#oh! last drawing he takes off his usual long coat and he's only with his dark robe/tunica

[snz-thoughts]

Photic sneezes ?? more likely than you'd think! This snz prompt was on my mind and I had to draw it fr

"In the midst of external discussions, an individual finds themselves ensnared in the clutches of photic hypersensitivity to sunlight. The rapidity of sneezes and the insufferable tickle assail them, nostrils flaring uncontrollably as menacing tears escaped the corner of their eyelids, as rendering stifling attempts futile. Devoid of any discernible tissue, handkerchief, or adequate means to conceal these involuntary eruptions, the sole recourse lies, at a subsequent time, in the utilization of one's gloves".

[jensensfanfic]

hi! if you're still taking daniel requests, could you write something where he and the reader are in their early-mid 20s and find out they're gonna be parents? maybe the reader gets the news at the doctor's office and surprises daniel when he gets home from work? wholesome domestic scenarios my beloved <3 thanks you!!!

LITTLE BEAN

pairing: daniel larusso x fem!reader

warnings: set in the present, daniel/reader are mid 20s but want kids, pregnancy, little mentions of anxiety - but it's just reader being nervous. not edited - i finished it mid work shift 😶

a/n: can we pretend he's mid 20s in that gif, please, despite the fact he doesn't age and looks so young lol. i don't write pregnancy fics often, so i it hope this is okay. i'm also worried i didn't stay true to his character... but again, i hope it's okay for you!!

—★•°°•☆°••°★•°°•☆°••°★—

The journey home from the doctor's office feels like a lifetime. Every second seems to tick by at a snails pace. The usual bus ride home only takes around 20 minutes, and today is no different. There's not much traffic, and more than half of the seats are empty, but somehow, time moves so much slower.

You pull out your phone to check for any new messages and hope to see one from Daniel, but there's nothing yet. You assume this means he's working a little later. For a moment, this bothers you... until you get an idea. You'd wanted Daniel to be at home for the surprise at first, but this way, maybe you would have time to set up something special.

You type a quick text to Daniel, asking him how long he'll be. He responds quickly, and you figure out you have just under an hour to pull together what you can.

You get off the bus one stop before home, and head into your local supermarket. At the back of the store is a bakery, where you ask for a pre-baked cake to be decorated with two simple words. The friendly woman behind the counter pipes the words in pink and blue frosting and takes only ten minutes or so to finish it. You thank her as she hands over the box with a smile on her face and congratulates you.

Next, you pick up a pack of sharpies and some balloons from the party aisle that are the same colours as the frosting on your cake. Then you head to the section you'll no doubt be frequenting over the next few months... nay, years. You try to be quick, but the shelves of cute stuffed animals leave you spoiled for choice and very indecisive. You question if you even need one, but before you can walk away, you spot the perfect option.

You pick up the soft little toy sheep, giggling, then run your fingers over the material of the gi it wears. "Perfect."

Honesty, if you'd seen the little guy before, you'd have bought it ages ago.

After paying for everything, you head for your apartment, with enough time to spare to sort everything out.

You tie some of the pink and blue balloons together and put them in the living room, next to the coffee table where you've set the cake. With the sharpies, you draw and write cute little messages on them. You lay two plates, two forks, and two napkins next to it, along with a knife. Then, you decide to put on one of your favourite outfits. One you'd usually wear on a date night, something that would definitely make Daniel curious when he came home to see it.

You take a deep breath and take out one last thing from the pocket of the coat you'd hung up by the front door. You gaze at the image in wonder while your free hand smooths over your stomach.

You move to go and find somewhere to put it, but then there's the sound of keys jingling and the opening of the front door. You move your hands behind your back and watch as Daniel enters your home, a frown already forming on his face.

"Oh. Hey, babe. Are you off somewhere?" He kicks off his shoes and shuts the door behind him, opening his arms for a hug. You wrap your arms around him, peck his lips, and then step back, careful not to drop or reveal the gift. "Is it date night? Oh, god, did I forget?"

"Uh, no. No, but I do have a surprise for you."

"Aw, thank you babe. Can I sit first?" You stop him with a hand on his chest when he looks towards the living room. He looks down at your hand and cocks his head like a curious puppy. "Uh..."

You chuckle nervously. "Ha. Sorry, but not just yet. Here. I bought you something."

Swiftly, you bring the toy from behind your bag and hold it between you, wiggling the sheep's little legs and smiling. Daniel's eyes light up at the simple, yet meaningful gift. He grins and laughs. "Oh, my God. A karate sheep? That's amazing!"

He takes if gratefully, inspecting the little patch on the gi. "Hm. Maybe Mr Miyagi can sew a mini bonsai patch for it. This flower patch is cute and all but this little guy has to be a Miyagi-Do student."

You snort and chuckle at him, thrilled that he likes his first surprise, but then your mind immediately switches to the second. The subject of your other gift is something you've both talked about for about a year now. Both of you want it, but it doesn't halt the anxiety that sits heavy in your chest. There is always the chance that Daniel may have changed his mind.

"Hey, babe?" You take a deep breath and reach up to cup his jaw, bringing his attention back to you. He sets the toy sheep on top of the shelf by the front door and brings his hands down to your waist, running circles there with his thumbs. "I have something else for you."

"Why do you seem so nervous? Whatever it is, I'll love it. You know I will."

"Come on." One final blow of air, and you take his hand, turning around and leading him to the room where the balloons and cake are waiting. "So..."

Daniel's mouth falls open. He glances between each balloon, reading the drawn-on letters that say things like, 'oh, baby', 'hey, daddy'. On some of them, you'd drawn little baby faces that look similar to the emoji.

He doesn't say a word yet, but you no longer feel that worry as he smiles, then laughs, then goes silent once more. He slowly sits down on the sofa and stares at the cake for a few moments. In blue and pink, the frosting reads, "WE'RE PREGNANT".

"Is this... are you... I mean, are you messing with me?" Daniel shoots up again, rounding the sofa to see you. "Please, this isn't a joke, is it?"

"No!" You snicker, then look up into his eyes. Your own eyes are full of promise, excitement, and... starting to water. "I wouldn't do that, I swear. Look, I have a picture."

"You have a picture already? Let me see." He makes grabby hands and you reveal your still-hidden hand from behind your back. "Oh..."

"The doctor said I'm 4 or 5 weeks." Tears start to fall from your eyes and you decide to take a seat on the sofa, your stomach filling with butterflies and your knees starting to feel weak at the way Daniel is looking at you.

"He looks like a little bean."

"'He'?" He joins you on the sofa, placing the photo down on the table. "You think it's a boy?"

"I have a feeling."

"This soon?" You laugh, dabbing at the corners of your eyes with gentle fingertips.

"Yep, but either way, I'm gonna be the best Daddy for the little bean, I promise." His eyes flicker to your stomach and he splays a hand out on your skin. "Hear that, bean? I love you so much. Your Mum, too. And I can't wait to meet you."

"Danny..." You fully burst into happy sobs and fling your arms around him. You giggle and repeatedly kiss the back of his neck. "I can't believe I thought for a second you wouldn't be happy about this."

"Of course I am, sweetheart." You feel the movement when he chuckles. "We didn't try to have a baby to... not have a baby."

"I still thought maybe–"

"Shh." He leans into the crook of you neck. "No, no, no. I'm so happy, baby. I can't wait to start this family with you." He kisses you back a couple of times before pulling away slightly. "Can we eat some cake now, it looks delicious."

You nod and he releases you, but keeps a hold of one of your hands. As he cuts a piece of cake for you, he lifts his brows and says, "You know what else? I can't wait to see our child lifting that All Valley trophy."

—★•°°•☆°••°★•°°•☆°••°★—

[natashaslesbian]

Christmas Lies

Summary: your school friend tells you a devastating secret

Word Count: 1.1k

Parings: (Mom!Natasha x Daughter!Reader) (PeterParker x Reader)

Warnings: none :))

————

The snow hadn’t quite settled on the grass yet, but a faint white blanket still laid atop the field carrying your favourite playground. Everyday on the way home from school you would beg your mom to take you, just for five minuets. This was Natasha’s next clue that something was wrong. The city had long ago passed and the car was now scraping along the icy cobbled road up to the Avengers compound. After mothering you as mothers do about your coat, even for a 20 second walk, you had finally made it home. Peter, in record time, had also just made it back and was preparing you your afterschool snack. “Hey little spider” he called “look what I’ve got, chocolate pop tarts with extra sprinkles” if not only for the pop tarts, you would usually be ecstatic to see Peter. He was your favourite person, after mama of course. “y/n?” Natasha said “what do you say?” You looked between both avengers, a silent conversation took place “I think someone’s a little tired” your mommy said “well we can’t have a tired y/n now can we, why don’t you go take a nap with mr webs and I’ll save your pop tarts for later?” Peter said. You nodded and reached for him, asking spider man to take you for your nap. It was no surprise to Nat, she knew how much you loved him, and she trusted that Peter would take care of you. “Have a good nap sweetheart” the red head said as Peter lent over with you in his hold, allowing Natasha to peck your cheek “I’ll come and wake you up soon ok”

You didn’t take a nap. Once Peter left you pulled back the duvet and headed to your small desk, pulling gently on the bottom draw. Silently you pulled out a small stack of letters, each one addressed to Santa. The tears started to fall once more as you returned to your plush bed. Downstairs, Natasha was confiding in her best friend. “Something’s wrong with her I know it, ever since she came out of school today I could tell something was off” the assassin said “you just have to ask her Nat” Clint said as he passed over a steaming cup of coffee “she might just have been tired” he said “I know” Natasha continued “but after last time” “this isn’t like last time” the agent cut in “it wasn’t your fault she got sick” the pair sunk into the couch “I should’ve seen the signs, what if something is really wrong again” Clint retook the coffee before Nat even had the chance to sip the hot liquid “go check on your girl” he said.

“Y/n?” Your mom quietly said as she opened your bedroom door “are you awake?” You rolled to face your pink walls, you didn’t want to see her right now. A small crumble under her foot caused Natasha to look down. She saw the remains of scattered letters across the floor “y/n? What are these?” The redhead said as she crouched down to pick a piece up “baby are these your letters to Santa? Why are they all ripped up?” your mama took her uninvited seat on your bed, the wet patch next to your face causing a crack in her heart “y/n, can you look at mommy please?” She begged. You pulled the duvet up above your head, causing Natasha to try a different tactic “ohh y/n” she cooed “I think the… tickle monster is here!” She went straight for your tummy, your weak spot, the spot that would usually have you laughing hysterically. But not today. “Mama stop it” you said beneath the covers “it’s the tickle monster y/n oh no!” Her playful voice had you itching to climb into her arms “No mama! You lie to me!” You yelled as you reappeared with a giant frown, Natasha froze “what do you mean baby?” She asked “you lied to me” you said as you began to cry again “you told me Santa was real but he’s not” you howled. The widow wasn’t prepared for this conversation yet, she thought she still had a few more years to play pretend “who- who told you that?” You wiped your runny nose “Tommy. At school” you said “why did you lie mommy?” You completely broke down and Natasha scooped you into her arms with no hesitation, and with no push back from you.

“I’m sorry I lied to you y/n” your mama said “it was wrong of me and mommy shouldn’t have done it” you grizzled quietly in her arms “I forgive you mama” you whimpered “thank you darling, but hey you listen to me” Natasha said as she shifted you to meet her gaze “just because Santa isn’t real doesn’t mean you can’t believe in him, and it doesn’t mean the magic isn’t real” her soft fingered wiped your tears “the magic is real?” You said “of course it is!” Your mommy beamed “it’s in the snow and the presents and the food, it’s in the music and the lights, and most of all it’s in here” Nat said as she laid her hand across your chest. “I just wanted you to feel it too” you moved your head towards your moms chest and listened to her heartbeat “I feel it mama” you said “you know when I was little, I didn’t have any of the magic, but for a few years I had Santa” Natasha said as she swaddled you up “I waited up for him every Christmas. After the 5th time, I gave up. I stopped believing. I shouldn’t have lied baby girl, but I just wanted you to have the magic that I never did” you returned the favour and wiped one of mamas fallen tears “mommy don’t cry” you said “I believe in the magic” Natasha smiled again “good” she said “because I promise you, there is magic in Christmas”

A little while passed before Natasha spoke again “if you want to sweetheart, we can still believe in Santa, we can be Santa” your little eyes lit up “we can?” Your mama nodded “can Fanny be our Rudolph?” You asked “I’m sure if you ask auntie Yelena she’ll say yes!” You giggled “and we can get everyone stockings and fill them up on Christmas Eve after everyone has gone to sleep!” You beamed “that sounds amazing darling” Natasha said “I guess we’ll even have to eat the cookies won’t we” she whispered, sending you into a fit of laughter. The two of you stayed wrapped up in your room for the rest of the night, and it was safe to say you couldn’t wait for Christmas Eve, you couldn’t wait to bring santas magic to life.

————

[noowayybroo]

Vampire Man Drabble (NSFW)

I've been rewatching Young Dracula, a BBC show from my "childhood".

I'm kinda obsessed with Count Dracula. I know it's a kid's show but he's so pathetic and whiny and throws so many tantrums, but being such an old man he's so sexy and posh and UGHAAGAH HE HAS MY HEART!!

Also , the guy who plays him (Keith-Lee Castle) Lowkey fits the role so well!!?!?! He looks like SUCH A VAMPIRE!! (I wouldnt look him up idk if hes the best guy)

SO I WANTED TO PROVIDE YOU WITH SOME IDEAS, and i know most of my following is admittedly looking for Leon content, so if you squint really hard, or maybe read this with one hand if you catch my drift (nyeh heh heh) maybe you can imagine it's about vampire Leon HEhehehehe

Warnings: Guy is vampire, reader may be human or vampire. NO SEX BUT VIOLENCE. GN!Reader, mentions of scenting, old age, violence, age difference, vampirism, blood, biting, seduction, mentions of death and killing and blood driking. Secretly soft vampire man etc basically all your vampirey shit, STOP READING THEN IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT BRO, I'll try keep it short k ily bye.

THIS IS A GUIDE:

Stuff about the vampire man

Stuff about the reader being a vampire

Stuff about the reader being a human

THIS IS A RARE TREAT FOR ANYONE READING THIS CUZ I USUALLY LIKE TO WEAR THE FANGS IN THE RELATIONSHIP!! JUST SAYING!! BUT THIS MF HAS MY HEART!

Vampire who was turned at a young age or born into vampirism and has lived with it for oh so long. He's just so old, alone in that castle of his. He's moved to live near humans, but they seldom get a chance to converse, not before his fangs wind up in their necks.

Vampire who watches them go about their short little lives, knowing with confidence that he has and will live many more. Aware that he'll be the end to many more, deadly prowess easily eliminating each hunter or slayer who dares come his way.

Vampire of whom nobody has seen the true colours - only the pristine white of his fangs before they are soiled with the blood of his victims. They only know his rage and strength, and the power and force at which his claws slash at their flesh, at which his fangs sink into their necks.

Vampire who prefers to seduce his victims before plunging them towards their inevitable demise. He will sing them such a sweet lullaby; allure them with gentle praise and affirmation as he draws close, weaving such a sticky web, leaving them entranced. And entranced he is too, as his victim perhaps gazes from a window, or into space itself, but his only captive is the soft melody of his victim's heartbeat. The gentle rhythm, the pulse of their neck drawing him to them like a moth to flame.

Vampire Who almost feels like the victim himself. He was not a monster. He was no villain. No, he was simply wired this way - a victim of his own nature. It was his prey, the cruel, heartless beast who tempted him so dearly with the promise of 8 pints of warm, thick red (accounting for clumsy, desperate spillage.) Oh how he delighted in the feel of it coating the expanse of his hungry throat.

Vampire Whose second favourite method of the hunt is to toy with his prey, for it is no fun if they are not fearful. His cold, undead heart remains unliving for the thrill of the chase. He'll stalk them through the night, he'll become one with the shadows, and only when he feels they are worthy of feeling true fear will he present himself. Springing from the darkness, his soul's only twin, he reveals himself at last like a god unto its disciples.

He will forever delight in the screams - in the sight of each harrowed soul in that moment.

Vampire who is humiliatingly theatrical and old fashioned. When he bears himself to his prey, he must give them a show. It's the least he could do, as it will be their last living moment. He'll either expand his cape, or brandish sharp claws, but either way, his eyes will be dark as night, and piercing fangs will ward off any hope of survival each sacrifice may have had.

Vampire who takes great excitement in tormenting his prey. He is old fashioned, cunning and sly. He'll chase you around an abandoned building and use his supernatural speed to appear right behind the door you thought would bring you victory. He'll mock you with a skeleton, only to refer to it as a future you. If you're fortunate, and he's not too hungry, he might even show you his vast collection of stored blood. Again, he promises that one day, you have this to look up to.

Vampire Surprisingly, he is not as violent or as cruel as it may seem. Sure he kills, and he kills for fun. For the mere thrill of it. But he will not let you die slowly, or painfully at all. He prides himself in how... happy, his victims really can be. His torture follows suit. Scratch you? Harm you? Him? Never. He could never. He wouldn't waste a drop, after all. (Intentionally, that is.) He'd much rather promise you a terrible demise, or chase you towards your doom, having you believe begging or running could really help. His many years have taught him that each effort you make is futile. He will always win. He will always consume. You are not special.

Vampire who sometimes, well after sunset, will stare out of his lonely, dusted window at the town below. He will wonder if it could be possible that there is a chance at love out there for him still. A chance at redemption. A chance to, perhaps, not be so devilish.

On rare occasions, too, say once every 20 years, he thinks this as he stares into the eyes of one of his captives. He'll wonder, sometimes as he hypnotises their free will and thought away, whether he really needs to kill them. But then it's that look on their face. One of fear, or one of braindead submission. It's again, the sound of their heart, of their breath, something he hadn't done in forever, something he yearned to be so close to, to be so near to, and before he knows it, they're limp in his arms, and cold, just as he.

Vampire who throws tantrums on the rare occasion that his prey, or more likely another undead creature or demon, is able to overpower or trick him. He'll slam his fist like a child and bare his fangs. Wailing and wallowing in his own pathetic defeat as black curtains obscure his face. Thunder and lightning will crackle outside, heeding his call, and otherwise, the world will resume. It was sad for him, really, to have so much power, and at the same time to be so insignificant.

Vampire who, despite being immortal, is getting old. He doesn't care for sports, nor for going outside and exercising as a human would. When he chases at a speed, he more floats rather than runs, and so, he's getting rusty, physically and mentally. Perhaps that explains the demise of his fearsome reputation and outlook. Perhaps it is why he is going soft. Laughlines rarely show, but small crowsfeet grace his pale skin as he smiles or bares his fangs. His joints begin to creak. He can no longer do some of the things he could when he was a younger biter without being heard, and he grumbles at simple tasks such as tidying or standing up. He ages with the walls around him.

