#small thoughts pebble brain

[its-okay-youre-adorable]

im very glad to exist in a world where i can eat cereal

[starsforxavi]

half a heart

·······•✦ description: In which; you asked zayne to accompany you to a work party, but after he got tipsy and letting you lead him back to your apartment, some feelings came bubbling up to the surface.

·······•✦ pairing: virgin!zayne x afab!reader ·······•✦ word count: 10.7k ·······•✦ genre: smut, porn with plot, fluff ·······•✦ general tags: Loss of Virginity, Virginity, Cowgirl Position, Drunken Confessions, Slight spoilers for Zayne's lore, Fluff, Smut, Fluff and Smut, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Condoms, safe sex, Nipple Play, Teasing, Jealousy, Marking, Penis In Vagina Sex, Vaginal Sex, Grinding, Fluffy Ending, Aftercare, Naked Cuddling, First Time, Virgin!Zayne, Reader-Insert, Awkward First Times

·······•✦ posted on: ao3

Footsteps echoed on the pavement as two pairs of feet walked to the office. A light breeze brushed past, goosebumps rising on both pairs of arms. A shiver couldn’t help but cause you to shake, which didn’t get past the calm man walking beside you. His eyes shifted, noticing the goosebumps, and he silently took off his coat.

“Here,” Zayne murmured, draping the coat around your shoulders. Although he felt his own skin pebbling with the bumps, he ignored it. The cold never really bothered him, and all he wanted to do was warm you up. His hand brushed your shoulder as his arm fell to his side. The dress shoes he picked out specifically for the event clicked on the pavement, his tailored slacks covering his ankles from the chilly breeze of the evening air. 

Though he didn’t let it show, his heart rate spiked when you invited him to the annual Hunter’s office party. He wondered if you had been asked by anyone else or if you specifically sought him out. There were many options for you to pick to ask to accompany you, yet you chose him … 

You said it was just so you weren’t one of the few without a date, but your brain said otherwise.  It was partly for that reason, but you couldn’t deny the small smile on your lips when he agreed. Even a small part of you hoped no one else asked him, or if they did, he didn’t accept their offer… Maybe he waited for you to ask him…

“Thank you.” You grinned, curling the coat around yourself. It was warm and smelled just like his cologne. The lights of the office came into view, and you noticed the way Zayne’s hand brushed against your own. As you looked up at him, you noticed a slight blush on his cheeks from the cold air. “I’m glad you agreed to come with me. I don’t know what I would do if I showed up and I was the only one without a date.”

A soft breath left Zayne’s nose, a hint of a smile appearing as he met your eyes. Thoughts drifted in his head, and there was one thing he couldn’t stop pondering over…

“Did you think about asking anyone else?” Curiosity laced into his tone, gaze flicking to you for just a second to gauge your reaction. Your pace didn’t change, shaking your head when you thought back to it. There was no hesitation; you were only thinking about asking Zayne.

“No.” The answer was simple, but you wanted to elaborate. “If you had declined the offer, I probably would have gone alone.”

His steps slowed, eyebrows twitching. The muscles in his back tensed as he heard your words, but he immediately straightened up and cleared his throat. He couldn’t help the smirk that formed, looking away from you towards the street. Once he maintained his composure, he looked over at you.

“You probably had men ready to accept your offer… But you would have gone alone if I said no?” He couldn’t help it; he knew people had their eyes on you, and he wouldn’t lie and say it didn’t bother him.

“Well—” As you tried to speak, you heard yells from the office doors, some of your friends yelling and cheering. The sound of their cheers turned Zayne’s ears pink, his gaze looking down, but his face remained stoic. 

“Look who finally showed up!” Tara yelled, pulling you into a hug. You exchanged a short look, knowing she had talked to you about asking Zayne to go to the party. Her eyebrows wiggled, and you shook your head, her loud laughter echoing in the parking lot.

“Sorry, sorry. I was taking so long deciding what to wear.” You laughed, walking a step back to be beside Zayne once more. The smell of your perfume surrounded him, and he relaxed a bit, shaking hands with your coworkers. They all knew Zayne. Of course, they did… He did drop by sometimes to give you lunch or a ride home from work if he was off. A few had even asked if he was your boyfriend, to which you denied it, your heart speeding up at the thought.

Tara led you inside, the music pumping through the air. In the cafeteria, tables were pushed to the edges of the room, leaving the middle empty for dancing. The atmosphere was light, yet you noticed some people getting calls on their phones, missions not stopping even in the midst of a party. 

“You have to try this drink!” Yvonne screamed over the music, handing you a blue liquid in a cup. With a whiff, you winced, already smelling the pungent odor of alcohol. 

You took a small sip, eyes locking with Zayne’s over the edge of the cup. A warning gaze met yours when you swallowed, your nose scrunching and your head shaking. With a disgusted expression, you heard Zayne chuckle. He watched you carefully take another drink, needing a buzz to give you a boost of confidence. 

“Careful.” He said in a soft voice, stepping closer to you so he could talk over the music. “I’ll carry you home if I need to, but I really don’t want that to happen.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be okay.” You assured him. It was all Zayne wanted to hear that you’ll be okay. Holding out the cup to him, you smiled sweetly, trying to tempt him. “You should try this, though. Once you get past the taste of the alcohol, it isn’t that bad.”

There it was. The look . He couldn’t resist you with that look. You knew that, and he knew that. So he reached out, his fingers brushing yours. Tilting the cup to his lips, he raised an eyebrow, silently giving you a cheers. 

The alcohol didn’t affect him as much as your eyes burning into his skin. He tried to chalk it up to the slight buzz, the way your pupils dilated and unblinking. Even though it hadn’t been but a second since he took a drink, it had to be the buzz… At least, that’s what he convinced himself it was… Your eyes mesmerized him, distracting every thought that tried to pass through his head. Next to you, Tara asked a question, but he didn’t hear it. 

Though he didn’t mean to, Zayne found himself finishing the cup. It wasn’t often that he indulged in alcohol, especially not the mixed drink in his cup, but the only way to get away from your eyes meant looking at the bottom of that cup. It didn’t phase him in the slightest, the liquid courage effortlessly sliding down his throat. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.” Setting the cup down on the table, he raised an eyebrow towards Tara, a light pink hue on his cheeks. You smirked at him, noticing the way he refilled his cup. He took another small sip of the sweet drink; eyes now focused on Tara to hear exactly what was said.

“I asked if you coordinated your outfits. You guys look so good together!” Tara pointed to the matching colors of Zayne’s tie and your outfit. Heat flickered across his cheeks as he took another drink, ignoring the way the alcohol had already raced through his system. 

The air around you was tense, your eyes flicking across Zayne’s outfit and finally noticing the coordination. He did ask you what color your outfit was going to be… So, he really picked out a matching tie? A fluttering in your stomach made you clear your throat, bumping shoulders with Tara as you watched Zayne finish his second drink.

Okay, I’m finished. Zayne’s thoughts raced as he set the drink down, his lips quirking up slightly as he noticed your gaze flicker from his tie to your outfit. Of course, he did it on purpose, wanting everyone at the party to know he was your date. He felt the eyes on him as he walked in with you, and people recognized him from the hospital. Everything in him wanted to show you off, even if he wasn’t officially yours; he needed everyone to see he was with you.

“Oh, he asked what color my outfit was going to be. Probably so he didn’t lose me in the crowd.” Shuffling on your feet, your voice raised due to the music, making sure that both Tara and Zayne heard you. It was hard to figure out Zayne’s intentions, and you could only assume it was just him tagging along as a friendly date. Even though you hoped for more…

“ Please ,” Tara whispered into your ear, leaning close. You watched Zayne’s eyes travel between you two. “He’s been giving you the fuck me eyes since we walked in here.”

With a laugh, you landed a light smack on her shoulder. You shook your head, stopping yourself from looking Zayne in the eye. It hadn’t been long since you got there, the songs changing about 10 times overhead as you stood and talked. It felt like an eternity; however, the slight glint in his eyes shone bright as he looked at the bottom of his cup.

Zayne held his cup, looking down and debating whether or not he should get another. It’s not like either of you drove here, and his heart couldn’t help but beat faster as he watched the lights dance off your features. His memory was exceptional, still remembering exact phrases from medical school textbooks, and nothing could erase the sight of you standing there, lights flickering and shining in your eyes, out of his brain. If he could choose one moment to relive before he died, that would be it.

Before you could shut Tara down, telling her that you had only asked him as a friend and that you chickened out and took the easy route, you were interrupted by one of your coworkers coming up to you. His eyes traveled between you both, and Zayne’s jaw clenched. It wasn’t until he extended a hand to Tara, his voice softly asking to dance, that Zayne relaxed a moment.

As Tara looked at you, she winked, walking away with the male. Her laughter echoed as a soft song played, her hands wrapping around the man’s shoulders.

Zayne moved closer to you, leaning over to grab another drink. This one wouldn’t be downed in one shot, he told himself that. As he leaned, his shoulder brushed yours. A shiver ran through him; his face flushed as he noticed just how close you were. All he had to do was lean down and-

“Be careful,” Your voice cut off his thoughts, eyes drifting to the cup in his hand. “I don’t want to have to carry you home.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t. I can handle alcohol.” A chuckle rumbled through his chest as he stepped back, his attention focused on you. Taking a small sip, he held his cup up. It was true; he could hold his alcohol well. His balance and posture remained steady when he drank; however, his words, more often than not, betrayed him.

