#nearly over heated my tablet…

[zeebreezin]

Oh Clockwork Sun, we’re really in it now-

[vampiricgf]

— v. lycaon | stay soft, get eaten

·₊̣̇. ⊱ warnings: fem reader, dubcon, aphrodisiac, yandere, oral fem receiving, clit sucking, cervix fucking, knotting, creampie, extremely unrealistic depiction of sex, he calls you master n is a lil obsessed with you, not edited/proofread

wc: 2k+

the grip he has on me is insane now if only he'd be gripping up this [REDACTED] sobs

You were so lucky to have an attendant as well prepared as Lycaon. After spending the evening unable to sleep, angrily listening to birdsong as the light peeking in from the window grew less and less subdued, he had suggested you take a simple supplement and attempt a nap upon seeing you still laying in bed at his arrival. After all getting rest was the most important thing and if something would come up he could easily handle it for you without letting you rest excessively.

Just enough to be able to get through the day yet still feel appropriately tired come night, that was what he promised after handing a small tablet to you which you gratefully accepted. Lycaon had been sweet and thoughtful from the moment he started at your estate with the Victoria Housekeeping contract, and was always so adamant about remaining at your side.

When the room begins to soften at the edges you don't question it, it may be a mild effect from the pill or your own deprived brain. Focusing on the beat of your heart was easier, keeping your eyes closed as you remained tucked into bed. A heaviness spread through your limbs, delicious and reminiscent of a sleepy cat in the honeyed afternoon sun as you roll onto your back to stretch against the warm sheets.

The brush of them against your skin sends an unfamiliar sort of heat spreading beneath the surface of your body, an odd feeling of wishing it was replaced with physical touch, yearning suddenly for a certain thiren that you knew wouldn't be far from your bedroom.

You try ignoring the growing ache between your thighs, uncomfortably turning over and over from side to side as the temperature rises. Before long you have to thrash the covers off to rest barely covering your legs, nearly panting with the volatile mixture of desire and no sleep.

Thinking of calling for him you bite your bottom lip, a small whimper coming from low in your throat. As you struggle with the inappropriateness of the urge little do you know he's just opposite the bedroom door, listening intently to you with barely contained self satisfaction thrumming through his veins.

It's hardly appropriate for an attendant to be pining after their master, but say you were feeling struck by some overpowering need, what kind of attendant would he be to refuse if you begged for his help? Truly he'd done it on a whim, it just so happened that today was the perfect opportunity to act and perhaps it was simply fate.

"Master?"

His voice jolts you out of the thick fog of lust as he steps through the doorway, unable to bear the sounds of you whimpering for him any longer. With quick steps he's beside you, a hand coming to rest delicately against your forehead which nearly makes you moan from the contact. Your skin glistened with a sheen of sweat and the scent of your arousal was heady in the balmy air, if he were less composed it would've made him drool instantly.

"Are you ill?" Faux concern laces the words as his eyes trail from your face to your heaving chest, your top having bunched up just beneath your breasts was a tantalizing challenge to his self control.

"I can't sleep- feels like I'm on fire," you whine, your eyes fluttering closed and he's grateful for the chance to ogle you openly.

"Do you require my help?" The tone of the question leaves little room for interpretation, the almost breathy way he asks betraying how clear your neediness is to him.

It should make you embarrassed, you should wave him away with a demure no I'll be fine but you can't bring yourself to speak the words aloud, nearly choking on how much you ache for him to touch you again. In a distant corner of your disconnected mind you wonder if thirens can smell things like arousal and perhaps that's why he offered. It makes your thighs clench together hard, the muscles flexing beneath the skin. How lucky you were to have someone so dedicated to attending to your needs that he'd even offer.

"Wouldn't be- appropriate-" you force the words out between deep breaths, desperately trying to regain some self control as your eyes find his.

He looked so handsome knelt by your bed, his singular visible eye shining with concern. You want to smooth the worry from his face with a hundred deep, frantic kisses, so powerful is the urge it's more like being gripped by madness.

"You don't need to worry, as my master I can't let you remain in this state without intervention." The words are so syrupy sweet to your ears, his voice low and sending delightful shivers down your spine.

If he's saying it's okay then why worry about impropriety? Once again you can't help the surge of thankfulness at his presence and his loyalty to you.

Gingerly he grasps your hand in his much larger one, bringing your arm up before placing the softest kiss to your inner wrist. The sensation of his lips against your skin is enough to make you squirm, back arching slightly just from the barest contact.

"Mm, don't know what's wrong with me," you breathe harshly as his mouth maps a trail from your wrist up your arm, your shoulder, and before you register it he's above you and those clawed hands are roaming the overheated skin of your stomach and it feels like every sense you have is being overcrowded by him.

If you had the wherewithall you would have perhaps been ashamed to be so openly writhing and moaning beneath him with your hands fisting in the material of his shirt but given the way he makes you feel like you'll crack apart in the next millisecond there was simply no room for things like humiliation or shame.

"Will you let me help you, my master?"

The request is accompanied by the feeling of him sucking on the side of your neck, sharp teeth barely ghosting over the delicate flesh he could easily rip. Why does everything feel so much more sensitive than usual? If you could think straight it would be a more pertinent question, but against the feeling of his hands cupping your breasts and urging you to help him remove your shirt the concern washes away like sugar in hot water.

In a way Lycaon is glad for your habit of wearing little to nothing in bed, because it feels like this is exactly what you wanted to happen. Each evening it was like the single greatest test of his resolve to not immediately give in to the urge that screamed to rip those skimpy clothes off you and fuck you until your pretty eyes were full of tears and that tongue of yours was only good for sounding out his name.

And he hadn't lied earlier, not fully. That pill would help you with your sleeping troubles eventually but the less than mild aphrodisiac effects would kick in first. It's no concern though, because that's what he's here for, to service you as his master. And so what if it happens to be a shockingly convenient avenue for satisfying his own desires? Who could blame a devoted attendant for loving their master so greatly?

As you shift your hips impatiently he's all too eager to indulge you, hooking a hand beneath your thigh and pushing one leg up in order to slot himself better between your legs and feel the tantalizing heat radiating from the apex of your thighs.

You can feel the way his bulge throbs against you through your clothes and it's exciting, like his body is begging for just the same release as yours and his movements have taken on a more predatory tinge- caging your body with his forearms on either side of your head now, nipping and sucking at your bottom lip in between sloppy kisses and the rhythmless, frantic grinding of his hips against yours.

"Want you, please," it leaves your lips as a pathetically desperate whine as you roll your hips to meet his in a pantomime of unclothed thrusts. Feeling his erection strain against layers of clothing has only served to make you feel even more delirious, like you're on fire and he's all that could hope to put it out.

"Like this?" The question is needy, nakedly desperate and it makes your fingers claw against his soft fur, pulling him down to kiss you again in a flurry of teeth and tongues.

You give an airy mhm and his head dips down to your chest with a particularly sinful groan, teeth ghosting over the swell of your breast before his hands are on you again, nearly ripping the flimsy pajama bottoms off of you in his haste to get you undressed and knowing you're so impossibly close to finding relief for the all consuming ache in your body makes you sigh contentedly for the first time as the air brushes against your clammy skin.

His movements are quick, snaking down on his belly and brushing his nose against the skin of your inner thighs. You can hear the deep inhale he takes, feel the way your body flushes hot in response. His hands run up and down your feverish skin, riling you up and when his tongue licks a fat stripe all the way up your flesh until his face is pressed against your pussy you can't help the way you moan his name so brokenly, a sound more akin to cracking porcelain.

And it's then that his self restraint seems to snap cleanly in two, his claws nearly digging into your thighs, nose bumping against your achingly puffy clit as his tongue delved inside your soaked entrance. It was impossible, feeling him as deeply as you were and he wasn't even using his fingers. Your own twisted into the bedsheets so hard they should have torn, your mouth open as your hips bucked wildly against his face.

Soon enough he held one arm across your hips to pin you down and lessen your squirming, alternating between lapping at your clit and sucking on it, his sharp canines occasionally brushing dangerously against the sensitive bundle of nerves. With every drag of his tongue it felt like a coil winding back tighter and tighter inside your gut, hands fumbling to touch any part of him you could grasp as he retained his unrelenting pace never wavering in the attention he lavished your pussy with.

And all too soon he's pulling away from you, leaving you to keen high and pathetic at the loss of him, panicked eyes frantically locked on his figure as he drags himself back up to face you. Before you can whine too much he's shushing you with a deep, languid kiss and giving you the secondhand aftertaste of yourself on his tongue. For a brief moment you wonder if you've died and this is the afterlife: one long satisfaction of desire.

"I don't mean to tease, but I need you in another manner master." And you don't need to to ask what he means, feeling what must be his painfully hard erection rubbing against your bare, soaked cunt. Thrilled eagerness skips like electricity through your bloodstream, already rolling your hips to beg for it before your mouth even opens.

And like the wonderful attendant he is Lycaon obliges before you have to say a word. His hands deftly shed his clothes, now rumpled and twisted, before discarding them on the floor in a heap. Your bottom lip catches so hard between your teeth at the sight of him it's a miracle you don't draw blood.

Even in your most vivid fantasies there's simply no way you could capture just how gorgeous he was, and you can feel your eyes widen as they settle on the sight of his now freed cock. The tapered tip, flushed red and needy, glistening with precum, the girth of him enough to make your eyes water, and the length promising that he can easily kiss that spot inside you that turns your vision to static.

You could start drooling from how badly you need him inside you, a fresh wave of overzealous longing battering against your mind like waves against a rocky coastline. As he leans down, supporting himself on one forearm beside your head you meet his eyes again, seeing an amused look on his face that made you squirm in embarrassment at being caught so openly admiring him.

The scent of arousal and sweat is so thick in the air even you can catch it, it must be driving him insane. The thought nearly makes you giggle but the press of him against your entrance cuts off any sound you could hope to make, mouth left hanging open as he starts the slow press inside. Tears instantly push against your waterline, threatening to spill both from the painful adjustment to his size and because nobody has ever made you feel so full before.

He's barely midway inside and you're already panting, chest heaving as you mewl out his name and grab onto his shoulders like he's the only stable thing in the world. Your fingers find purchase in his soft, snowy fur and as his swollen, fat knot settles against your entrance you feel a rush of the most perfect bliss. Like you two were made for each other.

The delirious thought takes root as he kisses his way from your lips to your jaw, down your throat before giving you a few gentle nips with his teeth just to make you gasp and tighten your grip on him before he begins moving.

His pace is slow, almost loving, as you feel every vein as he pulls out only to inch back inside you with ease now thanks to your excess of arousal mingling with his saliva. You can't help the way your toes curl against nothing but the air as you move to grab onto your own thighs, desperate already to feel him deeper and once again, Lycaon follows your whims dutifully.

You can't help but cry out incoherently as he presses into you again and again, the head of his cock hitting so far inside you it nearly knocks the breath from your lungs.

But it's still not enough, and you feel that coil resume it's firm windback into position, almost ready to spring.

"Please, feels so good," you gasp out, "need more- harder -" you squeal with a particularly deep thrust against your cervix and ever the gentleman he doesn't make you ask again.

Groaning low and gravelly he cages you fully with his forearms, burying his snout into the side of your neck as the obscene sounds of skin slapping and the squelching of your greedy cunt drown out anything else. Distantly you hear his claws ripping through the sheets but you can't be bothered to care, not when he's got tears running down your cheeks and your pussy clamping down on his so hard, desperate to keep him inside.

You can feel him throbbing as you curl your fingers deeper into his fur, crying out his name as the tension inside your belly reaches a head, making your eyes screw shut and your head press back against the pillows.

His own ragged breathing doesn't register to you, so lost in the throughs of your own orgasm, but his teeth are gritted, bared in a silent snarl feeling the way you clamp down, the way your walls rhythmically try milking him for all he's worth and in an instinct driven haze his hips move in an even more brutal pace, sure to leave bruises against your tender flesh as the maddening need to cum inside you overwhelms him.

There's no way he could stop himself now and he muffles your cries with sloppy, apologetic kisses, tasting the tang of saltwater as his knot finally pushes it's way in, sitting securely against the ring of muscle at your entrance and he can't stop himself from saying your name against your lips, again and again like a mantra as thick, warm spurts of cum drown your womb.

You remain locked together, you a mess of hiccuping moans and shaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm and him grinding against you as if he could still fuck more of his cum even further inside you.

Your ankles shakily lock around his hips and one of his arms slides under your back, hand finding it's way down to grope and squeeze your ass as he whispers to you, words of thanks for indulging him and for allowing him to be of service that swirl dreamily around in your head as your fingers start gingerly stroking against his silky fur, soothing the spots you had twisted and tugged.

In a far away corner of your mind you recognize that this is the first time he's ever used your name to address you. It makes you smile, small and twinged with sleep. You know once he's no longer inside you he'll adamantly clean you up, move you to a different space and ensure you can sleep comfortably while h tidies your wrecked bed.

But another part of you wonders if you could convince him to forgo it all and just stay like this, warm and tangled together.

Maybe if you ask sweetly.

[reminiscingtonight]

Tech Support

Alexia Putellas & Putellas!Reader (Jana Fernández x Putellas!Reader)

Word Count: 1.2k

[WOSO Masterlist]

“So I am… supposed to click this?”

Alexia’s hand is swatted away at record speed before she can make contact with the screen.

“No, this one.”

Who would’ve thought. Captain of the country. Legend of your club. The La Reina may be feared by players worldwide, but even she could be beaten by something as simple as a new phone.

The two of you have been at this for a couple hours now.

When your sister first slid the box across the table at you, your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. You didn’t even have time to thank Alexia before she crushed your dreams right then and there. What you first thought was a present for you turned out to be a resigned plea for help.

As the resident tech genius you were high in demand. Last week it was setting up your mami’s tablet. Yesterday it was fixing Olga’s laptop. And today it seems to be Alexia’s turn.

Though now that you think about it, “genius” may be a stretch. It’s not until the third time you stop yourself from throwing Alexia’s phone at her that she lets it slip that Alba was actually her first call for help. It’s no surprise to hear that your middle sister was quick to refuse, given that the last time she helped Alexia set up a phone resulted in heated words and staunch refusal to speak to one another for two weeks.

Given that she’s your club captain the loss in communication is something you can’t risk, but you’ve always thought of yourself as gifted when it comes to technology. If you could teach your mami how to use facebook without spamming her personal page with posts about you and your sisters, surely helping Alexia transfer her data and set up a new phone would not be too hard of a challenge.

Oh how you’re wrong.

Though you’re only eight years younger than Alexia, she still manages to struggle as if she’s well into her nineties.

Ask if she’s backed up her data? Might as well have told her to recite the first fifteen digits of pi.

Ask if she’s taken note of the apps she needs to redownload? Might as well have asked if she knew the secret to happiness.

Tell her to grant certain apps permissions to her phone? Might as well have told her you were transferring to Real Madrid.

Ask her to re-sign back into her multitude of accounts? Might as well have asked her to transfer to Real Madrid.

If you had known just how teeth pulling this would be, you would have left Olga to deal with Alexia herself.

Despite your clear and well-informed instructions of what to click where, which settings to enable or disable, Alexia kept bulldozing through your words, thinking she knew better.

Spoiler, she did not.

Jana’s already been by to give you some words of encouragement, but after the fifth time you quietly asked if she could make up an excuse to drag you out, she hunkered down on a nearby couch with Olga. The two of them, traitors at heart, are having a blast watching some trashy reality tv show while you struggle away with Alexia.

At this point you’re one more question away from factory resetting Alexia’s new phone, but a promise from Olga to buy you lunch and a burning desire to prove to Alba that you’re a better teacher than she is leaves you clinging to the last piece of sanity you have.

After what seems like an eternity, Alexia finally sits back from where she’s been hunched over your shoulder, poking and prodding at her phone.

“I still don’t understand why I have to set up a passcode when I could just use my fingerprint to unlock everything.”

The only word capable of describing Alexia at this moment in time is brooding. Arms crossed, face drawn in a frown, your thirty-year-old sister is brooding over your insistence at setting a passcode.

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “What if you’re at training and you need Mapi to pull up something from your phone while your hands are busy?”

Alexia huffs, smile on her face as she thinks she’s got you. “Simple, I would never trust Maria with my phone!”

“Ale!” you groan. “That’s not the point.”

She’s not wrong. The last person to mistakenly trust the blonde haired woman with their unlocked phone received the device back with fifteen added stories to their instagram account. Though that was on the tamer side of what the defender was capable of, no one’s really let her borrow their phone since.

You catch Jana’s twinkling eyes over the back of the couch as she shares a giggle with Olga.

“Okay, what if I get hurt on the pitch and you’re too busy consoling me? I’m sure Jana would appreciate being able to use your phone to call mami to let her know I’ve been hurt.”

Alexia rolls her eyes. “First, Jana already has mami’s phone number. Pretty sure she likes your girlfriend more than the both of us.”

The number of times Eli has called you just to ask if Jana would be coming over for a family dinner would be insulting if you weren’t smitten with the idea of your girlfriend having fit right into your own family. Though the two of you haven’t officially been together long, years of friendship meant Eli was more than delighted when she found out the two of you were together. It also meant she was quick to catch Jana up on any and all family events she was hosting.

“Also, that’s not a problem because mami never misses one of our games so she’d already be there!”

It’s almost as if Olga can see the steam coming out of your ears. She’s quick to walk over, rubbing you back apologetically before throwing an arm around Alexia’s shoulder.

“Would you please set one for me, amor? Sometimes I misplace my phone and yours is closer.”

It’s maddening the way Alexia instantly starts nodding like a lovesick puppy. She plucks the phone right out of your hands, swiping until she can get to the right screen.

From over Alexia’s shoulder Olga gives you a wink.

With her girlfriend wrapped tightly around her, you take your cue to exit.

Jana opens her arms wide and you enter willingly. The older girl chuckles when you instantly bury your face against her stomach, arms tightening around her legs.

“I wanna go home,” you grumble, ignoring the way you can feel the vibrations of Jana’s laughter.

“Don’t you wanna stay for lunch?”

As much as you loathe the hours wasted on Alexia, the promise of free sushi did sound pretty good. All you have in your fridge is some leftover pasta from the night before, and you’re never one to pass up free food.

“Hermanita, what’s this I’m seeing about unlocking my phone with my face?”

You stiffen.

On second thought, leftovers didn’t sound too bad.

[corkinavoid]

DDxDC Cold Fingers

Written for: Flufftober, prompt 7. Hoodie Weather

"I'm home!" Danny's voice comes from the door right after the click of the lock. Tim just hums in response, too caught up in reading the file on his tablet. He really needs to finish the report today, this case has been closed for three days now-

Something cold touches his stomach, and Tim yelps in surprise, kicking his foot on reflex. Danny dodges easily, taking a step back and laughing.

"You and your cold fingers," Tim huffs, sliding down on the couch and tugging the hem of his hoodie lower and over his knees, so his sneaky boyfriend won't have a chance to steal his warmth anymore.

Danny pouts and tries anyway, putting his palms on Tim's knees - he can feel the cold even through his pj-pants - and sliding them up slowly.

"You know I love you, Tim," he says, an innocent look in his eyes and a ton of mischief in his voice. Tim slaps his hands and moves back on the couch, out of Danny's range.

"I do, but keep your hands away from me," he warns. Danny seems to miss the warning entirely, climbing up on the couch and moving his fingers in a menacing manner.

"But it's so cold out there," he whines, trying to get closer, as Tim keeps fighting him, while still holding the tablet in his hands. "I need some warmth. And love. And-"

Tim places his foot right in the center of Danny's chest, keeping him from coming closer. By this time, he is almost laying down on the couch, and the position is really stupid. Just like his boyfriend's grin and his attempts to get his hands under Tim's hoodie.

"And I worked really hard on warming myself up," Tim argues. Which is, actually, true: it's been raining since yesterday, so Tim wisely stayed inside, bundled up in blankets and working from home. Except for patrol, but that's a whole different story. "I'm not sharing it with someone who hadn't put a token of effort in it."

Danny pouts, but sighs and steps away. Tim keeps a suspicious eye on him, but, after a few seconds, he slowly goes back to his report.

A big mistake.

The next moment, Danny all but falls on top of him, and his ice cold hands are under Tim's hoodie and all over his naked stomach and ribs, and Tim is squealing, hitting him on the shoulders and wriggling out of his grip. Danny is laughing, squeezing him in a hug that sends chilly shivers down Tim's spine.

"Cold-cold-cold, Danny, no, stop!" He gasps for air, but his boyfriend just chuckles and showers his face in tiny, quick and cold kisses. Tim shakes his head, dodging and trying to get rid of them just to prove a point.

"But ple-e-ease," Danny whines, still smiling so wide Tim is afraid his face is going to crack.

