.

back home, after preparing your drink and placing several cookies on the table, you and Yoongi carved the pumpkins while remembering childhood memories that surrounded this time. in the midst of all that confusion, among pieces of pumpkin and cookie crumbs, your living room table took on tones of serenity and refuge, covering the entire surface with the fragments of memories that that tradition of yours brought. when everything was ready and the candles were already lighting up the interior of your creations, you and Yoongi placed them at the entrance of your house and retired to the living room sofa with your hot drinks in hand, putting on a film that reflected all the magic and comfort that this season contained. more classic and films already reviewed so many times were enjoyed by the two of you for the rest of your night.

every year, wrapped in a blanket with Yoongi beside you, this special holiday was spent in the comfort of your relationship. a little of the magic of that time was carried in Yoongi’s small acts and gestures, which wrapped you in a blanket of pure happiness. Halloween for you was an important date, not because of the scares or legends, but because of Yoongi’s effort and attention — in just one day, Yoongi painted your life with pallets of the most comforting and beloved colors he could make. on just that day, only you and Yoongi existed.

HOSEOK 𓏲 ִֶָ ๋ ᡣ𐭩

with a smile on his lips and an extensive list of activities in his pocket, Hoseok wished every year that this time would come as soon as possible so he could celebrate with you. throughout the year, Hoseok found himself collecting little ideas for dates and activities that could cheer you up during this time. all year long, Hoseok prepared each day of the week with precision to ensure that the comfort of this month and the joy of this holiday wrapped you in a blanket of pure bliss.

among so many ideas and suggestions, Hoseok had to admit that walking with you through the park was his favorite activity. whenever the two of you stepped onto the colorful blanket of all of nature’s dreams and that crunchy sound of happiness and hope echoed your footsteps, Hoseok felt free. of course there was magic in dancing and a certain charm on stage, but there, at that moment, hand in hand with you and an immense forest of conversations and laughter in front of him, Hoseok felt dazzled. there, in that moment, with you next to him, Hoseok felt infinite.

but it wasn’t just the walks that made Hoseok happy, no. what he liked most, and what he insisted on doing every year, was spending the whole night watching movies lying down with his head on your chest. the trick here is that since your first Halloween together, Hoseok has discovered the vast world of pre-1980s horror films. it was you who introduced him to these peculiarities when you said, almost begged, that you wanted to see the 1977 film ‘house’. it only took ten minutes for Hoseok to be completely surrendered to the terrible edits and even worse scripts.

since then, your Halloween nights were spent in bed, covered with a small blanket, and completely focused on the screen. while you combed Hoseok’s hair, gently massaging his head and providing Hoseok with extreme relaxation, he just looked at the screen and let the magic of the movies steal eternal laughter from him. from ‘nosferatus’ of 1922, to ‘carnival of souls’ of 1962, going through ‘the invisible man’ of 1933, an extensive list of adventures with the worst recommendations and the most amusing reviews were preciously stored on Hoseok’s phone.

in all the Halloweens that have passed and in all those that are yet to happen, Hoseok knew that that magic only came in your company. you were the one who enchanted Hoseok’s days, and you were the one who made him feel grateful to live each day by your side. and that was enough for him. just you, a film that made you laugh, and he felt like he was in heaven.

NAMJOON 𓏲 ִֶָ ๋ ᡣ𐭩

on the last day of october, Namjoon had no plans. after working all day, only talking to you once in a while when time allowed, Namjoon was longing to get home and just rest. he would do anything to leave work early — perhaps because the month seemed so long, or because the days were starting to get shorter, there was no concrete answer; all Namjoon knew was that that day would only become good when he was in your company.

so, when he came home and saw you distracted in the living room reviewing those Halloween classics of yours, Namjoon would just smile: you were simply divine. without having any time to take in that heavenly sight, Namjoon was quick to crawl over to your couch and wrap you in a tight little hug that made him smile in relief. finally, there was some tranquility in that long and painful day. finally, Namjoon was with you, ready to really start living that day you loved so much.