You raised an eyebrow at him, pointing towards Tara and the man she was dancing with. Grabbing Zayne by the sleeve, you pulled him closer, turning him around to watch. Their moves were awkward, with Tara stepping on his shoes and him holding her waist a little too tightly.

“They look like they’re having fun.” Sarcasm laced your voice, a small laugh puffing out from your lips as your hand drops from Zayne’s sleeve. As he looked over to them, he stifled a laugh, finding their awkwardness kind of endearing. 

Then, all at once, he realized how close he was to you. His arm brushed against yours, the hand that held his cup tightening slightly. Your perfume surrounded him, and he felt drunk both on the alcohol and his proximity to you. To avoid making his flush even darker, he stuffed his hand into his pocket.

“I think it’s endearing,” Zayne commented, watching them gently sway with the music. Her cheeks were red, hands resting on his shoulders. “I’m sure you’re no better.” 

With a laugh, you looked over to him, raising an eyebrow. Just as you were about to challenge him, you heard someone clear their throat. A man walked in front of you, a crisp black vest over a plain blue collared shirt. He looked handsome, his curly brown hair falling just in front of his eyes. Glasses framed his blue eyes as he gave you a sheepish look. If he was also a Hunter, you didn’t recognize him. When your eyes fell on him, he cleared his throat again, his eyes meeting yours momentarily.

“Oh, hi, I’m Alex.” His voice was soft, words stuttering in random places. “I just started here and noticed how pretty you are.” Another cough and he held out a hand for you. “I was wondering if you wanted to dance?”

Zayne’s jaw clenched. Everything in him wanted to intervene, tell the man that he was your date, and if you were to dance with anyone, it would be him . However, he didn’t push it, eyes flickering between you and the man. He didn’t want to force you to stay by his side, and if you wished to go with someone else, you could. Besides, you were just here as friends .

“Oh,” You looked over at Zayne, seeing his jaw clenched slightly. Part of you hoped he would cut in, but another part knew you were just here as friends. With a gentle smile, you looked at Alex, “I’m sorry, but I’m good. I’m already here with someone.” 

When you gestured over to Zayne, you watched in amusement as Alex’s eyes traveled over, widening as he took in your date’s calm but mysterious demeanor. Having many articles and interviews in the city paper definitely paid off, a flicker of recognition passing across the man’s features. With a stuttering excuse that you didn’t quite catch, he walked away, his ears a bright red.

“Am I really that scary?” Zayne’s voice was soft in your ear, his cologne surrounding you as he stepped closer. The music overhead drowned out a lot of voices, the soft tones pulsing against your ear drums. Even though you left Zayne’s coat at the door, it was like you were enveloped in the fabric all over again. Is this what it would feel like to be wrapped in his arms?

“No,” Chuckling, you watched him take a sip of his drink, the tips of his ears red from the alcohol. “At least, I don’t think you’re scary…”

His eyes scanned the crowd, watching the men meander around and confront some of the women still standing along the walls. Sure, you were also standing there, admiring the people dancing… But you were standing next to him … Why would they come up to you?

It took him a moment to come back to reality, his gaze falling back on you. That was all that mattered. People could be intimidated by him or scared of his naturally stoic expression, but as long as you weren’t… Nothing else mattered.

“Good,” Zayne said, setting his cup on the table behind him. As the song came to an end, Tara and her partner stood on the dance floor. After a few moments, they walked deeper into the room, closer to the speakers. 

A more upbeat song came on, and you smiled at Zayne, focused on the way his eyes darted over your features. With a gentle smile, he nodded, the alcohol affecting him in more ways than one.

“I’m going to use the restroom,” After a small nod, he walked away, weaving through the dancing people. It was somewhat awkward trying to get past people doing everything but grinding against each other.

While he was away, you turned to the table, taking in the beautiful decorations. As a celebration of all the hard work over the last year, the Association decided to throw the party. It was amazing, the small snowflakes hanging from the ceiling and icy white projections making it seem like you were outside in the middle of winter. After all, it was the end of the year, and the cold was already beginning to set in. A subtle shiver ran through you, thinking back to Zayne’s cologne wrapped around you along with the warmth of his coat.

“Excuse me?” A male’s voice broke you out of your thoughts, the face of a man you barely recognized filling your vision. He was very close, his cologne filling your senses. It wasn’t bad, just strong and distinctly not Zayne …

“Oh, hi?” Giving him a small smile, you stepped back against the table. Just a little bit of space… 

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” He chuckled, one of his hands behind his back while the other was pushed into the pocket of his slacks. It seemed he decided just to dress business casual and while he didn’t look bad, you couldn’t help but compare him to the beautiful outfit Zayne came in. Your thoughts always drifted back to him… “We work an office away from each other, Stephen?”

“Yeah, Stephen!” Nope, no recollection. A laugh with no intent behind it left your lips, your eyes drifting around the room to find Zayne. He wasn’t there to scare the guy away…

“Well, I was wondering if you wanted to dance with me?” Stephen asked, his ears bright red as the song changed to one that was much slower. 

The thought of dancing to that song with him was unappealing. Your heart raced as your mouth fell open. Stuttered half-words fell from your lips as you looked around. You did not want to hurt his feelings, but you did not want to dance with anyone but Zayne.

Your attempt at a rejection was cut off by someone standing in front of you, his back nearly pressed to your front. Zayne’s cologne overwhelmed you, and you smiled, looking from around his shoulder as Stephen took in Zayne’s appearance. Far too handsome for an event like this…

“Actually, they already have a date, and we’ll be dancing now.” Zayne’s icy voice cut through the music, his tone polite but curt. With a nod, Stephen left almost as quickly as he appeared, his cheeks now matching in tone with his ears.

A short laugh fell from your lips as Zayne turned around, the tips of his ears red, and his eyes focused on yours. While it was most likely the effect of the alcohol in his system, you couldn’t help the shy smile; your eyes drifted to the ground. The way he looked at you was so intense as if he was committing every detail to memory.

“Thank you for coming to save me.” With a smile, you let out a relieved, breathy laugh, your heart returning back to normal as Zayne looked at you. 

“Well?” His voice was soft, the song wrapping around him and causing his already tipsy mind to go to other places. He held out his hand to you, head bowing and eyes meeting yours through his eyelashes. “I thought we were going to dance?”

Oh… He actually wanted to dance? With a small nod, you took his hand, his warm and clammy palm enveloping yours in a gentle hold. It must have been from the tipsy whirlwind going on in his mind… It must have … The calm doctor becoming entrapped in your eyes. You had never known Zayne as one for such intense eye contact, nor did you remember his gaze traveling over your body as it did.

As he led you out onto the dance floor, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. Electricity tickled your nerve endings as he stopped, the hand that wasn’t holding yours moving to your hip to pull you just a little closer. Even though the winter air settled outside, there was a warmth that grew between you.

“Is this okay?” Zayne’s voice was gentle, much like the way he held your hip. You were far enough away that you could push him off if you wanted to. Of course, you didn’t want to… As you tried to speak, your voice was lost in your throat, and the close proximity was nothing new; he had been close while listening to your heart and whatnot. But his eyes and his touch were different, and they made you feel like you were the one drinking.

“Yeah!” You spit it out as Zayne began to pull away from you, taking your silence as rejection. After clearing your throat, you rested your hand on his shoulder, stepping closer. “Yes, it’s okay.”

Under the icy white lights, Zayne looked at you, and instead of shivering, he was warm inside. For as long as he could remember, you made your home in his heart, and having you close, his fingers brushing your lower back, caused his already tipsy state to dive off the deep end. 

“You look beautiful tonight,” He murmured, making sure the words were for you and only you. Taking a step left, then right, then back, you let Zayne lead you. The song was very slow, almost one that would be played at a wedding. Zayne couldn’t help the drifting thoughts spurred on by the alcohol… Is this what you would look like if you got married to him? 

“Thank you,” The words were whispered in the air, your feet brushing against each other as you danced to the music. It was like everyone else disappeared, and you focused solely on the man in front of you. His eyes drifted across your face, a gentle smile gracing his lips. If Zayne were anything, it was truthful, sometimes to his detriment, but he would never lie about how he found you stunning, talented, amazing…

“Of course.” His cheeks were bright red, and you were pushed into silence. Your eyes locked onto his as you stepped to the music. The song seemed to stretch into eternity, and you lost yourself in Zayne’s eyes as you danced.

As the song drifted to a close, you stepped away from Zayne. He couldn’t help but stand still, his hand still resting on your hip. When you stepped away, his hands fell to his side, his cheeks a bright red. Whether it was from the alcohol or the proximity of your body, he didn’t know; perhaps it was both.

An upbeat song began to play through the room, and you chuckled, looking around at the table where you had previously stood. With a jerk of your head, a smile graced your lips. “I’m not a good dancer when it comes to these songs. Let’s go.” “Agreed,” He hiccuped, following you back to the table. Somewhere along the way, the alcohol caught up to him, his vision blurring slightly as he leaned against the wall. It was slightly embarrassing; he didn’t want to be seen like this.