"You're..." he huffs, out of breath because of all the fighting. And then, breathes out, slumping down and going lax on the couch, "...Insufferable."

Danny's eyes are brighter than stars, and his hair is a mess. Tim runs a hand through it - yup, wet from the rain, because someone forgot his umbrella again - and raises an eyebrow.

"What am I getting in return?"

"My eternal love," Danny answers immediately, his not so cold anymore hands rubbing slow circles over Tim's skin. He shivers again, but this time, it's not because of the temperature.

"Like I don't already have that," he rolls his eyes, but he knows he is smiling.

"M-yeah?" His dork of a boyfriend hums, and then leans down, finally giving him a proper kiss. This one is not cold, it's soft and warm, slowly heating Tim from inside out until he is all out of breath again.

And Danny's hands also feel almost hot under his hoodie.

Tim smiles, wrapping his arms around Danny's neck.

"Welcome home," he greets, content and nearly melting under his boyfriend's touch. Right until a horrible though strikes him, and his face drops, "Wait, where's my tablet?!"

[favefandomimagines]

Storm’s Eye (t.o)

Request: @lonelyghosts-stuff “Helllllllo! I hope you are doing well! I was wondering if I could request a Tyler Owens x Reader enemies to lovers fic? I am such a sucker for that trope especially if it's like actually enemies who hate each other but then grow to care through shared experiences and learning about each other. Angsty and life and death stuff. Just super tropey lol”

AN: I’ve been trying a new writing style where I don’t write in the first person but rather the third person, but still using Y/N. Let me know what you guys think!

The sky was a bruised shade of purple.Tyler Owens was behind the wheel of his truck, eyes flicking between the horizon and the radar screen. He gripped the steering wheel, every fiber of his being tuned into the storm brewing in the distance. This was what he lived for—chasing the thrill, the danger.

Beside him, Boone and Javi were having a conversation about the best burgers in Oklahoma, but Tyler wasn’t paying attention. He was more concerned with staying ahead of the supercell that was beginning to form just over the ridge. His mind raced with calculations, predictions, and strategies, keeping track of the storm's trajectory in his head.

Then there was her.

Sitting in the backseat, quietly scrolling through the radar on her own tablet, was the new meteorologist Javi had brought onto the team. Y/N Y/L/N, the woman who had already gotten under Tyler’s skin.

“What do you think, Tyler?” Javi asked, peering over Tyler’s shoulder. “Y/N says we should head north and catch the storm as it loops back around.”

Tyler’s eyes snapped to the rearview mirror, catching Y/N’s gaze. Her eyes were sharp, confident—like she thought she knew everything there was to know about storms. It irked him.

“North?” Tyler scoffed, his voice laced with irritation. “We’re wasting time if we go north. The storm’s going to pivot east, not loop back. If you want to catch it, we need to stay on this road and head southeast.”

Y/N leaned forward, her expression calm but firm. “That storm’s got a hook echo forming. It’s going to swing north before it turns east. If we stay southeast, we’ll miss the rotation.”

“Miss the rotation?” Tyler barked a laugh. “I’ve been chasing storms for years, and I know this system. You’re just reading the radar. I can feel it.”

Her jaw clenched, but she didn’t back down. “You think I’m just looking at a screen? I’ve been in the field, too. And I’m telling you, if we don’t adjust course, we’re going to be too far south to catch anything.”

Javi glanced between them, trying to keep the peace. “Hey, guys, how about we—”

“I’m the leader of this team,” Tyler interrupted, his tone hard. “We’re sticking with my call. We go southeast.”

Y/N crossed her arms, frustration simmering beneath her composed exterior. Tyler knew she was good at her job—Javi wouldn’t have brought her on if she wasn’t—but that didn’t mean he had to like her stepping on his turf.

“I’ll be here when you realize you’re wrong,” Y/N muttered under her breath.

Tyler pretended not to hear, though her words festered in the back of his mind.

||

The next few days followed the same pattern. Y/N and Tyler clashed over nearly every decision—where to set up, what direction to head, even which equipment to use. The rest of the team, Boone, Javi, Kate, Lilly, Dani, and Dexter, watched their arguments like spectators at a tennis match, unsure of how to intervene.

“Maybe you should cut her some slack,” Boone suggested one evening after a particularly heated argument.

Tyler grumbled something incoherent and shook his head. Y/N was too smart, too stubborn, and way too sure of herself for his liking.

Later that night, while the others were fast asleep in the small roadside motel they were staying at, Tyler found himself unable to sleep. His mind was still buzzing from the day's chase, from the constant butting of heads with Y/N. He slipped out of his room and headed to the small, makeshift lounge area by the vending machines. To his surprise, Y/N was already there, sitting in one of the chairs with her nose buried in a weather report.

He hesitated, then finally walked over and sat down across from her. They sat in silence for a few minutes, the only sound being the low hum of the soda machine.

Finally, Tyler broke the silence. “Where’d you go to school?”

Y/N glanced up from her report, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

“I asked where you went to school,” he repeated, a little softer this time. “I’m just curious.”

She closed her report and leaned back in her chair. “University of Kansas.”

“Really? That’s a good program.” Tyler couldn’t help but be impressed, though he kept his tone neutral.

Y/N shrugged. “It’s close to home. My dad’s still there, and since my mom died a few years ago, I didn’t want to leave him alone for too long.”

The admission caught Tyler off guard. He hadn’t expected her to open up like that.

“He’s the one who made me want to be a meteorologist,” she continued, a small smile tugging at her lips. “When storm season would roll around, he’d stay calm. No matter how bad it got, he’d explain what was happening so I wouldn’t be scared.”

Tyler was quiet for a moment, processing her words. “That’s…that’s pretty cool.”

Y/N looked at him, her eyes softer now. “Why did you start your YouTube channel? Seems like an unusual hobby.”

Tyler rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of how to explain. “I started it because if it helps even one person know what signs to look for, where to take shelter, and it saves lives…that’s the goal. Storms are dangerous, but the more people understand them, the better their chances.”

Y/N nodded, and for the first time, Tyler saw something other than frustration in her eyes. They had more in common than he realized. “I was a bull rider before this.” He spoke. Not sure why that was the first thing that came to his mind.

“Really?” She questioned. “Yeah, I was pretty good for a while. But too many bulls to the head, I wanted to get out before I became a vegetable. When deciding what to do next, I remembered how I felt during my first tornado. I knew I was supposed to be scared, my aunt was freaking out in the driver’s seat. But I couldn’t help but feel excited by it. Remembering that feeling helped me decide to go back to school.” Tyler explained.

“I guess you’re not all bad, Owens.” Y/N teased. “You’re not so bad either, Y/N.” Tyler replied, a small smirk on his face.

||

Tyler thought that after their late-night conversation, things might start to smooth out between them. But when they were out in the field the next day, the old tension returned.

Y/N was insisting they head west, while Tyler was adamant that they stick to the eastern route.

“You’re not thinking clearly!” Y/N snapped, pulling out her map and pointing to the storm's trajectory. “The data shows the storm shifting westward. If we don’t move now, we’re going to miss the funnel!”

Tyler’s frustration boiled over. “I’m the leader of this team, Y/N. My decision stands. Your opinion doesn’t matter.”

The words were out before he could stop them, and the effect was immediate. Y/N’s face fell, all the confidence and fire draining from her. Her lips pressed together, but she didn’t say anything. Just nodded and turned away.

As she walked back to the van, guilt gnawed at Tyler. He knew what he said had hurt her more than he intended. He knew the sting of being dismissed in a profession dominated by men, and he’d just done exactly that to her.

||

The storm that day was worse than any of them had expected. The winds picked up suddenly, driving rain slashing sideways across the open plains. They had barely made it into a small town when the tornado sirens began wailing.

“Get to the storm shelter!” Tyler shouted to the team over the howling wind.

Y/N was running beside him when something caught her eye. She stopped dead in her tracks, looking toward the edge of the street where a young golden retriever, still basically a puppy, was tied to a telephone pole barking frantically.

“Y/N, come on!” Tyler yelled, but she shook her head.

“I can’t leave him,” she shouted back, running toward the dog.

Tyler cursed under his breath and sprinted after her. “Y/N, you can’t—”

“I have to save him!” she interrupted, fumbling with the leash as the wind whipped around her, making it nearly impossible to untie the knots.

For a terrifying moment, Tyler thought they were both going to get swept away by the storm. Without thinking, he grabbed her hands and pulled them away from the leash, then used his pocket knife to cut it.

“Let’s go!” he urged, pulling her to her feet.

She scooped up the dog, and they ran together toward the storm shelter, barely making it inside before the worst of the storm hit.

Y/N collapsed against the wall, clutching the trembling dog in her arms. “Thanks,” she panted, a breathy laugh escaping her lips.

“Don’t ever do that again,” Tyler said, though his heart was still racing from fear, not anger.

She just smiled weakly in response.

||

When the storm passed, Y/N was outside, kneeling beside the dog and handing out food and water to the town’s residents who had been affected. Tyler watched her from a distance, unable to shake the fear he’d felt when he thought she wasn’t going to make it.

He walked over to her, his voice softer than usual. “That dog’s not going to let you out of his sight now.”

Y/N smiled, ruffling the dog’s fur. “He’s our new team mascot.”

Tyler crouched down beside her, his tone serious. “I was scared. I thought you weren’t going to make it. And it made me realize…I’ve been awful to you because I liked you. I was scared of how I felt.”

Y/N blinked in surprise, her cheeks flushing slightly. “You liked me?”

“Yeah,” Tyler admitted. “And I think…I think I still do.”

Y/N smiled, her voice soft. “Well it’s a good thing that I have feelings for you too, Tyler.” Tyler let out a light laugh before leaning in ever so slightly

Just as they were about to kiss, Boone appeared out of nowhere, grinning like a fool. “So, what’s the plan, lovebirds? Heading back on the road or what?”

Tyler groaned, but Y/N just laughed, the tension between them finally gone, like the storm that had just passed.

[jellyfishoreo1206]

Comfort (Sebastian Solace x reader)

Notes: Part two of Home, wanted to indulge a little more in Sebastian and Painter finally living the life they wanted. Thank you all for the love on the last one! Makes me happy to know that you guys like my short drabbles, probably or probably won't make a part three

But, we'll see ;)

Credit for the divider: @cafekitsune

God, how long were you gone for you to miss cooking? The simple preparation of the dinner you were making gave you an unbelievable amount of joy, hell even the assembly of it made you excited. You could already feel your mouth water from the multitude smells wafting throughout the home, creating a symphony of flavors. Stirring the pot one last time and tasting the soup for any last minute touches, you killed the heat before bringing out two bowls and spoons.

Peaking out the window, you see Painter at their new tablet—a wire connecting the tablet to the AI—drawing the scenery around the house with such enthusiasm, such joy seen on their screen. So far, it seems like they were drawing the sunset.

"Sebastian, dinner's ready!" Ladling the soup in the bowl, you made sure to give Sebastian's extra meat and veggies before setting it at the table. The sound of distant shuffling coming from the direction of Sebastian's room met your ears, a smile spreading across your face when you heard the curses leaving the man's mouth when he accidentally hit his tail, serving yourself soup before sitting down at the table.

Emerging from the hallway, Sebastian survey's the room, taking in every detail before heading towards the table. He changed out of his iconic jacket and ruffled shirt, now donning a clean white shirt with an added sleeve for his third arm and fresh bandages. The stitches were a bit messy, but you're willing to learn how to do so properly. His scarf was currently being washed, as the piece of clothing had a stench that was so strong it nearly made you sick—no way were you going to let that smell stain the house.

You have no idea how Sebastian withstood the smell for so long, considering he has a greater sense of smell compared to you.

Oh god, that means it must have been 10x worse for the poor man.

Considering Sebastian wouldn't be able to fit in a normal chair comfortably, you dragged over your couch to the table, that way he could eat without having to sit on his tail. You could only imagine the cramps he experienced down in the facility, cramped in a small room hours on end with no room for his tail to stretch properly. He seemed to appreciate the gesture greatly, wasting no time to stretch out his tail over the edge of the couch and getting comfortable. A quiet trill of content could be heard, his eyes closing momentarily to soak in the warmth.

"How do you feel?" Picking up your spoon, you scooped up a piece of meat and a bit of the broth, blowing on it softly before bringing it up to your mouth. A burst of flavors greeted your tastebuds, starved of the warmth and flavor of actual food, a small smile appearing on your face before eagerly going back for another scoop. Sebastian seems to mull over your question, an unreadable look settles on his face as he readjusts his position. He seems . . . unsure.

"You don't have to answer if you feel like you might breakdown breakdown thinking about it." You add, using your spoon to point in his direction, "By the way, make sure to eat your soup before it gets cold, soup is never good when cold."

"I'm not going to breakdown from a simple question." A snarky reply leaves his tongue, but it's missing that rough edge. No harm in those words.