after kissing your forehead and ordering your favorite food, Namjoon was going to take a long shower to relax before returning to the living room with dinner in his hands and two bottles of alcohol in his arms. Namjoon just wanted to decompress, he didn’t really want to do anything, but you liked that holiday, you were enchanted by the mysticism that surrounded that day — Namjoon would do everything for you to have a good night, even though he just wanted to sleep.

you ate excitedly while ‘the grim adventures of billy and mandy’ played episode after episode on your big television. that dinner, with the familiar voices of the characters, was always essential for you; whether it was Halloween or a regular tuesday, your dinners were sacred. each one listened attentively the other as their day was recounted between sighs and smiles. it was a tradition of yours that continued to fuel your flame — and, on Halloween, your conversations only got livelier: you looked stunning at this time of year. when dinner was over and all the dishes were clean, you and Namjoon were beginning the second and final part of your tradition. it was you who came up with the idea, and Namjoon was quick to accept — it was the perfect end to another long, boring day of work.

Namjoon spent brief minutes trying to find a horror film that contained all the clichés that this genre had; you would spend a few minutes creating a list of all the clichés and phrases that horror films could contain. when Namjoon finally committed to the movie, and you read the list to him out loud, you would each prepare your cup and wait patiently until something on the list happened. for long minutes, you and Namjoon played with the movie that was on the television, letting the alcohol act as a gentle blanket that protected you on that magical night. without realizing it, you end up falling asleep on the couch, involuntarily hugging each other, smiling gently with the rest of that troubled day lulling you to distant lands.

JIMIN 𓏲 ִֶָ ๋ ᡣ𐭩

october 31st was always a surprise for you. every year, Jimin would look for the ideal activity to celebrate Halloween with you. of course, the countless costume parties and home movie sessions were always attractive to Jimin, especially if the night was a little colder. but you deserved something better, something that wasn’t so common. Jimin knew how much you enjoyed this holiday, and as such, year after year, he always found something new to do with you. you never knew what could await you, but that was part of the adventure.

on your first Halloween, Jimin took you to a forest with a basket full of food and a backpack full of scary stories from the internet that had the forest as their backdrop. of course, just a picnic under the moon listening to ghostly stories wasn’t enough — no. with the stories also came the jokes and Jimin made sure that only the best laughs came out of you. he didn’t mind spending the whole night reading the comments to find the ideal ones to make you laugh and ease some of the tension he would create.

you also remembered that Halloween where Jimin took you to an escape room that took you to an abandoned castle where count dracula had you and Jimin trapped in his basement. even though the two of you had only spent sixty minutes inside that room, you’d swear an eternity was spent among loose rocks and squeaking rats. all your wrong theories just made you laugh until you fell on the floor; whenever an employee’s voice came up to help you, you and Jimin just pushed the blame for the mistake onto the other; when the last key took you straight to the count’s room instead of the exit, you only realized that that Jimin’s idea, although hilarious and providing you dozens of good memories, was a little too intellectual for both of you.

you also still dreamed about the magic school you and Jimin attended last year. it was something so simple, something so childish — but it was something so good, something so cozy, something that reminded you why you loved Jimin so much. potions classes were held in the school’s basement, its cauldrons bubbling and glowing different colors; the spell classes were held on the second floor next to the (human) statue that moved on its own. dinner was in the main hall, six long tables occupying the entire space and taking dozens of people to those childhood dreams. for one night, you were magical. for one night, you breathed magic.

and this year only time will tell. Jimin never gave any hint of his plans — it was pure torture. and yet you waited anxiously. maybe he would wake you up with a breakfast themed around your favorite horror movies. who knows, Jimin could even take you to build a scarecrow to put in front of your house. or Jimin could simply decide to stay in the comfort of your house, in the comfort of your arms, rewatching films and series that had a more ghostly atmosphere. no one knows for sure, only Jimin, and that is a secret that he will only reveal tomorrow.