Vampire Reader Insert:

Vampire who catches a fleeting glance of you at a traditional vampire ball. Really, the two of you are too old for these pathetic customs, him more so, but how else was he to catch up on all the latest fanged gossip, and perhaps find an evil someone to accompany him as he grew older?

Vampire who afterwards goes out of his way to make eye contact with you. When he thinks you're not looking, he combs his nimble fingers through his long hair, preening himself, cursed to never be able to see himself in the many mirrors that surround him. He curses himself, adjusting his over the top attire, wiping any blood from his face. He wants to catch your gaze, just as you have his.

Vampire who can (respectfully) smell it on you. He can tell that you're strong, and that you're dominant. He never thought he was looking for someone, really, especially with his strength and title. It had only really occurred to him that anybody interested would be there to use him. And then, he saw you. Something about you was so devilishly evil. So charming. So alluring and strange. He didn't care if you used him. He wanted you to, suddenly he wanted you to take all he had.

Vampire who anxiously makes conversation with you. He is respectful, despite being well above your status. He can't keep his eyes from your body and face, nor his tongue from his lips as it darts to keep them moist. Quietly, he hopes you're taking note. His hands fiddle and preen. He needs you to enjoy what you see, for it is so rare for him to do so.

Vampire who eventually you begin to court. He practically begs you to move in with him, forming his castle as a home for the two of you. No longer is he alone. Even if you were to betray him now and take all he had, he kept some satisfaction in knowing he wouldn't die alone. Perhaps one day, too, an heir would come from all of this.

Vampire who shares with you some of his powers and wisdom. Who accompanies you on hunts and who works with you to lure prey. You enjoy romantic, playful flights together (as bats, of course) and he, without admitting it, enjoys your dark humour and evil presence in his home. You bring a smile to his face, and a blush to his dead cheeks. You're oh so beautiful and precious in his life, and as more and more time passes, he can imagine giving everything to you.

But what if you're evil, and planned to take everything all along? Well, that would be a fitting demise for him, he thinks as he slowly closes the lid to his coffin beside yours just before the sun rises. And it'd make you all the more evil and devious of a sinner, and that's what he loved about you. Your company, even if not genuine, for love was so twisted and warped for creatures such as yourselves, meant more than words could ever express. If he were human. If he were pumping blood, you would warm him.

Human reader here!!

Vampire who'd never have thought any other humans would be foolish enough to simply let themselves into his castle, at least not this decade! You were the third one this century and it was really getting old. He'd think with all the rumours going around about people never returning alive, or the danger of the castle's crumbling structure that nobody would come back, at least not alone, but here you were.

Vampire who can hear you from rooms away as you walk in. You're human and you're alone. That's all he needs to know to identify that he's safe, and so, he creeps towards you. He balances with both hands and feet on ledges above your head, blending perfectly with the shadows as he stalks you like some huge, predatory cat. And he does this until he can see you. You look divine. You smell divine. And really, he questions the work of some divine intervention, as he was just craving fresh blood the moment you walked in: A lamb to the slaughter.

Vampire who identifies that the blatantly open castle door was how you got in. He didn't really feel the cold, and the wind howling was a permanent sound with how high in the castle he tended to reside, so silly him had left the door open. You must have really thought this place was abandoned. He almost pities you as you walk around, shining your phone's flashlight about. He just about ducks away in time to avoid being spotted as you point your phone at him, blissfully unaware of the danger that lurked just above you, ready to pounce.

Vampire who held off, though. He was excited by your presence, and he was oh so hungry, but he was always one to play with his food. He continues to follow you through the shadows, practically salivating and his bustling ideas of how to torment and devour 'this one.' Because, initially, that's all you were to him, food.

Vampire who daydreamt (although it was night) about chasing you through his crypt, hearing your screams for mercy and salvation. He could sit there and munch dead carcasses in front of you just to watch you squirm in horror. He mused to himself about how warm your neck would feel to his lips, and how your blood might taste. He considered how your voice may sound, begging to be freed as he holds you there, firm hands on your shoulders, claws pricking at your soft flesh. He imagines you there, before him, ripe for the taking. The last moment, he opens his eyes and you're gone-

You're gone.

What?

Vampire who looks around desperately, realising that he'd so easily been swept away by his fantasies. And so, he follows your scent and the sound of your soft heartbeat to his room, where, he could swear he hears you murmur "I knew it."

Vampire who catches you gawking at his closed coffin, regal and fancy. You run your small hands over it in awe as if there isn't a blood thirsty creature of the night ready to pounce out and devour you. You seem.. in awe. You look fascinated. Of course, there's a twinge of terror in your face, but for some reason, you haven't run... yet.

Vampire who figures the game is up, and tries to salvage a dramatic entry. He can't appear in the coffin and reveal himself like that, incase you're a slayer and it leaves him vulnerable, and so, from behind you you hear:

"And what brings you to my humble abode?" The question is long, and drawn out, in a posh voice that almost makes you giddy. You can hear the bloodlust dripping from his fangs, and you don't need to turn to see the man who's so close he should be gracing you with his breath. None comes. you know what he is.

Vampire who grins sadistically as you turn on your heels, slowly. He is amused to see the fear finally registering in your features. Oh, and how soft and delicate those features were. He could just reach a hand out and brush his cold digits over them. But he won't. This isn't a time to console you. It's time to instil fear in your soon to be dead heart.

Vampire who gawks when you finally respond to his question. Something absurd about knowing there was a vampire living here. Something ludicrous about actually having visited a few times but never seeing him. Something utterly offensive about whether he lived alone or had a family. The man's jaw clenched. It seemed he had never encountered a victim as chatty or simply curious as you, and he didn't quite know how to feel.

Did you WANT to die or something?

Vampire who towers over you, with eyes wider than your own as he listens to you rattle off about something or other. He doesn't register what you're saying, though. Instead, his mind wonders off to somewhere it never has before. Perhaps, he'll hypnotise you to make you scared, and then he'll have his fun with you. Yes, that should work, because right now, he found you far too distracting.

Vampire who realises, once you've shut up, that actually, there's a more nagging matter:

"Are you here... to kill me?" he asks, looking down at you, shoulders slightly deflated as though you've sucked the prowl out of him.

"Like a slayer?"

"Exactly-" he raises a finger that could really do with a manicure, but you cut him off

"No, not at all, it's just when I heard people went missing... well I just thought this place would be perfect to see a vampire." In all honesty, you kept yapping away in hopes that tears would not prick your eyes and that somehow it'd save you from imminent collapse. You were terrified. He seemed very much real.

Whilst you were in admiration of the pale beast before you, you did not intend to die.

Vampire who fortunately for him isn't letting on just how well you crept under his skin and made a small home there. His senses were conflicted, as a result of your mixed signals, and he wasn't sure how to react. You were scared, he could smell it. He could hear it in the heavy fast thump of your heart. But something else had brought you here. You were curious. Intrigued. You wanted to learn about him, and in a way, he related. He wanted to learn about himself.

Vampire who, whilst he is still very much appealed by the idea of biting into your throat, is starting to enjoy how your hushed voice echoes off the walls of his home. You sounded sweet and pure, unlike any vampire he'd encountered recently. You had a passion. You had a reason to live, and it almost sickened him with jealousy.

Vampire who can no longer fight his newfound impatience as he lets out an animalistic growl, clenching his fist before you with means to silence you, and to his relief, it works. Your mouth slams shut and you stare up into his eyes. He recognises that this, if any, is his perfect time to hypnotise you, and to fix things. That's right. You'd forget everything you've seen and heard, because your words made you slippery, and he feared for his own existence if you escaped, and then, you'd be scared of him. He'd toy with you, kill you, and it'd be over with. Then, he'd be happy once more, and could return to his coffin, without any linger questions of "what if?".

Vampire who waves two fingers before your eyes, ensnaring them and guiding them up to fall onto his. You watch as his dark, brooding eyes become a more perplexing, strange and beautiful colour. A look of mischief tugs at his sharp, dark lips. He has won. Now, he'll hypnotise you, and it'll be over with. Why did he keep telling himself this? It was starting to become tiresome- just do it.

Vampire who freezes up when he hears you enquire about whether he know the science behind his eyes changing colour like that. You swear a vein in his forehead is about to pop. His mouth hangs ajar, defeated. "Look, you, just look into my eyes" he commands, almost pleading in that sultry, dark voice. "Just look and obey..."

Vampire who stares at you for a while, staring into those pretty, captivating eyes of yours. He finds himself lost in the possibility of what to command you, and once he's finally ready to will the words, they disobey him. His mouth moves, but no commands grace your ears. Eventually, you blink, the spell is broken and he clasps his fists shut, growling low in his throat.

Why can't he do it?

Vampire who gives in, providing you with a tour of the castle and all of his ancient belongings. The understanding is that once he's done, you leave, and never tell anybody anything. He wasn't sure if he trusted in you, but hypnosis was out of the question. And since his ordeal of failing to control you, he'd felt quite humiliated. His hunger had been somewhat satiated for now.

Vampire who hides his scarce smile each time you make certain remarks about how gothic, deadly or edgy everything looked. Your modern lingo was beyond him. "Cringe", "Edgy", "Rad", "Babygirl", what did it all mean? At one point, whilst you're analysing a particularly old suit of armour, he stands behind you, arms folded and lips pursed, trying to conclude the meaning behind the umbrella term "Daddy issues" and why you felt the need to mention it to him on now an astounding three separate occasions. When you turned to face him though, he'd stiffen his gate and fix you a menacing glare as if he despised of your company.

Vampire who walks alongside you with perfect posture, his arms are often crossed or still by his side. Occasionally he glances at your neck as he concludes a whole half hour of walking his dinner around his rather shameful home. And then, you both find yourselves at the door. You look up at him, he looks down at you, and then you do something neither of you'd expected.

"Can I stay?"

Vampire who freezes up yet again at your question, but after some stumbling and stuttering, and getting his tongue tied up in his fangs, he reluctantly spits out a 'yes.' All the while, his face contorts, unable to form the words. It's so peculiar speaking at all, let alone to a human. And, he can't say he's ever spoken to one willing to continue risking their lives. You weren't sure why you did it. You just did.

Vampire who stands with you, watching over the town beneath his window, for once, with someone beside him. He seems stiff, and tense, and he cannot ignore your scent, nor the sound of each gentle breath and pulse of your veins. It was only natural: He was your predator, you were his prey. He was meant to kill you now, merely driven by instinct, and yet, he felt content to wait. I mean, it wasn't as if you'd run off in a hurry, was it? For once, a breather like you actually wanted to stay and speak to him. He was almost enamoured.

Vampire who swore to himself in this moment to never admit to another soul, dead or alive, light or dark, how your warmth touched him. He refused to allow himself to snuggle right into you from behind, wrapping his strong arms around you and nestling his face into your neck, not to bite or mark this time, but to kiss, and indulge- softly, sweetly. He groaned at the thought, startling you. And then his face hardened, snapping you another glare as if you were the one who had been having such pathetic fantasies.

Vampire who understands that, as a human, you grow weary in the night. He'd forgotten all this time that putting you to sleep would be a great way to shut you up, but there was a reason for his forgetfulness. It was, of course, convenient, because he no longer wanted to silence you. He wanted to bask in your words and warmth; in your conversation and curiosity. You made him feel important, and interesting, and slightly more alive. But the sun would be up soon, and if it caught him, well. He'd be the furthest from alive he's ever been.

Vampire who quickly brushes off and tucks you into the softest bed he can find from memory, and taps you on the nose gently as he leans over you, casting ominous shadows which block out any hopeful rays. He laughs menacingly, brandishing his fangs as his deep gravelly voice reverberates through you "Goodnight, don't let the vampire bite, now, will you?" he teases as he slowly sinks into the shadows, leaving you alone. His low chuckle follows him into the dark.

Vampire who leaves you alone to rest peacefully, or not, depending on whether a) you COULD sleep, and b) he became hungry during the night.

Vampire who spends the rest of his waking moments wondering just what to do with you, until the sun rises, and he returns to his cold, depressing coffin.

Hi guys I really hope whoever of you saw that liked it. I had the idea at about midnight and it's now 2 27 am. I wish I were this productive with literally anything else but due to a series of unfortunate events I crave old, posh, dominant men with soft spots, and this fits the bill.

I'd also like to write more about vampy men, and about maybe teachers or just other older men heheh but also subby men!! and the reader being a vampire!! so please lmk what you think and don't be afraid to ask (just a warning your rq might take me 24747 years to address, it's not personal i just suck)

THANKS GUYS I LOVE U ALL

[ya-what--ya-erster]

Mistake, Regret, or Something to that Level

PROOF-READ CREDIT TO: @waiting-makes-me-antsy Thank you!!

Albert/Davey UNREQUITED, prequel to Goodbye Don't Last Forever

kinda angsty, enjoy.

David was lost. Completely and totally lost. How was he supposed to carry on when the center of his world just up and left without a word to him?

He didn't really know how to cope long term, but he knew that a visit to his best friend's house might just help.

Ever since Francis left David (a year ago), David and Albert had become the closest of friends (except for Race and Albert, but Race was off in Australia being an impressive dancer). The two were almost inseparable. Seeing one or the other alone was a rare occurrence which was usually met by some sort of joke about how joint at the hip the two boys were.

So David was on his way to Albert's apartment in January, wearing flannel sweatpants and a sweatshirt with a cute snake drawing on the front (Albert gave it to him). It was cold, and snowy, and he regretted not putting on a coat or a hat or anything, but it wasn't far to Albert's place.

By the time David knocked on the door, he thought he was going to die of the cold, but Albert saw him and immediately pulled him into the apartment and handed him a blanket.

"Dave, are you alright?" Albert asked, taking a seat next to him on the couch.

"No." David leaned sideways onto Albert, burying his face in his shoulder.

"Oh, come here." Albert put an arm around David. "You need to get drunk."

"Yeah I do."

...

Several hours (they think) later, the two are flat-out wasted.

David got honest when he got drunk, and never remembered anything afterwards, and Albert just got crazy (and maybe a little more confident).

"What if she was the only one I was meant to be with?" David asked.

"She wasn't." Albert laughed like it was the silliest thing he'd ever heard.

"But nobody could love me like I thought she did."

"But I love you." Albert's smile spread across his face. "You're my best friend."

"But don't people in love kiss? And boys can't kiss boys."

"I've kissed boys."

"Oh."

The boys fell silent, and then Albert burst into laughter again.

"What's so funny?" David asked (but he was smiling).

"Would you kiss me if I was a girl?"

"I would kiss anything if it were Francis."

"So pretend I'm her, then. It'll make you feel better to kiss someone."

"But-"

Albert cut Davey off with a deep, drunk kiss on the mouth.

And Davey liked it.

Davey wanted more of that feeling.

So he kissed back.

He could do whatever he wanted, he decided. It wasn't like there was anyone to tell him no, except for Albert who had initiated the kiss.

Very quickly, the kiss turned into more. Shirts unbuttoned, hands in hair, and the possibility of several purple marks to appear in the morning.

"Should we keep going?" Albert asked.

Davey blamed it on the fact that he was drunk that he said yes.

...

David woke up not in his bed. Albert's bed, he knew, from the many times he'd slept over.

David immediately felt guilty wash over him. Had he seriously kicked Albert out of his own bet just to fuck some girl that was not even there anymore? He didn’t really know, he couldn’t really remember, but it was fairly obvious in his mind that he had fucked someone. And Albert didn't do well with change in routine, Davey knew that. He was feeling worse and worse about it the more he thought, so he made a move to get up and go apologize.

The headache was not good as he stood up out of the bed and headed into the kitchen area of the apartment.

“Sorry for taking up your bed last night Al.”

“Doesn’t bother me.” Albert smiled. He handed David a glass of water and two ibuprofen pills. “This might help a bit.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“So. Uhm. Happen to know the identity of the girl I slept with in your bed last night or…”

Something flashed across Alberts face. Hurt. But he picked up quickly with a laugh.

“You should be asking who the guy was.”

“The… A guy?”

“Yessir.”

“Okay so uh who was this potential guy that I-“

Albert pressed a quick kiss to the tip of David’s nose, quieting him.

“Hi there.” He said with a little smile.

(Albert was dying inside. He wasn't this forward. He wasn't this confident. He wasn't this person who was flirting shamelessly with his best friend.)

“Oh.”

“Is that… is that okay?”

“Al, I… I didn’t even know- But I don’t even remember it so how am I supposed to know what it felt like? I don’t-“

“I could kiss you again.”

“What?”

“I said I could kiss you again.”

David didn’t respond, so Albert just cupped his face in his hands and kissed him.

Pulling away after a moment, David blinked. “Is that what that’s supposed to feel like? I never- it was never like that with her.”

“Good way or bad way?”

“Good.”

“Well, Dave. It must be really confusing for ya, all this. But… I’d like to help you along the way, if you’ll accept?"

"I don't think... Al, I don't think I can. I don't think I love you like that and I'm sorry-"

"That's alright, Davey. It is what it is."

...

Albert kept a smile on his face for two more hours while Davey hung around in his apartment awkwardly, too tired to walk himself home yet.

Albert, who was majorly stressed out, would have offered to walk him home. But, he didn't want to seem rude, and he didn't want to face the outside world with its flashing lights and loud noises and people bumping into him every five seconds.

As soon as Davey left, though, everything came crashing down.

Albert was stupid. Stupid to have done what he did. Stupid to have hoped that it would work out.

Mostly, though, he was stupid for falling in love with his best friend.

It wasn't fair that Davey was that effortlessly pretty and glamorous and nice and smart and perfect. Albert never even stood a chance.

So who could blame him, really, for crying? He had wrecked his perfectly routine life and possibly his relationship with his best friend.

He called Race in a desperate attempt to feel better, but it didn’t help much because then he just missed Race too. Why couldn’t Race be in the United States? Why did he have to be so far away?

Albert closed his eyes as he sat down on the couch, trying to make the tears go away. Crying made his head hurt.

But, despite that, Albert cried himself to sleep that night.

[jelzorz]

You don’t know how long i’ve been waiting for you to say that (i do—and it’s been about 20 months lmao)

Continuation of ia67? Please? 🥺

166.

do you know how far I had to scroll for this @captainjamba??? Rest of the series linked here for convenience

The Katolis Symphonic Orchestra has a Christmas concert every year. Usually it's all the classic stuff: arrangements of Silent Night, and Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas that are easily recognisable and never fail, and it's, y'know, fun and all but the classics are getting a bit too classic, even for Callum. Opeli is a bit like that as a conductor: straight laced and maybe a bit too serious, which is why this year's set list is such a shock when it's sent out to him that afternoon.

It's Wednesday, and Barius' cafe is packed given it's the awkward time of two PM. It's been, what, almost two years since that Valentine's Day he came here with Rayla after rehearsal, and busy rehearsal schedules aside, it's been a pretty good two years. Rayla disappears in the early mornings for rehearsals at the studio, and Callum isn't home until nine on some nights because so many of his own rehearsals are after work (the KSO is great, but it doesn't quite manage all the bills), but they've made it work, and Callum would rather work around the weird hours than not be with her at all.