It's . . . nice, really. Nice that he can finally be himself around you. Finally breaking down those walls.

~~~

Well, dinner was eventful to say the least.

It turns out that Sebastian had forgot what actual food tasted like, since he has been at the facility since 2015, and *cough cough* had a breakdown breakdown.

It took quite some time for him to calm down in order for him to finish eating his now cold soup, tears still streaking down his face when he did so. He didn't complain how it was cold though, he still loved it, his tail gave him away. When the bowl was empty, you encouraged him to go to bed early, since he seemed to be exhausted. Begrudgingly, he agreed with your statement, before slithering back into his room, the bumps of his tail hitting the walls on his way back.

Walking around the kitchen, you cleaned up the mess left behind. Dishes washed, counter cleaned, floor broomed. Stopping before the couch, you stared at it for a bit, mulling over whether it should be moved back to it's original place or would you have to repeatedly move it back and forth every time you had to eat.

"Well, Sebastian's going to be eating here from now on, yeah?" Leaving seems like a better option than the other two, really. Sebastian needs somewhere to eat and you're not going to make him eat on the floor. Oh god you hope you never have to do that. What time is it? A glance at the clock, 9:08 PM.

You still had some time before turning in for the night, so finishing up, you decided to chill outside with Painter for a bit before going back inside. You hope the computer doesn't mind some company, they've been outside for a while now.

"Hey Painter." Stepping outside, the summer night breeze washes over you, the smell of the wild nature hitting your nose as you walked over to the bench that Painter was set on. They seemed to have stopped painting, now just watching the night sky above, fascination written all over their screen. "Do you mind having company?'"

"No, not at all."

The stars seemed so bright tonight, leaning back more to admire it in all its beauty. Silence fell between the two of you— a breeze coming by every so often to break it—the both of you looking at the specks of light above. "You like it up here?"

A simple question sparked such a happy reaction from the AI, the brightness emitting from their screen becoming brighter. "Oh absolutely! Just after you left me outside, I saw a Flame Skimmer fly by! It seemed to circle around for a bit, but it eventually went away. Fortunately I was able to get a quick sketch of it. Oh oh! I was able to paint a few scenes while you were inside, one of them has Cumulonimbus clouds! Then-" They happily showed you their paintings and sketches they made throughout the day, enthusiasm laced in every word they spoke.

A smile present on your face, listening to their passionate rant. Maybe you could bring them to that one spot in the woods you frequented before being arrested.

Yeah, you can get used to this . . .

First Part, Next Part

[peachesofteal]

That nurse au? Devoured it and it lives in my brain rent free. If Simon and Johnny notice the bruises on Nurse do they share looks? Maybe Johnny tries to gently ask about them? I loved this so much.

Anon is referencing this. The way nurse x ghoap has spread through my brain like a flesh eating bacteria is insane. And I can't actually answer this ask because I'm writing it as a fic but I'm happy to give you a little possible snippet/glimpse/ramble down below:

The tablet in your hand chimes, drawing your attention away from the vending machine and to it's far-too-bright-for-this-ungodly-hour screen, to where it displays a status change in red.

268: 38.5 degrees.

Fuck. You abandon your sub par dinner options for nearly sprinting to the room, slowing to a walk to take long, deep breaths before your knuckles are rapping on the glass. Get control of yourself. Simon is too perceptive. He will panic. It could be nothing.

You don't even bother acknowledging your thought process there, the truth that is starting to bleed from your heart, through your body like a disease. The reason why you check on them so often, the reason why you can't stop thinking about them, even when you're off shift. The reason why, when you go home in the morning to go to bed, you drift off thinking about Johnny's sleepy smile, or Simon's voice, humming in your ears.

"Hi." You whisper when you slip inside. He straightens a bit in the armchair, but you're happy to see he's using it as a recliner now, progress from last week when he wouldn't even let himself lean backwards, or fall asleep willingly.

His brow furrows above the black mask.

"Hey, everything alright?" Shit. You're not surprised, you were just in here, after all. Spending too much time sitting in the chair opposite him, next to Johnny, on your break before your patient fell asleep.

"Yeah, I ah... have to draw some blood." You really do not want to wake him up, or alarm Simon, but you also refuse to lie to either of them. You fire off a text to the attending on call, just to advise him of Johnny's temperature and the impending labs that he can expect, before sliding a drawer open as softly as possible and pulling out everything you'll need. You can feel his gaze burning a hole in your scrubs, his ever present scrutiny impossible to escape. Sometimes you think he might be reading your fucking mind.

"He just fell asleep." He protests, and you think, you imagine, that he's frowning behind the mask. You think you almost know what it looks like, strong mouth pulled downwards in consternation, wide jaw gnashed tight.

"I know, but he's running just a bit of a fever." He jolts, and you hold up a hand in caution. "It's not too high, so I'm not super worried, but we'll need to check his white cell count, just in case okay? And then we'll go from there."

"Post op fever is common." He repeats the words you told him last week, after Johnny's second surgery, the one where they went in for the pneumothorax complication, and you nod to reassure him.

"Right. So, just going to do a quick blood draw and get it downstairs so we can find out what's going on." Simon shifts uncomfortably, but nods. You squeeze Johnny's shoulder softly, before swabbing the spot on the inside of his elbow.

He blinks, eyes opening slowly, confused brow smoothing when he looks from his partner, over to you.

"There's our girl." He mumbles softly, and your face heats, eyes widening in surprise before you regulate your reaction. Simon coughs, loudly, and you shake your head with a nervous smile.

"Such a flirt, MacTavish." You tie him fast, fingers a little more clumsy than usual, off balance from hearing him say 'our girl', like you mean something to them. "I just need to get some blood and then I'll leave you in peace." He shrugs, but Simon grabs for his hand and squeezes it.

"Ah come on, Si." He slurs, but reaches to cup Simon's cheek over the mask, rubbing a thumb over the fabric.

"You're runnin’ a fever, Johnny."

"Ach. 's nothing." He brushes it off, but you watch how his eyes are slow to track Simon's movements. You casually glance at the monitor, noting his blood pressure.

"Could be." You assure him. "But can't be too sure, so we're going to check a few labs, alright?" He nods, sleepy, already falling back under, and you pull the needle, taping a small patch of gauze over the puncture in one fell swoop. “Alright. Let me run these down, and I’ll be back up to check on you in a bit.” You turn, stripping your gloves off into the trash.

“We’ll miss ye.” He whispers, and you roll your eyes playfully, even as your stomach clenches.

Simon’s eyes don’t leave you for a single second, not until the door is shut and you’re out of sight.

[colormepurplex2]

Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop | MYG

▻ Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop ↳ ArtProfessor!Yoongi x Artist/CoffeeShopOwner!f.Reader ⤜ Strangers to Lovers, Cozy Romance ⤜ Coffee Shop/Art AU | fluff, smut ⤜ Rating: MA ⤜ WC: 8,028 ⤜ Summary: It’s like clockwork; you receive the same online order every weekday morning at eight o’clock: large decaf iced Americano, picked up promptly shortly after. His face has become familiar, as a part of your routine as the hiss of the espresso machine. Until, one day, that routine takes an unexpected turn, and you find yourself getting familiar with more than just his face. ⚠️ Very mild language, panic over student/teacher potential date (reader is a student, but she's the same age as Yoongi, just taking classes later in life than most), oral m receiving, fingering, kissing, mild dirty talk, cum swallowing, confessions of the heart

A/N: This is part of my 'Heartbeat Melodies' mini-series, where I write fics that are inspired by songs. If you'd like to hear the song that inspired this, you can find it here! A special thank you to @downbad4yoongi & @moonleeai for their amazing beta services!

Can also be found on: Ao3 | Wattpad

“Large decaf iced Americano,” you call out, barely glancing up from behind the counter.

A deep, familiar drawl pulls your attention, “That would be mine.” It’s only familiar for the fact you’ve heard that voice nearly every day for the last six months.

Your eyes snap up from the tablet, where the next online order has come through, to meet warm brown ones. “I should have known,” you reply before you can think better to bite your tongue. Heat suffuses your cheeks. You pull your lips between your teeth to stifle the groan of embarrassment that begs to be released.

The man chuckles, absently using a knuckle to push up the hornrimmed glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know if I should be offended or honored by that comment. But, I guess I do come here a lot.”

Nearly every day for the last six months, at least. That’s how often he comes here—to your coffee shop. It’s tiny, barely big enough for a handful of small tables and chairs. But it’s yours, and you’re proud of it.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to seem…” you trail off. Not sure how to finish that thought because you’re not entirely sure how you meant it or why you said it other than the fact you’re a bit frazzled this morning and apparently forgot your mouth filter at home. It was a late night last night for you. It's not an excuse, but still.

He waves a large hand in the air, dismissing your apology. “Please, it’s quite alright. I’ll take it as flattery; could use a little boost to my confidence anyhow.”

That almost makes you sputter in disbelief. There’s absolutely no way this man needs any flattery. Surely, he comes by it in droves. Because, well, he’s honestly so gorgeous it should be criminal.

His hair is fluffy, somewhere between charcoal grey and black, though the warm lighting of your cafe gives it a golden honey halo effect. The eyes behind his black-rimmed glasses are dark swirls of espresso that match his coffee order—a straight nose sitting above soft, pink lips that have a light glossy sheen to them.

As usual, he’s wearing a pressed slack and jacket combo, a cream-colored collared shirt underneath with a bold print tie. His choice of ties is what drew you to him in the first place, and made you pay a little closer attention to the mysterious man behind the large decaf iced Americano.

You clear your throat, daring to be bold, while it seems you’ve no filter to stop you. “Well, if you ever need further flattery, you know where to find me.” It’s clear that you give him an assessing once over, his eyes locked onto yours as you do so.

“Do you paint?”

The question throws you off, nearly making you drop the tablet in your hands. Your fingers flex against the case, your thumb brushing along the glass screen. Busying yourself with reviewing the next order on the screen, you turn, giving him your back as you decide how to answer his random question. You’ve never actually had a conversation with him; this man that you feel like you know yet is a complete stranger.

“Why do you ask?” you deflect as you go through the motions of scooping grinds and swapping out the portafilter for a freshly filled one. However, you know it’s not always polite to answer a question with a question; you’re just not sure how to decipher his curiosity or where it came from to begin with.

The bell above the door rings, and you wince as the espresso machine gurgles and hisses loudly as you mechanically pop a cup in the machine and hit the brew button. The noise fills the quiet space of the coffee shop. It’s not until the cup is filled, you’ve added two lumps of sugar, and you’re grabbing a lid that the man responds.

“There’s paint under your fingernails. Or, at least, what I would guess is paint.”

Glancing down at the cup in your hand, you take in the colorful myriad of flecks coating your skin. The colors fill the grooves of your knuckles and hug around the bed of your nails.

“Double espresso with two sugars,” you announce, ripping your gaze from your hand to the interior space of your cafe. A woman steps around the man, giving you a hurried smile as she holds out her hand to receive the cup. You hand it off. “Have a good day.”

Giving the cafe's inside a quick glance, you ensure all the customers within are taken care of. A college student is busy pounding away at their laptop keyboard in the corner, utilizing your free wifi. A half-empty cup of hot cocoa sits cold and abandoned beside them. A trio of friends sit at your only table big enough to seat more than two people, laughing softly and sipping hot lattes and teas. No one seems to need your attention; except the man still standing there, large decaf iced Americano in hand.

You lick your lips, a nervous habit you picked up after endless stressful nights pouring your heart, soul, blood, sweat, and tears into opening the small cafe. Most believed it would flop; others rallied to your side and helped your dream come true.

“Look, sorry if I’ve overstepped somehow,” he begins, but you shake your head, letting him know he’s not.

Gesturing at the wall behind the man, you finally answer, “In my spare time.”

He glances over his shoulder, eyes zigzagging across the giant unfinished mural covering the windowless back wall of the cafe.

“That?” he asks. “You’re painting that?”

It’s hard to decipher if that’s disbelief or awe coloring his voice.

“I am,” you answer a bit hesitantly.

“Wow!” he exclaims, a giant grin spreading across his face, crinkling his eyes at the corners. “I’ve been meaning to ask after the artist every time I come in and see something new added, I just uh,” he brings his free hand up and rubs it across the back of his neck, eyes dropping to the floor under his feet, “well, could never bring myself to.” It’s pretty, the way his cheeks take on a flush of color as his eyes cut to you from over the frame of his glasses. “It’s wonderful work.”

“Thank you.” You can’t help your own flush of shyness at his praise.

“So, uh,” he lifts his cup and gives it a swirl, the ice sloshing around inside, before taking a small sip through the straw, “I know you probably see it on the order, but for the sake of propriety, my name’s Yoongi.”

Min Yoongi, to be more precise, you know. It’s a name you’ve read so many times it’s ingrained in your mind. However, it’s still nice for him to offer it to you. Willingly establishing your connection one step further than his coffee order.

You feel so silly tapping the name tag on the front of your apron, but you do it before you can think better of it, mumbling your name as if he can’t read it for himself after you brought direct attention to it. “Sorry, I’m not normally so weird,” you give a shaky laugh, willing yourself to shut up before you chase him off from how awkward you’re being.

Something changes in his demeanor, his eyes taking on a light twinkle that sits somewhere between mischief and wonder. “I like weird,” he offers casually as if that doesn’t make your stomach swoop and your heart beat a little harder. “Maybe we can talk more about your art sometime. Maybe over dinner? Or lunch if dinner is too forward.”

If you were a cartoon, you’re confident your tongue would actually be tied into a jumbled knot right now with you frantically trying to talk around it, a comical scene for sure. Yet, there is no knot, just a thick feeling that you have to swallow past. “Um, yeah, sure. That would be great. Dinner…or uh, lunch. Both. Either one. Though, dinner might be better considering my hours.”

Yoongi glances at the vinyl hours printed on the front window by the door. They’re backward from his vantage point, but you assume he has no issue reading them, considering he turns back to you and asks, “How does seven work for you?”

“Tonight?” The beating of your heart lurches again, and you can barely hear him over the rushing in your ears.

“Yeah, if that’s not too soon. Perhaps next week, if that’s better? I don’t want to come on too strong. Or well, rather, what I mean to say is, don’t feel pressured.” You can tell he’s feeling hesitant now, trying to backtrack and offer you a way to politely decline his offer for dinner tonight. You didn’t mean to come off sounding so put out. You just weren’t expecting his request to be for tonight.

Mentally, you dig through your schedule. You’re not closing today. Marvin comes in at noon to help with the lunch rush, and then you leave at four to make it to your five o’clock class. It would be today of all days that your new art class starts. It’s the beginning of the fall semester at the local university, and you just so happened to decide to take a few art classes they were offering, the first of which starts tonight.

The class should only be around an hour long, with plenty of time to get home and change before the date. Is it a date? Or just strangers getting together to talk about art? Isn’t that what a date is anyway, though?

“Seven. Tonight. That would be great.”

“Okay, perfect. Can I pick you up? Or we can meet here if that works better.”

It’s endearing he’d offer, both picking you up and meeting in a familiar place. Considering you live above the coffee shop, though, it makes no difference. Though, he doesn’t necessarily know that.

“Here is fine.”

“Wonderful. Have you tried that steak house on the corner yet?”

“The new one that opened last week?” He nods. “I haven’t, no.”

“Perfect.” Yoongi smiles. “Here, at seven. Consider it a date.” His smile falters, and his brows pinch, forming a line between them. “Not that I…well, it’s not that…it doesn’t have to be…if you don’t want this to be a date, that’s—”

“It’s a date,” you confirm, giving him what you hope to be a warm smile to ease his mild panic. “I’ll see you then, Yoongi.”

“See you then,” he responds, tacking your name on at the end in his deep drawl. The way it sounds coming from his mouth should be added to one of those spicy erotica audiobooks you may or may not have downloaded on your phone.

Just as Yoongi is leaving, it’s like the world finally takes a breath, and the exhalation that follows brings with it a rush of early morning commuters seeking their morning fix. The everyday bustle and hubbub of the day filter back in, and you’re soon lost to the sway of the shop, coffee, tea, and cocoa. It all comes alive beneath your nimble fingers, much reminiscent of the way holding a brush makes you feel: a thrill of the soul with each pour.

☕☕☕

Yoongi

In all Yoongi’s years of teaching, he’s never been late to a class, especially on the first day of the semester. Yet, he’s nearly fifteen minutes late getting into his classroom this morning. Students are already filled in and scattered around the theatre-style seating. No one says anything. It’s far too early in the morning for smart mouths and snarky remarks about his tardiness. Not that he would expect that from any of the students anyway.

“Good morning, welcome to Art 320. I’m Professor Min.” He drops his bag and coffee off on his podium at the front of the classroom. Turning to the large chalkboard behind it, he scrawls his name to the side and then begins to write directions. “We will begin with Chapter 1, ‘Mediums and Forms’, in your textbook. Please read quietly, and I’ll be with you all in a moment.”

The day goes on, class after class, and the familiar monotony of it brings Yoongi a sense of peace. This is familiar territory; he’s in his element, not like this morning in the coffee shop. He felt totally out of control and swept up in the swirl of uncertainties and possibilities.

To say he’s relieved you agreed to go to dinner with him would be an understatement. From the moment he decided to change up his routine to check out the cafe Namjoon wouldn’t shut up about, he’s been hooked not only on the impeccable decaf iced Americano, nor the beautifully decorated and painted interior but on the smiling face behind the counter.

Yoongi feels a bit self-conscious thinking about how much he thinks about you. He’s always been too intimidated by the idea of speaking more than a few passing words to you. It’s like every time he gathered up the courage, it would abandon him at the last moment. Namjoon calls it a crush, Yoongi calls it frustrating.

The whole conversation this morning is a bit of a blur to him. Yoongi swears once he opened his mouth it was nearly impossible to stop the word vomit from gushing out…and the next thing he knew, you were agreeing to a date with him tonight.

The day's last class rolls around, and Yoongi feels much lighter as he steps out of his adjoining office and into the classroom to welcome the new students. A few offer him quiet hello’s, some he’s seen from other art classes he’s monitored across the entire department and fine arts program. 

Turning his back as the last few students filter in, he makes the same spiel he has at the beginning of every class. “Good morning, welcome to Art 320. I’m Professor Min…”

And so it begins, the beautiful dance of teaching and introducing fresh minds to the concept of forms and mediums. Yoongi is sure he could recite the entirety of Chapter 1 from memory now, with as many times as he’s gone over it today.

“What if you decide you don’t like your form or medium halfway through the project?” a student from the front row asks after Yoongi explains the medium and forms requisite for the final project for this class.

“We’re going to spend plenty of time during the first part of the semester testing out different mediums to know which best suits each of your individual tastes and needs. Regarding the form, I recommend choosing something you most likely won’t tire of. Something that means something to you but also isn’t so complex that you frustrate yourself and burn out before you can complete the project. You’re welcome to, at any time, bring me an idea of the form you’re considering, and we can talk about the intricacies and any potential issues that might arise with using it.”

Another question comes from somewhere in the middle, “Can we choose people, too?”

“A form can be anything that inspires you. If that happens to be a person, then of course. However, note that portraiture isn’t covered until Art 322, but I’ll do my best to help if that’s what you choose.” Yoongi glances at the clock, noticing there are only a few minutes left of class. “Let’s take the last few minutes to wind down, pack your things. If you have any further questions concerning your final project forms and mediums, please don’t hesitate to email me. Also, my office hours are open Tuesdays and Thursdays from two to six.”

As Yoongi turns to begin putting his things away from his podium, his eyes slide across the faces of his last class students, trying to cram them into his mind for the sake of remembering. He always likes to be as personable and approachable to his students as possible; knowing names and faces is always a good place to start.

He has to do a double take as his eyes flick over the very top row. The shock is felt throughout his entire body. It’s not that he’s surprised to see a face he already knows. It’s just that he wasn’t expecting it…wasn’t expecting to see you. Mild panic makes him jerk around, hands gripping at the papers on his podium, shuffling them mechanically.

The first thought that crosses his mind is he can’t possibly be going on a date with one of his students. Surely you’re just here to…to what? He turns over one of the papers, quickly scanning his roster that he hadn’t bothered to check yet. It doesn’t take long for his eyes to snag on your name.

Unease settles across his shoulders. He hates to cancel the date, as he was really looking forward to it, but it’s just…not right, right? There’s a line he shouldn’t cross with his students, even one who he is sure is his age and not the typical college freshman. Yoongi knows this because maybe, perhaps, he might have spent his lunch hour googling you and the cafe. You’re in your early thirties, given the birth year that was viewable on one of your social media pages, and own the coffee shop, have for several years now…a full-ass grown adult—the perfect person to date.

Except now you’re his student. There’s some moral code there somewhere, something about the skewed power dynamic. The thought of going on this date should have red flags flashing in his mind. Yet…yet, no matter how much he tells himself to cancel, he honestly doesn’t want to. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt that much, right? A harmless date.

That’s what he’s still telling himself as he dismisses the class a few minutes later. He intentionally avoided looking in your direction, unsure if you’d be comfortable with him acknowledging you as one of his students or not.

Much to his surprise, as the bubble of sound dissipates, a soft voice reaches his ears from a few feet behind him, “Fancy meeting you here.”

Yoongi has been so consumed with his own feelings about going on a date with a student that he hasn’t even thought about how you might feel. Are you about to cancel on him? Does he try to convince you not to?

He slowly turns, the stack of papers clutched in his hands, glasses slipping down his nose, yet he doesn’t want to pry his fingers from the bundle to fix them. “Look, I understand if you’d rather not—”

“I’m fine as long as you are.”

He’s relieved for your interruption, for keeping him from saying those words out loud. “Are you sure? If I had known this morning that you’d be one of my students…” he trails off, because he’s not so sure that would have stopped him after all. Considering he’s wanted to ask you out for at least the last four months.

“I’m glad you asked me. Student or not. I promise not to make it weird if you don’t.” You give him a brilliant smile, coy and full of mirth but light enough to make his heart jerk inside his chest.

“No weirdness, got it,” he agrees, unable to help his own teasing smile.