TAEHYUNG 𓏲 ִֶָ ๋ ᡣ𐭩

every year, Taehyung prayed that on Halloween there would be no rain. he didn’t mind the cold, and a little wind didn’t make him mad; but if that day the heavens decided to mourn all the destruction of the world, Taehyung’s day would be ruined. it’s just that, on this specific day, where autumn was beginning and all of nature colored the streets with its farewell, Taehyung only had a single activity in mind. october 31st marked the anniversary of your first encounter and your first date and, devoted to your love, Taehyung insisted on scheduling a picnic just like you did so long ago.

preparing the whole morning for that date, Taehyung spent hours cooking or buying that food that warmed your heart, putting out books, notebooks, pens, everything that could be used to entertain you for an entire afternoon. so, with a small, orange blanket, a basket with all your favorite food and drinks, Taehyung was setting up a small picnic in the park where you first met, near that lake that saw your love blossom on that first date. and he tried his best to make that picnic always better than the last.

sometimes Taehyung liked to recite poetry to you while you rested your head in his lap. there were other times when he preferred to spend the afternoon listening to your stories, delighting in the little laughs you made and falling in love with your soul again. there were also times when the simple silence of nature was enough to lull both of you into the autumnal comfort characteristic of your relationship. honestly, Taehyung didn’t even care much about how you spent those little picnic hours; all Taehyung wanted was to relive those two magical days that completely changed his life. just you, the park and the blanket — nothing else mattered.

when night fell and the cold became a little more aggressive, you returned home while ordering your favorite food from that restaurant he took you to before asking you to be his partner. and that trip back home felt like the arrival of autumn itself: desired, coveted, awaited for too long to be unable to contain you enthusiasm. that dinner on your living room floor, that little tradition that came from so many past dates, was all you two thought about when the moon peeked out of the dark sky.

the day came to an end without any stress or problems — Taehyung made sure of that. there was nothing that could happen that he could not resolve, or omit until the next day arrived. october 31st was the only day when nothing could happen. october 31st was the only day that really mattered. and it was on october 31st that Taehyung declared his eternal love to you again in the memories of a glorious past with promises of a sublime future.

JUNGKOOK 𓏲 ִֶָ ๋ ᡣ𐭩

Jungkook loved celebrating Halloween. he couldn’t say why or what captivated him about that holiday, he just knew that when october arrived, he was counting the days, eager to reach the end of the month. as such, it was quite natural for Jungkook to have all the plans for this season laid out since the beginning of the year. and every year, without fail, among so many different activities and occupations, there were always those three traditions of yours that warmed Jungkook’s heart like a summer sun.

on the orange afternoons of the last day of the month, Jungkook would appear at the front door with a wide smile on his lips and white sheets in his arms. holding your hand gently and taking you to the park near your house, Jungkook liked to spend autumn afternoons taking photos alluding to Halloween. with sheets dressed and glasses on, you and Jungkook impersonated two ghosts who marveled at the modern world. camera rolls were spent amid laughter and poses, the withered time of those afternoons seeming warmer among your good mood.

when you returned home reviewing some photos and choosing the ones to print for your Halloween album, Jungkook could only think about what awaited you that night. his excitement was too much to contain — he was always looking forward to spending Halloween with you. so, after putting the sheets at home and making a quick dinner, your night would begin with scares and lots of screams.

Jungkook knew all the activities that would happen throughout the city and he deliberately chose the best horror houses that would have open hours. waiting in the entrance lines seemed like mere seconds. you and Jungkook had this power to convert time to your needs; your conversations flowed naturally, laughter clearing your mind before facing the manufactured horrors of the house you would visit. you walked carefully around the house, anticipating scares that would never happen and screaming at small noises designed to scare you. every year, you walked through a haunted house hand in hand and hearts jumping, always leaving with your hearts filled with laughter.

already tired from a day full of surprises and scares, you and Jungkook went to your room to finally rest. but since the night doesn’t end until dawn, you two weren’t going to sleep so early. Jungkook would play the playlist he made for Halloween gently in your room, while he waited for you to bring the box of face paint. and to satisfy your inner children and end that day on a more docile note, you and Jungkook painted yourselves as classic characters from Halloween; but it wasn’t that easy, no. one of you was always blindfolded, proving that you knew the other’s features perfectly as white brushes and red pencils danced in your shaking hands and made light laughter mix with the music, creating a melody of pure devotion in your room.