This life suits them. He hopes it will for a while yet.

The bell at the cafe door rings, and Callum looks up and grins when he spots Rayla in the doorway brushing snow off her coat. He stands as she edges her way through the crowd towards him. "Hey," he greets brightly, leaning over the table for a kiss. "How was your day?"

Rayla grimaces. "Eh."

"That bad?"

She pauses. The way her brow furrows over her eyes says it all.

Callum frowns. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I—" Rayla presses her lips together and takes a breath. "If I had to move, would you move with me?"

There's a pause. A long pause. Callum studies her over the menu on the fake-marble tabletop. "Would you want me to move with you?"

"I—" Rayla sighs and fiddles with a napkin. "I couldn't ask you to," she says quietly. "Things are going so well with the KSO, and you're sharing first chair with Claudia now, and things are good here, so I wouldn't—couldn't ask you to leave all of that behind for me, but..." She blinks like she wants to cry. "The director of Spire Ballet called me today. They've got an opening for a principal, and they want—they want me to come and audition."

"What?" Callum's lips twitch upwards. "Rayla that's amazing!"

"But I'd have to leave—"

"And I'd go with you," says Callum firmly. "No question about it. No doubt in my mind. I'd go with you if you wanted it."

"But—the KSO," says Rayla. "All your friends and family, your brother, how could I ask you to—"

"You aren't asking me," says Callum. "They don't need me. They've got Claudia. And you—" He reaches for her hands across the table and presses her knuckles against his lips. "I'd be a shit violinist without my muse."

That draws a laugh out of her, and Callum grins, pleased he managed it. "Callum..."

"I'd go with you," he says again. "Always. Wherever you went—as long as you want me along."

Another pause. Rayla blinks and lets herself smile a little more genuinely. "Really?"

"Really."

Rayla swallows and grips his hand tighter. "It's just an audition for now. I just..."

"You don't have to explain," he says. "I can see how much you want this. You deserve it. And if we have to move, we will. Okay?"

"Okay." Rayla grins at him at last, the first hints of excitement lighting her eyes. Callum's heart warms at the sight of it, which only strengthens his resolve. "Sorry," she adds. "I didn't mean to ambush you like that. It's... a bit of a shake-up, y'know?"

"Oh I know," chuckles Callum. "KSO's getting one too. Look at our setlist." He slides his phone over to her to let her see, and Rayla barks out a laugh.

"Sleigh Ride?" She squawks. "The ridiculous one with the horsey-trumpet at the end? That Sleigh Ride? That's not Opeli's style, what's gotten into her?"

"I dunno," says Callum with a laugh. "Maybe it's just a good time for change."

Rayla grins and slides his phone back. "Maybe so."

[myreia]

wip whenever

I missed Wednesday, oh well. 🫠

tagged by the lovely @thevikingwoman, @lilas and @hylfystt, thank you! 💖 tagging @tsunael, @roguelioness, @coldshrugs, @impossible-rat-babies, @birues, @fourteenthz, @scionshtola, @galadae @gefiltefished

This is a bit from Chapter 5 of the thing I am currently working on. Context - Aur's Echo pings weird shit when she travels between the First and the Source., sometimes she gets to spy on her family and see what they're up to.

Beyond the door, an elite Garlean scientist occupies her usual chair, her rank denoted by her white coat and the insignia on her shoulder. Taller than most of her kind, with sharp features and dark hair woven into a single long plait. She coldly reviews the files before her with a no-nonsense flick of one hand, the other tapping impatiently on the desk’s surface. Her ruby eyes glint in the artificial light.

It is unusual for an Elezen to make it this far in the ranks. And yet here she is, Elgara lux Theorzen, dispatched to this distant provincial base after a spectacular failure that was a decade in the making. She is fortunate she retained as much as she did. That her husband did not also take the fall. Her family is, for the most part, intact.

As much as it can be.

“I see you received the notice.”

The voice speaks from the shadows.

Elgara purses her lips, her brows drawing together in the slightest of frowns. It is as much as she will give him. “There’s no need to lurk, Kal,” she says, turning over another file. “Sit and speak with me properly.”

A snort. A man slinks out of the shadows half-hunched, his arms folded across his chest. He leans against the far wall, one knee bent with his foot pressed against it, and observes her with narrowed red eyes. He’s grown thin, ragged, in the time since she saw him last. His cheeks are sunken, his jaw worn, still covered with the scratchy stubble that certainly goes against Imperial code. The tips of his half-Elezen ears poke through tangled black hair, its length another strike against the code.

A hollow zealousness flares in his eyes—intense, wanting, and hungry.

“Been an age since you’ve called me Kal, Elgara,” Kallias says.

She shrugs and turns a file over. “Been an age since you’ve called me ‘mother,’” she replies and moves a finger down the page. With a dismissive tsk of her tongue, she grabs a pen and signs the bottom with precise, effective movements. “You don’t hear me complaining about that.”

“Not a complaint, mother. Just an observation. Besides, I would never dare to insult a colleague by addressing her with such informal abandon. I have manners.”

“Colleague is it now?”

“We are no longer in the same chain of command and we are of an equivalent rank. Colleague is appropriate, don’t you think?”

His voice rasps, deep and thick, and he casually raises a hand to pick at his nails. The hilts of his twin daggers glinting in the artificial light. There’s a threat here, buried just beneath the surface. His is the demeanour of a trained killer, a weapon in human form—he could kill her in a instant if he so desire.

But if Elgara notices, she gives no sign.

“True,” she says, not a crack in her composure. Perhaps she has already welcomed death at his hand. Perhaps she is counting on it. “Which stands the reason—why are you here? You no longer have clearance to enter.”

His brows draw together, a sneer forming on his lips. Chuckling darkly, he pushes off the wall and strolls across the observation deck, idly stretching his arms above his head. His movements may appear casual, but they only further put his weapons on display. He wants her to see. He wants her to know.

“This particular piece of intelligence is sensitive,” he says. “I thought it best to limit those who know during this time of upheaval. Even the legatuses, if necessary. But a single menial officer, hidden away in the least influential province? Her ears are safe.”

Elgara presses the tip of her pen to paper, red ink blooming across the crisp white page.

“She’s returned. From whatever hole she thought to hide herself in these past few months.”

[musicloverxoxo7]

Pirate Captain – featuring Jin

Pirate!Jin   x   fem!reader

Summary: You meet captain Seokjin by coincidence and have to flee with him. On his ship, something blossoms between you. How long can you resist?

Themes/warnings: AU, smut with plot (smut in last half), unprotected sex, fingering, nipple play, spanking (mild), bit of fluff, pirate brother Jungkook

Wordcount: ca. 3.6k

 

Disclaimer: 18+, DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU ARE UNDER 18

I do not own BTS. They merely inspire me. None of this is related to their persons in real life.

 

“I’ll be back in 2 hours”, you say to your mother before leaving the house. It’s market day and your mother has written an entire list. As every Wednesday.

With a basket and a bag, you walk along the street that leads into town. It’s a warm day of late spring and you look forward to taking a dip in the ocean later today with some friends. Or perhaps your little sister.

“Hi, Ms. Lim. Nice day, isn’t it”, you ask your neighbor as you pass her.

“Beautiful. Is your mother home?”

“Yes. If you pop in straight away, you might catch her before her and my sister go fetch wood from the forest.”

“Thanks, dear. I hope they still have everything you need at the market.”

It’s true. You’re a bit later than usual today. But somehow you had a feeling earlier that you shouldn’t hurry today and enjoy every second.

Finally, you make it to the market square. Dozens of people bustle from stand to stand. The vendors try to attract more customers by advertising their products. You go to a vegetable stand first.

“The usual”, the man there asks.

“That and two extra gloves of garlic. My sister has started enjoying the taste as well.”

The man packs everything for you. Once you’ve paid, you walk on to a stand that sells fabrics. This vendor only visits your town once a month and your mother is in dear need of a new shirt. She’s great at sewing.

You run your fingers over a few of the blue cotton fabrics. One has darker blue flowers on it, and you know your mother will adore it.

“Oh, sorry.”

A man bumps into you and tries to steady you after the impact.

“No worries.”

He has gorgeous brown eyes, like the milk chocolate your father sometimes brings home from his trips.

You take a step back, out of his arms. Though you have to admit his body felt nice against yours.

“You can steal it, but there’s nothing in there.”

Of course, he doesn’t have the wallet in his hand anymore. It must have long since disappeared into his coat.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“The wallet is a decoy. You really think I’d fall for the “I’m just saving the lady from falling over” charade?”

He looks you hard in the eyes for a few moments, then takes out the decoy wallet from an inside pocket of his coat. He opens it. As you’d said it’s empty, except for a slip of paper.

“You’re good.”

He hands you the wallet. You put it back into your bag.

“How do you know?”

You just shrug your shoulders. Let him interpret into that what he wants. No need for him to know that your mother used to run in a pretty rough crowd and taught you lots of things.

He smiles. It draws your attention to his lips. They are full and look very soft.

“So, uhm”, he starts, then breaks off, looking over your shoulder. “Damn.”

He pushes you behind him and draws a sword you hadn’t noticed was there before. This is turning into a much wilder morning than you’d bargained for.

The smell of smoke hits your nostrils. Someone is screaming. Someone else is laughing. It’s a crazy laugh that makes goosebumps erupt all over your arms.

“Go home. Take your family and leave. Go!”

You turn around. You know your way around the town like the back of your hand. But there are two men with torches and swords coming your way from that direction.

“Ah, Seokjin. Man, it’s been a long time.”

You can feel the man’s back stiffen against yours. That must be his name. You’re royally screwed now.

“Yeah, few months.”

“Tell me, how much did you get for the ruby necklace that you stole from under my nose?”

If he reacts to the statement, you can’t tell. He doesn’t say a word.

“Who’s that little thing hiding behind your back? Your newest toy?”

“Just an innocent bystander whose pocket I happened to pick.”

“No, man. Don’t buy it. I think my men and I will bring you and the little missus onto our ship. Let’s see how we deal with thieves.”

“Follow me to your right. On the count of three”, you hiss at Seokjin across your shoulder.

You grab a few bales of cloth and throw them in the direction of the men coming towards you. One hits one square in the chest.

“Three. Now.”

You grab the blue bale and make a run for it. The market square has emptied completely. You dash through it and off into a side street. There are shouts and the sound of feet on cobblestone.

You turn off into a small side street. Then another. And another. The number of footsteps behind you reduces to one pair quickly. Still, you keep running for a while. You’re out of town by the time you stop behind the hedge of a small house.

Seokjin, breathing heavily, stops beside you.

“Good grace, you’re fast. You just outran pirates.”

“Well, they hardly have time to practice running out at sea.”

Seokjin wheezes, clutching his side.

You straighten up and look at him.

“Who are you and why have they been following you?”

With your hands on your sides and the stern face you must look quite a bit like your mother, but you don’t care.

It takes a few moments until Seokjin has recovered enough.

“I’m Jin. I…”

“You?”

“I hunt treasures.”

“Essentially, you’re a pirate too. I’m not entirely stupid. I listened to what that pirate guy said to you. Not hard to put one and one together and get two.”

Jin looks at you for a long time. You raise an eyebrow.

“They’ve seen you. They’ll come for you now. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

Next thing you know a piece of fabric is being held over your mouth and nose. Then everything goes black.

--

Everything seems to be shaking. And your head is pounding. You peel open your eyes and sit up.

You weren’t entirely wrong. Everything is swaying gently. A glance around tells you that you are in a wooden cabin of some sort. A lamp in the corner casts a soft glow on the room. The bed you’re on has plush covers and pillows, covered with the most expensive fabrics you’ve ever seen.

Where the heck has this pirate guy taken you?

A gentle knock on the door startles you back to reality.

“Enter.”

A tall man with short black hair and small, heart-shaped lips walks in. He’s carrying a tray. It smells of chicken. Your stomach suddenly grumbles.

The man walks over to you and puts the tray down on the edge of the bed.

“Please, tug in. You’ve been out nearly ten hours. I’m sure you’re hungry.”

“Is someone going to come and knock me out with something stinky again after I’ve eaten?”

“Nah, you’re safe now. You can leave the cabin whenever you want. Also, hyung said I’m your contact person if you need new clothing. Something a little better fitting for the sea.”

And suddenly everything clicks into place. You’re on Jin’s ship. He’s the captain of a pirate ship. Does that mean you’re a pirate too now? Would they persecute you for it?

You choke back the tears you suddenly feel. But the man must have seen them.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay to be sad. That’s one of the policies on the ship. We can cry when we’re sad and then not get mad and kill or betray each other. Jin doesn’t like when people do that.”

The way he says it, with a cute pout, makes you laugh and cry at the same time.

“I’m Jungkook by the way. The captain’s younger brother.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m y/n.”

“That’s a pretty name. How about you eat, and I go fetch some fresh clothes for you? I think the world is always a little less terrible when I don’t feel like I’ve just waded through the mud.”

Jungkook gives you another smile before he leaves. He’s very sweet. So much so you decide to trust him somewhat and dig in. The chicken is delicious. And the rice is just the right amount of sticky. There’s even some fruit juice, which you gulp down. Strangely, it makes your head feel okay again.

Once you’re done with the food, you untangle yourself from the blankets and get up. Your dress is indeed quite dirty. Jin must have dragged you through the mud to get you onto the ship.

A few minutes later Jungkook delivers the clothes and leaves again. You put on the pants, blouse and jacket. They fit surprisingly well. Either a woman works on this ship, or they often have female guests. That thought makes you scrunch up your nose. You hope they at least washed the sheets between you and the last female guest.

It takes you a few more minutes to gather the courage to go outside. It’s dark and the stars are out. The moon shines brightly, but the sea around the ship is pitch black. A few lanterns guide the way on the boat.

You find Jungkook and Jin standing at the ship’s wheel. Jungkook has binoculars in his hand.

“No, nobody is following us. You know they never were that fast. Neither their ship, nor, you know…”

Jin’s forehead is wrinkled.

“They won’t catch up with us tonight. That much is certain. Let’s talk about the rest during tomorrow’s meeting.”

You clear your throat.

“Y/n.” Jungkook sounds happy to see you. Much like your younger cousins when you go to play with them.

He looks at Jin, then nods at you and leaves.

Jin’s straight, strong stance changes once Jungkook is out of sight. His face softens, making him look much younger and much less like a scary pirate captain. In fact, like this, he wouldn’t look out of place in the castle in your town.

“Please say all you want. I’d imagine this isn’t the life you imagined. You may stay with us as long as you wish. Or leave the ship when we dock and make a new life for yourself.”

Frankly, you aren’t quite sure what to say.

“I’m not happy about this situation. My family will worry. I don’t want that. I also don’t want them to think I’m dead.”

“You could send them a letter the next time we dock.”

You stand there, looking at Jin for a few minutes and contemplate things. While it is true that you never wanted to end up like the small-town wife, you had also never contemplated living with pirates and leading a life of outlaw.

“You don’t have to decide now. Or tomorrow. You can test out life here for a while first.”

So that’s what you do for the next week. Everyone is friendly to you and there are three other women on board, which makes things a little easier. You pull your weight in work. Jungkook quickly becomes your friend. He’s a bit shy in general but seems to have taken to you quickly.

With Jin, it’s hard to say what he thinks of you. Sometimes you joke with each other, other times he is serious and distant. You can’t deny, though, that you enjoy every time it gets warm, and he unbuttons his shirt.

It’s another week before you dock at the main port of an island. Jungkook brings the letter to your family to the post office, while Jin and a few others do some business. You’ve been advised to stay put for this one. It’s still too close to your hometown.

You were supposed to leave port before nightfall and now it’s long past and Jin and his buddies still aren’t back.

You fall asleep in your cabin while waiting for them.                        

The floorboards creek under careful footsteps. It’s dark. You come to and pull the knife out from under your pillow. The footsteps continue.

“Who are you and what do you want?”

“It’s just me, Jin. I’m sorry I woke you.”

Hastily, you push the knife on top of a drawer beside the bed.

There’s the sound of a match being lit and then the lamp in the corner comes to life. Jin looks exceptionally tired.

“Are you okay? Do you need something?”

“Just this.”

Jin goes to the bookshelf and pulls out a book bound in red leather.

“You keep your books here?”

“Yes. This is my cabin.”

You nearly jump out of the bed, but then decide that would be rude.

“But why did you give it to me? You’re the captain. You should have it. I’ll move tomorrow morning.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve been bunking with Jungkook. He doesn’t mind. Too much.”

Jin smiles a little.

“So, uhm, is that your comfort book or something?”

“In a way. May I?”

Jin point at the edge of the bed. You nod. He approaches and sits down. With the blankets drawn tightly around you, you crawl closer. Jin opens the book. It turns out it’s a photo album. Lots of black and white pictures.

Jin points at the picture of a beautiful woman with a braid of long, dark hair. Her hand is on the wheel of this ship, you realize.

“My mom. Most feared pirate captain for over 30 years. She passed on two years ago.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you.”

The next picture is of a small Seokjin, a tiny Jungkook and the beautiful woman. The family resemblance is very obvious with Jin.

“Jungkook doesn’t look like her, but you do.”

“He’s not related to her. We only had the same dad. Jungkook’s mom ran away. And then our dad did. Mom raised both of us.”

“Does he know you are half-brothers?”

“Of course. But he thinks of mom as his mother too.”

“You two were adorable.”

“I guess we were.”

He shows you a lot more pictures. Nearly the entire album. The last picture you remember is of Jungkook and Jin flanking their mother’s sides, both of them substantially taller than her.

You wake up to a heavy arm draped around your rib cage. At first that feels quite nice. Very protected. Until you realize that it must be Jin and you two have fallen asleep.

Unsure what to do, you freeze in place. Jin’s hand glides down to your stomach. He pulls you closer until you are flush against his chest. And his erection pokes you in the ass. You’ve had a boyfriend before, so none of this is new. Still. You’ve never spent an entire night with someone.

But the warmth of Jin’s body feels nice as it envelopes you, so you snuggle closer.

“Mh”, Jin hums into your ear.

You repeat the little wiggly movement, and he sighs. To see if you can get another reaction out of him, you keep moving your ass.

A few more sighs follow. Then, Jin’s hand moves up your torso until he finds your boob and squeezes it. You still don’t stop moving.

“Do you want something from me or are you just teasing me?”

You stop and giggle as silently as possible. Jin twists your nipple. You gasp.

“Talk to me, darling. We can go back to sleep. Or we can…”

You twist around in his arm. Your faces nearly touch.

“Or we can what?”

“Spend the night on more pleasurable things. If you want the specifics: sex, mostly. Though I’d definitely also like to have those nipples in my mouth at some point.”

You move forward until your lips meet. Jin kisses with the perfect balance between gentle and passionate. It feels like being kissed by a prince. Not that you have any experience with that, though.

You unbutton Jin’s shirt and run your hands up and down his torso. Though he is quite lean, the muscles are clearly strong.