“So, I’ll see you then?” you ask, hefting your canvas bag on your shoulder. His eyes flick to it, noting the splashes and swirls of fabric paint that cover the outside. Yoongi wonders if you painted it yourself.

He nods, letting his eyes drink you in one last time before you turn to go. You’re still wearing the same jeans and thin cable knit sweater from the coffee shop this morning. Even in such casual clothes, you are stunning. A work of art all your own. He doesn’t stop staring until the door to his classroom shuts behind you.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath. It’s not out of irritation or anger, just an acknowledgement of how truly and utterly he’s got it down bad for you.

☕☕☕

Seven can’t come soon enough. It only took you thirty minutes to get ready, putting on a simple black dress and flats. It’s not too fancy, but it makes you feel far more put together than just jeans and a t-shirt.

At five til, you make your way down into the coffee shop from your upstairs apartment. All of the main overhead lights are off, leaving only the warm accent lights that line the menu board and the display case lights on. Even now, the space smells delightedly of coffee.

It’s kind of funny, the fact that you’re not a coffee drinker. Everyone finds it odd that someone who doesn’t drink coffee would aspire to open a coffee shop. What they fail to realize is you love the smell of coffee. The warm, roasted, mildly sweet notes are what you thrive on, better than any shot of espresso in your mind.

There is a street lamp right outside your shop, flooding the sidewalk with a pool of yellow light. Standing just within the glow is Yoongi, his back to the shop door. You watch as his head swivels, looking down both directions of the sidewalk, completely unaware that you’ll be coming from behind him instead.

The sound of the lock turning over startles him. He jerks around and laughs softly, taking a step back, hand to his chest, as you pull the door open. “Can’t say I expected you to come from inside the cafe.”

“I would have been down sooner had I known you would be a bit early,” you say, locking the door behind you. “I probably should have given you my number or something.”

Yoongi eyes you, his gaze sliding up and down your body like he’s drinking you in. You hope he likes what he sees. “I think I was so excited about the date that I forgot even to ask,” he admits, giving you a sheepish smile when his eyes finally land back on yours. “You look,” —he gives you another quick once over, shaking his head and sinking his teeth into his bottom lip— “gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” you preen under his praise. “You look quite handsome, yourself.”

You’re not just saying that to return the compliment, either. Yoongi is wearing the same thing he was this morning, except the tie is loosened, and the top button of his shirt is undone, giving you the slightest peek at his prominent jugular notch.

“Shall we?” he asks, offering you his arm.

You slip your hand into the bend of his elbow, falling into step beside him. The walk to the steak house is short, just enough for pleasant exchanges. He asks how your day at the coffee shop went, and you ask after his first day of classes. Neither of you bring up the fact that you were part of one of those classes.

“I’ve been meaning to check this place out. I’ve heard excellent things.”

Yoongi hums, nodding his head at your words. “I’ve also heard good things, though it might perhaps be biased considering all the praise I’ve heard has come from the owner himself.”

“You’ve spoken with the owner?”

“He’s one of my best friends, actually. This will be the first time I try it out. I kept telling him I’d stop by, but it always got away from me.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up. “I can’t believe you know Seokjin.”

“Wait, you know Seokjin?” Yoongi asks, surprised.

“I’d say know is a relative term. We get deliveries from the same produce truck. He tried to take my apples one time. I had to set him straight.” That makes Yoongi laugh along with you. “We chat sometimes, mostly about the quality of produce and the best places to get ingredients. I had no idea he was your friend.”

“Small world,” Yoongi says. His smile is warm and inviting. You’re sure you could get lost in it if he’d let you. It makes you wonder what his lips taste like. They have a slight sheen to them like they did this morning. Cherry chapstick? Maybe mint? A nice subtle vanilla?

You’re not sure the last time you laughed so hard you had tears in your eyes. But Yoongi has your sides in stitches and your cheeks aching from smiling and laughing so much during dinner.

“Oh gosh,” you wheeze between fits of giggling, clutching your stomach. “Ow, ow. Don’t make me laugh again. I can’t take it.” It just makes you laugh even more, the huffs trailing off as Yoongi reaches across the table toward you.

You pry your hands from your abdomen and slide them into his. His fingers are warm against yours, his thumbs rubbing across the backs of your knuckles. It’s a gesture he’s done several times tonight, silently asking for your hands any chance he could.

“Sorry, you just have such a beautiful laugh,” he says. “I could listen to it all day.”

His flattery hasn’t stopped. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think the two glasses of wine he had with dinner were going to his head. But, he speaks so assuredly and looks in your eyes like you’re truly something special.

Feeling so intimately connected with someone you barely know might be absurd. Yet, you can’t help but feel drawn to him. If you’re being honest, the attraction started long ago, and tonight has just made it blossom into something so much more.

Yoongi has been the perfect gentleman. He’s not tried to railroad the conversation or make decisions for you like other guys you’ve gone on dates with. Whenever a server approached the table, he would defer to you and your needs before his.

“You’ve been so wonderful to me tonight. Please let me repay you with coffee and dessert. If you’re up for it.”

Yoongi squeezes both your hands before letting them go and sitting back in his chair. “There is no need to ‘repay’ me,” he says, emphasizing the word repay. “But, I wouldn’t say no to a date after this date, say in fifteen minutes, coffee and dessert?”

“Fifteen minutes? Coffee and dessert?” You give him a thoughtful look, tapping your fingers against your chin. “Hmm. I think I’m available.” You both break into more fits of soft laughter, contrasting so highly to the high energy from before; it’s intimate, if laughing can be such a thing.

It’s easy being with Yoongi; he’s attentive and curious. “What made you want to open a coffee shop?” he asks as you unlock the door to the cafe.

“I liked the idea of having a space that could cater to people from all walks of life. Businessmen in a hurry? Get it to go. Students needing a place to study? I have a quiet corner for that. College professor looking for his daily decaf Americao fix? Would you look at that? I got that covered, too.” You usher him inside, closing and locking the door behind you. “It also doubles as a great place to have a private coffee and dessert date after a lovely dinner date.”

You watch as Yoongi looks around the cozy space, his attention ending on the mural wall. “What’s your favorite kind of coffee?”

“Would it be weird if I said I don’t like coffee?” you ask.

He glances at you from over his shoulder. “Really?”

You shrug. “I love the way it smells, though.”

“Acrylic?” Yoongi asks, nodding toward the mural.

“Good eye,” you assess, stepping behind the counter to start making the coffee. You grab two pecan cinnamon twirls from the dry storage where you keep extra treats to take up to your apartment at the end of each shift and pop them into the small convection oven along the back wall. “You teach art, but it might be presumptuous of me to assume you also create. So, do you?”

“Not nearly as much as I’d like to. Pastels and charcoal are my favorites to work with. I like the mildly messy, chaotic feel of them. There are few things better than the feeling of taking something so uncontrolled and turning it into a thing of beauty.”

“Charcoal, huh?” Your mind instantly goes to the framed collection of pieces you have in your apartment upstairs. “I can appreciate that.”

“Maybe I can show you sometime.” Yoongi turns from his appreciation of your mural to watch you work behind the counter. He gestures to a few frames hung up on either side of the giant menu on the wall. “Arfé, right?”

You glance up, moving with automated motions to load the portafilter into the espresso machine. “Oh,” you laugh. “Yeah. An experiment. I wanted to try something new and needed some new decor. I thought it was appropriately on theme.”

The half-dozen pieces are all made with swirls of various shades in brown and tan and depict a mix of cups, mugs, bags of grinds, lumps of sugar, and piles of roasted coffee beans.

“Very appropriate. They’re lovely. You’re an exceptional artist.” You’ve lost count of the amount of compliments Yoongi has paid you tonight. You might have been the one flattering him this morning, but it seems he’s making up for that now.

“Thank you. Truly. That means a lot coming from you.” The hiss of the brew machine fills the air, and the soft gurgle of espresso trickling into the small mug follows. “One decaf Americano for one of my best customers,” you say, carefully carrying the steaming cup over to a table beside Yoongi. “Please, sit.”

Yoongi settles at the table, bringing the cup of coffee up to his nose and giving it an appreciative sniff. “Wonderful,” he murmurs before taking a tentative sip. “Thank you, that hits the spot.”

“If you think the Americano is good, wait until you try this,” you say, scooping the twirls out of the oven and onto a plate. They’re perfectly warm and gooey. “You’ve never tried any of our pastries, have you?”

You sit across from him. The table is small enough that you could reach out and cup his cheek if you wanted, and set the plate on the table before Yoongi. He whistles low, “Wow, these do look amazing. Maybe I’ll become a pecan twirl and coffee guy every morning instead.”

Your eyes track his movements, watching as his fingers pinch and slightly sink into the edges of one of the twirls. Some of the warm glaze and cinnamon sugar filling squishes from between the layers.

Yoongi’s lips part and the tip of his tongue peaks over his bottom teeth as he brings the pastry up to take a bite. The moan he lets out surprises you both. His eyes flutter before landing on you and going wide. He chews methodically, his gaze not leaving yours. His tongue darts out, swiping over his lips before he swallows.

“Well?” you ask, settling your elbows on the table and leaning into him, expectant.

The smile that tugs at his lips is coy. “Might be one of the best things I’ve ever put in my mouth.” There is a heat in his gaze as his eyes search yours. “What other surprises do you have up your proverbial sleeve for me?”

“Now, if I told you, they wouldn’t be surprises anymore, would they?”

That makes him laugh. “Fair point. You know,” he glances around the coffee shop, “I never knew just what it was about this coffee shop I loved so much, but I think I’ve figured it out.”

“Yeah?” you say, feeling positively giddy.

“Mhm. So,” he mirrors your pose across the table, his elbows nearly touching your own, fingers toying with yours where they’re folded in the air in front of your face, “is it too soon to ask you on a second date?”

“I thought this was our second date.” You raise a teasing eyebrow, a smile quirking on your lips.

“A third then,” he offers, eyes hopeful.

Of course, you want to say yes. And in the spirit of trying to be coy and playful, you lean in with the full intent of showing him instead of telling him how much you want to go on another date.

Yoongi’s eyes flicker to your lips, watching as you deliberately lick them as you lean in a bit closer. Acceptance lies within their dark depths, a flash of hunger at the impending response that’s only a breath away.

As you advance, your elbows slide on the table, accidentally knocking the coffee cup. Liquid goes everywhere; it floods over the table and pours off the side…right into Yoongi’s lap.

“Oh fuck!” you yell, jumping up from the table and rushing around to his side. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay? Do I need to call an ambulance? Does it burn?”

Yoongi pushes back from the table, holding his arms up off his lap as he assesses the mess. “No harm done. It was already cooled off. It's just a bit of a mess, that’s all. I’m fine,” he laughs. “Truly, I promise. Do you have any towels or anything?”

“Oh god, your shirt, it’s going to stain,” you lament, staring at the dark splotch soaking through above his trousers. “Towels? Yes. Yes. Okay. And some baking soda. Come on, let’s hurry. Again, I’m so sorry!”

“Should we clean this up first?” he asks, motioning at the coffee-covered floor.

“I can mop in the morning. Please,” you fret, guilt making you a bit frantic and flustered.

Yoongi lets you lead him up the stairs in the back that go to your apartment. “You live here?” he questions. “No wonder you were coming out of the coffee shop earlier. That’s very cool.”

You make a noncommittal sound. “It’s cool if you like the smell of coffee and don’t mind rising early every day to open shop.”

It’s so hard to think right now, your mind solely focused on cleaning up the mess you’ve made of Yoongi’s clothes. That’s what you get for trying to be sly and answer his date question with a kiss. You’ll be lucky if he still wants that date now, surely.

The bathroom is barely big enough for the two of you. You insist Yoongi sit on the lip of the tub while you dig under the sink for the baking soda that you use for cleaning and removing your own coffee stains.

“Hey,” Yoongi says softly, grabbing your attention. You glance at him over your shoulder, bottom lip clamped between your teeth in an effort not to fall apart entirely. “I promise it’s okay, alright? You don’t have to stress over it. It’s just an accident. It's a pretty funny one if you ask me. If I’d have known we were getting wet on the first—I mean, second date, I would have planned accordingly.”

His words hang between you, full of static and charged with intention. He’s trying to lighten the mood…and it’s working. It’s also making you feel a certain kind of way. Words shouldn’t have the power to do that. Yet, here you are, flustered for a whole different reason now.

“Date’s not over yet,” you respond, unsure where the bold attitude came from, but you’ll take it. His eyes flicker with something like surprise mixed with desire, though it’s gone before you can really be sure. “Do you mind?” You gesture to his shirt. “It’ll be easier if I can soak it in the sink.”

Slowly, Yoongi undoes the buttons on his shirt, starting at the top and working his way down. Somehow, you weren’t expecting him to be naked underneath, but every open button reveals another swath of flesh. He shrugs out of the shirt, revealing a toned chest and taut belly. His nipples are hard, dark chips, standing out in contrast to his smooth, creamy skin. Yoongi is absolutely breathtaking.

In fact, you have to remind yourself to breathe, taking in a large lungful of air that’s so much it makes your chest ache. He holds the shirt out to you in offering. Your fingers tremble lightly as you take it, quickly turning back to the sink and the distraction of scrubbing at the stain.

Reading over the garment tag quickly, you make sure what you’re about to do is okay. You can feel Yoongi’s eyes on your back, like heated dagger points pricking beneath your skin. You turn on the water, letting the tap run until it’s hot, before quickly swishing the area of the shirt covered in coffee under it. The hot water alone makes a world of difference, the dark liquid swirling away down the drain.

“Do you want my pants, too?” Yoongi asks, startling you.

Your eyes flick up to the mirror, looking at him through the reflection. He’s talking to you, but his attention is zeroed in on your backside. Suddenly, you’re intimately aware that your dress has ridden up dangerously high. You can feel the cool air of the bathroom kissing the crease between your thigh and asscheek.

Turning off the water, you slowly turn to face him. Your chest rises and falls as you try to take deep, even breaths, but with the way your heart is revving inside, it’s impossible to do so. “Let’s see the damage,” you say lightly, raising an eyebrow in question, giving him a chance to call you off.

When he doesn’t comment further, you close the distance to where he’s sitting and ease down onto your knees. You mentally tell yourself it’s so you can get a better look at the coffee that’s saturating the dark fabric, but you know better than that.

Being so close to him, you can feel the heat of his body. His chest rises and falls as rapidly as yours, and when you look up and meet his gaze, there is no mistaking the fire that you see blazing there. “Don’t think I forgot you still haven’t answered my question,” he murmurs, lips barely moving as he watches you.

You lift a hand, hooking your index finger under his chin and using it to angle his face toward yours. “I’d love that,” you respond, your lips brushing over his with every syllable.

He kisses you. Or maybe you kiss him. It’ll be something you tease each other over for many years to come. You open yourself to him, welcoming the glide of his tongue against yours. The kiss tastes mildly of coffee, yet for the first time in your life, you don’t mind the flavor.

“For me to take my pants off, or the date?” he teases, alternating between nipping and consuming kisses. Yoongi’s hands frame your face, holding you to him as he continues to ravage your mouth.

“Mm, both,” you manage to get out. “Definitely both.” Sliding your hands down his torso, you marvel at the softness of his skin and the already very prominent bulge that your fingers dance over as you try to get a grip on the button to his slacks.

Yoongi breaks away from the kiss long enough to help you with his pants, standing up from the edge of the tub and bringing you up with him. He toes off his shoes, leaving his pants puddled on top of them. “Good answer,” he chuckles.

You let out a tiny squeal as he wraps his hands around the backs of your thighs and hauls you up, your legs automatically winding around his waist. Thick erection pressed right against your panty-covered pussy, he slowly walks you out of the bathroom and into your adjoining room. You land on the bed with a soft oomph, Yoongi following you down. His weight is a comfort, settled over your body in a warm, hedonistic embrace.

“I’ll change classes,” you pant, flexing your hips against his. “As long as our next date is to an art gallery.”

“Is it weird for that to turn me on?” he responds, groaning as you roll your hips against him again. “The art part, not the dropping classes part. You don’t have to do that if it’s too much trouble. I know your schedule must be pretty set with the cafe.”

You press your hands against his chest, giving him a gentle push until he’s rolling over and you’re hovering over him. “I’ll make it work. I want to make it work. Everything tonight,” you pause and sit back on your heels, dragging your hands along his torso as you do, “I want more. You’re driving me crazy in the best of ways.”

“Says the woman who’s been running through my thoughts for the last several months now.” Yoongi’s lips part in a gasp, turning his last word into a breathly plea as you trace the tips of your fingers over his straining erection. The fabric of his grey boxer briefs is slightly sticky when you brush your thumb over the head.

“It reminds me of making art,” you casually say, curling your fingers over the waistband of his underwear and tugging until he lifts his hips and lets you drag them down. You toss them to the side, marveling at the glory now resting against his belly. Yoongi’s cock is a gentle upward curve, all smooth steel and thick veins. It throbs, bouncing against his stomach, leaving behind a thick smear of precum. “The way you make me feel.”

“Art?” he asks, breathless. His eyes flutter behind his glasses, his chest hollowing as he sucks in ragged breaths.

“Being with you gives me the same feeling as viewing a Duncanson or a Matisse, calm and full of joy. Though, you can also make me feel the chaos of a Kandinsky when you touch me.” To emphasize your words, you wrap your fingers around his girth, angling it up, watching the emotions on his face. The tip of his tongue works at the corner of his mouth, lips parted with every pant and soft moan. “Is this okay?” you ask, leaning down and gently blowing over the leaking tip before tentatively giving it a kitten lick.

“More than,” Yoongi moans. His eye slide closed as you wrap your lips around the head and suck. The flavor of him bursts across your tongue. You can’t help but moan yourself at the idea you’ve made him like this, hard and leaking.

Working as much of his cock into your mouth as you can, you delight in the shuddering convulses you can feel from his body as he loses himself in the sensations you’re bringing him. Yoongi always seems like such a collected individual. He still appeared so well-kept even when he stuttered over his words asking you on the date this morning. Now, though, he’s unraveling into a puddle of debauchery.

It’s a satisfying feeling, similar to when you get into a perfect rhythm when working on a project, bringing him to the edge. You work your mouth and hand in tandem, never leaving an inch of his cock free of your touch.

“Mmm,” you moan, the head of his cock resting in the back of your throat. Yoongi jerks under you, half raising onto his elbows, his eyes zeroing in on where you’re wrapped around him.

His fingers twist into the duvet, bottom lip puffy and flushed as he worries it with his teeth. “I’m going to cum,” he grunts, throwing his head back and moaning his pleasures, deep and throaty.

You quicken your pace, hollowing your cheeks as you suck in earnest. Yoongi cries out a second before liquid warmth floods your mouth. It’s greedy, the way you swallow and continue to lave your tongue over him, eliciting tiny tremors and more moans.

“Just like art,” you whisper, finally letting his cock slip from between your lips. You’re riding your own high, wet and throbbing between your thighs. You can feel the ache in your clit, begging to be touched. All it would take is a few seconds, a few well-placed swirls of your fingers, and you know you’d be floating in orgasmic bliss.

Before you can even think of bringing your hand between your thighs to find relief, Yoongi is sitting up and urging you backward. Your back hits the mattress, and he settles on his side beside you. Somewhere between there and here, he pulled off his glasses. Despite having just found his release, his eyes are still so full of hunger and desire.

“May I?” he asks, pressing a hand against your inner thigh. You nod, eyes locked with his as he slowly trails his hand upward until his fingers brush over the soaked fabric of your panties. “You are so beautiful,” he whispers, leaning in to capture your mouth in a languid kiss. Your lids flutter closed, consumed as you are by his touch.

Yoongi takes his time, toying with the edge of your panties before tugging them down past your knees. They pool around your ankles as he pushes your thighs apart, exposing your weeping pussy to the air of the bedroom.

“Yoongi.” His name is half moan, half curse as he brings his hand back up and cups your heat. The meat of his palm rests against your clit, right where you need to be touched, but the pressure isn’t enough to satisfy.

“An exquisite work of art.” His lips strum against yours, plucking and teasing just the way his fingers do through your wetness. The tips of his fingers briefly kiss your clit, dancing away before returning; a slow build of decadent pleasure.

It’s not above you to beg. “Please. Yoongi, please!”

“Open your eyes, look at me. Let me watch you fall apart so I can brand it into my memory.”

You snap open your eyes the exact moment he slides two slender fingers into your pussy, thumb finally giving the needed pressure to your clit. You’re so worked up that your body pulses around the intrusion, a tiny fluttering orgasm rippling through you.

“Fuck,” you whimper.

Yoongi gives you a wicked, knowing smile. “It’s not over yet, beautiful,” he assures you in a whispered promise.

His fingers are long, able to reach the perfect, special place inside you. As he strokes his fingertips, moving them in an undulating wave, his thumb swirls in a circle around your clit.

The next orgasm is less surprising, building to a heightened peak that has you crying out as you careen over the edge, entirely at Yoongi’s mercy. “Yoongi, fuck!” you babble, your whole body alive with sensations of pleasure.

“That’s it,” he coaxes. “So beautiful.”

Your body shudders around his hand, his fingers slowing down their rhythm until you finally recover. The slide of his fingers along your walls as he withdraws makes you wish he’d put them back in…or maybe something else. The bereft feeling lasts only a moment before Yoongi gathers you into his arms. He’s completely naked, and you’re still wearing your dress, but you feel just as exposed as he is…only, it’s your soul on display for him instead of your body.

You wait for the feeling of vulnerability to filter in, that broken feeling of uncertainty. But, it doesn’t come. The only thing you feel is complete and utter content. It’s not even the post-orgasmic bliss that’s clouding it, either. No, there’s plenty of that, but it feels different; he feels different.

“Yoongi,” you begin, resting your cheek on his chest. You want to confess to him, but the words get choked in your throat. Is it too soon? Are you completely crazy? What if he doesn’t feel the same way? Fuck. Here goes nothing. “This feels good, really good. Is it too soon to say…?”

“Too soon to say?” he prompts.

You absently trace haphazard swirls and lines across his chest, trying to think of how to word it. “I, well…”

“Too soon to say that I think possibly, maybe, I’m falling for you?” You look up at him, surprised by his words. Yoongi looks at you with so much warmth and affection in his eyes. “Because that’s exactly how I feel, too.”

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️   2023-12-30 ColorMePurplex2

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Bittersweet 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc. 

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU 

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk. 