໒ ࣪˖˚ requested by: dear anonymous. ⠀⠀request: hihi!! if u celebrate and ur comfortable and everything, can i request hcs for celebrating halloween w them? any member(s) work(s), idm at all. thank u for ur time 🙏🏽 i love ur work so much, keep being fantastical 🔥🔥🔥 ⠀⠀cole's note: hii <3 tysm for the request !! i decided to include all the members so i did a shorter version but i hope it still makes you happy <3 i just wanted to make sure i give u the absolute best. also ty for ur words :< ilysm /p and i hope u know u have a wonderful soul !!

♡ feedback is appreciated ♡

[deanssluvr]

thought you were made for me

part 2 | part 3

pairing: brother’s bsf!Joost Klein x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of drugs and alcohol

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this is my first fic so please be nice. I didn’t really expect to write more than 500 words lmao. Also, this isn’t proofread sorry. I plan on writing a part 2 for this.

It had already been a long and tough week. With just finishing the last of your final exams the week prior. Each exam felt like it took years off of your life. And the week itself felt as though it would never end. Not even mentioning the multiple all-nighters you pulled to study before. But when it was finally over you were beyond ecstatic. And now you got to finally be at home and relax.

It was relatively quiet morning. You had decided to stay in the comfort of your blanket for a while longer before deciding to head down to the kitchen. There you were greeted by your brother Ethan and his best friend Joost. They were making breakfast. Well, it was just your brother cooking and Joost waiting patiently. Ever since Joost finished touring, he’d been spending a lot of time at your house. Spending multiple nights in your guest room. Your parents never really minded because he was nice and respectful. Usually, they’re in your brother’s room playing video games or out doing something. You never really got the chance to see him a lot since you were off to college. But you were hoping that would change now that you were home.

“Good morning.” Joost smiled softly. Ethan turned away from the stove briefly to tell you good morning and offered you breakfast. You nodded and turned back Joost. He was sipping a cup coffee and the steam was slightly fogging up his glasses. He took them off and set them on the counter beside him.

“Good morning Joost.” You returned the smile. He moved next to you from where he was standing. 

“And how are you this morning?” he asked in a low tone. His voice was still laced with sleep.

“I’m good. Just glad to be back home. How are you this morning.” You looked up at him and through tired eyes.

“Better now,” he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. It caught you off guard. Was he flirting with you? Before you can finish that thought your brother hands you both a plate of food. You thanked him and they walk out of the kitchen to the dining room. Leaving you to your thoughts.

—

Later on that day, you called your best friends. They discussed with you their plans with their newfound freedom. You were shocked at their ideas. Party here and bar hop there. You thought they were just as exhausted as you. The idea of getting wasted as a celebration wasn’t your favorite idea. You just wanted to catch up on sleep.

“But we’ve been doing nothing but staying in our dorms for finals. We NEED to go out,” she stated.

“I know. I know. But maybe we could do something a bit more laid back. Like the movies or that festival that’s in town.” I practically pleaded with them. But it was no use. They weren’t changing their minds, and I was outvoted two to one. The conversation shifted back to their ideas for celebration for the next few days.

After agreeing to meet up this weekend, you said your goodbyes to your friends and hung up the phone. But quickly after your brother texts you.

hey Joost has a concert tonight. i have an extra ticket. wanna go with me?