His hands are on your butt, squeezing. He breaks away from the kiss, breathing heavily.

“Can I… under the nightgown… feel skin.”

“Go ahead.”

You dive in for another kiss. Jin’s hands move under the nightgown. He trails his hands up your naked thighs and to your butt. He seems to take great pleasure from squeezing it. If his dick twitching is an indication.

You untie the front of his pants. Now there’s only his underwear in between. You glide your hand over his length. Jin moans into your mouth.

“Please, darling, can I have one of your nipples in my mouth? If you keep doing that, I’ll cum right away. I haven’t since you came onto this ship.”

“Yeah, sharing a room with your brother must suck in that respect.”

Laughing, you pull the nightgown over your head and toss it aside. As soon as you lay back down, Jin’s lips are on your nipple like those of a starved man. The way he rolls your nipple on his tongue, sucks on it and runs his lips over it has your mind short-circuiting in nearly no time.

“Like that, Jin. Mh, please don’t stop.” You don’t even notice how whiney you sound.

Jin doesn’t stop. He keeps going until you are a writhing mess. Even then he keeps going, holding you tightly.

You cum with your face buried in his hair. It muffles the sounds you make a little. Finally, once your body stops convulsing, Jin moves up to kiss you again.

“You make the cutest noises.”

“No wonder with what you just did.”

Jin chuckles, before kissing your neck. His erection is rubbing against your thigh now. It can’t be missed that he’s big. But frankly, you’ve never been more ready.

“Jin?”

“Mh, darling?”

“I’d really appreciate if I could have you in me now.”

You’re not sure if Jin is coughing or laughing or both.

“You sure know what you want. Phrased very politely, though.”

“Just because you’re a pirate captain doesn’t mean I need to be rude.”

“True. How could I say no to such a nice request. On all fours.”

Jin lets go of you. You untangle from each other, and you get on all fours, sticking your butt up. Jin comes up from behind and runs his hands over your lower back. His finger pads are calloused from things like sword fighting and handling ropes.

He pulls down your underwear and traces his fingers along your slit. It sends electricity through your body.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“Can you play with yourself while I push in? It might be easier that way.”

So you play with your clit. You can feel his head touch your entrance. He pushes in very slowly. It feels a bit tight, but not painful. Once in he gives you a bit of time to adjust. You were right in your assumption that he’s big. He fills you very well now.

“I think you can start moving now. Just, slowly, okay?”

“Of course, darling.” His voice sounds strained.

He sets a slow and controlled pace. Slowly, you relax more around him and can give in to all the pleasure. In this position, he rubs against you G-spot in a way that makes you dry sob into your forearm.

“You feel so nice, darling. Good grace.”

Jin slaps your ass. It takes you by surprise. Your head comes up and you arch your back more.

“You like that, huh?”

Jin slaps your other butt cheek. You squeeze around him.

“Fuck, darling. Okay. Enough.”

He withdraws from you. You suddenly feel very empty. You whine.

“Turn around. We aren’t done yet.”

You turn onto you back.

“Are you okay with this position?”

“Definitely.”

Jin pushes back in. You sigh in relief. This is definitely where he’s supposed to be. He lowers himself over you. Like this, you are chest to chest, face to face. It’s a more intimate position, but it doesn’t bother you one bit.

Jin picks back up the slow movements, but they quickly become faster, harsher. It has you moaning into his ear practically non-stop.

Your nails claw at his back, your legs are hooked around his waist.

“My beautiful y/n”, Jin whispers.

His hair is hanging wet into his eyes.

“Jin”, you press out before cumming. As you come down from your high, Jin’s thrusts become sloppier. His hips come to a stuttering halt as he fills you with his warm cum.

His eyes go from glassed over to crystal clear quickly after that. He pulls out and gets towels from the dresser to clean you up.

After that, he lays down next to you. You slowly crawl closer.

“Is it okay… Can I?” You nod at his chest.

“Of course. Come here.”

You snuggle up to him. Jin pulls up the blankets around the both of you. It feels nice and cozy.

“I haven’t even dined with you. That’s not like the male honor code at all.”

“We eat together with Jungkook every evening.”

“Not the same.”

“Still counts for me. But if you insist, we can always still do that.”

“Okay.”

You place a kiss on his neck. He’s so deliciously warm. The lamp in the corner shows that he’s frowning.

“Anything else on your mind?”

“I called you mine, didn’t I?”

“It didn’t bother me. In fact, I thought it was quite a nice touch.”

“You don’t mind being mine?”

“Not in the least. So far, I’ve been enjoying it, actually.”

The frown is replaced by a smile. Jin pulls you closer and kisses your forehead.

“My y/n.”

“Mh, exactly”, you mumble before drifting off into dreamland.

 

© musicloverxoxo7, 2022

Please do not copy, translate, or repost my work. Doing so will make you legally liable for stealing intellectual property.

[memoryofapricity]

aquamarine eyes. Viktuuri

𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌 – 𝐘𝐮𝐮𝐫𝐢!!! 𝐨𝐧 𝐈𝐂𝐄

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 – 𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢 𝐘𝐮𝐮𝐫𝐢 𝐱 𝐍𝐢𝐤𝐢𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐯 𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 – 𝐬𝐟𝐰, 𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞, 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭

this fic is for the animanga secret santa exchange 2022 ! my giftee was @bl-astoise, hope you enjoy <3

Katsuki Yūri had always loved animals. most of his relatives thought he would grow out if it in his teenage years, but here he was; an animal lover in his twenties.

something else he'd always loved was baking. it was a shared activity that had brought him closer to his mother. the nostalgia from smelling cinnamon in the air, or brushing flour off of his hands took him back to the kitchen of his childhood home in a matter of seconds.

oh, and one more thing he loved was the holiday season. he loved the light hearted spirit that surrounded this time, but he also enjoyed the sense of rush it gave him in a customer service job. that's right, Katsuki Yūri had achieved his dream job. nothing could ever be a more perfect work environment for him than a cat café.

he'd managed to climb the ranks and gain the trust of his superiors. by now he was something of a manager in his little café.

that didn't mean he wouldn't get the normal tasks done himself, though.

he was just sweeping the floors and cleaning the tables during the last open hour, while jazzy Christmas songs played in the background, when he heard the door open.

"welcome! what can I get you?" he said his usual greeting while making his way back to the front.

only as he stood behind the counter he got a good look at the gentleman with a long trench coat and platinum hair. his prim appearance made him look out of place in a more relaxed environment like this one.

"may I have a cappuccino, please?" the customer requested.

"coming right up! would that be all?"

"that's all, thank you."

the platinum haired man gave Yūri a small, polite smile before stepping to the side to wait for his order.

the barista prepared the coffee, but he couldn't erase those light blue eyes from his mind. they looked like a pair of aquamarine gemstones.

Yūri looked at the milk foam sitting at the top of the glass mug, before deciding to draw a heart on this handsome customer's coffee. he took the mug to the cash register and pushed it across the counter carefully.

another small smile formed onto the other man's lips the moment he saw the heart.

"thank you kindly", was all he said after paying for his drink.

Yūri watched him walk across the room to an empty armchair and pull out a small book from the breast pocket of his jacket. the brown eyes were glued to him as he slipped the outside coat off and set it on the armrest carefully.

Yūri could feel his coworker's eyes on himself as he kept admiring the blue plaid vest paired with a simple, white button up.

"Yūri, you're staring", his friend Phichit noted.

"but... just look at him", Yūri sighed out, "he looks so... posh."

he leaned his elbow against the counter and kept his eyes on the stranger whose body language was the most graceful Yūri had ever seen.

Phichit nudged him forward.

"stop drooling and go talk to him!"

Yūri's face flushed and turned around to scold the younger man: "I am not drooling! I just admire people like him."

along with a "sure, sure", he was pushed out of hiding behind the counter and he stood awkwardly in the open. he took a deep breath and started walking towards the customer.

it was only then he noticed one of the cats curled up on the elegant man's lap.

"oh, she seems to really like you."

the light blue eyes looked up at him.

"why do you sound so surprised?" the customer questioned as his head tilted to the side slightly.

"she's usually not one to care about customers. she always takes a while to warm up to the staff too", the black haired one explained.

a chuckle was heard before the stranger spoke up again: "I must be special, then."

the next day Yūri couldn't get the strange customer out of his mind. the way he moved, the way he spoke...

"thank you for the coffee", he'd said, glancing at the nametag on the apron, "Yuuuuri~."

the way he'd dragged out the u in Yūri, made the barista's heart flutter.

"stop daydreaming", the youngest employee, another Yuri, - though everyone called him Yurio - said as he smacked the back of Yūri's head.

"ow", the older of the two mumbled out while rubbing the spot Yurio had hit.

"you're usually not like this. I'd expect this from Phichit, but not you. I thought you were sensible."

"hey!" was heard from the back.

Yūri chuckled.

"well, yes, this is the first time this has happened to me", he admitted.

Phichit chose to stop eavesdropping and join the conversation: "but you had a girlfriend in high school, didn't you?"

Yūri felt guilt flushing through him.

"yes, I did, but I don't think I was ever in love with her."

"because you're gay", Yurio retorted.

Phichit looked at him with his jaw dropped open, as if he just revealed a character death from a show they were watching.

"what? did he seriously not know?"

Yūri could only replay those words in his head. gay? now that someone said it out loud, it made a lot of sense. maybe he was gay. and just maybe, that gorgeous customer he knew nothing about was his gay awakening.

but, it wasn't like Yūri would ever see him again, unless he decided to visit the café again himself.

the next time he saw those aquamarine eyes was on a late night walk back home after closing the coffeeshop.

"Makkachin!" someone yelled, right before a strange force took Yūri down to the ground.

"I am so sorry, he doesn't usually do things like this", the stranger apologized.

Yūri opened his eyes to see the faces of a large poodle and that platinum haired customer from earlier the same week hanging over him.

"I must be special, then", he laughed out as the not-so-unfamiliar stranger helped him back up to his feet.

"yes, I suppose the tables have turned", the taller man said with a gentle smile.

before letting go of Yūri's hand, he breathed out a name: "Victor."

"Victor?"

"my name. I'm Victor."

"oh!" Yūri exclaimed as realization rolled over him, "nice to formally meet you, Victor."

"please, no need to be so polite, my dog did just knock you over."

they both chuckled softly before Victor started speaking again: "have you eaten yet?"

"ah, no, I'm going to eat once I get home."

"could I treat you to some nikuman?" Victor offered, "it's the least I can do."

a certain warm excitement filled Yūri's chest as he nodded with a smile.

"I'd like that."

the pair walked together, with their steaming meat buns in hand. Yūri could feel the awkwardness in the silence hanging between them, and he had to break it.

"so, do you usually use your dog to get closer to people like this?"

bad joke... not funny.

"only when they're adorable", Victor slipped out smoothly.

oh. oh. wasn't that a flirt?

and a good one at that.

Yūri could feel the heat rush to his cheeks as he bit into the bun again, trying to think of how he could possibly respond to that.

"I saw you looking at me, Yuuuri."

great, add in the embarrassment of getting caught staring at a customer, and what you have is Yūri turning into a mess.

after no replies from Yūri, Victor kept talking: "I wanted to see you again, but I didn't want to be your customer."

they both stopped walking and Victor turned Yūri's head towards himself.

Yūri felt his knees go weak as the sincere aquamarine eyes gazed into his soul.

"I must be lucky to run into you like this."

"m-me too", Yūri finally stammered out.

the gentle smile on Victor's face grew slightly wider.

"I know this might all come out of the blue, but would you want to go on a date with me?"

Yūri blinked once, twice, even thrice. a date? he must've been dreaming this.

"seriously?"

a snort escaped the other man.

"yes, I'm serious."

"uh, yes, I'd love to..."

Victor let go of Yūri and took a step further away from him.

"how about dinner after your shift on Saturday?"

Yūri only nodded enthusiastically. his voice was lost somewhere inside him due to the shock. he could only watch as Victor waved his goodbye and started walking away with his dog.

"he asked you out!?" Phichit's exclamation filled the kitchen the next morning as they were rolling out dough.

"yes... he's taking me out tomorrow night", Yūri said quietly.

"what? where? when?"

the bombarding of questions made it seem like Phichit was more excited for the upcoming date than Yūri was himself.

"he's meeting me here after closing, and we'll go to dinner."

"ooh, how classy.... a dinner date. wonder where that'll end up~..."

the tone in Phichit's voice got the nerves in Yūri to wake up.

this would be his first proper date. how was he supposed to act? was he supposed to get something for his date? what would they even talk about?

maybe he should read a short guide on dating...

Phichit's voice cut through his thoughts: "you look like you're spiraling, Yūri... you okay?"

"...yes! I'm totally fine. I can go on a date with a crazy handsome guy who's clearly out of my league! no problem!"

the nervous laughter escaping his lips didn't help in convincing his friend. the pair of dark grey eyes only gave him a pitying look, as if to say he was thinking too deeply into this.

"you'll be fine. there's no need to think about it too hard, just act as you would normally."

the – without lying – almost dreaded Saturday evening drew close, and Yūri couldn't contain the butterflies in his stomach when the platinum haired gentleman stepped inside the café. his lips curled into a soft smile as his aquamarine eyes locked onto the man standing behind the counter.

Yūri felt like his knees might give out at any moment. somehow Victor's gaze on him was fierce and tender at the same time.

"Yuuuri", he spoke, and his voice was velvet against Yūri's ears, "are you ready to go?"

the black haired man could only nod as his heart was beating out of his chest. would Victor reach for his hand?

he didn't.

Yūri could feel disappointment settle into his chest as they walked side by side, with a gap in between.

Yūri felt as if he needed to close said gap. he couldn't stand feeling like he was too far to reach Victor even with the tip of his finger.

suddenly the other man stopped walking and their arms bumped into each other.

"we're here", Victor breathed out a small cloud of fog into the cold night air, "the best sushi in town."

the pair walked inside and were wrapped in the surprisingly warm ambience.

Victor led Yūri into a small table in a quiet corner, with a single candle and rose in the middle.

"I made us a reservation beforehand", he mentioned as if it was the most obvious thing to be done.

he even pulled out the other chair and motioned for Yūri to sit down.

the flutter returned to his heart as he took a seat and watched the graceful man sit down on the other side of the table. Yūri watched the flicker of candlelight dance on the flawless face as the blue eyes scanned through the menu.

the dinner date went on smoothly. conversation flowed naturally and the experience as a whole felt breezy to Yūri. he hadn't felt this exhilarated in possibly years – Victor really made him feel like there was a whole new world to be discovered.

to top the night off, Victor had offered to walk Yūri back to his own apartment.

"tonight was really lovely", the black haired man said quietly.

the taller one gazed into his eyes with a soft smile as they stood on the doorstep of the apartment building.

"yes, I had a wonderful time" the velvety voice sounded out as Yūri felt a gentle squeeze on his hands, "do you think I could take you out on another date?"

an exclamation was heard: "yes, absolutely!"

and a satisfied chuckle followed.

"get your skates ready for next weekend."

with that, Victor said goodbye, but his hands lingered on Yūri's for a moment longer before pulling away.

the barista stood still at the door. he could feel the cold air surround the skin on his hands again, without the warmth from Victor.

the days went by in a flash – Yūri tried to convince himself – when in reality this had felt like the longest week of his life. but like promised, on Friday afternoon, Victor took Yūri out to an ice skating rink.

"let me help you with those", he said before kneeling down and tying Yūri's skates.

"oh, thank you", Yūri mumbled while hiding his red cheeks into his wooly scarf, "it's been a while since I last went ice skating."

"that's okay. I'll help you", Victor assured, giving a gentle look to the other man while offering his hand.

Yūri took the hand, and he was lead to the ice. his knees felt weak, but the hands holding him up were like a strong force supporting him.

little by little, Yūri did get comfortable on the slippery surface. and by the time Victor finally let him go, he was able to skate smoothly without falling over.

"great job, Yuuuri, look at you go!" Victor encouraged him with the signature gentle smile.

and when Yūri looked at the smile, he could feel his heart melting away into a puddle, filling his whole chest with warmth.

it was a completely new feeling to Yūri. everytime he was with Victor, he could feel the excitement bubbling up inside.

that was until a vital piece of information was revealed.

maybe Yūri shouldn't have asked what Victor did for a living. he wasn't prepared to hear that Victor worked for the exact law firm, which had been tormenting the café and its owner for years. for some reason they'd been set on finding the slightest reason to get the café shut down.

was Victor just trying to get to close to him in hopes of making a new discovery? or obtaining some delicate information?

Yūri's head started brewing a storm of doubts and disbelief. he couldn't understand how good of an actor Victor had been.

and it seemed like the platinum haired man noticed something going on.

"Yuuuri, what's wrong?"

"I- I think I... I need to go", Yūri stammered out before stumbling off the ice.

he kicked the skates off as fast as he could, hoping Victor wouldn't be able to run after him.

but just as he was leaving, Victor grabbed his wrist.

"Yūri, please, talk to me. what happened back there? is my occupation a problem?"

Yūri took a few shaky breaths before replying: "don't pretend like you don't know... how could you just be using me? playing with my feelings? I really liked you, but knowing this was all fake breaks my heart."

he yanked his hand free and ran away, tears almost freezing on his cheeks as they escaped his eyes.

there was a pit in his chest, where there used to be warmth.

after that, Yūri didn't see Victor for another week. with each passing day, he did want to see the platinum haired man more.

it made him feel conflicted.

why would he want to see someone who was only messing around with him?

had he already lost all sense to being charmed by the gentleman?

yes, he had, Phichit had told him.

he'd also said Yūri needed something called closure. if things were to be left like this, it would be unsatisfying and Yūri would keep wondering about the what ifs even years later.

his friend was probably right, considering out of the two he had more experience with romance.

and as Christmas eve drew close, Yūri was as absorbed into his work as ever. the only thing he allowed himself to worry about were the cats of the café.

and as he was working at the counter, the bell tinged.

once he looked up to see the customer, he saw those painfully familiar aquamarine eyes. his heart almost stopped beating for a moment.

Victor stood at the doorstep, a bouquet of amaryllis, a couple poinsettias, cymbidium orchids, and to top it off; red roses.

and as if Phichit had changed the song of his own accord, one of the most well known American Christmas songs started playing.

the tall man took hefty steps, crossing the wooden plank floor to hand the bouquet to the barista.

"all I want for Christmas is you", Mariah Carey sang through the speakers.

"Yūri, will you please let me explain myself to you?"

after what felt like ages, but was only a few seconds in reality, Yūri gave Victor a nod. he couldn't help but feel curious about what the man had to say for himself.

and once they had stepped outside together, Victor began explaining.

he elaborated how he'd had no idea the firm he was employed by was fighting against this specific café, how he had been kept completely in the dark about everything related to it until he asked around about it.

"I wanted to get to the bottom of it, so I could understand your side, and I realize what it must have looked like to you now", Victor said carefully, "but I promise I've been serious this whole time."