“Zayne? Are you okay?” As you spoke, you pressed a hand to his forehead. His skin was unusually hot, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes blinking in a slow flutter. 

“I’m afraid I may have had too much to drink.” Leaning down, his face moved closer to yours. He stared at you, an amused smile on his lips. He chuckled, pulling back and closing his eyes. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he nodded, a long sigh hitting you. “I should probably go home.” “How about we head to my apartment? You drove there, and you’re not driving to your house…” you trailed off. “I have a spare bed; you can sleep it off.” With a nod, you held onto Zayne’s arm, beginning to steer him towards the exit. Tara would probably ask you questions on Monday, but you needed to get Zayne home and safe in bed. His bicep flexed as you grabbed his coat. It didn’t look like he needed it, so you draped it over your shoulders. “Ready to go?” You asked, trying to ignore the way his hand brushed across your hip. It was just a friendly gesture, holding onto Zayne’s arm and leading him out the door. The night air was crisp and cold, but Zayne’s face was still bright red, his eyes drifting to the ground, watching the way your hand wrapped around your arm, the way his coat draped over your shoulders. His coat … Wrapped around you…

Your footsteps echoed on the sidewalk, passing bars and clubs with yelling people and bass-filled music. This was a stark contrast to the silence that drifted between your bodies. His skin was warm, and his breath came out in soft pants as fog rose in the air.

It wasn’t long until you made your way to your building, letting Zayne lean on the wall as the elevator brought you up to your floor. With shaky steps, you wrapped an arm around Zayne’s waist, feeling him lean on your body as you unlocked your door. He was silent as he leaned into you, his eyes slowly blinking. 

His mind was whirling a mile a minute, enjoying the way your arm wrapped around him. Your touch on his waist sent electricity down his spine, his thoughts running to what it would feel like to hold you in his arms.

Closing the door behind him, you walked him to the spare room, letting him fall onto the bed with a hollow thump. Chuckling, you watched him lie on his side, looking up at you. He was thinking something, his eyes searching yours, and although he was a bit tipsy, it was still hard to read his expression.

“Sit, please,” Zayne asked, patting the spot next to him. Moving to sit against the headboard, he watched you sit facing him. With his heart beating in his chest, he closed his eyes, thoughts fluttering around like butterflies. You were so distracting with your beautiful face and the way you looked at him. Sometimes, he could imagine that you felt the same way.

“Do you need anything?” Worry spread through you as Zayne closed his eyes, leaning back against the headboard. It wasn’t often that you saw him drink, and there was no way you had seen him like this… What if he was sick? 

“You,” His mouth caught up to him, his eyes shooting open as he realized what he said. Your eyes widened, wanting to speak, but you couldn’t. With a sigh, he relented to his mind, his hand rubbing along his shoulder to release some of the tension that had built up there. Silence echoed in the room, and Zayne swallowed, the feeling of your eyes on him making his skin tingle.

“I didn’t mean for you to find out this way.” He sighed, watching your expression for any sense of discomfort or disgust. That was the last thing he wanted… And he wasn’t sure if he could live in a world without you. The thought of losing you made his chest hurt, and he shook his head. “I… I understand I’m springing this on you, but now that I’ve said it, I guess I should let it all out in the open.”

“Zayne-”

“I… I can’t bear the thought of being without you, and if this ruins our friendship and our professional relationship, then so be it.” Crossing his legs, he ran a hand through his hair. His normally colder expression turned to one of exasperation and worry. “But I feel things for you that a friend wouldn’t feel for a friend. My body reacts in ways that nothing else can cause except you .” Your breath hitched, listening to the words fall from his lips. He really felt that way… All of your dreams rushed back to you, the thoughts of going on dates, visiting his office with lunch. His feelings made everything clear. He felt the same way …

Except what if it was the alcohol? What if he was only saying these things because he was past the point of tipsy? Alcohol can make people say things just to get into bed with someone… Who’s to say that it isn’t affecting Zayne the same way? With a sigh, you looked down at your hands, seeing Zayne’s fingers twitching on his stomach.

“Zayne…” You started, your heart racing quickly. Wanting to believe him and also knowing the effects of alcohol on a person’s feelings. “I think it’s just the alcohol speaking. You need to rest.”

Your hand brushed against his shoulder, and his head spun. Just the smallest touch from you made his muscles freeze, his fingers clenching. He couldn’t take it, every touch and glance, his heart beating so fast. The fact that you didn’t believe him was slightly frustrating, but he also understood. Maybe in the morning …

“Yes, rest.” With a nod, he looked at you. “Let’s rest.” His eyes drifted down to your hands, wondering what they felt like on his face, or his neck, or his chest… “Is it too much to ask if you’ll stay here with me?”

He knew he was pushing it, your own belief wavering at his suggestion and the alcohol running through his system. Desperation flowed through his veins, and he wanted so badly to wrap his body around you. His soul ached to be closer to yours, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could take it.

“Uhm…” Humming, you searched his face. Of course, you trusted him; he wouldn’t pull anything funny, but what would happen in the morning if he woke up with you in his arms? Would he regret what he said? Would he even remember ? Taking a deep breath, you relented, nodding your head. “Let me go change into something more comfortable… And I’ll be back.”

Before he could say anything, you walked out of the room. Your mind was running a mile a minute as you changed into comfortable pajamas. Standing in the middle of your bedroom, you took a few breaths. Half of you wanted to climb into your own bed and let him sleep it off. The other half wanted to crawl into his embrace, kiss him, let him hold you close.

The latter half won, and you walked into the spare room, finding Zayne already under the covers. Resting his head on his hand, he sat up, watching you with a smile. The blush on his cheeks was illuminated by the lights of the room. He had flipped the covers back, silently inviting you. A small smile forced its way onto your face, and you shook your head.

Climbing into the bed, you immediately felt his warmth. As you lay on your back, you felt Zayne’s eyes on you, trailing down your body to the edge of the covers. Your face heated up, looking over and catching him staring. With a laugh, you turned over to face him, your eyes searching his face.

“What are you thinking?” It was a dangerous question to ask the tipsy man who just confessed to having feelings for you that a friend shouldn’t, but you couldn’t help it. His breath sped up as he looked at you, his hand hanging off his waist. 

How could he describe what he’s thinking? That he needed you in every sense of the word? That he felt incomplete when you weren’t around? That no matter what he did, his thoughts always drifted back to you?

“I’m thinking about you, laying right here in front of me.” His voice dropped low, lips curled into a small smile. Nothing could stop the way he admired you, like nothing else in the world mattered. Nobody could take him away from you; nothing could take him away from you… He would always find you. “I’m thinking about how my heart calms whenever I’m around you.”

Your skin prickled with each of his words, the distance between you seemingly too much for either of you to handle. Despite your better judgment, you moved closer, watching as Zayne flipped onto his back. With an open arm, he watched you crawl into the empty space. Your arm rested on his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat under your hand while your head nestled into his shoulder.

It felt nice, but the worries crept up to you as you remembered he was drunk… The thought of waking up in the morning to an empty bed, the aforementioned man gone, along with the hope of any real truth to his statement, was terrifying. Yet you were swayed by his warm embrace, his fingers dancing along your arm as you lay still.

“Just relax, darling,” Zayne whispered, his own body still quite tense. It was everything he ever wanted, to hold you close. While he knew in the back of his tipsy mind that you might only be doing this to appease his drunken demeanor… He also hoped that he would remember this happening in the morning. “I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

With a deep breath, you nodded, your muscles relaxing as you closed your eyes. It was nice, his fingers slowly dancing up and down your arm. Since you turned off the light overhead, the only source of sight was the lamp on the nightstand. The events of the night caught up to you, and you yawned, your own body preparing for sleep.

“Good night, Zayne.” The nickname he called you… Darling … Your heartbeat sped up, and you took a breath, forcing your eyes to close. If you lay like this for too long, you wouldn’t ever be able to sleep, too caught up in the feeling of his muscular arm wrapped around you.

“Good night, darling.” Zayne yawned, his own eyes closing as the alcohol caught up to him, pushing him into a deep sleep almost instantly.

You laid awake for a few minutes, drifting back to the party, his jealous actions that you brushed off, and then the drunken confession. Was it real? Was it genuine? You weren’t sure, but you fell asleep with the hope that the morning would bring a clearer picture.

--------

Zayne’s eyes ripped open as he felt the sun’s rays on his face. Waking up in an unfamiliar room, with you in his arms, was not something he expected. You looked so peaceful, sleeping soundly in his arms. Your chest rose and fell with each breath, and Zayne smiled.

Wait… What happened?

Looking around, Zayne took in his surroundings, realizing that he was still in his formal attire from the party and you were dressed in pajamas. His mind drifted to the party, remembering the men coming up to ask you to dance… The drink in his cup slowly disappeared with each clench of his jaw. It was sweet and tasted just like candy. 

“Fuck,” Zayne couldn’t help the expletive, pressing his head further into the pillow. Why couldn’t he remember?

His erratic breathing and small movements shifted your body. Your eyes opened to the sight of a flushed Zayne looking around the room. Your heartbeat sped up as you remembered everything that happened.

“Morning.” You whispered, sitting up. His eyes flicked over to meet yours, his cheeks a light pink as he moved to sit against the headboard. “Do you… Uh, do you remember what happened?”