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you. 

Summary: Your startup business catches the eye of a powerful rival.

Character: Loki Laufeyson

Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved.

It’s baking day. Your kitchen is stolid with the heat of the oven and the treats cooling on the counter. Your apartment has been converted into a pseudo chocolate factory; though you wouldn’t claim Wonka’s glory. You are certain to keep to food-safe standards however and so your morning began with sanitization, another two hours on top of a long day. 

It’s a few weeks out to the next show; a local festival that hosts all sorts of local shops, though the biggest attraction are the musical acts. Even so, you’re hustling as best as you can. You spent a portion of the baking show profit to get a kiosk in the mall for the holiday weekend. It’s a big deal, you expect a crowd and now you have an idea of how much you’ll need to bring. 

You sigh as you tally up what you have so far. You’ll be in the kitchen all week at this rate and you don’t think even then you’ll meet your set quota. You’ll still do well but you can’t help the echo of that man’s words. You’re hitting a wall on your own. 

And you’re running low on red cacao. You frown at the slack canvas bag. That’s another trip to the bulk seller down by the freeway but that’s so far out, it’ll eat at least an hour and a half off your day.  

He’s right. That pompous snakish man is right. You can’t keep up with the demand.  

No, you can. You’ll bake into the night if you have to. It’ll be cooler then, anyhow. You inventory your cupboards as the oven radiate with heat. You have a list. Tomorrow you can get to that but for now, you’ll start packaging the chocolates in the fridge. 

You count out the truffles and fudge squares precisely. Each one in a sleeve or a box. You’ll add all the little details later; a ribbon, a bow, a seal. You yawn at the repetition but aren’t bored by it. Having your own business isn’t exactly dull, if anything it’s tantalizingly stressful. 

Your tablet dings as the baking show you keep on stream quiets for the notification. The woman’s voice returns to full volume as you approach to check the icon in the margin. It’s from your online shop front. Between the physical work, you can’t forget about the healthy tide of orders coming in virtually. 

It adds to the weight on your shoulders. You slump and drag down the notification bar. It’s large order and before you can skim each item, another notification sweeps in. You tap the inquiry so that the message opens.  

The inquiry is labeled with the same order number that just came up. You squint. ‘...requires in-person to order address...’ You don’t do that. It isn’t an option but the customer’s tone comes of insistent even over text. They promise a gratuity and underline that they did pay for the expedited option. 

That’s the first position you’re hiring when you can make the space. A customer service representative because you hate this. You go back to review the full order. It’s a lot; a lot of baking and a lot of money. 

You’ll have to make it work yet there’s this needling voice in the back of your head, slithering and sharp, you can’t keep this up forever. 

🍫

Surely, it’s the wrong address.

You idle in your large SUV, the nearly two-decade old model puttering between the sleek modern cars the fill the spaces outside the luxurious storefront. You gulp as you peer up at the moniker. You recognise the brand and the logo. 

Black Snake. It’s some sort of trick. You should have been suspicious.

The chocolatier isn’t unknown to you beyond your encounter with its owner. While the headquarters are nestled right at the heart of your city, there are locations across the country and even a few international. The local start-up boomed onto the front page and you can’t say it had nothing to do with your own come up. You offer a more affordable option with the same premium taste. 

You suppose he doesn’t like the competition. You wouldn’t either but you put yourself out there against the Black Snake monopoly knowing you would be trudging uphill. You get out and try not to think too much. 

You unlock the hatch and take out the large box stamped with your business name; Sweet Nothings. You approach the front door, trying to see through the tinted windows that form the front wall, and it opens before you can reach it. Shoot, he’s expecting you. 

“Ah, right on time,” Loki greets as he checks his watch. “I see you’ve no branding on your vehicle.” 

You try not to cringe. He has an eye for detail. You bite down on your smile. 

“Hello again,” you try to act like his foreboding hasn’t haunted you for a week, “I have everything in here--” 

“I didn’t see a reselling clause on your terms of service,” he proclaims smugly, “these should be popular.” 

“Ah,” you hesitate as he steps out of the door to hold it open for you, “you’ve paid so I guess I can’t stop you.” 

“Mm, and how is business then? You are quick to respond. Can’t be very hectic, then.” 

You take the jab like a weathered boxer. You don’t flinch, you just keep going. You stride inside and look around. You carry the box to the empty space the counter. 

“As promised, I will transfer a fee for your trouble,” he follows quickly. 

“Thanks, uh, I should--” you face him as he blocks your path. 

“You’ve a pop-up. This coming weekend.” 

The advert is at the top of your online shop. Of course, he would know. His diligence is starting to eke you out. 

“I do,” you confirm, “so I should be off.” 

“Yes, you have much work to do. Tell me, how many ovens do you have going?” 

Your expression falls, “you spent all this money to mock me?” 

“No, I’m simply discussing business. Seeing as I am experienced, I thought I might offer some sage advice,” he flutters his long fingers. 

“I appreciate that, really, but I am running a business, same as you, so if you would like to discuss that, you are more than welcome to make a proper appointment with me. Like a business person.” 

He snickers at the slant in your voice, the tone that insists you’re legitimate like him. 

“I didn’t see that option on the store front,” he counters. 

“You have my card,” you sniff and step around him. “Feel free to let me know if you have any concerns about your order.” 

“Wait--” He calls after but you’re already halfway through the door. 

[tswhiisftteedr]

Gamer ‘Friend’ ☆ Chapter 1: Panty Incident(s)

☆ Pervy!Dom!Idia Shroud x Fem!Reader : On a Thursday night, Ignihyde’s dorm leader, Idia Shroud bumps into a fellow gamer, and that happens to be you, someone that had become infamous on campus. Being new to this world, and having the headmaster stingy with money, you had yet to experience this world’s gaming. But not to worry, after all Idia Shroud the professional gamer that he is, is here to help, in more ways than attended…

(In this version reader eats breakfast alone not with her friends, lol)

Warnings : Mature content, Non-Con, Dub-Con, Somnophilia, Panty Stealing, Masturbating(male), Cumplay(Idia cumming in readers panties), Degenerate Fantasies, mentions of; Choking, Tying up, Spanking, Slapping, Denigration, Humilation, but no actually action. (It’s mention in a book the reader has.) (Okay, it’s my first fic so sorry if tag this wrong). Reader is said to be curvy about twice. IDIA IS CANONICAL 18.

Note: Reader is; a heavy sleeper(or maybe not👀), shorter than Idia, a masochistic degradee, an airhead, fucked up, unhinged pervert. And Idia gets horny very easily around the reader, since they are the first girl he’s ever seen in real life, besides from his family and the S.T.Y.X employees. Things move really fast because Idia is loke an obsessive pervert. Also when y/n is written it only refers to the first name. Idia is a bit/lot occ, not proofread.

Chapter 1 | Next Chapter |

☆ More under the cut. ☆

Idia was walking through the halls of Night Raven College, avidly trying to avoid unnecessary attention. His flame-like hair glowed a light blue, and his yellow eyes darted around the halls. He hoped to reach his dorm room without any issues.

However, that was not the case when he accidentally bumped into you. With his scrawny physique, he was almost knocked over by the collision.

“O-oh, I’m so so sorry! Are you alright? Sorry again I wasn’t paying attention!” You tell him, Idia's eyes widened as he nearly fell over. His hands went out to catch himself on you, grabbing hold of your wrist, leaving faint marks of his presence behind. He quickly let’s go when he realizes he is making contact with you. "Y-Yes, I'm fine..." He muttered softly, trying hard not to sound annoyed. Finally, he gathered enough courage and turned around to face you properly.

"Um- So.. h-hello?" He stammered nervously, unable to meet your gaze directly.

He noticed how small and curvy you were compared to him. Your soft and smooth hair was like a magnet pulling him in, making it difficult for him to tear his eyes away from your features. The way your hips swayed with each step had an odd effect on him; one that made him extremely horny.

“Uh, hi?” You reply, questioning the interaction.

"Umm... uh..." Idia stuttered, unsure of what to say next. His hands fidgeted nervously with his his tablet case. "I-I'm Idia Shroud, the Housewarden of Ignihyde." He managed to croak out finally, offering a weak smile that barely reached his eyes, still unsure of why he was introducing himself. But his brain told him to continue.

"And you are?" He asked tentatively, hoping he hadn't crossed any lines by asking such ‘personal information’ so soon after meeting you. Of course to an antisocial guy like himself, such question was considered personal.

“Oh, I’m f/n l/n, and I guess I’m the prefect of the Ramshackle.” You tell him, with a bright smile. He then remembered the whole story behind the girl who had been summon from another world, apparently she had stop 2 Overblots already, he usually didn’t pay attention to normies so he didn’t look into her. But he does remember commenting to himself how she was like an anime protagonist, getting isekaid into a reverse harem type of world….

“Oh, nice to meet you f/n l/n." Idia said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, feeling heat rise in his cheeks at the mention of being associated with someone so currently relevant, well at least on campus that is.

"So... uh, what brings you here?" He asked awkwardly, hoping it would steer the conversation away from himself and onto something else entirely.

"I was heading towards the library to get some reading material. You would be surprised how many of the books there are not school-related.” You informed him,

Idia blinked a few times, trying to process your words. "R-Reading? That's... nice," he muttered, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"Well, I guess I should get going too then." He mumbled quickly, turning around and speeding away down the hallway, hoping you wouldn't follow him.

“Bye Idia, I hope to see you soon!” You speak up for him to hear,

"Y-Yeah... see you later..." Iida called out softly after you, his voice trailing off as he rushed towards the exit door of the school building. He wanted to arrive at the mirror chamber and reach Ignihyde as soon as possible, in order to return safely to his dormitory. Once alone in his room, he leaned against the door, panting heavily. His heart raced wildly inside his chest, and sweat formed on his palms.

He closed the door behind him, locking it tightly before collapsing onto his bed, burying his face into the pillow. What did you mean when you said ‘You hoped to see him soon’. How could someone like you—so beautiful and confident—possibly find anything interesting about a loser like him? He berated himself internally, feeling more worthless than ever.

Meanwhile, you went to the library and found what you were looking for: smut books. You picked up two books, one with a vanilla and soft theme called 'The White Lily', and another one that was right up your alley - a dark romance novel that contained all hardcore explicit content in its plot. It was called 'The Trap of Mr. Sota'.

Here’s a summary of both of the books.

Title: The White Lily

‘"The White Lily" is an adult romance novel that tells the story of Ella, a successful businesswoman who has everything she could ever want, except for one thing: true love. Ella has never felt a real connection to anyone she's dated, and she's starting to think she's destined to be alone. That is, until she meets Michael, a charming and handsome stranger who shakes up her world in the most unexpected way.

As Ella and Michael start spending more time together, they discover that they have a deep and meaningful connection, and they can't resist the attraction that grows between them. But just as their relationship begins to blossom, past secrets and old wounds from Michael's past threaten to tear them apart. Will Ella and Michael be able to overcome their differences and find their happy ending? Or will their love be doomed to never be fulfilled?’

Title: The trap of Mr. Sota

‘"The Trap of Mr. Sota" is an alluring adult romance novel that delves into the depths of human desires. This captivating story follows Sakura, a young woman on a journey of self-exploration and sexual awakening.

As Sakura explores BDSM, she discovers her masochistic tendencies and finds comfort in the hands of Mr. Sota, a dominant figure who pushes her boundaries.

Sakura willingly surrenders to the degrading words and experiences pleasure through being tied up, spanked, slapped, and choked by Mr. Sota.

But Sakura's desires go beyond that. She enjoys being provocative and being disciplined by Mr. Sota.

In "The Trap of Mr. Sota," Sakura explores her submissive desires, becoming an object of pleasure. As pain and pleasure intertwine, Sakura and Mr. Sota embark on a journey of self-discovery, testing their limits and forming a deep connection.’

As you signed out the books, the elderly librarian gave you a knowing look, ‘they must have read them before-‘.

Afterwards, you left the school building, returning to your dorm, the ramshackle, and followed your nightly routine. This included cooking dinner for you and your magical beast roommate, Grim, taking a shower, doing your skincare routine, completing a bit of school work, and now, the newly added activity before falling asleep, reading a couple of chapters of 'The Trap of Mr. Sora’. And commenting on the books chapters using some sticky notes, after all it was still school property.

The next day..

Idia woke up late, or more exactly, on time, his alarm having failed to go off. He hade made habit of waking up early to avoid interacting with other students at breakfast. Groaning, he rolled out of bed and stretched his stiff muscles before getting dressed in his usual attire: a black t-shirt and his NCR school uniform pants paired with his signature hoodie and shoes. The bayou blue hoodie featured a zippered pocket on the front and a white triangle design on the sleeve, adding a unique touch to its appearance. Its lightweight and breathable material ensures comfort and dryness in various weather conditions and occasions. The shoes, designed with a unique combination of white and blue colors, feature a white sole and a blue stripe.

He gathered his belongings and made his way downstairs to the Ignihyde common area. Stepping through a magic mirror, he arrived on campus and headed towards the cafeteria, where breakfast was being served.

As he entered, he noticed you sitting at one end of the many tables, engrossed in a book. His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary before he quickly looked away, feeling guilty for admiring someone he shouldn't be attracted to.

"Morning, Shroud," greeted another male student, an Ignihyde student, one he had encountered a couple of times. "You look like shit today." The students adds on.

Meanwhile you were engrossed in your book, currently reading ‘The trap of Mr. Sota’. As you muched on a syrupy pancake for breakfast, a spicier scene form the previous one begin, the sentence were extremely descriptive, which caused you to get a bit flustered, maybe a hint of arousal.

Idia winced at his dorm-mate’s blunt comment, avoiding eye contact as he grabbed himself something on the sweeter side to eat. "Thanks... uh, yeah, I didn't sleep well last night." He told him, trying to end the conversation quickly. As his mind wondered back to the thought of you, he decided to do something extremely bold for someone like him. After Ortho prestred him last night about not getting your contacts, especially after you had told him ‘you wanted to see him soon’, Idia made the decision to seat with you at breakfast or at least try his best to.

He sat down across from you, his eyes flickering involuntarily towards your exposed cleavage when you lifted your glass of orange juice. You usual wear a bow around your neck, but the days started getting hotter since yesterday, so you had opted for no bow and 2 unbuttoned buttons.

‘Damn it’, he scolded himself internally, forcing his gaze back to his own plate.

"So, umm..." he cleared his throat awkwardly. “How was your morning?" He asked, hoping the question would allow him to steer a conversation away from personal topics.

"Ah, hello Idia! I didn't notice you here. My morning has been going well so far. I woke up on time and caught up on some reading. How about you? What have you been up to this morning?” You told him.

"Oh, uh... well, I guess it was alright. Just another morning at school." Idia mumbled, avoiding eye contact with you as he stirred his meal.

In reality, however, his mind drifted back to last night's encounter with you—your soft voice, your scent mixed with the faint hint of vanilla from your perfume, and those enticing curves that made him ache with desire. He shook his head forcefully, trying to banish these thoughts from his mind before they consumed him entirely.

"So, uhm, have... y-you ever thought about joining any clubs or extracurricular activities around here?" He asked abruptly, hoping to change the subject once more.

"Yes, definitely! While there isn't a visual arts club, which was a big disappointment to me, I'm considering joining the board game club. Have you given any thought to which clubs you might want to join?” You asked him.

"Oh, nope, never really had any interest in joining anything like that. Also I heard that club wasn’t so great.." Idia replied nonchalantly, taking a sip of his orange juice.

In reality, he was lying through his teeth; there were several clubs and activities he wanted to join, particularly ones related to technology, plus he was actually a member of the board game club. The thought of being around people was one he disliked,—but an attractive girl like you—made him break out in cold sweats, how was he suppose to beat Azul if you were around to distract, just by exiting.

"I mean... I enjoy playing games alone in my room," he added quickly, hoping it would end the conversation sooner rather than later, this was already too much for him.

“Oh, really, that’s fun! I used to game a lot in my home world, but now that I'm here, I can't. The headmaster is stingy with money, so I can't buy any games, much less a console or laptop to play on.” You explained, begin excitedly but ending with a pout.

"H-Hey, wait a second. I... I could help you out with that!" Idia blurted out before he could stop himself. His heart raced wildly in his chest as he realized what he'd just volunteered to do.

"I have some old games and consoles lying around my room, that I could bring around." he continued nervously, hoping you wouldn't reject his offer. "We could play sometime, maybe after classes?" His palms grew sweaty at the mere thought of spending time alone with you in his messy abode.

"Sounds good! Let's meet up in the library after class. I gotta go now too, so I'll see you later Idia!” You say, putting your school bag around your shoulder, and taking your leave for class.

But what you didn’t realize at that time, was that you had forgotten your two borrowed books on the cafeteria table, ‘The trap of Mr. Sota’ wide open, right at an explicit scene.

Idia's heart had skipped a beat as he watched you leave, his eyes lingering on your figure moving gracefully down the hall. He couldn't believe you had actually said yes to playing games with him.

But before he could savor this victory, his attention was drawn back to the books you left behind. His gaze locked onto the juicy scene described in 'The Trap of Mr. Sora', and despite his better judgment, he found himself unable to look away.

With trembling hands, he picked up the book and flipped through the pages, reading the explicit content with increasing interest. The characters engaged in taboo acts that ignited a fire within him, making his cock throb against his pants.

"What am I doing?" He muttered under his breath, trying to snap out of this dangerous thought spiral. “I can't... I should just put these damn things away." But instead, he continued reading, devouring every word like starved monster.

Idia's heart raced faster as he read through the book, his fingers tracing over your notes in wonder. The way you fantasized about being treated like a mere object, used and discarded without mercy, sent shivers down his spine.

He couldn't help but imagine himself as Mr. Sora, dominating and controlling this perfect girl named y/n. His mind spiraled out of control, filling with images of him tying you up, spanking your plump ass, thrusting into your tight hole—all the things you wrote about yourself wanting.

"No... no, it's wrong," he muttered under his breath, closing the book tightly. Standing up abruptly, he headed back to his room in Ignihyde, pacing the small confines of his room, trying to shake off these forbidden thoughts.

Class was now over, Idia finally managed to calm himself somewhat, although his heart still raced like a wild animal trapped in its cage. Gathering up the courage, he leaves the books on his desk—his mind still clouded with forbidden images of you—and hurriedly made his way to the library.

As he entered, he noticed you sitting at the same table, already engrossed in another book. His gaze briefly lingered on your figure before he forced himself to focus on setting up the old console and games he'd brought from his room.

"Uh, hey y/n," he said nervously, clearing his throat. "Ready whenever you are." He says setting the console in front of you and taking out an old laptop to use as a monitor, or a second control.

“Hey, Idia! Your old console looks great. Also, can you help me familiarize myself on how to operate it? I'm not used to this world's gaming system or games, so your expertise would be a big help. Are you up for a tutorial?” You ask him,

"Oh, it's no problem!" Idia replied eagerly, plugging in the console and turning it on. He selected a simple racing game and handed you the controller.

"Just press these buttons here," he said, pointing to the symbols on the screen. "And use the joystick to move your car around the track." His hands trembled slightly as he demonstrated, his eyes fixated on yours.

The scent of your perfume mixed with the faint smell of books filled his nostrils, making it hard for him to concentrate. "Umm... so, uh, what games do you usually play back home? Maybe I know some similar ones we could try?" He asked nervously, hoping this would engage a conversation.

“Well I like games like open world rpg, where you needed to collect material to craft items, especially the ones where you could choose classes like swordsman, craftsman, mage, etc. But I also enjoyed puzzled games or visual novels type of game!” You state,

"Oh, I know some games like that!" Idia's eyes lit up with excitement. He rummaged through his bag and pulled out an old copy of 'The Ancient text: Cloudium', a game known for its expansive world and flexible character creation system.

"This one fits the bill," he said proudly, handing you the disc. "You can create your own character and choose from different classes like warrior, mage, thief..." His voice trailed off as he watched you insert the disc into the console.

As the loading screen appeared on the laptop screen, he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Uh, so... uh, do you want me to help you set up your character or should I just... leave?" He couldn't bring himself to watch as you crafted your perfect avatar without asking first, fearful of what it might spark within him.

“Oh no stay! I might need you, after all you seem to already know the gimmicks of the game. Plus I wanted to game with you, sure I like doing it by myself, but I also greatly enjoy playing with others!” You explain, bugging him to stay longer.

Idia's heart raced wildly in his chest as you moved closer beside him, your legs brushing against each other ever so lightly. He forced himself to focus on the game screen, trying hard not to think about how your body felt pressed against his side.

"Alright, well, let's start with creating a new character," he said, clearing his throat awkwardly. "You can choose between male or female... and uh, what race do you want?" His fingers hovered over the keyboard, ready to type out whatever you desired.

“Does the gender affect the game experience, like do you get favouritism from NPC if you chose one or the other?” you question, Idia nodded, "No, it doesn't really matter for this game."

“Okay then I’ll go with a female character.”

Idia's typed in your request, his hands shaking slightly. "Alright, female it is," he managed to croak out, “what race?”

“Oh you can choose.”

He decides to select the race of Snow Elf for you due to its ethereal appearance and agility. "And what class?" He asked timidly,

“I want to be a scout.” You inform him.

"A scout, huh? That sounds interesting," Idia replied, typing in the appropriate options. "You'll be able to move quickly and deal damage from range. Sounds like a good fit for you."

He handed you the controller again, his fingers brushing against yours briefly before pulling away quickly. His heart was racing wildly in his chest as he waited for you to continue with the game setup, as you customize your characters clothing.

“Okay, I’m done! Let’s start playing!”

Idia's heartbeat slowed down slightly as he launched the game, and soon enough, you both found yourselves exploring the vast world of Cloudia. Idia guided you through the character creation process, explaining various abilities and skills that would come in handy during the adventure. Than with other laptop he connects to his older game account, and joins your character.