Victor reached out to grab Yūri's hand, lifting his other one to the black haired man's cheek. the hands were cold, but still they managed to spread warmth onto Yūri's skin.

he had to admit he had been missing Victor's touch. maybe now he didn't need to long for it anymore.

"Yuuuri, will you give me another chance?" Victor spoke softly while leaning closer.

"yes, Victor, I'm sorry for judging you so fast..."

he really did feel guilty. Victor had been innocent the whole time, but Yūri had let his doubts get the best of him.

the aquamarine eyes were staring into his soul – or at least that's what it felt like – and Yūri felt the most vulnerable he ever had before.

that's when Victor said it: "I'm not going to wait for rain for me to kiss you."

instinctively Yūri leaned closer, he gazed back at Victor, before closing his eyes. he felt the other man holding the side of his face as their lips crashed into each other. their dance started slowly and delicately, but turned into what felt more needy than anything else.

once they pulled apart, they only kept staring at each other with shy smiles.

finally, Yūri broke the silence by asking: "why would you go to such lengths for me?"

"I really like you, if that wasn't clear already, and I want you in my life..."

Victor squeezed Yūri's hands.

"whenever you're ready for it, I'd like to make this official."

the barista was shocked. this person, who was clearly out of his league, wanted to date him?

"well, um", he stammered, "I do want that, but are you sure..?"

"yes, positive", Victor affirmed as he pulled Yūri into an embrace.

and as he was wrapped in the most comfortable warmth he'd ever felt, he sighed happily and whispered: "why me?"

"because you're special."

another thing he'd come to love, was going to be Victor.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3290

𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧: 24th of December, 2022

[azikarue]

Life in Color : Chapter 30 : The Future

Max/Mariam | FFN Rating: T | FFN Link ❖ “Thinkin’ about Blondie?”

The disgust was obvious in Dunga’s voice even before Mariam turned around and saw the scowl on his face. He looked grumpier than usual, which might have had something to do with the fact that he’d been conscripted to help her and Max move. Never mind that she’d been making sure he got the heaviest boxes all day, waiting to see how long it took him to notice.

Mariam smirked. “We’re married now – I can think about him all I want,” she said, drawing out her words as Dunga’s face screwed up even more.

“Gross,” he spat vehemently. “Keep your sick fantasies to yourself, Mariam.”

“Oh, relax.” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t get all worked up.”

“You should probably take your own advice, Sis.” Joseph appeared and gently set his box down in the pile of things that were meant for the kitchen. He brushed the dust off of his hands and said, “Think too hard about Max and you might start on those grandkids Mom and Dad want sooner than you bargained for.”

“For your information,” Mariam said, doing her level best to ignore Joseph’s shit-eating grin and the fact that it got wider when he realized he’d annoyed her, “I was thinking about what project to start first around here.” Joseph’s eyes sparkled in a way that meant trouble, so she shut him down before the words could even leave his mouth. “A nursery isn’t on the list!” she said and smacked him upside the head for good measure.

They’d been plenty busy lately without adding starting a family into the mix.

Mariam and Max had begun looking for a house in Japan over a year ago, right in the midst of planning their wedding. Mariam immediately regretted not letting Max jump the gun and start as soon as he graduated and moved back with his dad; house-hunting was way more difficult than she’d anticipated. She had no idea what she wanted, aside from privacy and something that wasn’t smack-dab in the middle of the city, and being asked dozens of questions every day by their realtor only added to the overwhelm she felt from making decisions about the wedding.

They toured a dozen properties and, with each one, there was something not quite right. When they came to see this house, which she suspected was a last-ditch effort by their realtor to find anything halfway suitable, something clicked.

It was far from perfect. Having stood vacant for some years, the garden was overgrown and the house itself had fallen into disrepair. The doors stuck, the appliances needed upgrading, and everything was covered in a thick coating of dust. But it was quiet, it was spacious, and their nearest neighbors were on the other side of a thicket of trees.

It felt like home.

“You should start with the back porch,” Dunga crowed, interrupting her thoughts. “I almost fell through the boards back there earlier.”

“Are you offering to help?” Max asked. He was smiling – hadn’t stopped since they’d gotten the keys – and carrying one half of a mattress through the door. Ozuma came through shortly after with the other side and they leaned it carefully against the wall. “I can get the supplies delivered any time.”

“With Dunga’s help, we won’t even need to bother unpacking the tools.” Mariam glanced around the one room they’d scrubbed completely spotless. It was filling up quick with a bunch of stuff they wouldn’t be able to unpack until they’d finished thoroughly cleaning the rest of the house. “He can pound the nails in with his thick skull.”

“Hey!”

“The truck’s almost empty out there,” Ozuma interrupted, nodding towards the front door. “You want us to go back to your dad’s for another load after this or stay and help clean?”

Max gave the room the same once over that Mariam had moments before. They didn’t have much furniture, and what they did have was temporary, taken from Max’s room at his dad’s or donated by friends and family. The rest of their boxes were from Max’s apartment in New York or Mariam’s bedroom in her village, but there wasn’t a lot that had been worth dragging from country to country. One more trip would easily move all their worldly possessions from Taro’s basement to their new home and then they could return the truck they’d rented.

On the other hand, their kitchen appliances were set to be delivered the next day. It was earlier than expected, which would have been a good thing if they didn’t still need to clean years worth of dust out of the spaces the old ones had left behind. And everywhere else in the house.

“While all of you stand around thinking about it, I’m gonna go get another box,” Dunga grumbled, lumbering off to do just that.

“Make it two while you’re at it,” Mariam called after him. “We didn’t invite you for your company.”

Dunga looked back just to flip her off and Joseph snickered. Mariam might have gone after Dunga to teach him a lesson if Max hadn’t chosen that moment to get her attention with a hand, gentle and low, on her back.

“You had a good system going yesterday,” he said, referring to the way she’d scrubbed the room they were standing in from top to bottom while he’d gone around the house unsticking the windows so they could air the place out. “We can tackle the kitchen together if Joseph and Ozuma don’t mind finishing up out here with Dunga?” He phrased it like a question and directed it their way.

Ozuma simply nodded, a hint of a smirk on his face as he followed Dunga.

Joseph wasn’t so quiet. “Make sure you leave the door open,” he teased, “or you really will need to add a nursery to the list.” Then he was gone, too, before Mariam could reprimand him or Max’s blush could fully bloom.

While her teammates unloaded the truck, Mariam began the task of cleaning the kitchen with her husband. She sat on his shoulders to clear the ceiling of cobwebs. Then they started on the cabinets, climbing onto the counter tops and wiping away all the dust and a couple of dead spiders. They scrubbed the walls, counters, sink, and lower cabinets, dumping multiple buckets of filthy water in between.

At some point during the process, Joseph popped his head in and let them know they were taking the truck to Taro’s for the rest of their stuff. He made sure to tell them the mattress better be right where he remembered when he returned. Mariam had thrown a dirty rag at him that stayed on the floor until they pried open the doors to the porch and swept all the fallen dust out for the wind to steal.

By the time the others got back, Mariam was polishing the wooden cabinets until they gleamed and Max was finishing up with the mopping. Mariam was on such a roll with cleaning that she moved on to the dining room next, while the guys unpacked the truck.

She learned that she preferred cleaning to unloading. It felt like she was making real progress as she washed away years’ worth of grime, instead of cluttering up the place. There was something addicting about seeing the true bones of their home revealed and falling more in love with it as she went.

She took a break once, to say goodbye to Ozuma, Dunga, and Joseph when they finished and left, then went right back to cleaning. Max alternated between helping her and sorting their belongings so there would be a path for the delivery the next day.

The sun was setting by the time they finally called it quits for the night.

Mariam was sore and sweaty and starving, but it was worth it to see the entire ground floor spic and span and, thanks to Max, a good chunk of boxes moved to the appropriate rooms. She was wandering between them now, picturing what it would look like with everything unpacked and full and theirs. It felt surreal.

A pair of freckly arms circled her waist from behind, interrupting her daydreams.

Mariam sighed and fell back against Max’s chest, tipping her head onto his shoulder. Her hands came to rest on his arms, tracing the hard line of muscle there as he squeezed her tight.

Max nuzzled his nose behind her ear and sighed, making goosebumps spread over Mariam’s skin.

“Max,” she drawled, squeezing his forearms, “that tickles. And I’m all sweaty.” She added the last bit as an afterthought, but she was suddenly aware of how the short hairs at her nape were clinging to her.

The only answer he gave her was a series of kisses over the side of her face, lips dancing up over her jaw and cheek. She could tell the eternal smile was back on his face when his mouth lingered on her temple. Even when she couldn’t see it, it was contagious.

“I’ll take more of that after I shower off,” she promised through her smile.

Max chuckled. It reverberated through both of their bodies and Mariam felt even more at home.

“Dinner first,” he said, disentangling himself from her and taking her by the hand. “Come on.” He gave her a tug. “And watch the floorboards.”

His warning made more sense when he led her out onto the porch and around to the back of the house. She could see the corner that Dunga had mentioned earlier where the wood was sagging and discolored. On the other side of the porch, Max had spread out a blanket and laid out a couple of cushions. He’d dragged one of their boxes outside to act as a table, too – there were two to-go containers on top of it that she recognized as coming from Kenny’s parent’s place.

“They’re probably cold by now,” he said apologetically. He sat down on the blanket and Mariam collapsed next to him with a grateful sigh. She hadn’t realized how tired she was until now. “My plan was to reheat them, until I realized we didn’t actually have a way to do that.”

He looked so sheepish that Mariam couldn’t help but laugh and lean over to give him a solid kiss on the cheek.

“I’m hungry enough to eat anything,” she said, stomach growling as she reached for her noodles.

“It was a long day.”

She felt Max’s eyes on her as she took her first bite. The noodles were lukewarm, but right now she would swear she’d never tasted anything so delicious in her life. He must have been satisfied with her reaction because he had a dreamy look on his face when she glanced back over. She raised an eyebrow in question.

“But it was a good day.”

Mariam suddenly felt warm all over. “It was,” she agreed, setting her bowl down.

Night was falling. Out in their jungle of a backyard, fireflies were blinking in mesmerizing succession. There were so many of them that the trees looked like they were sparkling with stars. The real stars were glittering in the sliver of sky above the treeline. There weren’t as many of them as back home, but there were so many more than in New York where the sky was an inky black canvas no matter what.

The surreal feeling was back. Mariam’s heart felt twice its normal size and had become unexpectedly lodged in her throat.

Max’s hand closed around hers, lacing their fingers together and squeezing. “I keep feeling like this is a dream,” he confessed in a whisper.

Mariam watched the fireflies flicker in his eyes and that was exactly what the sky at home looked like. Safety and adventure – security and possibilities – all at once. She hadn’t always understood that the two could go hand in hand, but seeing the scene in Max’s eyes, it all made sense. She let out a shaky breath, dinner all but forgotten.

“I don’t really know how to explain it.” Max stroked her wedding band with his thumb. The Saint Shield earring in his ear caught the moonlight, mimicking the firefly show. “It just hit me like a ton of bricks and I’m so happy.” She could see the emotion glistening in his eyes and it made the knot in her throat tighten. “I love you and this home – this future – we’re building together. So much, Mariam.”

“You’re such a sap,” she teased, voice sounding a little watery even to her own ears. Then she leaned in and kissed him hard and slow.

She swore she could taste the sweetness of his words on his tongue as he kissed her back, drawing her onto his half of the blanket, and into his lap, like he’d been waiting to do it all day. One of his hands settled on her hip, thumb nestling into the crease of her thigh like a puzzle piece slotting into place. The other came to rest on her waist, comfortable and exciting all at once.

Mariam cradled his face and pulled back for a breath. “But me too,” she mumbled against his lips, seeking out his hazy blue eyes. “To all of it.”

When he sighed in response, Mariam kissed him again.

Whatever had hit Max, it was safe to say it’d hit her too.

[milazka]

not the greatest feeling ever | 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝.

the less i know the better masterlist

main masterlist

summary: fuck it, i’m not doing a summary, i’m so bad at it. oh! there’s smut btw.

warnings: smut, cursing, mentions of blood, underrage drinking

last thought: i’m proud of this one, took me a lot of time to write, but i think it was worth it! enjoy your reading! love, milz.

─── ° • ❀ ───

The gentle breeze twirls her golden locks in all directions. She hums the lyrics of You never can tell, having watched Pulp Fiction for the hundredth time last night. Her irises are fixed to the slightly damp roadside covered with fresh fallen leaves from this morning rainstorm. The last rays of sunlight caress her baby-like skin as they disappear into the horizon, painting the sky in a mixture of orange and rose. 

“C’mon grandpa, you’re slow as hell!” she teases Marcus, turning her head back to stick her tongue out at him. Standing on his skateboard, he sends her the finger, scraping the pavement with his over-used black vans to gain speed and eventually catch up with her. 

“That’s how the turtle won the race, dumbass,” he gently nudges her shoulder with his hand as he rides his board besides her. She gives a sharp turn of the handlebars to move her tires out of the sand and back on the pavement, giving him a death glare. 

“I almost fell in the ditch, shithead!” he simply laughs, his head falling backward. His dark colored hairs, normally slicked back, are ruffled by the warm September wind, giving him a laid back look that fits him perfectly. She adores hearing his laugh; it's one of the purest and most delightful sounds. It was only recently that she heard him laugh again, having not heard it for months after the day they lost the third musketeer of their trio. It was one of the hardest moments of their lives, but sharing this kind of experience brought them closer than ever. Charlie was there for him when he hit rock bottom, stroking his back while he cried on the shower floor, freezing water running down their damped bodies. She was also by his side the first time he went to therapy, soothingly squeezing his hand before he entered the office.

“If someone had to fall in a ditch, it would be me.”

“You know that Max and I made bet on how long it would take you to fall in a ditch?” she replies, checking his reaction at the corner of her cerulean eyes. He grins. 

“How much did you bet?” he curiously asks, one eyebrow arched. 

“Fifty bucks,” his eyes almost snap out of their sockets. He stops, stepping off his board.

“Fifty bucks?! That’s insulting, thought I was worth more than that,” he shouts as she makes a u-turn, retracing her steps, stopping in front of him.

“I’ll give you half of it if you wait ‘till June,” Charlie sarcastically says to him, elbows leaning on the handlebars of her bicycle. He caught a glimpse of light in her gaze; a twinkle of amusement he always finds in the corners of her softly crinkled eyes when she smiles truthfully.

“Deal,” he winks at her, drawing a small laugh from her slightly parted lips. He picks up Charlie's polaroid from the basket at the front of her bike, signaling for her to ride so he can immortalize the moment for her. Marcus knows she keeps those famous polaroids in an old converse box as a source of happiness; they're memories of moments she doesn't want to forget. 

He takes the little camera to his eyes, snapping a picture when Charlie turns her head to the side to look at him, smiling like there is no tomorrow. As the picture is slowly developing, he hears a squeal of tires and a squeal of surprise from the distance. 

“Fuck Charlie!” he shouts, running towards her as she sits, holding firmly her right forearm. His heart tightens at the sight of her painful face, her traits are torn by pain and he can see tears gathering at the corner of her squinted blue eyes. Marcus hates to see her in pain; he knows she's not the type to complain about anything so when he sees her azure eyes filling with water, he knows it's serious. 

“You got a few scratches,” he whispers, running his eyes over her legs and arms. “We’ll go to your house and clean you up, okay?” she nods, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. Marcus tucks his skateboard under his arm, grabbing the handlebars and seat of Charlie's bike simultaneously.

─── ° • ❀ ───

“Hold still,” his hazel eyes are focused on the mid-depth cut on her forearm. His bushy eyebrows furrowed, giving him a severe, almost cold sober look. She takes a big gulp of the rich whiskey she borrowed from her father's secret stash. 

“Oh fucking hell!” she swears between her clenched teeth when the rubbing alcohol makes contact with the exposed flesh of her forearm. “That’s not the greatest feeling ever,” she whimpers, her forehead resting on his shoulder covered by his green olive shirt. 

“I know, angel, I know,” he runs his hand through her blonde hair, gently stroking her scalp in a soothing way. She keeps her head resting against his shoulder, holding back the tears that threaten to run down her flushed cheeks.

“I’m usually the one taking care of you,” he knows it refers as much to all the times he fell off his skateboard as it does to when he hit rock bottom when their friend passed away. Charlie isn't used to being taken care of; she has always been able to look after herself without anyone's help.

Crying is for the weak.

She swallows her tears, putting her mask back on with a slight smile.

“Your new neighbor saw me fall,” she changes the subject, pausing to take another gulp directly from the whisky bottle. “Great way to make a first impression,” a light laugh escapes from her lips, but she halts when she notices his gaze turning away almost discreetly. “What’s wrong?” 

Over the years, she has learned to read him like the palm of her hand; she knows he looks away to the left when he is hiding something from her and that he scrapes the back of his neck when he is embarrassed.

“I-I had sex with her,” he blurts out, avoiding her gaze while he still applies pressure on the bandage covering the wound on her forearm. 

“Holy shit,” her eyes widened, not expecting this kind of disclosure. “Wait, what about Padma?” 

“You know she is not my girlfriend, Charlz,” he sighs, finally sustaining her non-judgmental azure irises. It' s one of the things he likes about her; she never judges him and even if she did, he wouldn't know since she hides it so well. 

“Was it good?” she does not insist about Padma, knowing perfectly well that she is the first one to know. He doesn't answer, looking thoughtful as if a million thoughts are running through his head. He steals the bottle of alcohol from her, gulping down a few ounces of the throat-burning liquid.

“What aren’t you telling me, Marcus?” 

He shuts his eyes, exhaling loudly.

“I don’t know if I was good… God, I don’t even know if she came!” her heart tightens; he looks distraught and she knows that this is a big deal to him, after all, he just lost his virginity. He breathes heavily, his jaw as tightly clenched as his fists.

“Show me.” 

“What?!” he opens one eye, eyebrows furrowed as if he was questioning if she was being serious.

“Show me what you did, I’ll tell you if it’s good,” 

“You’re drunk, Charlz…I don-” he stops as soon as her silver rings coated hands grip the hem of his olive shirt, grazing the soft skin of his lower abdomen with her fingertips. Sitting on her knees, she brings her head up to his neck, pressing her lips against the skin. The feeling of her wet lips on his burning skin sends a shiver running through his spine. 

“I’m sober enough to remember everything and give you my consent,” she whispers to his ear and he almost moans when she slightly nibbles his lobe. Her hands slips to the back of his neck, forcing him to hover over her as she lies on her back.

Both his hands are lingering on the buckle of her belt, struggling to undo it. She clutches his chin with one hand, plunging her reassuring gaze into his. He looks nervous, his hands trembling slightly when he takes off her jeans. She presses her lips to his Adam's apple, feeling him tense up at first, but relax as she sensuously slides her tongue up to his sculpted jaw.

“A-are you good with two figers?” he nervously asks, his right hand resting on the edge of her panties. 