Zayne’s heart sped up, clearing his throat. He never wanted to lie to you, and he had to admit he was curious about what had transpired, seeing the position he had woken up in. With a shake of his head, he looked down at his lap. “No… No, I don’t remember.”

Your heart sank, throat constricting around all the words that you wanted to say. Of course … When he figured out what he said, he would probably regret it, taking back all of the feelings he had shared with you.

“Oh… Okay.” With an awkward chuckle, you tried to pull back, escape the room, and wallow in tears for a bit. The thought of being so elated that he shared your feelings only to look up and see sharp icicles ready to pierce you. “Well, I guess you can go now if you want.”

“Wait,” His voice was firm, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist. He didn’t want you to go, and he didn’t want to leave without resolving whatever happened. Judging by the look on your face, he knew something happened after you left the party. “What happened? At least tell me.”

He wished he could just remember , but perhaps it was the alcohol that kept him from retaining all the memories. Perhaps it was just his own brain that knew what happened and didn’t want him to remember…

“Uhm…” You paused for a moment, caught between wanting to tell him exactly what happened and lying. At least if you lied, you could continue your friendship with no hurdles. Except for the deep hole in your heart when you heard his voice in your head saying those lines over and over. I feel things for you that a friend wouldn’t feel for a friend …

“Please tell me. I want to remember.” Zayne pleaded, his voice desperate. If there was anything he wanted to do, it was remember . “I want to know…”

It was embarrassing even thinking about it, much less saying it out loud. With a breath, you closed your eyes, not wanting to watch as the realization set in. “Well, you said that you felt things for me that a friend doesn’t feel for another friend… Then you asked me to join you in this bed… Then you said that your heart calms down when you’re around me…” You cleared your throat, your body heating up as you recalled the last part. “Uhm, you also said that your body reacts in ways around me… Yeah.”

Silence fell between you as Zayne stared at your face, your eyes still closed in fear of seeing the regret and realization pass across his features. It took a moment for him to realize everything that you said, his mind vaguely remembering the words falling from his lips. “I did?” His voice was nearly a whisper, disbelief in his voice with a hint of embarrassment. How could he do this? What if it ruined his entire friendship with you… He could lie and say it was just the alcohol, but could he really say that he didn’t mean it when, deep down, he just wanted you to know his true feelings? “Oh, I- I’m sorry. If I ruined things between us.”

Your eyes remained shut, teeth tugging at your bottom lip as you heard his voice. Fuck . So he didn’t mean it; he didn’t reciprocate all the things you felt for him. With a sigh, you struggled to speak, wanting to ask if it was true but also not wanting to hear the answer…

“Did you mean it?” Your mouth started the sentence before your brain could stop you, and your eyes fluttered open to see the deep blush on Zayne’s cheeks. This time, it wasn’t the alcohol… “Everything you said, was it the alcohol speaking, or do you actually feel that way?”

“Of course, it wasn’t the alcohol.” He was caught now, and he had no choice but to admit the truth. He couldn’t lie to you, especially after hearing the vulnerability in your voice as you asked him. “I actually feel that way about you. You’re beautiful and, talented, and kind. I think about you every second of the day, and there isn’t a moment of my life where I don’t want to be near you. I can’t help the way my body reacts around you…”

“Oh,” Looking down at your hands, you couldn’t help the way your heart raced as he looked at you, your own body reacting to his words. You wanted him, and it seemed he wanted you just the same. 

“I understand if you don’t feel the same way…” He trailed off, his dress pants bunching around his thighs as he moved to get off the bed.

“Wait!” Your hand on his wrist stopped him, his skin now freezing cold compared to the night before. “I do, though. I feel the same way.” You clarified, trying to calm your beating heart with a few deep breaths. Just the feeling of your hand on his wrist made Zayne clench his jaw. Every atom in his body vibrated as he smelled your fragrance waft around him.

“Really?” His eyes trailed down to your mouth, watching as your tongue darted out to trace along your bottom lip. The thoughts he so often fantasized about flashed in his mind, and he wanted so desperately to reach out, pull you closer, and never let you go. A flash of deja vu passed through him, and he turned his body to face you. He remembered this… 

“Yeah, really.” Your hand moved to rest on top of his, feeling his muscles strain and tighten under your fingers. Watching as his eyes drifted to your lips, a surge of need flowed through you, and you sat up on your knees. 

“Well then,” Zayne moved, taking your hand in his. His body angled towards you, legs stretched out on the bed. With a small tug, he pulled you closer, your hand now burning into his shoulder. Your warmth emanated through his entire body, and he sighed. The feeling of you so close made his heart feel complete. “Can I kiss you?”

Your heart raced, Zayne was asking to kiss you … It was all you had ever wanted, and now that he was there , asking to kiss you… The only thing you could do was nod in confirmation, moving so your nose brushed against his cheek.

Zayne’s hands cupped your cheeks, his thumbs rubbing along your cheekbones. Every nerve in his body was on high alert, his heart thrumming so badly he was worried he might not survive even kissing you for the first time. His eyes searched yours for any sign of hesitance, his nose nuzzling yours. His breath mingled with yours as he felt your hands on his waist, your knee pressing against his thigh as you inched even closer.

“Are you sure?” He needed confirmation to know that you wanted him just like he wanted you. A trepidation passed over him as his voice pleaded with you.

“Yes, I’m sure…” You breathed, smiling in hopes of easing some of his obvious tension. “I want you to kiss me, Zayne.”

It was all you had to say before Zayne pressed his mouth to yours. His lips were chilly, and he was slightly awkward, the way his nose bumped yours. It had been a long time since he kissed someone, and never this intensely , and never did it feel that good. The hands on your cheeks barely touched you, like he was afraid of holding you too tight.

So you took the initiative, moving your leg over to straddle his thighs. Oh my god … Your hands played with his collar, pressing your mouth into his. Soft smacks and low moans fell from Zayne’s lips as you kissed him, his cheeks a cherry-red and getting hotter by the second.

Zayne pulled away first, his head hitting the wall behind him. His touch traveled to your hips, holding you still. If you moved up any further, he would have a very big problem… The sensations were too much, and he needed to take a deep breath, afraid he would make a mess of his slacks and embarrass himself even more.

“Hold on,” He panted, taking in the sight in front of him. You were so beautiful , sitting softly on his thighs, your own chest rising and falling with deep breaths. The way your hands held his collar, your lips glistened with saliva, it was all too much and not enough at the same time.

“Do you want to continue this?” Your voice shot right through Zayne and straight to his cock, his slacks becoming even tighter than they already were. The feeling of his hands on your hips, a ghost of his presence against your skin, made you frustrated. If only he would touch you … “Because I do.”

Zayne stared at you in disbelief, his abdomen clenching as he closed his eyes. Never in his dreams did he think he would be in this position, your perfect thighs on either side of his own, hovering dangerously close to his hips. Your eyes, watching his every movement, every twitch of his eyebrow, every small quirk in his lip. Your fingers played with his collar, drifting close to the buttons of his shirt. The need to just rip open his shirt and see him laid out for you was high, yet you needed confirmation.

“Yes, yes .” He breathed out, pulling you forward to kiss you again. The thoughts of his inexperience didn’t hinder him; he needed you in every sense of the word. “You have no idea, darling, how much I want this. Want you .”

His words were pressed into your mouth, your tongue tracing his bottom lip before entering to tangle with his. A low groan echoed in your chest as Zayne’s hands moved you up onto his lap, where you could feel just how excited he was. Your clothed pussy pressed against his erection, both of you feeling the shocks through your body.

“Please,” He groaned, your hands playing with the buttons of his shirt. The fact he slept with this on, just for your comfort, so you didn’t feel weird with a half-naked man sleeping next to you, made you smile. With quick fingers, you pushed his shirt off his shoulders, your lips still meeting between moans. His skin glistened with sweat as you cupped his jaw, your lips moving along the expanse of his neck and shoulder.

You were careful not to make marks, and your sloppy licks and nips only made red spots that would disappear by the next morning. That doesn’t mean you didn’t want to mark him; make sure he remembered what you two did. Each nip was accompanied by a groan from the man above you, and his hands remained motionless on your hips.

“Zayne,” Your hands ghosted across his abdomen, thumbs brushing his nipples before moving to rest on his shoulders once more. A gasp fell from his lips as you said his name, his hips adjusting and his cock brushing against your pajama pants. “You can touch me, grab me, anything .” 

But I don’t want to hurt you … His thoughts echoed in his head; eyebrows furrowed as he held onto your hips just a bit tighter. Something deep inside him was scared , like one wrong move, and he would cause you pain. He wasn’t sure where it came from, but hearing your voice broke him out of his fear slightly.

“Just… If I do anything you don’t like…” His voice was a whisper pressed against your shoulder, his hand playing with the hem of your shirt. “Or if anything hurts , please tell me. I haven’t done this before… And I don’t want to hurt you accidentally.”

As his hand slipped under your shirt, you gasped, nodding along to his pleas. His fingers were cold, and your nipples immediately hardened as his thumb brushed your left breast. He was testing the waters, his mind clouded with need but also hesitance. 

The way his large hand drifted across your skin, along your stomach and breasts, you couldn’t help the moan that brushed across his shoulder. He needed to touch you, all of you , and as he reached your back, his nails lightly scratched your skin, enjoying the way your thighs clenched around his hips.