You thought about it for a good moment. You just wanted to get some extra sleep tonight, but on the other hand, you haven’t spent much time with your brother since you left for college. And now is a better time than ever to make up for lost time. Also, you just wanted another excuse to see Joost.

ofc sounds like fun

it’s tonight at 8. i’ll pick you up at 7

You texted him “okay” before setting your phone back down, and finished making yourself lunch.

—

As leaned over the sink, you checked your makeup one last time in the mirror. You used your nail to fix your lipstick. You stepped back to look over your overall outfit and decided you were happy with the outcome. You sprayed a bit of your favorite perfume on yourself. Checking the time you realized you were ready a bit early, so you sat in your living room. You started scrolling through Instagram as you waited. Then a notification popped up in your phone.

hey i’m outside.

You quickly checked your appearance once last time in a nearby mirror and checked your purse to make sure you had everything. When you felt satisfied with everything you grabbed your keys and left the house.

The ride to the venue was relatively smooth. You talked about what you’d miss in each other’s lives. He explained to you how he just found a new job as a bartender at a new bar downtown. He also told you how he was saving up for a new place. You told him that you were really happy for him. When he asked about you, you told him about how you just finished up finals week and now you finally have time off. He gave you a small chuckle and congratulated you.

—

The outdoor venue was packed that night and people were trying to rush to the front. You’re glad your brother was there as he kept a secure grip on you and was able to push you both to the barricades near the stage. It was extremely humid that night with a faint smell of weed and cigarette smoke clogging the air.

The lights dimmed slightly and you heard a beat starting to play over the speakers. You could feel the anticipation from the crowd and it made you even more excited as you leaned forward on the barricade. Then Joost ran on stage. Blue flashing lights engulfed him as he started performing and the crowd, including yourself, began jumping to the beat.

Once the energy died down slightly, you were able to take him in. His outfit was really simple tonight. He was in a white dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up giving us a glimpse at the tattoos that littered his arms, a pair of baggy jeans, and his black thick-rimmed glasses that were fogging up every so often. Something was enticing about him and you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him.

You had never heard his music before, but that didn’t stop you from letting loose. Everyone around you on the other hand, including your brother, is yelling the lyrics word for word. Joost takes notice of this and walks further downstage towards your brother, acknowledging him and smiling. Now you were able to get a good look at his face. He is even prettier up close you thought to yourself. Then he looks over to you, holding eye contact for just a split second before giving you a wink and continuing his performance. You were in utter disbelief at the encounter. You honestly thought you had imagined it. You were pulled back to reality when the loud beat of the next song started pouring into your ears.

—

“Did you enjoy the concert?” your brother asked as you both walked to his car. You were still feeling the buzz of the concert. It felt like the night shouldn’t end here. Maybe because you wanted to see Joost again.

“Yes, I did! His music is so good. I had an amazing time.” You left out the part about him winking at you, but you felt that you should keep that bit of information to yourself.

“Well, I’m glad that you had a good time.” His phone chimed with a notification. As he checked it you decided to check your phone. Your friends were blowing up your phone about the concert. They loved Joost so they wanted to know how it went. As you texted them back, your brother spoke.

“Hey, Joost is having a little after-party at a club nearby. He’s asking if the both of us wanted to go.“ You considered it for a moment. You did want to see him again. But when you did what would you say? Maybe he does this to all of his fans. Your brother senses your indecisiveness and tries to help.

“You don’t have to go. I would understand. I mean you’re not close to him. I just asked because he said he wanted to see you.” You were surprised at his request.

“No. I want to. I would love to go.” You stated as you gave him a reassuring smile. He nodded as he started the car towards the new destination.

— 

Your eyes scan over the scene. A DJ was blasting music over the speakers, but it was more near the dance floor. The place was dim with small, warm lights keeping tables and the lit. You follow your brother as he leads you to a table that seats a few guys. When you got close enough you realized it was Joost and who you assumed were a few of his friends. He loudly acknowledged your brother as they shared an embrace. They share a few words before he sees you.