“Yes,” he hesitantly slips his hand into her panties, parting her legs with his other hand before sliding his index and middle fingers up and down her folds.  She can see him blush when an almost quiet moan escapes her lips at the feeling of his fingers inside her core. He pumps them in and out slowly, as if he was afraid to hurt her.

“Try to curl them in a ‘come here’ movement,” she demonstrates with her own fingers. He nods and mimics her actions, making her whimper under him. 

“That feels good,” she encourages him. “What did you do next?” she softly asks, rubbing her thumb against his cheek to sooth him. 

“Hum, well, we-um, you know, did it,” he says, blushing like a little child who just got his first kiss with the popular girl. 

“You didn’t go down on her?” she asks, looking quite shocked. He seemed clueless. “I mean, you didn’t use your mouth?” 

“Uh no, should I have?” 

“You boys really know nothing about female pleasure,” she sights. “Try watching lesbian porn next time, you will learn A LOT more,” He almost chokes, not expecting to hear this come out of his best friend's lips while his fingers are still inside her. They've always been comfortable with each other, but not to the point of talking about the kind of porn they listen to. The idea of her best friend watching porn and getting herself off almost made him cum in his pants.

“You do know what a cunniligus is, right?” 

“God, Charlz, I’m not five years old! Yes, I know what it is!” he exclaims, his ego lightly bruised by her question. 

“Well, show me then, playboy,” she challenges him, a cocky smile slipping on her lips. the alcohol going slightly to her head.

He pulls her to the edge of the mattress, kneeling at the foot of the bed between her legs. His lips kiss the skin on the inside of her thighs, sucking it until he sees a dark red mark appear. He gets rid of her underwear in the blink of an eye  before placing her legs over his shoulders. He darts his tongue out of his mouth, licking a long strip between her folds without giving her the chance to acknowledge what was going on. He stops once his tongue rests on the bundle of nerves, licking around it in a circular motion.

“Fuck,” she moans. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“You really think I've never watched lesbian porn?” he teases her, biting the inside of her thigh, making her body jolt. He dives back his head to her core, sucking her clit into his mouth.

At leats he know where the clit is.

"Oh my god Marcus," she moans, squirming against his grip. He places his arm over her lower abdomen, pinning her body against the mattress. She can feel his two fingers sliding back into her core, the sudden feeling causing her hips to buck up against his face.  

“Are you gonna be a good girl and cum for me, hun?” he praises her, fingers curling inside her just like she taught him. She could barely feel herself, letting out a series of high-pitched moans as Marcus tongue was working on her bundle of nerves. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” she whimpers, her head pressed down against the matress. Her fingers tangle in his dark hair, tucking at the roots as she let out a cry, the euphoric feeling taking over her body for a moment. Marcus looks up to see her eyes shut tightly, her legs shaking on his shoulders. He can feel her core pulsating around his fingers as she comes down from her high.

He took a mental picture of her, engraving this moment in his memory forever.

─── ° • ❀ ───

taglist; @cognacdelights @ellegotohell @janedartist

[messwriting]

Written for the Whorehouse Compilation [RAW DOG 1080p] (Try Not To CUM) Collab:  Masterlist.

Open wide: the Doctor is IN

Shirabu Keijiro x Female Reader 

Doctor Shirabu gives you a very special treatment on your first appointment.

Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.

Note: I’m sorry for being this late to the party. The cursed porn search we all have looked at least once (some... lots of times hehehe). THANKS TO @dymphnasprose​ for the little porn search bar i love them so much ;-; <3 My (very) late contribution to the Whorehouse Server CUMpilation. Thanks for letting me participate Miki! Doctor Shirabu is ready to see you now. 

Warnings: POSSIBLE TRIGGERING CONTENT.  CONSENSUAL NON-CONSENT.  DOCTOR/PATIENT. MEDICAL PLAY. INAPPROPRIATE TOUCHES. WRONG GYNECOLOGICAL EXAM. Breast exam but not really. Corruption Kink.  MEDICAL KINK. Use of medical equipment in inappropriate ways. ANAL PLAY. Established relationship clarified at the end: role-play. Poorly researched medical stuff. Overuse of Good Girl. 

Word count: ~4.4k 

You’re such a cute little thing.

Sitting on top of the big, pristine examination table, waiting for him while wearing an easy summer dress, square heels dangling from one side to the other as your hands fumble with your own fingers on your lap, eyes flying to him immediately as he enters the close space - big, bright eyes shining in the dull white hospital room, framed by beautiful eyelashes and soft makeup. Your tempting lips are almost deployed of lipstick from as much your teeth have punished the plush flesh.

“Hello.” Shirabu greets you with an easy smile, one that he doesn’t really use despite the little effort it takes.

“Oh, hi Doctor.” There’s an anxious smile on your lips and Shirabu feels a tingle start on his fingertips, climb his arm, spread down his back to burn in his guts. You’re so pretty when you’re nervous.

“How are we today? You can come and sit by the chair first.” Shirabu moves calmly, closing the door behind him; carefully turning the key without bringing attention. He’s still testing the waters but he can gather that you’re a trusting one, waiting to hear from him what exactly you need to do and then do it. 

“Ahhh, um… I’m good, just came for my annual checkup.” You say while taking a seat on the chairs, only risking one look up at his face, then lowering those eyes onto his coat, clearly reading his name. Your expression seems surprised… but pleased. Is it because he’s young or because he’s attractive? Shirabu can’t decide, but there’s a clear smile in his lips as he looks you over, then circles his way to sit behind the table.

“Is this your first time here? If not, when was your last appointment?” 

“Actually,” Your eyes meet his when your head angles up and you scurry them down as if you’re embarrassed. Your lips are once again suffering under your teeth before you free them and speak, “It’s my first. Like, ever.”

“Oh,” Shirabu let’s slip with a breath. There’s too much joy in that little sigh and in his tone when he asks, “Really?”

Your head goes up and down first, fingers fumbling, then you seem to remember that you need to speak with him, “Yes.”

“Do you have a medical file here already? Any complaints I should know?” Shirabu covers the usual bases first, calmly checking his agenda and time, how much he can have with you and how he can extend it.

“Hm… No complaints, except…” You fall silent for a moment and Shirabu can feel the burning in your face all the way through the table. 

“It’s okay.” He’s quick to tranquilize you, “I’m your Doctor, you can tell me anything.”

“I think my birth-control is… uh, how can I say this? Making me… a little numb?” You tell him in a low voice, a hint of worry slipping through as you try to send him a little embarrassed smile as if you’re worried he may feel bad about it. 

Shirabu is quick to smile back, so pleased at how you relax and melt back into yourself at the sight of it. He can’t help but think you’re such a good girl. “You didn’t answer the first question, though.”

 “It’s my first time in the clinic as well. A friend of mine recommended it to me.” You give a precious little giggle as if your nervousness scrambles your train of thought and Shirabu thinks it’s endearing, especially the fact that you’re a pretty little thing who doesn’t know best and you’ve ended right on his lap. 

Well, he plans to make the most of it.

“Hmm, understood. So, Miss… Is it Miss?” Shirabu sends you a charming smile, one he knows it’s good, and your eyes seem to flash with something at the sight of it, your throat bobbing right before your lips split in a little smile.

“Yes,” you giggle his way with a little roll of your eyes, as if it’s obvious and he makes a surprised face along with another dazzling smile. Shirabu has smiled more in the last ten minutes than n his whole week and he’s face will soon protest.

“Really? You’re so pretty, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone had already planted a ring on your finger.” God knows he would, and as fast as he could, too. 

You bite at your lips to avoid a smile planting itself in your face, eyes fleeing from his as your hands fist your dress and you left a little breathy laugh out. As if he’s being ridiculous. 

“Okay Miss, so since it’s your first time doing this check-up, I’ll need you to do a few things for me, okay?”

“Sure, Doctor.” God, that shouldn’t mess him up as it does, the hairs on his arm standing on edge at the delicious sound of it in your voice.

“I’ll need you to go to that bathroom right there, strip all your clothes including underwear and change into the paper gown that’s right on top of a cabinet there. Leave the opening to the front and then come back to sit at that examination table right there. Can you do this for me?”

“Of course, Doctor.” Warmth spreads from his body, rolls thick with his blood around his limbs and starts concentrating south. Jesus, you’ll be his demise like this.

“Good. Now go.”

Once you’re out of sight, Shirabu makes arrangements. And when you come back, clad in nothing but a paper-thin gown that leaves little to the imagination, he buttons his coat as long as it goes. Just to be sure.

His eyes thread carefully over your barely concealed body, enthralled by how your breathing comes in quick puffs of air, goosebumps rising on your skin under the cold temperature of the room. Pressing against the warmth of his palm at the slight touch of his fingers on your shoulder. 

“You can sit at the examination table. We’ll start with a breast exam before you lie down, okay?” Shirabu knows his voice is sweeter than usual; carefully built in a trusty tone, words rolling off his mouth a little deeper, a little low - all just so he can assure he has your attention. 

 “I’ll start with a breast exam and then you can lie down.” He explains his steps one by one, so when he opens the front of the barely existing paper gown, all you do is take a sharp breath and slowly let the air out. So nice. Such a good girl for him.

He carefully brings his fingers to glide over the outskirts of your breasts, pressing on your flesh with steady, slow to warm digits. Shirabu feels as you fidget slowly when he circles the flesh once, slow and deliberate with the pressure he applies. “I’m checking for any unusual lumps around the tissue,” Shirabu tells that so close to your face he can feel the warm wave of air your gasp lets out at his words, and he pretends the little taste does nothing for him despite the way his blood boils in his veins. 

He does the same circular motion a second time, then a third time in reverse, and all but grin in his self-satisfied way when he notices the shy nub stand to attention. Your brows are furrowed even from such little stimulation, throat bobbing as your mouth sucks cold puffs of breaths inside your lungs. 

Shirabu’s digits slide up your collarbone, then press together in a quick motion from all the way up to under your breast, stealing just the slight touch over your erected nipple. 

“Please put your hand over my shoulder,” Shirabu says carefully, detached; and is delighted when you push a little dazed “what” out your swollen lips. 

He can’t help but smirk; poor little lamb is lost to the wolf around her - and his claws are already in. 

“Like this, honey.” His hand takes yours in his, open your palm with his fingers to press it on his shoulder, a wide-angle that gives him better access and provides for a comfortable examination. 

“Hm, okay!” You strangle it out, cute and bashful and Shirabu feels his slacks getting tighter.

“Good,” he breathes close to your face and restarts his movements, digits massaging up and down your chest, right side first as his fingertips get together to start to draw patterns from outside until the center in a repeated motion that ends with just a barely-there, butterfly touch over your nipples as he does a careful glide around the circle.

Your shoulders tremble and curve inwards as your abdomen seizes, hints of your pleasure that Shirabu can pinpoint even without his medical expertise. It makes his heart soars; such a little innocent thing that you can’t even speak up about it, just quietly suffering from the need growing inside you until you’ll burst.

His hand stops under your breast to weigh it, palm covering the extension of flesh as his thumb slides in a fond motion to the sides. 

“Now I’ll do the left,” Shirabu announces and feels as you tense, eyes looking up at him in a lost haze even as you blink and nod. There’s a small storm brewing inside your eyes clouding them over, as if you’re struggling to catch up to his fingers, trying to fully wrap around his motions and still falling victim of your innocence, agreeable and placid, trained and directed to respect authority. 

Dr. Shirabu knows best, you’re probably thinking as you nod once again, hands grabbing at anything they can to hide their trembling. Then he starts his ministrations by rolling your nipple with his thumb, drawing a gasp from you.

 “Oh, sorry,” Shirabu says with fake sorrow before he starts the circling massage around your breasts once again. 

A humming agreement is all you answer him, lips pressed together as if you’re embarrassed by the noise you’ve left. Oh, poor little thing. 

He can’t wait to ruin you.

Shirabu wonders if you can notice how he changes the motions of his fingers this time around, pressing closer to the center and around the halo of your breast as he kneads the delicious mound with his digits. 

Your knees are practically pressed together and you’re struggling to hold your shoulders up in a straight line and Shirabu is absolutely delighted at causing your downfall with such little, fickle things as the point of his fingers.

He waits for the moment where your teeth close sharply over your swollen lips, holding both breath and noise inside, and angles both his hands to press under your breasts, upwards motion that is a good excuse for groping - not that you’d know. Your spine curves as your head turn down in waves of burning hot embarrassment at your own behavior and Shirabu simply has to move before he does something bad.

Well, worst.

 “All done,” he tells you with a small curve on his lips as he steps back. You wait for him to turn before letting a breath out, but even that sounds sharp in the silence of the room. Shirabu hides his hands from your eyes in his pockets, fingers twitching in the absence of your smooth skin under his digits.

“Now we’ll pass to the examination.” The little tremble in your frame is enough to add twisting fire into his veins, temperature rising even when the air conditioning is running low. Shirabu does his best in making his voice sound unaffected and neutral, walking over to the stirrups and adjacent dressing table where he keeps his medical gloves.

“You can lie down and put your legs over the supports.” 

“Yes, Doctor.”

You obey like a good girl, the simple motion already flashing him the precious skin underneath, legs spread wide open and immobilized. Anxious eyes look for his in reassurance, then seem to think better of it as they fall down to watch your open legs. The view making you squirm once again in the padded table. 

So precious.

And trusting.

Your hands are clasped over your belly in an attempt to keep them from fidgeting, eyes eagerly fleeting between Shirabu’s frame and the ceiling. He sends a smile your way as he pulls the chair close to the stirrups and your disconcert is practically charming. 

When Shirabu walks over to sit between your open legs, his cock strains against his slacks, immoral coil twisted hard at the small peak of heavenly skin, of glistening folds swollen by the blood flow.

If only he could lick it.

There’s a tremble to your form that he can’t pinpoint, but the wide-open arch of your legs immobile over the stirrups clear are involved in; that, and the pulsating arousal in your center, if the way you’re throbbing open for him is any indication. 

Shirabu had considered going slow, threading carefully before taking what he wants, but the fortitude of his mind is being challenged by the view alone: You, laying on the table, legs spread and skin glowing. It’s wicked. Shirabu wishes so much to taste, but he’s snapping his gloves on instead. 

 “Are you sexually active?” He makes small talk, chair sounding loud in the silent room as he finally takes his place on it.

“I’m, uh, not for a while.”

“Any unprotected intercourse?”

“Hm... N-no.” Huh. Shirabu doubts he was able to hide the motion in his lips signaling that the little slip in your tone isn’t lost. “Are you certain? We may need to do a test, just to be sure.”

Your eyes fleet to him, shining in the artificial illumination, flustered expression as you down them for your clasped hands after. It’s rather endearing to watch as your anxious behavior spike, the way you’re unable to twist or move, pinned there by physical barrier more than just his eyes.

“It’s possible.” You answer him, meek, and he tries not to smile. “But I’ve been on the pill.”

“Ok, then. You mentioned numbness. Did you mean during intercourse or just in general?”

“Sometimes general, but normally when I’m… touching… myself.”

Oh well. What a nice little improvement. His eyes bore on yours between the valley of your legs, the air surrounding you both turning thicker. 

“Understood. I’m going to be touching you now.”

You nod, and then gasp when his hands actually touch the inside of your open thighs, a light caress to satiate the need to know how soft and plush you feel, and it’s exactly as much as you look. You suck in a breath slowly, and Shirabu lets his fingers slide up to your hot center.

“I’ll start with the pelvic exam. If you feel any pain or discomfort, just say so.” You nod and he starts slowly, two gloved fingers carefully threading over the swollen labia with acute precision, circling motions as he caresses the underside of your most sensitive place and downwards, rounds the dripping wet entrance, and sliding back up, fingers opening in a “v” motion, a small twirl around the engorged nub above it all. “I’m making an exterior exam, any numbness?”

You nod your negative. Eyes barely holding themselves open, teeth sunk on your lips. “Tell me if you either don’t feel anything or feel anything hurting.”

“Okay,” it’s mostly a whine, breath leaving your mouth as soon as you open it. He descends a third finger over your sex, up and down circling motions that rip a groan from your throat.

“Does anything hurt?” Shirabu’s voice is collected, calm, a stark contrast to the throbbing length in his pants. “Numb?”

“I...don’t think so?” You’re trembling, voice breathless as the stirrups squeaking under the strain of your thighs and Shirabu’s other hand comes up, palm planting over your pelvis, feeling the soft skin and then pressing his palm on it.

“Doesn’t seem like you have a problem with sensibility.” He tries to reassure you as his fingers thread to your entrance, indicator slowly tracing the tight circle pulsating in front of his eyes. You’re dripping wet, soaking his gloves and all he can think is what a delicious little patient.

“I’ll be entering you now, okay? There’s no need for the speculum, so I’m performing a touch exam.” 

“Oh-kay, doctor,” comes your little gruff voice, putty under his hands and opening up nicely for his fingers when he presses inside. You’re tight, wonderfully so, clinging to his gloved fingers. Shirabu angles them up and deep, your blistering warmth spreading from his digits to his arm and then his whole body. 

He’ll have to find a way to “test” you there, as well.  He doesn’t retreat his fingers, but he aims the motions of them inside and above, looking for the sensitive place that’s bound to make you-

“Ah!” 

There it is. Shirabu chuckles and rounds the place with his digits as your knees buckle inside then angling out, spreading wide. He retreats his fingers, rolling them with a little scissoring, then plunges deeper inside as an excuse of trying to reach your cervix. If only he could use his cock- that’d be way easier.

“And now?” Shirabu asks, wicked. “Any pain? Numbness?”

“N-uhnn-” You try to speak but choke on a soft moan, your hands flying to your face as you swallow and answer him back in a trembling tone, “No.”

“Anything else?” It’s teasing, clearly, but you don’t seem to notice it, dazed eyes searching for him as you wet your mouth before speaking.

“It feels… weird.”

“Really? ” Shirabu spreads his fingers a bit, rolls them to feel around your walls. “Why’s that?”

“I- I don’t know. It’s… good.”

“Hmmm… That’s interesting.” His gloved thumb descends over your labia, rolls over your clitoris with strict precision, fingers angling inside to meticulously hit that special place once again. The table squeaks under the strength of your buckling, open cunt pulsating around his fingers in plain view for his appreciative eyes. “You seem to be a bit oversensitive, not numb.”

“Is that- a problem?” You say between breaths as Shirabu’s thumb rolls over your clit. He’s astonished you don’t question any of his debatable moves, only looking at him with dazed, soft eyes. 

“Depends. Do you always leak like this? It can be a condition.” Shirabu presses his palm over your pelvic bone, angle his fingers meticulously and swirl your clitoris with his thumb in firm precision. You moan and immediately recoil in embarrassment, mouth agape in your own surprise. Shirabu scissors his fingers in a rotating motion, inside and out for barely a few seconds and your spine arches off the table, mouth falling in a wide “o” as you tremble on his examination table.

Delicious.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?”

“No,” you answer in a breath.

Shirabu palms his length to release the pressure, cock straining at the soft expression of rapture on your eyes. “Everything seems good inside; But maybe you’re sensitive. I’ll keep that in mind for the next exams.”