“Yes, fuck.” Your forehead rested against his bare shoulder, your hand gripping his skin tightly as his fingers danced up and down your back. “I’ll tell you, but I need you right now, Zayne.”

With frantic hands, you tugged your shirt off, enjoying the way Zayne’s eyes widened only for a moment before you were standing up. “Pants off,” you motioned to the man on the bed, your hands pushing your pajama pants down. You didn’t mean to be so demanding, but as Zayne’s fingers twitched slightly, his cheeks flushing deeper red, it was clear he enjoyed it a bit.

Zayne fumbled with the button of his slacks, his fingers shaking in anticipation of what was about to happen. A gasp echoed in the room as he struggled to take his pants and briefs off, his cock pressing against his abdomen as he finally let the pieces of fabric fall to the floor. Sitting back on the bed, he looked at you, eyes pleading silently.

His pupils dilated as he took in your naked form, from your feet to your thighs, to your stomach and breasts, all the way up to your face. He didn’t miss the way your gaze settled on his cock, and he blushed, knowing he was big but hoping you were okay with that.

Walking towards him, you settled back into your previous position, his cock now nestled between your slick folds. Arousal dripped from your entrance and coated his balls as you rubbed yourself along his length. His hands gripped your hips tightly, muscles in his arms straining.

“Wait,” He stopped you, his jaw clenched as he felt a pool of his own precum settling just below his navel. With a shaky breath, he looked down, seeing only his tip poking out from between your bodies. “I’m afraid if you keep doing that, I’m going to cum.”

His honestly always amazed you, your bottom lip stuck between your teeth as you nodded. Your hands wandered across his body, thumbs tweaking his nipples and watching as he closed his eyes and groaned. 

The noises he made were so pretty , each moan and groan only adding to the dripping slick that covered his thighs and cock. You wanted to hear every single variation, every moan, and whimper, every gasp and whisper, but hopefully that could be for another time.

Zayne knew what was coming, the sight of you on top of him, your hand drifting dangerously close to his cock. Leaning over to the nightstand, he grabbed his wallet. His cheeks bloomed red as he brought out a foil packet. As he met your eyes, he chuckled, shaking his head at your teasing smirk.

“This is just a precaution… In case something like this happened…” He stuttered, his hand shaking slightly as he looked at you. Sex wasn’t something that was on his mind often, yet he knew it might come up, and he wanted to be prepared. The fact that it was with you … It was his dream come true. “I mean if we did something… Or someone else… Or-”

Your hands covering his stopped his rambling. You laughed, taking the packet from him and ripping it open with your teeth. Scooting back just enough to take hold of his impressive cock, you stared straight into his wide-open eyes as you slid the condom onto his length. He swore he could cum just from that alone, your gaze piercing through his soul and making his cock twitch as you released him.

“Oh my,” He gasped, his hands moving back to your hips as your pussy glided back across his cock once again. “Don’t tease, darling.”

A silence fell between you both, your eyes searching one another for any hint of hesitance. Your hands drifting from his chest to his shoulders. Leaning closer, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips, softer than the previous clash of mouths and tongues. Zayne’s heart raced, his thumbs brushing along your hip bones as you kissed him, and he relaxed a bit.

“Are you sure you want this?” You asked, your lips only centimeters away from his. The light from the sunrise filtered through the curtains, casting a beautiful orange hue across the room, and Zayne couldn’t think of a time when you looked more stunning than you did now. Your body displayed in front of him, your eyes following his every move and your smile , asking to make sure he really wanted it, and fuck of course he did.

“ Yes ,” He couldn’t say anything else that would convey just how badly he needed you. No amount of whining or pleading could ever show you how much he wanted to be buried deep inside you. “There’s nothing else in the world that I want more…”

Time seemed to slow down as you stroked his cock, sitting up on your knees to position him at your entrance. His attention flickered from where his tip nestled against your hole to your eyes, hooded and watching him like a hunter with their prey. Keeping your plea in mind, his hands tightened on your hips, feeling you sink down onto his cock in one fluid drop.

It was like the air was knocked out of your lungs, his thick cock stretching you out so deliciously. Your heart rocketed against your chest, your nails digging into his shoulders as the back of your thighs finally laid flush against his hips. The curve of his cock pressed right into your sweet spot, your pussy clenching around him.

Zayne needed to take a breath; his eyes squeezed shut as he centered himself. Breathe … In through his nose and out through his mouth. It was insane to think, but he felt complete , like he was made to fit inside you, to fit against you or even next to you. One of his hands moved to cup your breast, the other drifting behind you to knead the flesh of your ass. He needed his hands on you, all over you, and hopefully, in the future, inside you .

“You’re stunning,” he whispered, his tone one of shock and awe. The thought had you laughing, and you pressed another kiss to his lips in appreciation. His hands were still cold, and you shivered both from his touch and from the way he looked at you. It was like his hands were making a map of your skin, drawing imaginary lines and dips that he could chart on his journey to touch every inch of you. 

“Thank you,” You moved your hips, feeling his cock rubbing against your walls. A soft hum fell from your lips, your head tilted back, and your eyes closed as you enjoyed the slow drag. “You’re quite handsome yourself.”

He wasn’t sure what to do, his hands roaming along your body, caressing every inch of skin he could reach. It was all so much , the feeling of your thumb brushing his nipple and the way your pussy so perfectly fluttered around him. His chest rose and fell rapidly, eyes closing in an attempt to prolong his orgasm. Although he tried desperately, his fingers curled tighter on your ass, and you were sure you would have a bruise there in the coming hours.

“You- you can move now,” He stuttered out, his tone nearing a whine. His suggestion sounded more like a plea, one that you were happy to oblige. Sitting up, you felt the smooth drag of his cock, until only his tip was nestled inside. You picked up the pace, sitting down on his cock over and over and over. Each time was even more pleasurable than the last.

“ Fuck ,” Zayne didn’t indulge in swear words very often, but the circumstance seemed right. His mind was so caught up in the way your thighs slapped against his own, the noises echoing through your apartment, that he didn’t realize the tight grip he had on your hip. His fingers dug into your skin, and his jaw clenched tight as he tried so hard to will his orgasm away for just a few more minutes.

Your breasts bounced in his face as you rode him, your moans wrapping around him and pulling him closer to you. Without warning, his nose pressed into your chest, right between your tits. Claps and groans filled the air, his tongue lapping at your salty skin. His hazel eyes shone as he looked up at you from his spot between your breasts. 

To tease him, you stopped momentarily, your hips flush against his. It was fun toying with him, watching his eyebrows rise and mouth gape open in a gasp. The furrow in his brow made your stomach leap, a soft groan coming from behind his closed lips as he stared at you. Desperate to be closer to him, you leaned forward, pulling him up from his spot between your tits to press your lips against him in a harsh dance.

Zayne hummed, his tongue pressing and wrapping around yours. A trail of spit dribbled from the side of his mouth, his need and desperation showing in the way he held you. One of his hands dug into your hip, the other now pushing against your back until your chest was flush against his. His heartbeat matched yours, the vibrations echoing through his head as he held you close. It was like you completed him, your body fitting perfectly against his. The cold and empty half of his heart had finally found a home in you, and he wasn’t sure why he felt this way, nor exactly what it meant… But his body knew.

“Fuck, darling.” Zayne rested his forehead against yours, biting his lip as your thumb tweaked his nipple again. He loved it, and having never experienced anything like this before, he didn’t know just how he would react. Gasps and lewd moans spurred you on, his hips bucking up into you for some other type of friction - though he had a feeling he might have been able to come just from his nipples alone…

“You like that?” You didn’t mean for your tone to be as teasing as it was; you were genuinely interested, wanting to elicit any sort of reaction from the normally hard-to-read man below you. It seemed like he enjoyed your voice, however, because you felt him twitch inside you, your bouncing slowing down to help him speak.

“I… I guess so.” He fought between his teeth, his thighs flexing under you as you languidly dragged your pussy up and down his cock. Having never done anything close to this before, he had to pride himself on his resolve, his abdomen flexing and releasing as he fought off his orgasm. 

Zayne’s hand on your back moved to your ass, his hand kneading your flesh as you sped up your hips. Riding him was a thrill, feeling his thighs tensing every time you sat fully on top of him, his hands both guiding you and helping you grind your clit against his stubbly pubic bone. 

You weren’t prepared for the way he suddenly leaned forward again, his face pressed against your chest. Turning his head, his nose brushed against the side of your breast, his warm breath fanning across your nipple. In an attempt to silence himself, he sucked on the skin of your chest, leaving a dark red mark. His tongue flattened along your flesh, moving to the side and nipping at your other breast. 

Seeing the way your chest moved in front of his face, your moans echoing around him, and your pussy clenching him so tight … He knew he wouldn’t last much longer. His hand dug into the flesh of your hip, his other hand lifting to bring your nipple to his mouth. Gasping, your hand flew to his hair, holding him against your chest as he dragged his teeth along your skin.

With a hiss, you pulled him off, seeing his apologetic look before his tongue flattened across the sensitive nub. His warm mouth enveloped you, his tongue flicking and doing things that made you second guess his claim of it being his first time. 