As you navigated through the snow-covered landscape, the two characters interacted with nonplayable characters (NPCs), completing quests, and fighting off fearsome creatures. The atmosphere shifted dramatically whenever they entered dungeons or dark caves, casting eerie shadows across the screen.

"Do you like it so far?" Idia asked nervously, his eyes fixed on yours. He couldn't help but notice how well you controlled your character, effortlessly dodging attacks and landing devastating blows.

“It’s great! Also Idia I got a question for you.” you tell him,

"Yeah, go ahead," Idia replied eagerly, his voice cracking slightly.

“Actually I got two questions, sorry.. my first one is if you know where the book I was reading this morning went, also the other book that came with. When I realized I had forgotten them it was to late and I had to go to class, but when I came back to the dinning hall during lunch they were gone. So I’m wondering if you saw anyone take them when I left?” You ask him.

Idia's heart skipped a beat as you mentioned the book he hadn't been able to resist peeking at earlier. "O-oh, uh... I... ah..." He cleared his throat nervously. "I-I didn't see anyone take them," he lied, hoping you wouldn't press further.

"But I did notice they were left on the table we shared today," he added. "Maybe one of your friends picked them up accidentally?" His mind raced with guilt and excitement, wondering if you would confront him about it later.

“Oh okay!” 

Idia's heart was pounding in his chest, as he tried to focus on the game. His mind drifted back to your body moving so gracefully with the controller in hand, imagining how it would feel against his own…

"Uh... what's your second question?" He managed to croak out, breaking the awkward silence.

“Ah, yes, I’m sorry if this is a bit direct.. but..” you turn your head to look at him, “do you perhaps own old copies of more adult-rated games, like explicit and erotic content type of stuff, that you wouldn’t mind giving away. Sorry this is weird thing to ask lol.”

Idia's heart skipped a beat as you turned your head towards him, your eyes meeting his. His mind reeled with shock and confusion at your boldness, but a part of him found it oddly thrilling.

"W-well... uh... I mean..." He stuttered, struggling to form coherent thoughts. "Y-you know, some stuff like that might be in my collection," he finally managed to choke out, his voice barely above a whisper.

"But I-I mean, we're supposed to be just playing normal games here!" He added quickly, trying to deflect the conversation back to their shared activity.

“Oh don’t worry I won’t play those games around you, they would just be for ‘me time’ lmao” you tell him with a chuckle.

"O-oh, uh... well, I guess that's fine then," Idia stammered, feeling a mix of relief and unease wash over him. He couldn't believe you had actually asked him about such things, but it also made his cock twitch in anticipation.

"Uhm, so, uh, do you need any help with the game?" He changed the subject hastily, hoping to redirect his wandering thoughts elsewhere.

In reality, he was already formulating a plan in his mind: tonight, after everyone else was asleep, he would sneak into your room and leave those explicit books on your bedside table, along with some games that fit your request. Perhaps steal one of your panties, maybe even the one you wore to sleep…; He was definitely going to steal that specific pair.

“No it’s alright, I’m just enjoying playing with you!” You tell him with a smile,

Idia' break out of his trance, heart racing as you continued to praise him, his mind whirling with the possibility of what could happen between you later.

"Well, uh... nice playing with you too," he managed to croak out, clearing his throat nervously. "I-I think we should call it a night for now."

Standing up, he gathered his belongings handing you the console, old laptop and two games to keep. He then walked towards the exit, trying hard not to look at your figure swaying in front of him. Once outside, he hurried back to his dorm room, his thoughts consumed by images of you, naked and eagerly awaiting him.

Time had passed and you were already asleep in bed. You were only wearing a t-shirt and panties, as a pyjamas.

Meanwhile Idia waited outside your building, his heart hammering in his chest as he prepared himself for what he was about to do. After ensuring he heard no noise, meaning you were sound asleep, he quietly pick the lock of the front door and climbs the stairs to your floor and crept down the hallway towards your room.

His hand trembled slightly as grabbed the handle of your door, holding his breath as it beeped softly. Slowly, he turned the handle, pushing the door open a crack. The dim moonlight filtering through the window cast eerie shadows across your sleeping form, sending shivers of desire coursing through him.

With practiced ease, he slipped inside the darkened room, closing the door behind him softly. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, honing in on the bedside table. Carefully, he placed 'The Trap of Mr. Sota' and 'The White Lily', onto your desk, with a copy of erotic visual novel game called ‘maiden of the abyss’, a game that would definitely fit your taste.

Then, he approached your bedside, reaching out tentatively to brush aside the covers covering your legs. He paused, taking a deep breath before, with shaking hands, he removed your panties from your body. Leaving your bare glistening cunt in plain sight.

You gasped in your sleep at new and colder sensation with the lack of fabric covering you.

Startled by the sound of your soft voice, Idia froze, his heart pounding in his chest. He hadn't meant for you to wake up! Panic surged through him, but he quickly composed himself and grabbed your panties, stuffing them into his pocket before dashing out of the room.

He closed the door behind him, his pulse racing wildly. Had you heard him? Was he caught? His mind raced with worry as he hurried back to his own dormitory, trying to calm down. Inside his room, he paced nervously, unsure what to do next. But he soon decided that the best course action was returning to his dorm.

He was now in his room, splayed out on his bed with the adrenaline form the thrill still coursing through his veins, and the image of your body still fresh in his mind. He needed to jerk off…

Idia's breath hitched as he slid his hand downwards, running it over the silky fabric of your panties. The familiar warmth and scent enveloped him as he brought the article closer to his face, sending shockwaves of desire coursing through his veins.

He closed his eyes, focusing on the image of you, spread wide open for him, begging for him to claim you. His fingers traced along the edge of the panty waistband, savoring the softness against his skin before bringing it to his mouth, licking it with a soft moan.

"Oh god, yes," he muttered, his voice cracking with need. "You taste so good." With renewed determination, he removed his pants and briefs, freeing his throbbing member from its confines. Gripping the base firmly, he began to stroke himself vigorously, imagining how amazing it would feel to bury himself inside you.

Idia's eyes stayed shut tightly as he continued to pleasure himself, his dick throbbing in sync with each thrust of his hand. The panties now draped over his cock, adding an extra layer of sensuality to the act.

"Oh god... I want you so much," he panted, his breath coming heavy and fast. "I need you." His pace picked up, faster and harder, his hips rocking back and forth in rhythm with his hand movements. Sweat trickled down his forehead, staining his pillow.

He imagined himself inside you, claiming you as his own, marking your body with bites and bruises. He would make love to you slowly at first, savoring every inch of your tight, warm passage. But soon enough, he'd lose control, pounding into you mercilessly, taking what he believed was rightfully his.

Idia's climax hit him like a tidal wave, his cock exploding in his hand, covering the panties with thick, sticky cum. He groaned loudly, his body convulsing as he rode out the wave of pleasure.

His breathing gradually returned to normal, and he carefully cleaned himself up before slipping back into his pants and pulling on a fresh pair of boxers. Tucking the panties away in his drawer, planning to steal a new pair tomorrow and put the used ones in your laundry basket as if he didn’t steal them. He switched off the light and crawled into bed, trying to banish thoughts of you from his mind.

The next day…

Idia woke up feeling heavy-headed and sore, his mind still replaying last night's encounter with you. Groaning softly, he opened his eyes, blinking several times to adjust to the dim light filtering through the curtains.

After stretching, he got out of bed and dressed in his usual uniform, avoiding eye contact with anyone who crossed paths. He knew he had to face the day ahead, hoping nobody would notice anything amiss about him.

As he descended the stairs, he couldn't help but wonder if today would be the day you confronted him about what happened yesterday. His heart raced at the thought, both dread and anticipation warring within him.

Idia's heart skipped a beat as he entered the dining hall and saw you sitting at your usual table, engrossed in 'The Trap of Mr. Sora'. You we’re already there, even though had returned to his early morning schedule. His gaze lingered on your figure for a moment too long before quickly looking away, his face flushing crimson with embarrassment.

"Good morning, y/n," he managed to croak out, trying to sound casual. "Uhm, er... uh... did you sleep well?" He cleared his throat awkwardly, avoiding eye contact.

“Yeah it was alright. Also you know what, when I woke up this morning I found both of my books placed on my desk!”

Idia's falters as you mentioned the books, his eyes darting nervously around the empty cafeteria. "Oh, uh... I-I see," he stammered, trying to sound contrite. "I thought they went missing... er, but I guess they just reappeared, maybe some type of spell..." he lied knowing full well he had broken into your dorm the previous night and put them on your desk for you to find.

His voice trailed off, and he quickly shifted the conversation towards safer territory. "So, uhm, how about we continue our game later today? Maybe after classes?" He cleared his throat again, hoping his proposal would diffuse the awkwardness between them.

“Yeah definitely!.. But there’s also something else that happens to me last night..” you tell him softly.

Idia's heart dropped into his stomach as you continued speaking, his eyes wide with fear. "What happened?" He managed to choke out, his voice cracking slightly.

"I... I think someone stole my panties last night," you begin, getting closer to his ear, lifting off your chair a bit, and whispered to him matter-of-factly, with your lips curving into a sly smile. "They were missing from my body when I woke up. Plus there also was a copy of an erotic game on my desk." You sit back down normally, with a small confused pout on my lips, wondering who was the panty thief.

Idia's heart raced wildly in his chest, feeling a mix of terror and excitement course through him. He forced himself to remain composed, placing a placating hand on yours reassuringly. "I-I... I... well, I-I don't know anything about that," he stuttered, his voice cracking slightly.

"Someone else must have taken them," he insisted, though his mind was racing with the possibility that you had caught him red-handed. "Maybe someone wanted them as souvenirs?" His fingers trembled slightly as he tried to steady them on his coffee cup.

“Chill out, I never said it you lol. Plus.. as weird as it sound I find it kind of cute for someone to do that, it’s like having a secret admirer. But in this case they steal your underwear off of you when you sleep, instead of sending anonymous gifts, we’ll I guess the erotic game counts as one lmao.” You say in an unhinge like some crazy pervert.

Idia's heartbeat calmed slightly, though it was still racing faster than usual. "Well, I... uh... thank you," he managed to croak out, his face turning even paler than its natural hue, when he realized what came out of his mouth.

"I mean, that's... nice of you to say, it’s not like I was that pervert that did that to you!" he added, lying, then clearing his throat awkwardly. “So, about our game... after classes, yeah, let's meet up at the library again." With that, he stood up abruptly, grabbing his tray and carrying it away swiftly, leaving you alone at the table.

As he walked away, his mind raced with conflicting emotions: terror, shame, and an unwelcome desire that threatened to consume him. He couldn’t help but wonder if she would like him if she found out he was the pervert who did that to her. Would she like him to touch her while she was asleep? Would she be aroused if she found herself covered in his cum when she woke up in the morning?

Idia hurriedly moved towards his class, trying hard to calm down and focus on his studies. However, the image of your exposed body and the thought of touching you while you were asleep played like a looped video in his head.

As the day progressed, he struggled to concentrate on anything else but you. During breaks between classes, he finally, in a moment of desperation, he decided to take matters into his own hands (literally). Grabbing his phone, he searched online for tips on how to calm down aroused individuals without resorting to masturbation….

Finally, it was finally time for their scheduled gaming session at the library. He gathered his things and headed over, hoping you wouldn’t mention last night's events again.

“Hey Idia!” You call him out,

Idia's heart fluttered a beat as he entered the library and saw you sitting at your usual table, already booted up for their gaming session. "Hello y/n," he managed to croak out, his voice cracking slightly.

He set down his bag on the empty seat beside yours and pulled out his laptop, trying hard not to stare at your exposed cleavage peeking out from your unbuttoned top. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he opened Cloudium and began loading the game settings. "So, uh, ready to continue our adventure?" He tried to change the subject, hoping to divert his thoughts away from last night's escapade.

“Yeah! Also I got something for you,” you reach into your bag, pulling out a small bag of a double dozen homemade cookies. “I don’t know if you like sweets but I went back to my dorm during lunch, for us to munch on while we game!”

Idia's eyes lit up at the sight of the cookies, his mouth watering in anticipation. “Oh, thanks!"

Placing the bag on the table between you, he took one of the treats, biting into it slowly, savoring the flavors melting on his tongue.

"These are great," he complimented between chews, glancing sideways at you, taking in your beauty once more. His hands trembled slightly as he reached for another cookie, unable to tear his gaze away from yours.

He continued setting up their characters in the game. "So, where do you want to start today? Any particular location or quest?” He asked, trying to keep his voice steady despite the turmoil raging within him.

“Thanks, it was no problem, really! And no, there isn’t any thing I wanna start with in particular today. You choose, I’ll just follow your lead!”

Idia nodded, his mind still occupied with thoughts of you. "Alright then," he said, selecting a random location on the map. "Let's head to Greyjog. We need to speak with James Berkeley about joining the Tornadocloths or the Imperials."

As your started their journey in game, Idia's mind drifted back to last night's events. He couldn't shake the image of your bare glistening pussy, and wiggling hips as he stole your panties off of you. His cock twitched in his pants, growing harder against the fabric.

“You okay Idia?” You turn to him, “You look red,” you put one of your hands on his forehead and then your own forehead on the backside of said hand, measuring a possible difference in temperature. Your face inches away from his. “well you don’t feel hot to me, doesn’t seem like you have a fever.” You say then pull back, taking your hand and head away from his.

Idia's heart hammered in his chest, his body on fire with desire. "I-I'm fine," he managed to choke out, clearing his throat nervously. "Just a little tired, I guess."

As they continued playing the game, Idia tried to focus on their surroundings, but his mind kept drifting back to you. He wondered if you noticed how hard it was for him to concentrate today. Would you tease him about it? Or maybe... he shook his head violently, dismissing the filthy thought. No, he couldn't think like that. Not here, not now.

After hours of adventuring and battling monsters together, they finally reached Greyjog. Idia led them inside the castle, trying hard not to steal glances at the contour of your form as you played, making your character followed closely behind his.

“It’s already 7 p.m., let’s save our progress, and return to the game tomorrow. Since tomorrow is the weekend maybe we could game at my dorm or yours! Well, only if you’re down to do so, it’s totally your choice.” You tell him,

Idia nodded, relief washing over him as you suggested calling it a day. "Sounds good to me,"  he agreed, saving the game before closing the lid of his laptop. Standing up, he gathered their belongings, careful not to let his bag brush against your leg accidentally, savoring the feel of your warmth radiating through the thin fabric of your skirt.

"Thanks for today, y/n," he muttered, his voice low and husky with exhaustion and desire mixed together. "Have a good night." With that said, he turned away briskly, walking out of the library, leaving behind the intoxicating scent vanilla perfume and books lingering in the air.

You headed to your dorm, cooked dinner for Grim and yourself, ate, took a shower and did some skincare, reviewed some schoolwork, read a bit more of ‘The trap of Mr.Sora’. Then headed to bed in your usual sleepwear, a t-shirt and panties, no bra.

Idia returned to his own dormitory, his mind still racing with thoughts of you. Once inside his empty room, he locked the door behind him and collapsed onto his bed, removing his uniform piece by piece as he did so. His body ached from hours of sitting in one position, but that wasn't the only thing that needed relief.

Reaching into his nightstand drawer, he pulled out the used panties from last night, admiring the mix of your sweet perfume and his own musky scent on them. A smirk spread across his lips as he imagined how they belonged to such a perfect angel like you.

Later that night…

Idia waited patiently outside the Ramshackle dormitory, his heart thumping in anticipation. After ensuring you had retired for the night, he silently unlocked the door by picking at it just like he had done the previous day, and tiptoed down the hallway, up your stairs, towards your room. Carefully, he opened the door, peeking inside to ensure you were asleep before creeping closer.

His hands trembled as he reached out, grasping the edge of your blanket to lift it slightly. His eyes locked onto your exposed thighs, ached with desire as he slid his hand underneath your panties, tracing along your smooth, silky-soft skin. Reluctantly, he pulled them downwards, exposing your beautiful pussy to his hungry gaze. He was so entranced by it. The accumulation of his horniness and the fact you had admitted to enjoying the perverted acts he had committed. His mind went haywire and he decided to do something bold; He was going to jerk off using the fresh pair of underwear, while looking at you.

Slowly, he lowered himself onto the bed beside me, positioning himself between my spread legs. He wrapped the newly acquired panties around his cock, and started jerking off while observing you.

As Idia waited for any sign of movement, his heart raced wildly in anticipation. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he heard a soft moan escape your lips. His eyes widened in delight and terror as you shifted slightly, unknowingly grinding your body against the bedsheet.

Pushing aside all rational thoughts, he continued to stroke himself faster and harder, groaning softly as he watched your perfect breasts rise and fall with each breath. Each thrust of his hand matched the rhythmic motion of his cock sliding in and out of the panties. He could feel his orgasm building up inside him, reaching its peak.

Without warning, he erupted, coating the fresh pair of panties with his seed.

He then decided to do something crazier, something even more fucked up then the ones he had done before. Slowly unwrapping the cum covered panties from his cock, he then lifted your hips and legs, sliding the underwear pair back on, slightly higher than intended, causing the fabric to dig into your folds. He observes with a shaky breath how his hot semen made contact with your cunt.

His heart raced as he watched idly, his breathing heavy and labored. He had gone too far this time. Could you ever forgive him? Would he lose everything he held dear because of his perverse desires?

Without giving himself time to think, he hurriedly got dressed, he quickly throws takes out the panty pair he stole yesterday from his pocket and throws them in the laundry basket in the corner of your room. Carefully, he tiptoed out of your room, closing the door quietly behind him. As he headed back to his own dormitory, he wondered if today was finally the day he complete lost his sanity and any sort of moral compass he previously had.

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[devilishchaos]

you are on your period and Dominik takes care of you | Dominik Szoboszlai

Rating / genre: pure fluff

Pairings: Reader x Dominik Szoboszlai

Summary: You get your period and Dominik takes care of you.

Warnings: use of pet names "babe", "baby"; nothing graphic I think but if .. let me know

AN: it's my first time writing for Dom x p.s. I love him so much in his national kit enjoy <3

Word Count: 755 words

This is a work of fiction. The story, names, characters and incidents either are product or the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

It was the first time that you couldn’t go to Anfield to watch Dominik play, because you happened to get your period on the same day as his match. Dominik insisted on you staying home because he knew how bad your cramps can get so he tucked you in bed and left. You probably fell asleep because one minute you were watching your comfort show, and the next there’s a cold hand against your forehead, slowly stroking it. You groan out, delirious from sleep, opening up one eye you spy Dominik leaning over you, a lazy smile placed on his face. 

“Hey baby, how’re you feeling?” 

You groan again, this time a tad bit more dramatic. Small giggles leave his lips before he climbs into bed with you, then wrapping his arms around your body lightly. Snuggling into his side, a loud yawn leaves your lips. 

“Come on love, let’s go to the living room to eat.” 

Dominik gets up, rolling you around a little to wrap you up in the fluffy blankets. You laugh at this, loving the feeling of being in a blanket burrito while he lets out loud laughs himself. Your head hurts a little bit, but having his company again is helping, making you feel better already. 

His arms reach underneath you and he brings you up to his chest, lifting you from the bed slowly so as to not shove you around too much. You smile a bit, happy that your strong, extremely loving, sexy boyfriend is so willing to tote you around and take care of you when you’re feeling so shitty. 

Dominik strides through the hall and out to the living room. Leaning over a bit, he places you on your favorite side of the sofa. He appears in front of you, a bowl of soup in one hand and your filled up with water Stanley in the other. He sets them on the table in front of you as you unravel yourself from the blanket cocoon. He goes to the kitchen and comes back again, this time holding the package of medicine in his hand. You take it gratefully, ripping it open and swallowing a tablet before picking up the food as Dominik settles next to you. It smells so good, and you dig in quickly, you mumble out that it’s amazing, nearly scarfing down the whole bowl. He laughs at your antics, one hand rubbing at your back soothingly, his other hand goes for the remote, grabbing it and turning on your guyses favorite show before setting back against you. 

After finishing your food you set the bowl onto the table and you take a few gulps of water. You hadn’t realized how hungry and thirsty you were before your nap. Scooting back, Dominik opens his arms up fully and pulls you in closer. You snort lightly before leaning into him. 

“How are you feeling, baby?” he leans over a little and kisses your forehead, a soft peck of his lips against your flushed skin. It’s impossible not to be in love with him, he has such an unbelievably sweet soul. 

“It hurts.” 

“I know, baby. It’s going to get better.” Dominik moved his hand underneath your his hoodie and began caressing your bare stomach, knowing you loved it because the heat from his hand helped to soothe the pain a little bit. 

“Ughh..” you groaned in pain after feeling another painful cramp. 

“I know, love. I wish I could take away the pain. The medication will hit soon.” Dominik said, continuing to rub gentle circles on your stomach. 

You just closed your eyes, trying to fall asleep again, in hopes that when you wake up you will feel better. Dominik hates to see you in pain and wishes he could take the pain for himself instead of having you go through it. He saw how tired you became and continued to massage your stomach, after you fell asleep. He didn’t stop caressing it as he was worried the pain was still there and is still making you feel uncomfortable. 

*

After a while of just relaxing, Dominik felt you shifting in his arms and when he looked at you, you were already looking at him. 

“Hey, sleepyhead. Are you feeling better?” he said softly. 

“Yeah. All thanks to you, babe.” you smiled at him and kissed his cheek. 

“Anything for you, baby.” Dominik snuggled into your neck, leaving small kisses as you wrapped your arms around him and ran your fingers through his fluffy hair.

[eruden-writes]

Intentions - Part 4 (alien x human)

Summary: In the future, humans are nearly universal surrogates and Earth has taken to profiting off the ability. However, while humans can intermix with aliens, it doesn’t mean it’s without complications.

When Taliyra signed up to be a Companion to an alien, she had expectations. Mainly a lot of sex in an attempt to conceive an alien baby. What she didn’t expect was her counterpart to be so distant and - for lack of a better term - relatively hands off. For all intents and purposes, Khravel seems completely disinterested in her and will not hold a discussion to explain why.