“Is it… done?”

“Almost.” Shirabu smiles, but it's a be-ready-for-trouble one. “All we need is the ultrasound for the internal exam.”

“I thought you had just-”

“This one was the touch one, the next one is done with the ultrasound equipment. It will be inserted inside and then I’ll be able to take a good look at your uterus health.”

“Oh, okay.”

You seem focused on catching your breath as your stretched hole keeps winking at him, as if begging for more. Unfortunately, Shirabu has to move on. He pulls the equipment table close, moves the screen to the side and at a fairly inaccessible angle for your eyes. The transducer reminds a wand, long, shaped anatomically thin with a slightly larger head, barely two-fingers girth. 

“Have you ever orgasmed before? Sensitive dysfunction can make it harder for women to achieve sexual gratification.”

“I… actually don’t know…”

Shirabu slides a condom on it, drops a generous amount of lube over it and then turns to you with a smile. Your legs twitch and your walls clench and he has a strike of brilliance right there as he eyes the pretty furl of muscle under your pleading pussy.

You yelp as he brings a lubed finger to draw rings over your rear, embarrassed eyes quickly searching for his.

“Doctor?!”

“Oh, sorry. The equipment goes in anally. Didn’t I mention that?”

“No?!” You groan, surprised, a soft breath escaping your lips.

“Sorry. I’m just preparing you, passing something to help it.” Shirabu explains, as a liar, and slowly work you open with his indicator pressing inside - carefully, slowly, with clinical precision until his whole knuckle is inside and your breathing is labored, open pussy throbbing for something he can’t give it to you just yet. How precious. “I’m inserting it now. Please tell me if it hurts.”

Shirabu angles the device on the lubed hole and watches, enthralled, as your ass swallows it’s wider head whole with just the first push, the rest of the body following easily as the tight ring presses the overflowing lube out. Fuck. Shirabu’s cock is weeping uncontrollably inside his slacks and he carefully brings a hand to help with the tightness of his pants, opening it enough to allow his thick length to escape free, but still covered by his lab coat.

Then Shirabu presses the device deeper, the angle sharp. He brings the receptor over your belly, presses way to closer to the apex of your sex. “Does it hurts?”

“No,” you breathe out, dazed.

“Does it feel good?”

“...Yes,” you sigh.

“Hmmm, interesting.” Shirabu retreats it, pretending to angle it somewhere else. He moves the equipment a bit more and your knees tremble as your pussy starts to drip on the floor. Jesus, that’s fucking hot. He leaves the receptor over your skin to fly his hand to his cock, slowly pumping it to relieve the throbbing ache. You’re way too lost in your own pleasure to notice his, and that only makes him more feral.

“You can feel something entering you now, but it’s just another equipment,” Shirabu says as he abandons his aching cock to slide two fingers inside your pleading hole, instead. He’s not even sure you understood his warning. Cute. 

“Doctor,” you breathe, almost panicked and Shirabu rolls his thumb over your clit to hear you yelp, your ass tight around the transductor as he scissors his fingers on your wide-open cunt.

“Yes?” 

“I feel... “ You sound so wrecked and lost, a shiver wandering down Shirabu’s spine as his throat bobs. Your pussy throbs around his fingers, begging for something it can’t even pinpoint. Poor thing.

“Pain?” 

“No? Something… else.” Such a cute breathless voice, chest heaving with rabbit-fast beats that Shirabu almost can feel on his fingers deep inside your soaking walls. 

“Pleasure?” He offers, fighting the need to smile at how your confused expression, brows furrowed as you try to think of another word but come ultimately short.

“I…” You start but bite your lips to hold the noise at how he aims at your special spot. Then blink twice, still losing the fight against the thick pleasure fog in your mind. “I guess?”

“Wow.” You’re so honest. Shirabu’s surprise is fairly genuine. He hopes his tone sounds more understanding than completely hungry. “Well… It’s not unusual for patients to feel arousal by exams considering their invasive nature. It’s okay, don’t panic.”

“But,” You start, tense and writhing, but Shirabu stands up, the equipment in your ass changing angle but his eyes are finding yours in the distance. 

“It’s okay,” Shirabu repeats and you listen, hazed eyes focused entirely on him. “Take a deep breath.” 

You obey so well, mouth opening as you breathe deep, chest filling even when Shirabu slowly edges the equipment out of your tight asshole. The fingers inside your pussy don’t stop, though, and he brings his other hand, now free, to aid him in wrecking you. “Now surrender to it. Let it wash over you…” 

“I…” You whine and tense, but then his two hands are gliding over every erogenous zone on your labia with acute expertise, and you let go, bones essentially melting under his ministrations; letting out a soft, obedient, won over, “Okay.”

“Good girl.” He tells you and rotates his fingers in and out, keeping you nice, wet and wide. You’re close. Shirabu can feel it in how you’re swelling around him. “You’re an amazing patient, Miss. Just do as I say and I’m telling you to cum.” That does it, as your head angles back, hands holding yourself and the table as you take a deep breath.

“Yes, doctor,” You whisper and moan, surrendering to the intense orgasm that pulses suddenly through you and quivers around his fingers. It’s beautiful to watch you come undone, legs trembling sharply as they’re held wide open, pussy fluttering in a wave of wetness that joins the puddle on the ground, mouth open as your tongue slides past it, eyes rolling inside your skull and probably seeing white. 

Shirabu never feels tired of it, finally angling himself to bend over your frame, mouth looking for yours quickly as he breaks character.

“Keijiro,” you sigh, pleasure-drunk and Shirabu licks over your open lips, bites on your jaw, sucks the skin to leave his marks. 

“Yes, love.” He answers against your pulse point and you lets out a satisfied sigh by his ear.

“That was amazing.”

“You think so?” Shirabu rolls his hips against your bare, soaked wet pussy, and his free cock rolls deliciously between the lubricated folds. “I’m just starting, though, Miss. I think you’ll need a more thorough exam, though. With special equipment too.” He brings his hand to angle his cock on your entrance, eyes locked on yours as you blink and smile, blissed out and pleading. Shirabu presses himself inside and you throw your head back in bliss, hands planting on his shoulders with sharp nails aiming for his skin. “Such a good patient I have. Open wide, love.” 

You arch your head back to look up at him, mouth falling open on command, for Shirabu to do as he pleases. You, wide open on his table, for him to do as he pleases. He’s your husband after all and you’ve learned from a long time that what pleases Dr. Shirabu Kenjiro the most is picking you apart piece by piece, white bliss searing your every nerve-end as you fall and shatter for him, drowning under his thumb as he holds you down waves of pleasure, dragging you like the tide - strong and unyielding until it hurts to even breathe. 

The mere thought of having more makes your lips fall open in a moan, “yes, Doctor.” 

Because you love everything about that. 

[random-imagines-blog]

Connection {Steve Rogers x gn!Reader}

Wordcount: 3369 Summary: Just two New Yorkers, waiting for a bus. What happens on the bus? The usual NYC bigotry, but also a nice little surprise. Notes: Does have racism from a Karen, no slurs.

Everyday had the potential for a great many things in the city of New York. You always tried to hope for the bright side, but hope wasn’t always enough. You had to throw yourself into the day, you had to plow through it and make the good things happen, attract all of that positive energy towards you. Leave your house in the morning, hand out resumes, go to a promising afternoon interview. Your feet were sore from all of the walking. You treated yourself to a decent lunch, finding a nice little cafe where you could still stay under your budget and enjoy some good eats. All smiles. But on the flip side, a taxi driver nearly hit you when you were crossing the road because he was too into the sandwich that he was eating to notice the light was red. You witnessed two fist fights going on in the sidewalks and had to take long ways around to avoid getting caught up in all. You gave a homeless man a dollar bill and he ranted at you about how you looked like you could give more and you walked away feeling a little worse than you had been when you had handed over the dollar. But it was still a good day. Not even the fact that the bus was running late was enough to actually bring you down. There was a seat on the bench available - the small blessings.

And the man who was seated next to you? He wasn’t bad on the eyes. Blessing number two in the last minute. He was even kind enough to shuffle over a little to give you a little more room. You smiled over at him with appreciation. He returned it and then went back to what he was looking at. Or doing, rather. Trying not to appear to be too curious, you did chance a look.

He wasn’t reading like you originally thought. He was drawing. Using a charcoal pencil to sketch in some details of the building that was across the street. All of the lines intersecting to show off the architecture of New York’s infamous style. It was really good.

“What do you think?” His voice said, surprising you. You felt a little flushed. Caught sneaking a peek. He chuckled at your reaction, the way that you turned your head to try to appear like you hadn’t been looking when he knew that you were. “Honestly.”

“Oh, um - I’m not really an art critic,” You started off by saying.

“And I’m not really an artist,” He said, turning the book so that you could see more of it. Well, since he was asking, you did take a closer look at it. Eyes scanning the page, at each of those very dark lines.

“You could be,” You admitted. “It’s really good. The lines are umm - they’re simple but they’re good. Clean is the word that comes to mind. And the subject is very identifiable if that helps. Yeah, I think that’s something worthy of signing,” You said, noticing that nowhere on the page was his signature.

“When I’m done, maybe,” He said, taking the book back, closing it, and putting it inside of his coat, an inner pocket. You gave him a smile and then looked back out towards the street. The bus was five minutes late. But you were still feeling alright. You weren’t in a huge rush to get home. The only things waiting there were Netflix and your dinner plans. You leaned back against the bench, holding your bag close to you, and let out a little sigh. You were mostly just happy to be off of your feet. “Long day?” The stranger asked.

Normally, talking to strangers was a no no. Be polite to try not to piss them off but don’t go engaging in full on conversations. But this man seemed to be different. He seemed nicer. So you would answer. “Yeah,” You nodded. “Job searching in the city. Fingers crossed though. I think today is the day.”

“Good luck,” He said with a nod, and he held up his own hand, middle and index fingers crossed. It gave you an incredible view of his biceps, the material of the fabric squeezing them tightly. Oh lord. You had to look back out to the street. Feigning looking for the bus. Hoping for a breeze. You weren’t usually the swooning type but between the bright blue eyes that you saw and those arms, you were feeling it. “I hear it can be quite hard these days.”

“It can be,” You admitted. Understatement. You had to have handed out a hundred resumes and filled in a couple dozen online applications. “But it’s not something you can just give up on. Just keep swimming, as Dory says.”

The man tilted his head a little to the side. His eyes showed no trace of recognition.

“Dory, the blue fish from Finding Nemo? Sorry, it’s a - it’s a kids film, it’s a bit of a silly reference. Good movie though. You should check it out.”

He nodded and brought a small notebook out of his pocket. A notebook and a sketchbook. He was like a walking stationary store. He flipped through a couple of pages and used the charcoal pencil to write ‘Finding Nemo’ underneath Fight Club. You couldn’t help that peek either. It was his own fault really. He caught you looking at his art, obviously you were going to look at his notes too. He had a list of movies to watch. That was - kind of really cute. “Thanks, I will,” He said with a smile, flipping it closed and then putting it back into his pocket.

“Yeah, no problem. I hope you like talking fish,” You laughed. He gave another smile and then went back to his sketching. You went back to looking for the bus, feeling a little awkward. Hope you like talking fish. What a stupid thing to say, y/n. You licked your lips and went back to counting down the seconds until the next bus was supposed to come. Thankfully, it wasn’t in the hundreds, for a minute later, it turned around the corner and towards your stop.

You got up, secured your bag around you. Had your Metrocard ready. “Have a nice day,” You said quietly to the man that you had been speaking to and stepped up onto the bus. Scanned the card. If he replied, you didn’t hear it because of the sounds of people getting off and others lining up behind you to get on. It wasn’t the rush hours so it wasn’t too cramped. You were able to get a seat, settling in comfortably, having room on either side of you.

And the handsome stranger got on a few people after you and sat directly across. Your chairs were facing each other rather than towards the front of the bus. Another little bit of awkward eye contact. He gave you a little wave. You smiled and waved back. Nothing was really said, this was a New York bus after all. People were talking on their phones, to each other, playing music without their headphones on, singing to themselves. A melting pot of cultures, but also a melting pot of different noises. You were used to it, but it could get overwhelming if you weren’t. You centered yourself, thinking back on the interview. Did you say anything that might have cost you the job? You really needed this job. You really WANTED this job.

The man across from you was sketching again. You couldn’t see what it was, of course, only seeing the front cover but he looked concentrated on it. You didn’t bring a book with you today, didn’t want your bag to look too bulky in front of the job interviewer. You were regretting it now, of course. So you brought out your phone instead. Played a few games on it. Just passing the time until your block was announced. Fifteen more to go. Fourteen. Thirteen.

A lady started to yell about some men speaking a foreign language on the back on the bus. Eyes were turned that way. Phones were out to capture the entire thing. Maybe if she throws enough of a fit, a video could go viral, the people here could make a couple of bucks from it. You shook your head. It was a sad state of affairs, all of it. The racism. And the people that would film it but not do anything about it.

“Excuse me,” You said, standing up. Cameras turned to you. You put a hand in front of your face, not wanting to be filmed but it was a bit too late, alas. You knew what you were stepping into, unfortunately. “Hi, ma’am, would you mind keeping your voice down?”

“You’re asking me to keep my voice down?” She asked with a venomous sass to her tone. “I am an American citizen! And last I checked, we are in America! And in America, we speak ENGLISH here, ENGLISH.”

Oh. Okay. So it was one of those. “I’m sure that as an American yourself, we here believe in a thing called freedom, and that includes the freedom to speak whatever language you’re most comfortable speaking in,” You said, keeping yourself calm, leaning against one of the poles for people to hold onto. “But if you feel so inclined to listen to people talk, you can come and sit beside me and we can have a conversation. There’s no need to try to eavesdrop on other people.”

There were a couple of snickers from people holding their phones. But you ignored them. You just wanted to do a bit of conflict resolution. You didn’t want to embarrass anybody here. That wasn’t your plan. You weren’t going to go around calling her a Karen or anything, getting things even more riled up by yelling and inciting some sort of violence.

And apparently that wasn’t the sort of reaction that this woman had been expecting. She had come on the bus today, ready to complain. Set out looking for it. To have people to blame for her bad mood. Even if that meant yelling and snapping at innocent people.

“Well, they could be talking about anything! Anything at all! Don’t you get worried about that?” She asked, a smug little look on her face like she just had an a-ha moment.

“I suppose that’s true, they could be talking about anything. Just like a lot of people on this bus that you can’t hear. Maybe they’re talking about their kids or how much they love their wives. How happy they feel to be in a country with a lot more opportunities than the one that they had come from. Perhaps even how thankful for they are for the public transit system, which was only running a little late today rather than very late. Or what they’re going to have for dinner tonight. A movie that they just watched. So yes, they could be talking about anything. I don’t really see that as worrying. You could have been talking about anything to someone today and I don’t see any reason for it to be a worry.”

She paled. Of course that was no guarantee that she was going to calm down but at least I can say I gave it my best shot. Her beady little eyes looked around the bus, saw the cameras that were still on the situation. Baited breath on what she was going to do. What she did was pull sunglasses out of her purse, slip them on over her eyes, and turned her face out the window, nose held high. A couple of disappointed sighs from the videographers and I sat back down. I got myself comfortable again.

I had my phone back out. It didn’t look like I was going to be making the FYP anywhere since a fight didn’t happen, thankfully. I leaned back and returned to counting how many stops I had left. Eight. Seven. Getting closer now. Reaching home. God, I couldn’t wait to get home. To just collapse onto the couch. As I made myself comfortable again, I looked across from me at the handsome man. The artist. It looked like he was back to sketching again. His pencil was making many marks, and he had his darker-colored brows furrowed in concentration. He must have felt you staring again. More than once in one day. You were getting really bad at this. His blue eyes shot up and caught yours. He smiled sheepishly. You did the same and looked back down at your phone.

Six.

Five.

The man across from you rang the bell. You could see it out of the corner of your eye. That muscular arm stretching up above him to plink at the yellow cord. First try. That was impressive for these older buses. Usually you had to give them a really good tug. He scribbled something on the bottom of the paper. Signed it, maybe. Had finally finished what he had been working on before? Stop thinking about him, dammit, it’s getting creepy now.

He got up. His sneakers were pretty close to yours, you could have tapped his toes. But they didn’t move towards the back of the bus right away. His shadow covered you. So you looked up. The sunlight from outside created a sort of halo against him, making his hair shine brightly too. He was holding something out to you. “It’s - for you,” He said, a smile curling against his lips.

You took it the small piece of paper in your hands. It was turned so that it was perfectly facing you, not upside down. It wasn’t what you thought that it was. Rather than it being the architecture of earlier, it was a drawing of a person. A person sitting on a bus. You. This handsome guy, Steve Rogers according to the neat signature at the bottom, had gotten onto this bus and used his time to not only draw you, but to give it to you as a gift.

“Wow,” You said, noticing the detail that he had put in though it had been such a short time. Your hair was in the way that you had worn it this morning, the wind hadn’t damaged it too much. He even went in with the outfit. The shoes. The bag that was leaning against your side. And the face. You had such a look of patience and yet determination. He caught the moment when you were looking at the woman who was acting a fool on the bus. “Thank you,” You said, sincerely, bringing your eyes back up to meet his. “Steve Rogers.”

“You’re welcome,” He said, that cute smile still on his face. He didn’t linger. He stepped on away with a nod of his head and off of the bus before you could give him another thank you. Before you could even tell him your name. Anything.

Four. Three.

Steve Rogers. What a simple name for a man like him. Old fashioned. Who even drew anymore, on pad and paper? It was usually all digital art now. Tablets and electric pens.

You didn’t want to put the picture in your bag. You didn’t want to ruin it. You didn’t want it to get crumpled. This wasn’t the old days, the Elizabethan era where everyone had portraits done of themselves. You didn’t have anything of yourself that someone put work in, unless selfies counted, but you didn’t think so. So this - this was special.

Two. One.

You rang the bell. You got off the bus and started the walk, carefully holding the paper in your hands. You were smiling on the walk back, and not just because of your interview, not this time.

--

His face was all of the news. The Steve Rogers that had drawn you a picture was the same Steve Rogers that was Captain America. Fighting aliens in the center of the city. A lot of damage was done, but at the same time, who knows how many lives were spared. You kept this to yourself, though your friends did know about the handsome man that had drawn you a picture. They just didn’t connect the dots yet. You enjoyed it being your little secret.

Though there was destruction, you still had to go to work. You took the bus, which was running only half of the time that it was supposed to. A lot of them had gotten damaged in the attack. Making more was in the docket but this was public transportation, the cities weren’t going to put it anywhere near number one. The mayor’s focus was mainly on the corporation offices that had been damaged. Always in the pockets of those corporations.