Your hips stuttered, clit grinding against his abdomen with each thrust. His hand held you so tightly, guiding you to ensure you were feeling just as good as he was. Heat pooled in your lower stomach, and you whimpered, the combined sucking on your tit and each thrust that filled you to the brim; it was too much.

“Zayne, I…” You stopped, a vibrating hum pulsing through your body as the man below you nodded. His own hips stuttered, jerking into yours as he tried to help you there. Caught in his own heat, he wrapped his lips around your nipple, looking up at you through his eyelashes.

“Oh my god , Zayne.” You moaned, closing your eyes. The heat ignited in you, feeling Zayne’s groans against your chest as he came undone, emptying into the condom. It wasn’t but seconds later that you followed, your pussy tightening around his cock as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. 

It wasn’t until you stopped that you realized just how much your knees ached, and you fell into Zayne’s arms. Feeling the stickiness of his sweat and spit on himself, he rolled you over so you were lying on your back, your limbs stretched out across the bed. Standing up, he let his eyes trail across your body for a moment, admiring how beautiful you looked in the afterglow, the sun greeting you from behind the horizon.

Quick steps brought him to your bathroom, disposing of the condom and splashing some cold water on his face and chest. His eyes met his reflection in the mirror, and he chuckled, somehow thinking he had traveled to another dimension or was stuck in a dream. 

Except when he saw you laying there, your body glistening and spent, he knew it was real; he wasn’t imagining it. Slipping on his briefs, he joined you in bed, his heart speeding up as you curled into him. Your still naked body pressed against him, chin resting on his chest as you analyzed his features.

“Zayne…” You started, your mind wandering to thoughts that you hoped weren’t true, yet you couldn’t help but worry. “Did this mean anything to you?”

He pondered it for a moment, his hand wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you so you were lying fully on top of him. Looking down at you, he smiled, closing the small distance to press a kiss to your lips. It was innocent, holding the hope of something real in it.

“Of course it did, darling.” He said simply, his hands trailing across your hips. Trying to put it into words was hard; just how much it meant to him that you were his first, the one he felt the most connected to. It meant a lot that you felt the same way and that this was the beginning of a new chapter in your friendship, one that drifted more to the romantic side of things. “It meant that, hopefully, this was the start of a new step in our relationship. A step into something more real.”

The memory of the way he held you so tightly popped up into his mind, and his eyes widened. With a jerk of his head, he looked down, inspecting your hips for any marks. He frantically searched you, looking at your jaw, down your neck, across your breasts. A dark red mark in the middle of your chest had his jaw gaping.

“Did I hurt you?” His hand drifted over the mark like he was afraid to touch it in case it caused you more pain. He couldn’t live with himself if he hurt you, whether it be due to the intense pleasure or not, it was unacceptable …

“Oh, no.” You shook your head, tilting it to the side to look at him from another angle. His hand cupped your cheek gently, his thumb brushing your cheekbone, and you closed your eyes, a sense of peace washing over you. You knew he would never hurt you, though you had to admit you wanted to see what he could give you if you riled him up enough. “I liked it, don’t worry.”

“Okay… Good.” Zayne smiled, watching as you yawned and lay on his chest. The sun was beginning to rise, but he shifted your body up against his, his arms wrapping around you securely. Throwing the blanket back over your bodies, he closed his eyes. 

Although your relationship was uncertain, you knew he felt the same way, and you wanted nothing more than to make it work. He patted the top of your head, his heartbeat returning to normal as he watched you drift off in his arms. “Let’s go to sleep, darling. I can take you out for a lunch date later before I go in for my shift at the hospital.”

© starsforxavi

[starrbishops]

⟡Touch⟡

John Walker x Reader

Part 1 - This is Part 2 to Crush but can be read as a standalone!

Summary: After confessing your feelings for each other, you and John finally act on those feelings.- ao3 version

Notes: Idiots in love, SMUT!!! oral sex (fem rec) fingering, p in v sex, protected sex (that man does NOT need another child to neglect) silly sex idk they're both goofy.

Word Count: 1.8k

a/n: So the day I wrote Crush I couldn't sleep and typed like 85% of this out deliours in a google doc and um here it is. I think a horny spirit possessed me or smthn man. Can be read as a sequel or standalone!

When John claimed he was “exceptional” at sex, you took it with a grain of salt.

You were undeniably attracted to him, and he’d already exceeded your expectations kissing, but could you really trust a man, let alone a blond one, let alone John Walker to accurately estimate himself in the bedroom?

As it turned out, you could.

John practically ran to his room with you in his arms, the two of you laughing quietly as you tried not to draw the attention of the others. Most of them were out grabbing lunch, although you vaguely remembered Bob and Alexei planning on watching some old Russian comedy.

Any thoughts of the others left you mind as John pressed another kiss to your lips as he pushed his door open with his hip, not breaking the kiss to close it with foot before gently laying you down on the bed.

“God, I’ve fucking dreamed about this.” He all but groaned as he pressed kisses to your jaw, trailing down your neck and to your collarbone.

You grabbed at the hem of that damn t-shirt that drove you so insane, a hint which John took as he wrestled it over his head.

You paused to admire him; he was well-built, not in an overly showy way, but hard and taut in the right places and blond hair smattered across his chest. Your eyes trail down to his abs-you’d seen them before, when he’d structured once and his shirt had gone up just a bit. It stayed with you for weeks, but that glimpse was nothing to having him bare on top of you now.

“I think it’s only fair you take yours off, now.” His cocky grin make a reappearance, although the usual smugness in it was replaced with a sense of genuine joy and isbeleif, like he was in a dream praying to never wake up.

You chuckle nonetheless and reach down to the bottom of your own shirt. John beats you to it as he yanks the fabric off of you, eliciting a gasp as he tosses it away somewhere.

His eyes take over you, landing on your breasts. You prop yourself up on your elbows to provide better reach as he reaches around to the glass, giving you small nod and a look of is this okay? You nod fervently, and he unclips your bra with a practiced ease, all but ripping it off you as he stares down at your chest.

“Rusty my ass.” You smile.

The joke goes in one ear and out as his lust-addled brain is fixated on your body. “You’re perfect,” he mutters as he leans down to kiss each of your breasts, his hand kneading the other as he takes one of your nipples in his mouth.

You gasp at the sensation, his tongue running around the sensitive bud, pebbling beneath his touch. He moves to the other and you can feel his smile on your tit as he ravishes it just the same.

He pauses to look back up at you, a pensive look on his face. “Can I go down on you?”

You’re a little taken aback to be honest, but you nod vigorously. “Yes. God yes, John-“

Then he’s sitting up and reaching for your jeans, pulling the zipper as you unbutton them before wiggling them off. 

He’s got a single-minded focus now, the look in his eyes turning a little feral as he grabs at your panties, running a thumb over the wet spot where your arousal pools.

“That's all for me?” He asks, part of him stroking his ego, another still insecure in your feelings for him.

“All for you John, all yours-“

Your breathy moans make something snap in him then. He grabs the sides of your panties and rips them from your body, with an ease you suspect is not Al serum strength.

Your mind races but You’re too shocked to make a joke, as John lowers himself between your thighs; planting a kiss to your inner thigh. 

“Sorry.” He mumbles as he peppers your legs with soft kisses before moving towards your dripping cunt. He noses your clit, eliciting a gasp as electric shocks run through you at his feather-light touch.

“So fucking beautiful,” he groans as he moves to lick a long, wet stripe up you, hands moving to grip your hips into place as you writhe under his touch. His beard is rough against your skin, contrasting his soft, passionate touch.

His tongue licks into you, spreading your srousal all over you as he devours you like a man starved. You never took John for a fan of oral, but God you are not complaining as you feel the pleasure build in your stomach.

“John, fuck, so good, Jesus…”

“That’s right, baby,” he grumbles against your skin, “that’s my girl.”

He moves to your swollen clit, latching on as you grip the sheets beneath you. You try and fail to push your hips towards him, to get more of his mouth on you, but his grip is firm and holds you back.

He smiles as he looks up. “Greedy.”

“Asshole,” you manage to breathe out.

“You love it.”

“Are you going to get back to- ohhhh!” Your tease is interrupted by him inserting a finger into you, the sudden intrusion sending shockwaves through your body. His fingers are just as good as you’d dreamed.

“Hey, eyes on me.” he pauses until you swiftly open your eyes once more, seeing his blue eyes stare you down as he adds another thick finger.

He pumps the two of them inside you as you swiftly approach your climax. His mouth returns to you clit, alternating between flicking and sucking in a way that makes you crazy with lust. 

“John, I’m gonna, gonna cum-“

“That’s right baby, come for me.” John presses a kiss to your clit as he adds a third finger, creating a delicious stretch within you before he crooks them just so, in a way that sends you over the edge.

You’re seeing stars, as you come, John not letting up with both his fingers and his mouth as you writhe with pleasure beneath him. 

He slowed with you as you caught your breath, gazing down at him, his beard wet with you. 

“You look so pretty when you come.”

“Should do it again sometime, then.”

He smiles as he removes his fingers, prompting a whine at the empty feeling. You don’t have much time to think about it as you watch him suck the fluid off of them, relishing the taste as if it were a five star meal.

“You taste incredible.” He positions himself ove you once again, kissing you so you can taste yourself in his lips. You grab the nape of his neck as your desperation for him only increases.