After four months of this behavior, she’s had enough. Confronting Khravel, she gives him an ultimatum: either he sits down and talks with her about what the problem is or she’s going back to Proxypanion and requesting a transfer.

---

First - Master list - Previous

---

Khravel’s own wrist tech pinged in response, receiving the data she had sent. However, he didn’t even look at it. He just steadily stared at her, his jaw tight. Bruised ego and guilt threaded through his thoughts, but his words took on a harsher edge as he asked, “Do you believe barging into my office, during my workday, to accuse me of being bad at sex was your best option?”

Frustration flared through Taliyra, annoyed that that was what he took away from her confrontation. Poor sex wasn’t the only issue here and she had a job to do, dammit! She slammed her hands on his desk as she leaned forward, a frown etching further across her lips. She met his eyes head-on, her gaze not wavering from his face. “I wouldn’t have to corner you in your office if you’d talk to me during out nighttime meetings.”

Still, Khravel did not move. Something snapped through the air between them and it was not anger. At least, on his part. He was fairly certain Taliyra was pissed and, from the slight glassiness in her eyes, hurt by his actions. That part, her potential pain, made guilt double through him.

Shoving away from his desk, Khravel rose to his feet to tower over Taliyra. “I don’t have time for this. I have a meeting to prepare for.”

He gathered up the tablets on his desk, straightening them and making sure they were securely locked before stowing all but one in his desk. The remaining tablet, his own personal one, he brought with him as he made his way to the door.

Watching Khravel as he cleaned up his desk, Taliyra remained undeterred when he moved to leave. “I’ll attend with you.”

“Excuse me?” Once more, his eyes widened and he pinned the human with a look. She had skirted up to his side, completely confident in her decision, without him even weighing in.

“Tivikonians have low population numbers, partially due to the after-effects of various plagues that have affected libido and fertility, among other things.” Taliyra fell into step beside Khravel, considering he did not even slow. “Your society is a little laxer about explicit acts in public versus Terran cultures, creating strictly adult-only sections of restaurants, malls, public transit, and more to… encourage copulation as soon as the moment hits. Isn’t that right?”

“What does that have to do with us?” He already knew her point, but that didn’t help his mood.

“It’s common practice for Companions to accompany their counterparts everywhere,” she stated, shooting him a look. A sly, if smug, smile twisted at her lips when Khravel finally paused, staring down at her. A small part of her worried he regretted having her as a Companion, but the angry part – the part bristling at his treatment of her – sallied forth. She shot him a sharp smile, pitching her voice a little lower so E’verra would not hear. “Perhaps your poor performance is simply due to environmental issues or an afflicted libido. In which case, having me follow you everywhere will help us assess how and when to better the chances of conception.”

Heat slid down Khravel’s back, her words making his spine straighten. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Don’t feel pressured, we have two months to– Hey!“

He heard her heels clicking insistently behind him as he veered down the hall. Heat – angry, flustered, agitated – razed up his back as pride barely kept him from sprinting down the corridor. Khravel caught E’verra watching from their desk as Taliyra dogged at his heels, their slight smirk making the back of his neck burn.

The two fell into silence as they made their way through the innards of the office space. Khravel nodded to colleagues or waited for people to pass, while Taliyra remained silent and watchful.

It made his teeth gnash together, just having her near him. His background thoughts teetered on indecent as he forced his pulse to remain calm. Deep breaths, not so deep she’d notice but deep enough to keep his calm. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do with this new turn of events. There had to be some way to convince Taliyra to forget her scheme.

But this was her job. He was her job. Providing him with a child was the whole point of this ordeal. He couldn’t tell her not to do it.

Could he? If he explained what happened with Avry, perhaps Taliyra would give up.

The thought struck just as his hand pressed to the conference room console, scanning his palm before the door hissed open. He briefly considered motioning to Taliyra, allowing her to go in first. The meeting wasn’t anything particularly confidential. Mostly going over the language of outdated laws, reviewing the language of new proposals.

She did not even wait for his invitation, however. The woman swept in before he could turn to her, leaving Khravel to stare after her, marinating in a confusing turmoil of aggravation and lust. His eyes flicked over her form, both relieved and annoyed by how much skin was covered, how well the outfit fit her, how he wanted to see more of her.

Pausing on her way to the table, Taliyra gleaned over the other members already in the room.

There was a pale yellow Tivikonian – presumably whoever Khravel was meeting with – and a human Companion. Taliyra narrowed her eyes, finding the yellow Tivikonian not as tall as Khravel, but broad and stocky. Their four arms were bulging with muscle and the horn-like structures on their head were slim, angling backward. They seemed familiar. Perhaps she’d seen them on the vidscreen during her many hours alone in her room.

The Terran, however, Taliyra did not recognize in the slightest. Though she was obviously a fellow ProxyPanion, judging by how she and the Tivikonian sat rather close, exchanging whispers before she and Khravel entered. They were shorter than Taliyra, with a slighter frame but curvature for a healthy handful. Purple-dyed hair, cut in a short curly bob, and big blue eyes, enhanced by their button nose and full cheeks. They also were wearing the gauzy fine fabric that left little to the imagination that Taliyra reserved for Khravel’s nighttime visits.

“Delegate Yivo,” Khravel nodded to the yellow Tivikonian as he entered the conference room. His eyes twitched to the new human, gleaning over her form. “And I have not had the pleasure to meet your acquaintance.”

Watching Khravel, Taliyra quietly disseminated his expression, the intonation of his words. He seemed painfully neutral, but whether that was his genuine demeanor or due to her presence, she couldn’t say. It would be easier to figure it out after additional time together.

Besides, why should she care if he found the other Companion more appealing? She certainly did not care in the slightest!

As Khravel entered, the yellow Tivikonian smiled and stood in greeting. “I hope you don’t mind, Delegate Iedro. I brought my newly-acquired Companion, Laryse, she/her.”

Laryse smiled shyly as she got to her feet, giving Khravel and Taliyra a nod of acknowledgement while the yellow Tivokian introduced Khravel and, to Taliyra, himself. Her hands were nervously clasped in front of herself.

Newlyi-introduced Delegate Ghensil Yivo wrapped a lower arm around Laryse’s shoulders, tugging her close to his side. Taliyra had to swallow a surge of envy, watching the two exchange smiles between them. “Thought I’d see what the fuss was all about and, admittedly, this has been a charming solution to our population problems. And is this your elusive Companion?”

Before Khravel could answer, Taliyra took the reins. She smiled at Yivo, inclining her head in a small bow. “Yes, my name is Taliyra Deyva, she/they. Khravel – I mean, Delegate Iedro – and I have been discussing making more public appearances together.”

“That is good to hear! There’s growing concerns about your new Companion rarely being seen with you.” Despite being across the table, Yivo made a motion with his free arms, as if he was nudging his colleague. He also added a wink in for good measure. “You could sway some hold-outs just by having her on your arm at functions, Delegate Iedro.”

“Yes, well, we’re still discussing it,” Khravel barely managed to keep his words level enough to not be considered a hiss. Taking a seat, he brought up the necessary documents they needed to discuss on his tablet. “Let’s move on to business, shall we?”

The two Tivokians quickly settled into chairs on the same side of the table as the women did similarly, on the opposite site of the table and further down. Soon, the Delegates were discussing law verbiage and legislation wording and regulations. The laws weren’t much different than Earth, in Taliyra’s assessment. In most cases, they are far more reasonable than the bulk of Terran laws of the past.

Though she noted some interesting tidbits, intent on looking them up later on, she turned to Laryse. The other woman was looking down on her gauntlet, seemingly checking messages. Clearing her throat, Taliyra waited for Laryse to look up, before politely breaching into conversation, “Have you been in Tivik-4 long?”

“About a week,” Laryse replied, smiling awkwardly as her shoulders hunched imperceptibly.

Taliyra nodded, smiling with ease. “I’ve been here four months. I can give you some places to visit, if you like. Museums, galleries, shopping, restaurants. Tivokian culture and history is very interesting.”

“Oh, yes! Can we exchange information?” The knot of Laryse’s shoulders eased, her smile growing a little broader. After scanning each other’s gauntlets, sharing contact preferences and data, Taliyra pointed out some of her favorite spots thus far on Tivik-4. Laryse scrolled through the information Taliyra sent her via holoscreen, the other woman pointing out other highlights and noting the Companion Support Group also available through ProxyPanion.

After a lull in conversation, the “It’ll be nice to have more humans to spend time with. I imagine I’m a bit of a distraction to Ghensil’s workload.”

Down the table, the yellow Tivokian chuckled. “You are not a distraction at all.”

The fondness in Delegate Yivo’s voice made Taliyra swallow a lump in her throat.

Equally, Khravel shot the other man an annoyed look. Despite the fact they had hammered out quite a lot of verbiage issues and updated some outdated terminology, he’d been catching his colleague throwing wistful glances toward Laryse. Those glances had only increased the longer they worked.

Laryse pressed her lips together, shooting her counterpart a stern look. “You say that, but you are…” Her gaze flicked to Taliyra and Khravel, her shoulders rising to her ears. “Well, it’s not appropriate to say in front of others.”

“Let me guess, he’s very lusty.” Taliyra gave a lazy, knowing smile, watching how a smirk toyed across Yivo’s face. Not that she knew personally, but she had seen other Companions and their alien counterparts eagerly partake in the public, strictly adult, sectors. In more recent weeks, she avoided those areas. It made her chest hurt and agitation flare through her thoughts.

She almost broke down in a fit of laughter when Laryse shot her a wide-eyed look, cheeks flushed pink. She reached over to pat the other woman’s hand. “It’s okay to say here. We’re adults here and Tivikonians are more open about sex.”

For the second time, Laryse’s shoulders eased as she exhaled slowly. “Oh, I wasn’t sure how to talk about it. I haven’t been able to get out much to get a read on,” she made a circling motion with her hand, “Everything.”

“He’s been keeping you busy at home?” Taliyra grinned, waggling her eyebrows.

“Something like that,” Laryse replied, snorting down a laugh.

Taliyra laughed too, while fighting down her own jealousy. It wasn’t Laryse’s fault nor Yivo’s fault that her match-up had been far less exuberant with her. She only barely refrained from glancing down the table at Khravel. She wanted to gauge his reaction, see if he felt uncomfortable or leered at Laryse, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“Laryse, if you keep talking about sex, I will have no choice but to cave to my baser instincts.” Delegate Yivo shot Laryse a playful look as one of his hands tapped the table twice. “Right here.”

The purple-haired woman’s lips puckered, her blue eyes narrowing on Yivo. “I doubt Taliyra and Delegate Iedro want to see that, Ghensil!”

Despite her reprimanding tone, her cheeks continued to darken and – from the way she shifted in her seat – Taliyra wondered if the other woman was excited. Giving a one-shouldered shrug, her eyes bounced between Laryse and Yivo, blatantly not looking at Khravel. “I don’t mind.”

“You do not have to, Miss Laryse.” The white-red Tivokian sighed, reading the awkwardness in the human’s body language and hoping his colleague wasn’t going to press the issue.

“I just… I don’t mind,” Laryse began, babbling as she tugged at a curl of her bob. “I don’t want to make any of you uncomforta–“

“Delegate Iedro will not mind. He spearheaded the movement to bring ProxyPanion to Tivik-4.” Yivo smiled, pushing his tablet away as he motioned for Laryse to come closer.

“If you’re all sure you don’t mind?” Laryse looked from Taliyra to Khravel, her pink cheeks unable to darken any further.

Suddenly, the weight of the room was on Khravel’s shoulders. Delegate Yivo, Laryse, and Taliyra were all looking at him, the only one who had yet to give permission for a show. Unable to argue, Khravel tried to force the tension in his shoulders to ease. With a motion of his hand, he attempted to smile. “Far be it for me to stop you two. I commend you both for your duties to Tivik’s populace.”

---

Part 5 is up on Patreon now! ;P

[andsewingishalfthebattle]

Also it was hot enough today to melt my thermoplastic boot armor (pictured), I very nearly collapsed from heat exhaustion outside and had to be rescued by a kind stranger, and then fell over in the vendor hall and landed right on my knee armor. So I'm going to be rebuilding a fair bit of Vincent before his next outing 😅

Guess it was worth all the trouble, though! (I'm going to celebrate the win with some hydration tablets and cold water.)

[0alanasworld0]

Sickness & Health (Hakim Ziyech x reader)

Request: Hi! Please can yiu write something about hakim ziyech taking care of his sick wife( period) or the inverse you pick 😘 also i missed your writing

warnings: none

Hakim wakes up with a smile on his face almost immediately. The curtains allow beams of golden sunlight to peek into your shared bedroom. You were going to have to wake up for work soon but today was one of his scarce rest days. So for once, he was waking up with you instead of ridiculously early hours of the morning. His arm rests around your waist and his chest against your back. It was a peaceful moment that he wouldn’t trade for the world. 

And it only got better when you turned around and he got to see your cute little face all scrunched up. He could feel his heart ready to burst out of his chest when you shuffled closer to snuggle into him. His arms immediately go around you to pull you even closer, flush against his warm skin. It would have made the moment perfect but you felt unusually warm against him and slightly sticky. He pays attention to your breathing and it sounds almost laboured.

Not long after, he hears you groan and sniff and you pull your head back to cough. However, once you start, you spiral and can’t stop yourself from nearly coughing your lungs out.

“Oh, angel…” He says softly, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead and once again pulling you to lay on top of him, gently playing with your hair as you calmed down from the cough attack.

“It’s just some sniffles, I’ll grab the pain meds and get to work…” you mumble, almost incoherent, as you shift to get off the bed. But Hakim wasn’t having it. He pulls you back in before you can get very far and you’re in no state to fight it so you relent, relaxing back into the covers.

“Absolutely not, I’ll call and let them know that you’re sick and I’LL grab what you need. I’m sentencing you to bed rest for the foreseeable future!” you groan and whine but he’s having none of it. Before he’s out of your bedroom door, you manage to get a few words out.

“Hakiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiim…” you whine, shifting around and preparing yourself to get up.

“Don’t you ‘Hakim’ me, you’re not going to have to lift a finger and you’re gonna like it!” and with that he’s off and you concede, sinking back into the sheets.

He’s back soon enough with the thermometer, a cup of warm tea and the tablets. You can’t help but smile at the worried look on his face. You weren’t used to people taking care of you like this or being so attentive but Hakim would be Hakim. Always making you his first priority, your comfort and happiness are always at the top of his list. 

“I could get used to this…” taking your first sip of the tea and sighing out at the way it soothed your burning throat. He smiles softly, placing his hand on your back, sneaking under your sleep shirt to smooth circles on the heated skin.

“It’s the least you deserve, sweets.” he whispers,edging his face towards you but you place a hand over his mouth before he can try anything.

“I’m gonna get you sick!” you whine and he huffs with a roll of his eyes.

“I’ll take my chances.” he tries again but once again, you push him away. 

“Hakim…” you warn, tired eyes narrowed and he finally relents. Opting to sit at the edge of the bed as you finished the tea. He can see that you’re struggling to hold your head up and keep your eyes open so he’s quick to gather you in his arms and lay you down, tucking you tightly under the covers and you snuggle into the softness.

“Coooooooold…” you whine and he can’t help but laugh a little. He loved being able to baby you for once. You were always so headstrong, stubborn, so fiercely independent and it was one of the many reasons he admired you but he loved being able to be the one to care for you. Coddle you and cater to your every plea.

“Should I make more tea?” he offers and he can’t really see it with you bundled up in the blankets but you’re shaking your head. Slowly but surely, you manage to find the edge of the blanket, opening it up as if to offer him a spot under the covers with you.

He gladly takes up on it, finding his way under the soft blankets with you and pulling you to his chest again. You hum in relief.

“Mmmmm you’re like a walking space heater!” you mumble and you can’t seem to get close enough to him. He accepts your clinginess, placing a hand at the back of your head to gently scratch at your scalp. It doesn’t take you long to fall asleep after that, perfectly content in his arms and surrounded by his warmth. It was exactly what you needed in your state. 

He was still worried, however. He had to be doing more. Without trying to disturb the sleep you very much needed, he reaches over to grab his phone. He knew exactly who to call.

“Mama?” he whispers, a smile making its way onto his face when he hears the comforting voice on the other side of the line.

“You know that soup you used to make?”

“That’s a top secret recipe, hbibi, you know that!” he can envision her shaking her head at his request.

“I know, I know! But I can’t just leave your daughter-in-law in this kind of state, can I?” and with that, the secrets are finally revealed. You were his mum’s soft spot. She saw you as an absolute blessing in their lives and Hakim often joked that she loved you more than himself. She would do anything for you like you were her own.

“Have you given her the tea?” 

“Of course!”

“How many sugar cubes? I know what you’re like.” he rolls his eyes at her remark, blushing slightly in embarrassment at the memory of the video. He indeed had an insatiable sweet tooth but the Atay?! That was clearly a step too far for everyone. He was teased relentlessly when everyone got hold of zouma’s video. There had to have been at least 5 cubes casually dropped into the tea.

“The normal amount, don’t you worry!”

“Hmm, the last thing the poor angel needs is a cavity!” she laughs and his blush deepens. 

“Okay, mama I’ll call later! I love you, bye!” he hangs up, not needing to be berated anymore for his sugar addiction. 

It seems that his mum wasn’t done with him though because he receives a text shortly after he hangs up the phone. And of course, he had to be reminded about the olive oil. And alongside the reminder is a photo of a little recipe card and a warning to keep the secret within the family. He may have been the only one of his siblings to know but that was about as far as it was going to travel. 

Thankfully, you’re so deep in your sleep that he’s able to worm his way out of your grasp and out of your bed, not forgetting to tuck you back in and pressing a kiss to your forehead before heading down to the kitchen to prepare the soup. It was going to take a while but he supposed that you would be sleeping for a while anyway.

And it definitely does take up most of the morning. He eventually has to get his mum on facetime for some more direct guidance, as direct as he could get, because there was no way he was going to get this wrong. He was going to cure you of whatever was making you feel so horrible.

He’s thrilled when he tastes it and he’s taken back to when he was a kid. Taking a couple days off school and getting the house to himself while the rest of his siblings were in school. Watching cartoons and enjoying his soup. Very few things beat that for him. It was pretty common for him and all of his siblings to try and feign sickness to enjoy it but their mother was much smarter than that, much to their dismay.

Hakim is almost tempted to finish the batch himself and reward himself for his success but he manages to stop himself and remember the task at hand. 

By the time he’s up the stairs and back in your bedroom, soup and even more tea and some water all ready for you, the first thing he sees is your adorable grumpy face. At least he wasn’t going to have to wake you up.

“Hakim, it’s freezing!” you complain, somehow completely unaware of the sauna you were in.

“I’m sorry angel but I come bearing gifts!” he gestures to the tray but you’re having none of it. You felt exhausted and cold and the last thing on your mind was food. So you did the sensible, mature thing and fell back into the sheets, turning away so you weren’t facing him. 

It may not have been the best reaction to you in your state but he had to laugh a little bit. You huff a little louder in disapproval and he manages to pull himself together before he really upset you.

“Angel, c’mon! You need to eat something if you want to feel better!” he urges but you’re still crumpy with him. Firstly for leaving you to freeze alone under your sheets and secondly for laughing at you.

“Not hungry.” 

“Pleaaaaaaaasssse, I promise I won’t leave you alone again?” he attempts to bargain and he hears nothing. So he waits, time slowing down as he worries he’s actually upset you.

“Fine but only because I am a little bit hungry.” you mutter, taking your time to lift yourself to sit up. He happily takes his place next to you, grabbing the spoon but you push at his hand, eyebrows furrowed.

“I can feed myself!” but that clearly wasn’t stopping him.

“I promised that you weren’t going to have to lift a finger, I meant it literally and figuratively!” he jokes and that's what finally gets a laugh out of you. Although you have to stop yourself because it was somehow hurting muscles you didn’t know you had.

Upon the first taste, you’re pleasantly surprised by the dish. It’s delicate on your tongue, all the flavours in perfect harmony and the warmth of the spice soothing on your throat. It was good, really good.

“Your mum is a genius, you know?’ you smirk, avoiding his eyes as you wait for him to realise.

“Hey! How do you know that it wasn’t my own recipe? You could be living with the next Gordon Ramsay for all you know!” You snort at the idea of that. Hakim wasn’t the worst chef in the world by any means, he could get by just fine. But you knew that near-heavenly soul food like this must have been the work of someone entirely different. 

Now it's his turn to sulk so once you’re done with the delicious meal, he leaves the tray on the bedside table, promptly crossing his arms and huffing. Much like you but it was so much funnier on a big, tough guy like him.

“Oh I’m sorry, love! It must have taken you forever and it was amazing! Next Gordon Ramsay?” you nudge him and his face twitches as he tries to hold back a smile. 

“Are you really going to deny me your cuddles in my state?” you pout and he finally looks at you.

“I guess we both owe each other.” he rolls his eyes, pulling you into his warm hold. You smile, sighing out in pure relief when he pulls the blankets over your slightly shivering body, making sure that not a single square inch of your body was even remotely cold.

“I know exactly how you can repay me, you know…” you remove your face from his neck, waiting for his part of the deal.

“I’ve read that kisses are the cure to all and nothing would make me happier than to cure you! And it would only take me a second!” you deflate a little, rolling your eyes and hiding back under his chin as you shake your head as vigorously as you could manage.

“Your payback to me is to make yourself sick?” you scoff.

“It’s just an annoying little side-effect. I’m sure I can cope, as your big strong man hmm?” he tickles your side slightly so another laugh arises from you.

“You’re crazy.”

“You love it so you must be crazier.” Before you can talk back, he softly presses his lips against yours. You allow for the second that he assured but when you try to pull yourself off, he only follows, prolonging it. The hand now cradling the back of your head was indication enough that he wasn’t planning on stopping.

When he finally does release you to breathe, he’s met with your signature scowl and his eyes widen a little.

“ ‘it would only take me a second’ “ you mock.

“Hey I thought I’d up the dose to ensure its effectiveness!”

“Hakim, you’re going to get sick now!” you whine, pouting. Although hakim’s presence made things significantly better for you, you still felt terrible: achy and sore everywhere, you couldn’t breathe through your nose, your throat all itchy and you felt so weak in general. Horrible. The last thing you wanted was for him to be feeling that way too.