You entered your workspace. It was still a disaster. It was a wonder that you weren’t let go, all things considering. But the owner had a good nest egg and was using it to rebuild, and keep as much staff on as they possibly could. It helped that you offered to work the clean up as well, even if that wasn’t your job. Thick boots on your feet, gardening gloves on your hands, and armed with a broom and dustbin, you started working on the debris. Another coworker came in with coffees for yourself and for her, which you appreciated. You took drinks between chores, but the getting things into the trash and disposing of them was a big task when it was things like ceiling tiles, concrete from the sidewalks, and all manner of city dust.

You were thinking about taking a break when you heard a throat clearing from the makeshift door. Okay, so it was basically a door that your boss has unhinged from his own house and brought to the business with a padlock on it to try to keep looters away, not that there was anything in there. You turned your head to give this person directions or whatever it is that they wanted, and paused when you saw it was Steve. Not Captain America, he wasn’t wearing any sort of uniform, but rather the tan trousers and very fitted white t-shirt of any citizen of the city. You leaned on the broom, looking at him. He still looked tired. Exhausted. After everything, of course he would be.

“So you got the job?” He asked, his blue eyes somehow still sparkling despite the dark circles beneath.

“I did,” You nodded. “And managed to keep it. Did you watch Finding Nemo yet?”

He laughed at your question. “Yeah, I did. Dory gives out some pretty sound advice.”

“Just keep swimming,” You reminded yourself out loud. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“I did,” He said. And then he looked almost shy fofr a moment there. Boyish. “Did you ... keep it?”

The drawing. What else could he have meant. “I did, Steve, I did,” You said, even showing that you remembered his name. “I never got to introduce myself either. I’m y/n,” You said. You thought you heard a little squeal coming out of your co-worker who was watching the whole interaction, but did your best to ignore them. Steve would step in further, hopping a bit over some cinder block that you hadn’t been able to move on your own and approached. He shook your hand. You shook his. For it being Captain America’s hand, it was actually pretty soft to the touch. You had assumed that all superheroes had calloused hands, unsure why.

“Do you need some help?” He asked, looking around the place after. “I’m sure you two got it on your own but - I’m here, I’m offering.”

You were still holding onto his hand as he put that forth. You would finally let it go, only to look around yourself. “That’s an offer I’ll take - as long as you let me buy you dinner later.”

He let out an unexpected laugh. It was melodic. It was joyful. “Okay, dinner sounds good. I’m not so convinced on letting you buy it but - I recently found out about a great shwarma place not too far from here.”

[dourpeep]

This ended up being written, scrapped, rewritten, and left for like...three weeks until I finally completed it tonight ehehe

Just That

Summary: Albedo is in love with you. But, for now, he'll satisfy himself with the sound of your voice and his fantasies of you.

Contains: ((NSFW 18+)) Albedo x gn!Reader (unrequited), Xiao x Reader (implied), college au, modern au, unrequited love, roommates, solo masturbation, accidental voyeurism (sounds), ANGST

Long days bleed into long weeks with his thesis deadline drawing close. At this point, Albedo practically lives in the library’s private study rooms.

But arriving at the door of your shared apartment finally allows him to relax.

Keys jingle as the door’s lock clicks open, the hinges’ squeak barely noticeable. You must’ve called it in while he was gone, then. Speaking of, the sight of your shoes besides the door lets him know that you’re home from class as well—oh. His gaze settles on a second pair, one only partly unfamiliar, set besides yours. Suddenly, Albedo feels the fatigue settling in his bones again.

He’s here too, then.

With a sigh, he shuts the door and walks in, dropping his keys in the dish sitting on the countertop. His steps drag on his way through the common room. There’s still no sign of you or the dark-haired man.

At this point, perhaps it’d be best for him to leave and have lunch outside again.

But the ache of stress and lingering pang in his head from staring too long at a too bright screen wins out. Trudging past the couch, he notices your voice.

“Xiao—"

Suddenly, he feels hot.

The soft breathy moans that often haunt his dreams come muffled by the door, of you crying out someone else’s name in bliss. Brief thought brings green-dyed hair and sharp golden eyes to mind. Your boyfriend’s name. When a familiar tightness draws his attention, Albedo can’t find it in him to feel shame.

…What if it were his name, instead, that you were crying out?

The image of you beneath him is vivid. Unmistakable.

Watery eyes, gently parted lips, hands clutching at the sheets as you sweetly beg for him to touch you more, to thrust harder, to fill you—

So Albedo retreats, quickly slipping into his room just a few feet away across the hall and shuts the door. It doesn’t register that the slam of wood he hears was all in his head. Could you have heard…? He winces at the noise, at his carelessness. But seconds pass… with no sign of you or Xiao realizing he’s back already.

Dropping his bag to the floor, he shucks off his coat and runs a hand through his hair. The locks fall out of their braid and the tie falls uselessly down.

Your moans play on loop in his head.

Before him, the bed is cold from lack of use, sheets unceremoniously shoved to the end in his usual morning rush. He smooths out the surface. An attempt of organizing something between the mess of his mind.

Laying flat on the cool, soft surface he closes his eyes. The image of you, shuddering beneath him resurfaces.

Albedo hears another loud gasp from you, and in his chest, his heart pangs.

A curious hand slips up from his hip, travelling over the material of his button up, taking it’s time to feel the way his own chest rises with each breath. It’s easy, with the barrier of cloth, to imagine that it’s yours instead. The other busies itself with buttons and a zipper.

Fumbling. The hurt that he feels bubbles up into frustration, then guilt.

What would you think?

But desperation calls for him to swallow his pride, fingers finally wrapping around his cock. He nearly sobs—

So when a cry echoes out, your voice ringing in his mind, he pictures you bent over, body warm and soft under his touch. Your lips, red and slightly swollen from kisses, are shiny with that lip balm you asked him to pick up last week while he bends one of your legs up to thrust deeper—

He groans and slows his hand. How would you sound then? Eyes flutter closed and he indulges in the noises that drift from across the hall.

By now, you’d wrap your legs around his waist, your hand cupping his cheek with whispers that encourage him to keep going, that it feels so good to have himwithin you.

Unless…you would take charge?

His cheeks burn at the concept but the sudden jolt of desire drives him to continue the uneven movements of his hand.

You, hovering above him as he kneels on the floor with half lidded eyes and rosy lips, tilting his chin up. You’d praise him, he knows you would—and he’d give you anything you asked of him. The sweet taste of your lips on his as a reward for being such a good boy. Shuddering, he grips the base and gives himself a little squeeze.

Albedo takes to teasing the tip of his cock with one hand, the other pumping faster, following the rhythm of his hips.

The idea of having you at his mercy or even him at yours—appealed greatly. More than he’s ever realized when he feels the knot get tighter, tighter still.

He’s nearly lost in pleasure when he hears the four taps on his door—yourknock. Like the beat of a heart.

“Albedo..?”

His hand flies to cover his mouth at the sound, waiting for the telltale signs of your retreating footsteps and hoping desperately that you don’t pry. Please, please just assume he’s fallen asleep.

The fact that a part of him desperately hopes you’d peek in brings a bitter taste.

But his silence speaks enough.

When you finally leave and your footsteps fade alongside another, slightly heavier pair of steps, he no longer is in the mood.

[crazygalore]

GABRIEL MAY (MALIGNANT) NSFW ALPHABET

TW: mentions of dysmorphia, NSFW

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Surprisingly, Gabriel actually NEEDS it, after each lovemaking session - no matter how gentle or how rough he was with you. He’ll draw the both of you a hot bath, and help you wash yourself. If you return the favour, this boy will positively melt, and let out tiny noises that sound suspiciously similar to little purrs. Afterwards, once he has patted your dry with a fluffy towel and dressed you in your favourite pyjamas, Gabriel will carry you to bed, and place you under the covers. Then, he will bring your favourite snacks and beverage, to enjoy while you huddle together to watch a movie before falling asleep.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Gabriel could never pick just one thing he loves about you - because he practically worships you body and soul. You are infinitely beautiful in his eyes, and the fact that you love and accept him for who he is feels like a miracle to him.

Since he doesn’t actually have a body of his own, he expresses his identity though clothes that he wears, which are different than the ones owned by Madison. Although they’re not body parts per say, he sees his leather coat and makeshift gold dagger as extensions of himself, and he enjoys donning them whenever he takes over his twin’s body. He will, sometimes, remain fully clothed during sex.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

His pleasure is your pleasure, and he will make you cum as much as possible, if only to enjoy your desperate moans and whimpers. 

Being transmasc and trapped his Madison’s body, he suffers from severe dysmorphia and doesn’t really enjoy being touched intimately. And, as stated HERE, he did communicate with his sister when the two of you decided to become intimate, because he felt like this specific situation called for his sister’s consent. She doesn’t have access to his memories regarding his sex life, though - which is for the best.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

It’s not a secret that he loves watching you pleasure yourself. The first time he witnessed it, you weren’t aware he was there, lost as you were in the act, so he quietly enjoyed the show from the door, a smug smirk playing at the corners of his mangled mouth.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

You are Gabriel’s first and only love, and the only person who ever saw him as a human being, worth of respect and adoration. So he doesn’t have that much experience, but he did his research and tried to learn as much as possible about the human body’s erogenous spots. That makes up for his lack of actual physical experience, at least most of the times. But since your guys’ relationship is based on trust, respect and communication, Gabriel is never ashamed to ask what works for you, and what doesn’t.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Missionary, since he usually uses his mouth, fingers or a strap-on to pleasure you - and he wants to be able to look at your face, kiss your lips and hold you in his arms during sex. Gabriel is a very tactile person, and extremely touch-starved, so he actually NEEDS to be held, caressed and comforted. It’s the main reason why he enjoys making love to you so much, because the physical intimacy is something he’d never experienced before.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

I wouldn’t say he’s particularly goofy, but he isn’t very stoic either. If anything awkward ensures during sex, he will try to make you laugh about it, so that you can relax and move on.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He doesn’t actually have a private area of his own, and its pretty much Madison’s business as to how she grooms her nether region. He doesn’t actually care about those parts, since he never uses them.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Very intimate, very romantic and very needy. As stated above, he craves physical contact, and he melts whenever you treat him with gentleness and affection. Hold him, kiss him, caress his scarred cheeks, and tell him how good he makes you feel, and Gabriel will be putty in your hands.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He doesn’t actually partake in this act, as he doesn’t enjoy looking at, or touching the private parts of the body he shares with his sister. But sometimes, he fantasizes about what he would do to you, if he had a body of his own.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Gabriel is surprisingly vanilla, but he can be pretty dominant in the bedroom. He will pin your wrists above your head, as he fucks you into the mattress, or guide you into touching yourself, his voice a mere growl coming from your phone’s speaker. Knife kink, maybe, but only when it comes to cutting off your clothes. He doesn’t wanna hurt you, so unless you insistently ask him to, Gabriel won’t hold his makeshift dagger to your throat, or drag its blade across your skin. After all, he has other ways to let out his violent frustrations, so he feels no need to bring that to the bedroom. He was hurt by people who abhorred him, and he returned the favour years later. Love and violence do not cross paths in Gabriel’s mind.

Also clothed sex, because he enjoys wearing his leather coat and gloves, as he teases your naked body mercilessly.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Anywhere inside the house, but the bedroom is his favourite, because it’s more private and safe. Plus, he enjoys taking his time, so the bed is the most comfortable option when it comes to lengthy lovemaking sessions.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Whenever you treat Gabriel with kindness and love, he will feel the need to bring you pleasure, and show you just how much he covets you. For him, sex is a means of expressing his affection for you - it’s an act of adoration and gratitude.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He will NOT hurt you, ever, no matter how much you insist. You are the only person who has ever treated him right, and he cannot bear the thought of harming you in any way.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Enjoys giving, and is very enthusiastic about it. This boy will eat you out for hours, and has become fucking expert at it. He knows just how to angle his face, and use his teeth and tongue to cause you maximum pleasure. Your taste is heaven to him, and your needy moans and whimpers are music to his ears. He will edge you, he will overstimulate you, he will play your body like a violin, using his mouth and fingers alone.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on the mood. Slow and sensual is his go to, but he can be rough if you ask him to. But regardless of the pace, Gabriel is ALWAYS very passionate, and completely dedicated to your pleasure. Also, this boy is inhumanly strong, so he may end up becoming rough without even realizing it - but in case it becomes too much, all you have to do is tell him, and Gabriel will apologise and treat you more gently.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Not opposed to them, but he prefers taking his time.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He’s willing to try anything, so long as it doesn’t cause you any actual harm. Hickeys and faint finger-shaped bruises happen a lot, since he doesn’t always calibrate his strength properly all the time.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Oh, he could go on forever. Remember he experiences pleasure exclusively through you, so he never gets tired of it.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Oh, yes, 100% a fan of toys, all of them meant to drive you utterly insane with pleasure.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

The most unfair and maddeningly patient tease to ever walk this Earth. He will edge you until you’re crying and begging for release - and only then will he CONSIDER to maybe let you cum.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Low growls and muffled moans are the best he can do - although he may use your phone’s speaker to talk dirty to you.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Gabriel really enjoys sucking on and playing with your nipples. And, yes, he has actually made you cum by solely teasing and fondling your chest.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

As I said, he uses a strap-on, which is just the right length and thickness to bring you maximum pleasure. In fact, the more I think about it, the more inclined I am to believe he consulted with you before buying it.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

I would say his sex drive is medium to low, so unless you initiate it - case in which he will be delighted to take you to the bedroom - he will rarely bring it up. But he does have his moments, when he simply craves your passionate embrace.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It depends. Sometimes he falls asleep as soon as aftercare has been performed, and sometimes he stays awake a little while longer, just to watch you sleep peacefully by his side.

[iam93percentstardust]

Promises!Anon here 😃 I just love your version of SteveTony and always wondered how they learn to be tender with one another. Seeing them come together and then rebuilding the Avengers into more of a family sounds ❤️❤️❤️ I’m in no way creative, sorry I don’t have a more interesting answer 😬

Hi, Promises!Anon! I loved the idea of stevetony being soft with each other so much that I wrote you a little timestamp with some background team as family 💙

~

Steve’s room is the same.

He doesn’t know what, exactly, he had expected. He knows that Tony wouldn’t have given it to one of the new team members—even at his pettiest, Tony wouldn’t be so cruel as to give away their home—but he’d thought that maybe Tony would have had them cleaned? Put their stuff away in storage? Locked them up for an appropriate grieving period before giving them away once the team got to be so large they needed more space?

Whatever it is, he hadn’t expected to walk into his old room and find that, other than the thick coating of dust, everything is exactly the same right down to the open sketchbook he’d been working in when FRIDAY had told him that Wanda needed someone to talk to. He already knows what he’ll find if he looks at his last sketch but he walks over there anyway and picks it up, staring at the graphite drawing of Tony on one of the rare nights he’d visited the Compound. He’d curled up in one of the armchairs and fallen asleep only a few minutes into Anastasia, exhausted, as Rhodey had told them, from a long few weeks of politics. Steve knows now that Rhodey must have been talking about the Accords. Back then, though, he’d just thought “politics” was a politer phrase for what Tony called his “past-their-expiration-date board members.”

“I didn’t touch them,” he hears behind him and turns to face Tony, who’s leaning up against the doorframe.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Steve says, opening his arms up for Tony to step into, which he gladly does, tilting his head up for a kiss that Steve gives him.

“I didn’t touch anything in here,” Tony continues. “Or any of your rooms. Guess I just kept thinking you’d all be coming home any minute now. Like you were just on a mission or something.” He grimaces. “I probably should’ve had them cleaned before you got back. Didn’t think about it with—”

“Tony,” Steve says, kissing him again. “It’s fine. It’s perfect, even.”

“Well, not perfect,” Tony argues. “I wouldn’t want to sleep in that bed without getting the sheets washed.”

“So maybe we could just bunk up,” Steve says slowly, willing Tony to get it.

“Like Nat and Ororo,” Tony agrees. “Yeah, I can see this. Sam can share with Scott and—oh, I see what you did there.” He winks. “Very sneaky of you, Captain Rogers.”

Steve says amiably, “That’s me: the sneakiest.”

“Anyway, I didn’t come in here to reassure you that I didn’t touch your Pokémon cards. I wanted to tell you that Ororo’s organizing a team night.”

“Yeah?” Steve used to love team nights. He’d had regular team nights with the original team back when they all lived in the tower. One of them would cook, someone else (usually Steve) would drag Tony out of his lab, and they’d spend an evening relaxing together until eventually Tony, forced to stop after hours and occasionally days, fell asleep on Steve’s shoulder. He’d had a few with the new team as well, but it hadn’t been the same, and that had slowly trailed off until he was pretty sure he could count on one hand the number of times they’d had a team night together.

“Yeah, she says it’s a good way to foster community and build teamwork between the two teams. Figured that was probably something we should take advantage of so we don’t have another civil war.”

“I hate that term,” Steve admits, wrinkling his nose. “It wasn’t a civil war; it was—”

“An airport fight in Germany?” Tony suggests.

“No, more of a—we can’t have a civil war when one side doesn’t even know why they’re fighting. It makes it sound like we wanted to fight each other. And I didn’t. I never wanted you to be my enemy, Tony.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Tony says dryly, kissing Steve’s cheek. “Pretty bad way to begin a relationship if that was what you thought about me. So, anyway, Ororo’s got this idea for a team night. She suggested a game night, but wanted someone from your team to pick the game, so Natasha suggested an extended version of Clue to accommodate all of us, and then we’re all supposed to cook dinner together because that somehow won’t be a disaster. But the problem is, I assumed it would be like any other move-in day and we’d just order pizza and beer, so there’s nothing in the fridge, and really this is just a long-winded way of asking do you want to go grocery shopping with me?”

It takes a moment for Steve to parse through what Tony is asking, but once he does, he can feel his face light up. “Seriously?” he asks, higher than he means to. He clears his throat, ignoring the shit-eating grin on Tony’s face. “You want to—you’re not just going to put in a grocery order?”

Tony shrugs. “I could, but Ororo’s got the team doing some kind of training exercise—well, she says it’s training, but I’m pretty sure it’s just laser tag on steroids—and I thought I could skip out on that by, you know. It could be our first date.”

“Oh so now none of those times we were meeting up while I was on the run count as dates?”

“We were discussing politics,” Tony spits as though it’s a dirty word, but it’s hard to understand through his laughter. “Of course they don’t count.”

“Well, sweetheart, only problem with that logic is that we’re not supposed to sleep together until the third date, so I don’t see how we’re gonna share a bed tonight if—”

“That’s sex,” Tony laughs and then goes, “Oh wait, I don’t want to wait on that either.”

Steve laughs and tugs him closer, resting his chin on the top of Tony’s head. His hair is as soft as he remembers it being from the last time he got to touch it—all the way before Ultron and things going wrong. Tony makes a happy sort of noise and tucks himself into Steve’s chest, breathing him in for a long moment.

“Alright, so grocery shopping,” Tony says eventually. “And then we’ll go check on the kids and make sure no one’s killed anyone else yet.”

“They won’t,” Steve says confidently. “We’re building things up better this time, remember? They’ll be fine.”

Tony hums. “Yeah. I think we will be.”