“Please John, inside me now.”

He nods, a soldier receiving his orders. He quickly unbuttons and pulls down his jeans as you reach for his boxers, ogling the tent beneath them. 

You yank them down, exposing his cock to you, red and needy, perfume beading on the tip. It matches the rest of him-thick, veiny, not inset long but enough to make your mouth water.

“You like?” He jabs as you nod fervently.

“You’re perfect.” You wrap a hand around the base, getting hiss from the man above you as you slowly pump him.

He grabs your wrist, pausing you. “I’m not gonna last if you keep that up.” He groans, his eyes scrunched up in an attempt to hold it together. You reluctantly relinquish him, as he stands to dig through his nightstand.

He grumbles something, before triumphantly displaying a condom in a bright blue wrapper, with the Avengers logo front and center.

“Where the hell-“

“Alexei.” Ah. The Red Guardian did have a penchant for purchasing any Avengers related merch he could get his hands on, even if it was dollar store condoms.

“Please never bring up Alexei during sex again.” You chuckle as he tears the wrapper and rolls the condom on.

“I get a next time?” He grins, with the face more suited to a lovesick teenager than a grown man.

“We’ll see how you do here.” You lay back on the pillow as he returns to his lace above you, gently running his cock against your folds.

“You ready.” you nod at hinm, as he begins to push into you, the stretch already palpable as just the head enters you. 

“Fuck me, John, Christ…”

“That’s what I’m doing.” he mutters with a grin as he slowly inches into you, the concentration visible on his face. “So fuckng tight, God.”

You both gasp in sync as he bottoms out, your nails digging into his broad shoulders as you wrap your legs around him, drawing him just that much deeper.

“Jesus fucking christ, John…” you mumble, drunk on the feeling of him, inside of you, on top of you, all over you. You don’t think you could ever get enough of him.

John is silent, his deep concentration nd effort to hold it together apparent as he squeezes his eyes shut.

“What happened to eyes on me, huh?”

“Shut up.” he jokes as he hangs in his head in the crook of your shoulder, enabling you to place a kiss to the top of his head. 

“You can move.” you whisper, him responding with a nod as begins to pull out, before thrusting right back into you.

You gasp at the sensation, the breath turning into long moans as he sets his pace, verging on fast but not rough, reverent and cautious to not hurt you.

“More, please, John.” you hear an almost animalistic grunt emerge from him, and you imagine if you could see his face he’d bear the same near feral expression he had earlier.

Sure enough, he lifts his head, his bright eyes dakrned with lust as his thrusts go faster, letting himself go.

And it’s perfect. The feeling of his thick cock rubbing asint you, the way you feel so full, the feel of him, of John. You imagine he’s feeling pretty good too, based on the dirty nothings he’s muttering nonstop.

The room is quiet save the wet sound from where your bodies meet, and the sounds of pleasure the two of you make. You’re too blissed out as you feel another rorgasm approaching to care if the others hear you.

And then John is shifting, reaching a hand down between you, his thumb pressing gently against your clit in a way that makes you almost dizzy with pleasure.

“God, you’re everything.” he groans, “so fucking perfect, and all mine. My girl.”

You try to say something but your thoughts are all too jumbled and incoherent to convey. You’re on the brink again, and from the way his thrusts are beocmong more and more frantic you can tell John is too.

With a final curse, John plunges himself deep inside you as he cums, with you following soon after. He stills as you both come down from your highs, panting from exertion.

“Told you I was good.” he grins down at you.

“Fuck you.”

“Just did.”

a/n: So. I've never actually had sex so this is more of a research based fic (the research being other fics) but um hope you like it! I do this for the people 🫡

[raintemper]

Moon and Pebbles!! Yippee

oh the woes of being a flesh creature surrounded by supercomputer gods,, I got sad drawing him hhh

more about them under the line :>

Moon! She, like Suns, was one of the first successful projects and were both more of test models/therapeutic companions than anything else. They were both restructured to fit their new functions but Suns has obviously undergone more significant changes... Moon is kept inside to assist with research and computational stuff. She's a lab cat. She's generally looks more like a normal creature, and has a friendly appearance because her creators (i guess it would be the ancients) would be seeing her frequently and would rather a friendly face, something that is easily perceived as nonthreatening, as opposed to Suns weaponry and NSH's extra limbs and spikes. She doesn't have the screen face like NSH, so expressing emotions comes mostly from body language. Moon is not outside at all so there is no need for solar panel components like Suns or NSH. She has internal stored power that can last for quite a while but still needs to be recharged? I imagine the neuron fly drones would also assist in that department. The drones still function somewhat like her portable processing servers/braincells. She has also programed a defensive protocol into them, they can create small bits of electricity to use in dire moments. Initially programmed to keep track of NSH's samples that sometimes escapes him.

Pebbles is a purposed organism. He is a whole entire organic cat. He was born in the lab, in a chaotic time when resources were low. He has a mark of communication. He also has a brain chip where he can access (basically) the cloud where the others upload information. He is also a lab cat so this is crucial to his role. He did try and remove it once when he was younger and it backfired horribly and now he has a mechanical ear and eye. He still feels out of place for obvious reasons, being the only creature of organic origin amongst his peers.

He is closest to Moon who had a role in caring for and raising him. She did not know a thing about caring for a living being but did her best. Pebbles does not like being confined to the facility. The suggestion and influence the brain chip has on him sometimes clashes with his thoughts. He is very aware of the limitations it puts on him to not leave. He envies NSH and Suns a lot for being able to do what he can't. He often downloads the maps they create and read NSH's sample studies in his spare time. He also likes seeing the lizards NSH brings back, from a distance.

I think in the time that Pebbles exists, NSH is not very active. Due to the low resources and chaotic season, NSH is often in low power mode. Which means less expeditions outside and more time just, half asleep. And when the weather becomes more sustainable, NSH would be sent on long outings to gather as much as possible before being powered down again. So instead of hearing stories from NSH, he sought out Suns and UI instead. (Actually I think everyone is kind of low power mode here, Suns does not wander as far).

erhm i think he tries to leave the place and then gets sick or something,,,im still thinking..

[moonstonejpg]

late night (g. suguru x reader)

—mdni 18+

sum. on your way from the kitchen you stumble upon your roommates best friend suguru geto who decides he needs a midnight snack; you. cw: fingering, drooling, cunnilingus

this is entirely self-indulgent. oopsies

quietly, you pad down the hallway to the dark kitchen, softly humming to yourself as you grab a glass and fill it with water. you set the glass on the counter then turn to flick the light on, nearly jumping when a pair of dark brown eyes meet yours, his hair half up.

“oh! ‘m sorry suguru, I didn’t know you were still awake.”

suguru geto was your roommate shoko’s best friend, and someone you’ve grown very fond of. it certainly didn’t hurt that he was one of the most attractive men you’ve ever met and one you’d touched yourself to the thought of plenty of times before bed.

“no, can’t sleep.”

he’s sitting on the couch which is positioned behind the l-shaped kitchen counter, phone in hand. his dark eyes stay on yours for a few long moments, then slowly scan down the length of your body, lingering on your legs. his eyes flick back up to yours, then pats the spot on the couch next to him.

and really, you should grab your glass and make your way back to your room, but the way his gaze rakes over you has you feeling emboldened.

you leave your glass of water on the counter and slowly walk to the couch where he sits. ignoring the heat in your cheeks brought by the sudden realization that you currently are only in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of panties, you take a seat, sitting only a foot away from the dark haired man.

he reaches forward and grabs the remote, turning it on and flicking to a random channel. it’s so late that all they are playing are decades old sitcoms, and you pretend to watch, the silence making you nervous. you eye him several times out of the corner of your eye, wondering what the hell he’s thinking.

it’s quiet for a few more moments before the old laugh track on the tv booms, making you jump a little.

suguru turns his head to watch you, a small smirk on his face.

“jumpy tonight?” he asks, glancing at you and tilting his head, eyes gleaming in the dim room.

you reach down to nervously play with the hem of your shirt, your earlier feelings of bravery dissipating by the second.

“s—sorry.” you mumble, settling further in the couch, your fingers clenching tightly around your shirt hem.

a sly smile spreads on his face as he hums in response, turning his attention back to the tv.

nothing happens for a few moments, and you press yourself into the couch, desperately trying to wipe the pout off your face.

why are we just sitting here? you wonder.

but then you startle as he shifts, warm fingers settling gently on your thigh. he doesn’t move for a while, the warmth of his hand causing goosebumps to pebble all over your skin. suddenly his fingers twitch and start rubbing gentle circles on the top of your thigh. this continues for the rest of the episode before moving down to the soft inner flesh of your thighs.

his fingertips gently stroke over your skin, back and forth until you’re twitching slightly next to him. his fingers then dig in slightly, massaging the taut muscles, every once in a while fingertips gently skim the corner edge of your panties.

he does this over and over, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye every so often, but mostly pretending like he wasn’t doing anything at all (much to your dismay). the ministrations were getting to be too much, your jaw locked and teeth clenched to keep any sounds of pleasure from escaping. but it was getting harder and harder, your brain turning to mush as his fingers kept creeping closer and closer to your wet heat.

you slide your hand around his wrist, nails digging into the skin of his wrist to find purchase in something.

suddenly, a fingertip brushes against your clothed pussy, and you audibly gasp at the sensation, legs falling open a few inches in response. he does it again, this time gently pressing his finger over your clothed entrance, eyes now wholly focused on you.