“I’ll be fine! Athlete genes are built different anyway.” he reassures but you’re not buying it at all. And you would argue but you were overcome with exhaustion and all of a sudden, sleep was just sounding too good to pass up. 

Hakim is surprised by your silence and he worries but only for a moment. He feels your slow breathing against his neck, still slightly laboured but sounding a little better than the morning so he considers his time slaving away in the kitchen an ultimate success.

He decides not the disturb you although he could imagine how cute you looked with your face squished under his chin and against his neck. He also decides against leaving the bed again because the idea of snuggling up with you sounded like a beautiful one. He couldn’t think of a better way to spend the rest of the day. And soon enough, he falls into a peaceful slumber too although his grip around your body doesn’t loosen at all. 

The next few days go very much the same. Much to your dismay, he does call off his training so that he can take care of you but it was nothing to him. You were far more important than anything in his eyes. He keeps to his word, waiting on you hand and foot; ready and waiting to fulfil every request of yours and somehow without getting sick of it. Any opportunity to spoil you, he took with open arms. His hard work and love doesn’t go to waste as you’re back to your usual self in no time.

Around 4 days after you first got ill, you wake up and you dread opening your eyes. You contemplated whether the splitting headache was even worth it. It was an inevitability that you despised. But you were feeling a little restless and it had been a while since you felt energetic enough to even get out of bed. When you do eventually open your eyes, first the left and then the right, you’re pleasantly surprised when you don’t feel your head spinning. The next test is breathing in, you didn't like having to constantly remind yourself to breathe through your mouth rather than your nose. And you didn’t like further irritating your sore throat by taking in the crisp air. You’re delighted when you realise that the stuffy nose has gone away too. 

For the first time in what feels like forever, you’re feeling great. Like a whole new girl. But your attempt to rush out of bed to celebrate comes to a halt when you feel the arm draped across your waist constrict around you and pull you closer. Next you hear a loud groan followed by some coughs. You tried to warn him but alas.

“I feel horrible, angel! What on earth is wrong with me?” he wonders out loud.

“I’ll give you 3 guesses…” you shake your head, kissing his forehead before untangling yourself for him. You supposed it was your turn to dote on him for the next few days.

“Would your mum be okay with sharing that recipe with her dearest daughter-in-law?” you whisper and he chuckles a little, although a painful cough stops him in his tracks.

“You know the answer to that, my love.”

honestly still feeling a little bummed from that anon but y'know, we move on. thank you guys for being so supportive and kind abt it, i love you all very much and i hope u enjoy <3

[ultfreakme]

"I'd burn down the world for you."

Jay laughs. That's an understatement, he cackles, chortles, folds over in his chair and nearly drops his tablet on the tile floor of his office. "What tiktoks are you watching?" he wipes his eyes.

Jon's neck heats. Even after over a year of dating, he keeps finding ways to stick his foot in his mouth. "What!" Jon raises his hands defensively. "I might!"

Jay levels him with a steady look. "You would not, be serious."

"I could," Jon tries again. "Like a little."

"Really convincing me here babe." He returns to his work, tapping away at an email meant for Daily Star, then switching to a secret personal project none of the Supers should know about (sans Jon and Nat).

Jon sits on the large table. Dark wood, covered in printouts, post-its, notes, and candy wrapper, he shuffles them back to make space for himself, not like he can make it worse. "I just wanted to try saying it. It's what everyone says, you know, even if they don't mean it."

Jay picks up his stylus, carefully scanning a document for The Truth. "Again, I don't know what tiktoks you're watching these days- or is it some anime? Are you watching crappy shojo anime?"

Jon grumbles. "I have excellent taste in shojo anime and you'd know if you at least tried to watch Monthly Nozaki-kun with me."

"Fine, fine I'll watch it," says Jay. "Point is, no one actually means it when they say they'd do dramatic and destructive acts of useless violence for someone."

"But they do," Jon insists. "There are people who'd put everything aside if something happens to their boyfriend. And I--I can't."

Setting the tab aside, Jay rolls his chair closer to Jon. "What really brought this on?" He looks up at him, warm, honey brown eyes, sharp with the focus of an interrogation. Jon resists the urge to lean down and cup his face. Where should he begin?

"I wish I could say stuff like that without thinking forever about, like, moral consequences and actual global devastation," says Jon. "Ivy would do it for Harley, and you know Harley would do it back. But I can't even say shit like that without some alert going off somewhere."

He does feel the urge, he felt it a million times with Bendix. The urge to just, end it. It would have been so easy, even if he knew it was wrong. The instincts battled but there was always a clear victor. He's seen The Aerie not give a second thought before dropping people from skyscraper-heights when someone got a hold of Wink. He didn't approve, he never will. But he wonders, sometimes, to let the power flow and not stop it.

He keeps thinking it; 'I'd let everything go to waste to keep you safe. You deserve the world, you deserve everything' to the point he feels sick and helpless with it. He would, but he can't.

"They also end up being apprehended by Batman for trying that shit. Threats of ending-the-world are bad."

"I know but-- just-- I feel like I'm not, fully here with you, for you. You know?" Like they're one side, he can say it all he wants but if things get messy, everyone would expect Superman to leave his boyfriend behind. He hopes to every higher force hearing to never put them in that position, but after Waller and Nia, he worries, he fears. All it takes is one person with a motive.

"I don't expect you to go nuts with your powers for me," Jay says easily, tracing circles on Jon's knee. "I'd actually fight you if you go 'I let the bad thing happen for you', like that's where it ends."

Jon bends down. "But what if I did it to keep you safe?"

"Same thing," Jay turns his chin up, their noses an inch away. "Lois told me once, you aren't just mine to keep. You've got a whole world, it's not just me in it that matters."

Sometimes, it feels like it's just Jay. But he is right, he knows the consequence of letting one person define fate of the world. He's seen it in the version of his father who did let the world burn in the name of his mom. She'd hate it, and so would Jay.

"I'll try my best not to let the world burn down for you?" Jon says.

Jay pecks a kiss on his cheek. "Getting warmer, I am totally seduced and charmed."

Jon places a quick press to his forehead and leans backs, kicking his feet. "So, what would you do?"

Stylus paused over the tablet, Jay watches ahead. "I'm not Superman."

Jon tilts his head and makes a questioning sound.

He chuckles and brings the tablet back to life, circling a sentence for a grammatical error. "I'm not for protecting anything and everything all the time," he says. "I've got to prioritize, and my priorities are based on what I care about."

Jon should probably discourage him and tell him no. No he can't just prioritize. No, he has to care about the rest of the universe too because superheroes, powers, responsibilities.

But it does feel nice to know someone would tear everything apart for him, selfish as it is. He wouldn't even hate Jay for it if he did it.

[buckyscrystalqueen]

Winter Wolf: Part 14

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, angst

Word Count: 3,523

A/N: Finally got the muse to finish this story! YAY!

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Who’s the cutest little princess in the whole wide world?” Bucky cooed from your bathroom as he gave Anastasia a bath, while you caught your notebook up on the last two years of your life. You smirked to yourself as your daughter giggled away and splashed in the water in her blow up bath tub in the shower. “You are! Yes, you are!”

“Thought I was the cutest in the world.” You called out, playfully as you leaned to the side the slightest bit to see your husband with your eyebrow cocked.

“Not anymore!” He cooed, teasingly with barely a glance over at you. “Ana wins that, hands down now. You didn’t age so well in the dinosaur years.”

“You’re rude!” You laughed as you chucked a pillow at him, easily hitting him in the side to which he completely overreacted to make Ana laugh harder.

“What was that?!” He asked her as he shook his head and pushed himself off where he had purposely fallen to his hip. “Did Mommy just hit me, go boom?! Oh, yes she did, and Daddy’s gunna remember that shit later tonight, too. Yes he will.”

“Are you receiving company?” Tony asked as he knocked gently on your open bedroom door. You froze the slightest bit and closed your notebook as you looked over at him in shock.

“Umm... yes? How am I supposed to answer that, Tony.”

“I know I ruined your birthday.” He started as he opened up his tablet and held it out to you. “And I also didn’t get you a wedding gift. But I figured I’d at least try to kill three birds with one stone with this as a way of apologizing for what I put you through, after everything you have done for the world.” You nodded and scooted across the bed to take the tablet as Bucky did his best to get his daughter out of the bath peacefully for bed so he could see what was going on. You looked at the screen and almost instantly felt the scalding heat you felt the day you watched your home burn to the ground.

“My plantation.” You whispered as you looked at the charred remains. “It’s still there?!”

“It’s technically a historical site.” Tony said as he glanced over at Bucky as he leaned on your door frame. “You owned the biggest plantation in Georgia during the Civil War. It was on the market for a while back in the late 1800’s, early 1900’s but then was taken off...”

“When I moved to London to go to school.” You said with a nod. “I was a doctor... my Lord.” You whispered with a shake of your head.

“Well the property went to the government some time in the 1920’s, and was deemed historical. So they maintained the property and the other houses and stables. But they never rebuilt the main house...”

“There’s an old willow tree a ways to the right of the house.” You said as you closed your eyes and tried to look past the last day you were there in your mind. “It was nearly as tall as the house and I could see if from my bedroom window. Is it still there?” You opened your eyes and looked over at Tony, who slowly shook his head and shrugged.

“I’m not sure. It took me a while to track this place down, because no one knew who the owner was after the war, and I haven’t been down to look yet. Figured you’d want to go first.” You nodded your head and looked back down at the photo as Bucky sat down on the bed beside you with Ana.

“It had a huge wrap around porch.” You told him as you showed him the photo with a small smile as more memories flooded your mind. “John made us rocking chairs that sat right here so we could watch the sun set. Mine had a hole in the right arm from when I stabbed it with my knitting needle after a disagreement one night. And it had these big white columns in front that held up the roof and the small porch up there. Look, baby... this is where Mommy lived.” You said to Ana as you traded Bucky her for the tablet when she tried to get away from her dad.

“We can leave in the morning if you’d like.” Tony said as he pushed off the door frame. “Jet’s ready. Just let me know when you are, whenever you are.”

“Tony.” You called out before he could walk away as your daughter used you as a jungle gym. “Thank you.” He gave you a tight nod and a small smile before he turned and walked away, leaving you to catch up on your memories with your husband.

“So you owned a plantation?” Bucky said, because it was partially news to both of you.

“I inherited it when John passed.” You said with a nod as you wrangled your toddler into your lap. “It’s strange, until I saw that photo, all I could remember of that place was the day I was shot and left. But now, I’m seeing the giant wood burning stove in the kitchen, and the stone fireplace in the parlor. I can see the staircase that ran up the right side of the main hall, that led all the way to the back with this... oh, God it was the most hideous carpet in the world, but it belonged to John’s mother and he loved it.” You scoffed and shook your head as you got up to put Ana in her jammies. “I am not sorry to see that carpet burned down. I wonder if the fire went all the way down to the basement.” You said as you paused at Ana’s dresser and turned around with your brow furrowed. “There’s... there’s something in the basement... I can’t remember...”

“Well, do you want to go look tomorrow?” He asked, pulling you from your thoughts so you could get your daughter dressed. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind seeing this ‘biggest plantation in Georgia’ that my wife owns.”

“It was a big plantation.” You agreed with a huff. “Pain in my rear to work and hotter than all get out most days.”

“Oh, and we’re turning Southern with it.” He laughed as he scooted up on the bed to relax in his spot. “You worked the fields?”

“I did.” You said with a slow nod as you picked up your clothed daughter and walked over to the bed so she could have her night time bottle before bed. “I was a woman before my time back then, and still a Yankee at heart you could say. When John and I married, I convinced him to free our slaves, and made sure they all worked for pay. He was very well off, he could afford it, and they all worked even harder if at all possible once the overseer was let go. But when the war happened, money got a little tight, and we lost quite a few hands to typhoid but the work still needed to be done. So yes, I worked my fields until the war was dropped on my doorstep one night.”

“You know, you get more and more impressive every single day.” He said as he set Tony’s tablet aside to lay down beside Ana so he could look at you. “I am so honored to get to call you my wife, doll.”

“Even though my memories come in snippets and I’m dinosaur old?” You teased as you picked up your notebook to update some past notes.

“Absolutely.” He laughed as he reached across the pillows to rub your back. “Makes you mysterious.”

“OK, we’ll go with that.” You laughed as you handed him the remote so he could put on the ‘Good Night Moon’ show Ana loved before bed while you wrote. You hummed and shook your head as you opened your notebook and clicked on the plantation memories page. “Mysterious, he says. Crazy I say.”

“Go write your notes!”

——

You were glad to see that the massive live oaks lining your driveway were still just as gorgeous as ever, but it absolutely disgusted you to see that your front lawn had been turned into a giant gravel parking lot. A deep growl rolled from your chest, and Steve gently reached over the front seat to grab your wrists, while Bucky put his hand on your knee and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“We can fix it, sweetheart.” Your husband said softly as Happy, Pepper’s assistant, parked his rental car beside the one Tony, Pepper, and their lawyers were in, since parking the jet on your property was apparently not an option. Your growl turned into grumbling as you got out of the car, but turned right back into a much deeper growl when you turned to see a six foot tall, chain link fence around your old home. But all noises simply stopped when you saw your willow tree.

“I’m gunna fucking kill someone.” You said as you ripped away from Bucky and Steve and stormed over to your tree, where a young couple was carving their initials amongst the decades of others, including your and John’s original carvings. “Back the fuck up!” You roared as you let your claws fly just as Steve wrapped his arm around your upper torso and yanked you back.

“Just back away from the tree.” He said quickly to the terrified kids with a shake of his head. “Go on.” The second they were clear, he set you down, and you retracted your claws to walk over and run your fingers over the destroyed wood.

“No...” You said with a shake of your head with tears in your eyes as you looked around until you found the faint, misshapen heart that was almost gone with age, and distorted letters carved by your late husband.

“We’ll see if we can fix it, baby.” Bucky said softly as he touched the small of your back. “Look, the older ones are already fading.” You nodded your head slowly and looked up at the higher names, that were a little less distorted than yours, but were fading as well.

“You must be Mr. Stark.” A peppy older woman in period clothes said as she headed over to the group. “My name is Abigail, I’ll be your guide of the Jackson Plantation...”

“I’m sorry, the what?!” You said as you whipped around to look at her with rage in your eyes, which made Tony step between the pair of you with a tight ‘all business’ smile.

“You’re gunna want to clear the property.” He said evenly with a nod. “Now. For everyone’s safety.”

“Oh! Oh, I’m afraid I can’t do that...” Abigail said as you stormed away from the group to look at a metal plaque on your side of the fence around your house.

“Oh, this is not good.” Bucky said with a shake of his head as you read the lies someone had made up about your house, before you simply ripped it off the post and easily crumbled it in a ball before Steve could get to you.

“Wait, you can’t do that!” Abigail shrieked as you ripped the fence open with more grumbling and headed up to your house with Steve, and Bucky right behind you.

“I’m warning you once more.” Tony said as he simply watched your guide’s horrified expression. “Clear the premises...”

“I’m calling the police!” She cried as she pulled her cell phone from the pocket of her dress.

“I am the fucking police here!” You roared from the front steps as you rounded and glared at her. “This is my fucking land! You are trespassing here!”

“This is property of the National Parks Services...” She tried with shaky hands, which made the Wolf rear her ugly head at the woman’s weakness as a sinister darkness filled your eyes.

“And that’s where you’re fucking wrong.” You said as you slowly walked back down the steps toward her. “This land belonged to my first husband, John William Scott, who was a confederate soldier that died in the war. The plantation, which was named Green Pebble Hill by his aunt, Cecelia Ann Scott MacDonald when she was a child because of the moss covered pebbles in the stream in the back fields by the way, was left to me, (Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N) Scott, his sole heir because I’m not able to bear children due to my mutation. Find his will, I know he had one. It’s dated May 16th, 1864, the day before he left to join ranks before the war even started.

The house was burned down by Yankee soldiers in July of 1865, four days after I got a letter saying my husband was killed, not by looters in 1868 like your historically inaccurate sign claims. Burned down by men who were instructed to kill me when they found that I was helping both their soldiers and ones of the confederacy. I was shot in the left lung for helping wounded men, no matter what color their coat was, because that is what good people do. But thanks to my mutation, I can’t fucking die! My body just rejected the musket ball as they burned my home to cinders. Now, get these people off my fucking property immediately or you will learn all about the hell I’ve been through the past one hundred and twenty four years since I first learned how horrible people could be just for the fucking sake of it!” She nodded her head frantically as you turned on your heel to head back up to your house, grumbling under your breath. “Stevie, help me with this.” You said as you carefully walked up on the porch again. “There’s a safe in the basement. It has that letter... I think the will...”

“Babe, be careful.” Bucky said as you grabbed a long, charred, weather warn piece of wood that made up part of the wall of your first floor and lifted it up so that your best friend could see a similar piece of wood that was attached to it on the far side of the house.

“OK, I see it.” He said as he jumped down and ran to the other side as tourists began to flood toward the parking lot to leave.

“(Y/N), we can get a construction crew...” Pepper tried, but Bucky quickly looked back and shook his head at her.

“Just leave her. She’s being buried by new memories, and she’s battling the Wolf. No one can stop her right now.” 

“Get ahold of your boss.” Tony said as you and Steve chucked the wood away from the building. “I want contact information to whomever believes they own this land. We’ll be taking it back from them now.” Abigail nodded her head again and continued making phone calls as you and Steve made a path down to the basement that seemed relatively untouched thanks to it’s all stone frame.

“It’s...” You said as you jumped down into the basement after twenty minutes of clearing the rubble of your upper two floors and hesitated. You closed your eyes and tried to picture yourself putting the letter in the safe as Steve jumped down in front of you to help. You turned around in your spot and went through the motions of the memory, before your head shot up and to your left. “Over here. Under some flour sacks.”

“I need a light!” Steve called out as you took a step in that direction but stumbled the slightest bit over a small pile of stones. “Wait, (Y/N). We’re getting a light.”

“Here, Tony said just put it on.” Bucky said as he carefully leaned over the edge and dropped Tony’s Ironman helmet down to Steve. Your best friend held it out to you and you squeezed it on to your head before squinting at the bright screen that popped up in front of you.

“Man, what did I do with only lanterns down here?” You asked yourself as you awkwardly stepped over the stones, around whatever had started to grow in the dark space, and over to the sacks of flour that was your safe’s cover with the help of the night vision from Tony’s suit. Once they were thrown to the side, you picked up the three by three cast iron safe with a grunt, and carried it back over to Steve.

“Alright, hold on. Let me get out first.”

“How do I get this thing off... Oh.” You gasped as the mask opened and shrunk down to sit like a thick necklace. “That works.”

“You find it?” Bucky asked as Steve found solid ground and kneeled down to help. You passed it up to him and climbed out yourself as Tony, Pepper, and his lawyers talked to the cops that came to deal with the ‘disturbance’ with Abigail, her boss, and a pair of local representatives from the National Park Services.

“OK, wait just set it here.” You said as you pointed to the ground by the back steps as you kneeled down beside it. “Shit. When is his birthday? Or was it the day we met.”

“Don’t think of it that way.” Bucky said as he came around to the back of the house to see what was inside this little mystery box. “That’s not gunna help here like it doesn’t help you find your cell phone at home, remember? Walk through the last time you used it like you did in the basement. Picture yourself with the letter in your hand.” You nodded your head and closed your eyes as you held out your hand with the letter in it. “Down the stairs, to the left. You moved those bags and kneeled down. You reached out and turned the dial to...”

“Thirty-two.” You said as you opened your eyes and leaned forward. “Seventeen. Nine. His birthday backwards.” A smile spread across your face as the locked popped open, and the metal door creaked as you pulled it open. “Thank you baby. I never would have remembered that. See, the letter.” You said as you carefully pulled it out and unfolded the telegram. You looked over the slightly faded ink with a small sigh, before wiping off the top of the safe and setting it down. “Oh, look. His will. I didn’t know I had the original. Oh, look at this.” You laughed as you pulled out an old photograph of you on your wedding day. “I made that dress by hand. And this picture took forever to take. Cameras weren’t what they are back then.”

“God, you haven't change a bit.” Bucky said as he sat down beside you to look, as Steve crouched down on your other side.

“I aged like a fine wine.” You teased as you added the photo to the stack. “Oh, and this is John. Oh, sweetheart.” You sighed as you slowly shook your head with a fond smile. “Bless his heart, that man couldn’t grow a beard to save his life.”

“He’s... a lot older than I expected.” Bucky said as he took the photo from your hands, delicately.

“Ten years senior.” You said with a nod as Steve excused himself softly to let Tony know you had the original will. “That was normal back then. I married him when I had just turned seventeen so we were together... like seven years before he passed.”

“Wow.” He breathed as he handed you back the photo.

“What else do we have? Confederate bonds. What’s this? Oh, gold. Could have used that. Oh, my jewelry...” The pair of you sat for another twenty minutes or so, going through old memories and things you had kept safe when John left. You were ecstatic to find the deed to the property along with his father’s will and a couple other documents related to his family.

“OK, I have to say this is blowing my mind a little bit.” Bucky said as you pulled out a pistol wrapped in an old t-shirt to make sure there was nothing left underneath it. “Like... this is your stuff. Not your relatives, yours. You actually touched these documents before today.”

“Gives being older than dinosaurs a whole new meaning, doesn’t it?” You laughed as you started carefully putting everything back in the safe.

“And you own this land.” He said as he looked up at the massive, 2000 acre property in front of him.

“I do.” You said with a nod as you closed the door of the safe. “Legally and soon, officially.”

“Damn.” He said with a shake of his head. “Yea, we’re raising Anastasia here.”

“I’m absolutely OK with that, my love.” You said as you stood up and picked up the safe. “I just have to prove who I am to the US government after spending nearly one hundred years trying to avoid doing just that. That’s gunna be the real fun.”

Part 15