“Hey. I’m glad you came.” he hugged you and you embraced him back. He smelled faintly of cigarette smoke, but it didn’t bother you. You liked it. You both lingered for what was probably a moment too long before he let go. You looked over to your brother and saw that he went to talk to the other guys at the table. Leaving you with Joost. 

His eyes slowly scanned over you as he took in your appearance. Once his eyes reached yours, you noticed a different look in his eyes. Almost like hunger. Being under his gaze almost made you feel nervous.

“Come sit with me and let me pour you a drink.” He didn’t give you much of a choice as he grabbed your wrist lightly, his fingers brushing against your palm. He guided you to sit with him in the booth. He pulled you close enough to the point that your thighs were touching. You liked around and realized it was just the two. You scan the place and see your brother and his other friends have run off to the bar. Probably to do shots you thought to yourself. 

You focused your attention back to Joost who was carefully pouring you both a drink. Though it was hard to see, a small dim light slightly lit up his face allowing you to still see his face. His hair was even messier than it was at the concert but he still looked amazing. You notice his strikingly delicate features and his captivating eyes that seem to sparkle under the light. Your eyes then trace down his arms and you take note of the tattoos that are there.

“Here.” He pulls you out of your trance by handing you a glass with brown liquor in it. You take the glass from him, your finger faintly brushing his. You didn’t drink much and when you did it was mainly vodka. Nonetheless, you drank it anyway. He watched as you took a sip and smiled when you seemed to enjoy it. He drank some of his own before turning to you.

“Did you enjoy tonight’s show?” He leaned in closer making sure you heard his question. 

“Yes, I did. Your music is really good. I wish I had discovered your music sooner.” Even with how dark it is you notice the smile he gave you.

“I'm happy you had a good time. You know I know we don’t know each other that well, but I would love for us to get closer.” Once again he leaned in, but this time it was in your ear. His warm breath against your ear sent goosebumps across your skin. As he leaned back to look at you, he stopped just inches away from your face. You can faintly feel his breath against your lips. You swear can see his eyes glance at your lips for a second before looking back into your eyes. His expression changed again into what you saw when he first greeted you. Hunger. His eyes were focused on yours and it made you nervous. The air suddenly changed. It felt more thicker and warmer.

“Let’s go dance.” He offered his hand as he slid out of the booth. You smiled and took his hand. He guided you to the crowd on the dance floor and pushed you both near the center. There was a dark blue light that engulfed everyone. The beat took over you as you started dancing. You let your hips away to the rhythm. You felt Joost’s hands find their way to your waist, and he pulled you closer to him. 

You continue to dance against him, grinding on him. His hands started to explore your body as they found themselves on your hips, and then slowly went down to the hem of your short skirt. His fingers found their way under and he started to rub the soft skin. His head found its way closer to the crook of your neck. You feel his warm breath on your collarbone as he speaks.

“Ik heb je nodig (I need you)” He breathes into your neck and it sends shivers down your spine. With the light grip he has on you, he turns around so now you’re facing him. You wrap your arms around his neck pulling him closer to you. Your faces are inches away from each other. The air around you is hot and thick. You look into his eyes and see the same familiar look as before. Even under the lights, you can see his pupils blown with lust. 

You don’t know if it was the alcohol but you felt bold. So you pulled him into a kiss which he happily accepted. His hands moved from the hem of your skirt up to the curve of your ass where he squeezed lightly. The kiss became more intense as you both realized how hungry you were. Your hands found their way to his hair and you pulled gently at the white locks. He pulled away only to say something.

“We should take this somewhere else.” He suggested between pants. You nod quickly. He takes your hand and guides you off the dance floor. Your head was buzzing and you felt as though you were caught in a haze. He leads you back to the table and you see your brother and some of his friends there with a few girls. Joost let go of your hand only for a moment when telling your brother that you were both leaving early. He told him you weren’t feeling good. Surprisingly he wasn’t suspicious of anything and only told you both to drive safe. With that, you and Joost make your way to his car. You both get settled in before he looks over at you.

“My place or yours liefje (sweetheart)”