“your panties are soaked, angel.” he whispers casually, pressing the pad of his finger into the spot again, eyes slightly hooded. a low whine escapes from you, and he moves both hands under your shirt to grip your waist. he then fists the material there, eyes locked on the tightening fabric against your tits. he wets his lips, and to your surprise leans down to suck on your nipple through the fabric, moving back to watch the darkened spot peek through the now damp white fabric.

you push at his hands, sitting up to shuck the shirt off, cheeks warming as his eyes stay right on your tits. his tongue pokes out, licking his lips before glancing back up at you, a slightly dazed look in his eyes.

he brushes a thumb over your pert nipple, a cocky grin lighting his face as you gasp out a whimper. he does it again, flicking it lightly before moving his attention back down to your pussy. he huffs out a laugh, the pad of his finger hovering over your entrance.

“so…greedy” he says lowly, voice husky.

he taps once, twice, your legs involuntarily convulsing with every tap. suguru then hooks your panties to the side, a long finger slowly dipping into your wet heat. a shaky moan breaks free from you as he adds a second finger, starting to slowly twist his fingers around inside you. he withdraws the digits, making intense eye contact with you as he brings them, glistening, to his mouth, sucking lewdly.

you stare open-mouthed as he smirks then licks his lips.

you stare open-mouthed as he smirks then licks his lips. you yelp as his hand strikes out faster than an adder, gripping your panties and pulling, the sound of fabric tearing filling the room. gaping at him, you watch as he throws the material behind him, before he settles himself in between your legs and slowly pushes his two fingers back inside of you.

you moan at the feeling, clawing at the couch before reaching down to sink your hands into his soft black tresses. it’s so soft you muse to yourself, tugging slightly.

he groans at the feeling of your fingers tugging on his hair.

he looks up at you briefly, before slowly adding a third finger. you tug his hair harder, hips pushing towards him at the feeling of being slightly stretched.

your eyes roll back as he curls one of the fingers inside of you, immediately hitting your soft pleasure point.

he moves his fingers at a leisurely pace, dark eyes filled with something akin to wonder at your reactions. without warning he retracts his fingers, hooking them around your ankles and tugging hard, your body scooting to the end of the couch. he moves to the floor, getting on knees then spreading your legs.

“what are you—oh.” you cut yourself off with a moan as he leans forward, large hands keeping your thighs spread open as he attaches his lips to your clit.

he hums, your legs twitching at the sensation.

“you—ah, right there” you mewl, walls contracting as his tongue flicks your clit.

he works his tongue around your clit, then sinks a finger into you once more. you let out a moan, gyrating your hips against his face.

it doesn’t take long before the pleasure starts building hard and fast in your lower belly, the combination of his finger pressing into your g-spot and his tongue working circles on your clit causing your walls to start fluttering.

“oh—sugu—fuck. I’m gonna, gonna—“ you stutter out, drool gathering in the corners of your mouth as you tip over the edge.

“that’s it sweetheart, come for me.” he mumbles into you. he’s got you gasping and moaning as he keeps moving till you’re twitching from the overstimulation.

you collapse back onto the couch, making eye contact with suguru as he lifts his head from between your thighs. his dark eyes are sparkling and slightly hooded as he gazes up at you. his lips are glistening slightly, and the sight nearly makes your mind go dumb.

“been wanting to do that forever, princess.”

[causenessus]

comforting you. | bungou stray dogs

inc. chuuya, dazai, ranpo, odasaku

written is second pov (no gendered pronouns used)

"you deserve this." by men i trust

word count: 4.6k words

notes/warnings: separate scenarios for each bsd man and how they comfort you when you’re feeling down, giving you both love and realistic advice. i feel like i bounced between writing generalized headcanons and hyperspecific scenarios, so i’m sorry but i hope you enjoy this <3 each of you is deserving of so much love and patience <3 you deserve to be here <3 each pairing is in an established relationship. also (relevant for odasku’s scenario), the orphans are still alive. my writing my universe. i'm actually beastzai in another au where everyone lives and is happy and everything is okay. use of pet names "sweetheart" (chuuya scenario) "angel" (dazai scenario) and "love" (oda). general hurt/comfort drabbles :) lmk if I should add anything! i would NOT consider this proofread because I read it half-asleep at midnight trying to edit it so forgive me for any mistakes 🙏

special shoutouts to @dorotheasdiary + @aouzi for hyping me up/listening to my rambles abt this work!! sorry for the tag </3

chuuya.

sometimes the urge to give up became too strong. 

was it too much to ask time to stop for just one day? it seemed all your pleas to the sky were falling on deaf ears.

still, as all things do, you eventually lost the motivation to keep pushing forward on your own.

like a runner who trips upon a small pebble and can’t get back into their pace, slowly, slowly falling behind the others.

the one difference was that you had come to a complete stop. you'd never allowed yourself a break until you were completely burnt out; unable to move even a muscle.

you haven’t even made it out of bed the whole day. 

the room was starting to feel sick and stuffy with how long you’d laid in those sheets that no longer seemed to provide any comfort. rather, you felt like you were simply dirtying the sheets by continuing to lie there, purposeless, useless.

you barely had it in you to call out of work before drifting back into a mundane sleep that you continued to wake up and fall back into for the better half of the day. you hadn’t looked at your phone after sending a quick text to your manager, unprepared for whatever kind of passive-aggressive response they'd messaged back with because of your late notice. the unknown was too much right now, you couldn't focus on anyone you couldn't read but yourself. you didn’t want to be around friends, family, or people out on the street, where your mind would run rapid laps around itself, trying to figure out what everyone thought of you.

at work, it was the same; sizing yourself up to your coworkers, figuring out how well-liked you were— how replaceable you would be if one day you suddenly up and dropped, or, more likely in your mind, you annoyed everyone enough that they let you go. 

never really knowing what others thought terrified you. obviously it wasn't the norm despite living in a world filled with those gifted with abilities to be able to read another's mind but that didn’t mean your mind could simply let the anxieties go. your head always seemed to be buzzing, preoccupied with concerns about something.

which is why you had tried to block everything out, the moment you woke up this morning and every rustle of your legs tumbled in the sheets was too loud for your ears; a playlist of music on shuffle played softly from your phone nearby, giving your brain something mindless to focus on while you had your head pressed between pillows to deafen out the rest of the world.

you didn’t feel any better or any energized despite how much you had slept today, but at the very least, sleep often took you away from constantly having to listen to whatever your mind wanted to rave and overthink next.

'what time is it? have i even gotten up once today? i should at least walk around. clean up. i'll never be motivated to get out of bed like this—' there your head went, taking one simple question and turning it into spindles of chains to wrap around your throat.

but when you feel the mattress sink beside you, suddenly everything goes quiet. the sheets become just sheets again–not something you’re sinking into or dirtying. someone has opened the curtains, revealing an orange sunset outside, and something nice is playing from the speaker of your phone, you realize.

he is the only one who doesn’t make your head spin. he is your grounding anchor, the gravitational force keeping your feet planted on this earth, opening your eyes to the beauty of the world you couldn’t otherwise see due your own anxieties.

“you been here all day?” he must have snuck in without you even hearing him (which isn’t hard to believe, considering the cushions you’d just been pressing to both of your ears), even giving him enough time to change. chuuya’s hair is still in a loose ponytail and he wears that black choker around his neck as always, but he’s dressed in a white shirt and some sweatpants, his gloveless hands reaching out to rub circles in your back.

he’s bare with you, and that’s what you love most about him.

you’ve had you’re insecurities about not being good enough for him and anything else typical within a relationship, but he never leaves you wondering. he grabs your hand to keep you from floating away too far, getting lost in your own thoughts, often pulling you back into the moment, when you’re lying in bed with him on quiet nights, the sides of your faces only lit by a nearby warm bedside lamp. he’ll trace the side of your face, searching your eyes, asking, “where did you go?”

and you can’t always answer, but you know, every time he asks you this question, that at least you can tell him where you are now. you’re at home with him. 

and this moment is no different, with his calloused hands gliding up and down your back, and you only let out a small whine, shuffling closer to him as best as you can with how tangled you are up in his sheets.

“what’s wrong?” he asks softly, head tilting towards you slightly as you shimmy closer. “how can i help, sweetheart?”

you like how clear he is. how he always tells you what he’s thinking. he never leaves anything up to interpretation, always silencing your thoughts before they can make an assumption and run far with it.

while in the beginning of your relationship, it was hard to always voice what you needed, you came to realize with time that when chuuya asked you what he could do to help, it wasn’t him pressuring you to tell him what was wrong. it was simply how his head worked; he wanted you to be clear about what you needed. if that meant talking out your problems, he would listen. if that meant leaving you alone, he’d give you as much time as you needed (albeit probably checking in at some points just to make sure you didn’t need anything, it was just his nature to care for you). but all in all, he just needed you to talk to him. he would talk to you, you would talk to him. that's how miscommunication was prevented. your mind always felt so clear when you were around him because of how rationally he seemed to think of everything—all you had to do was follow his lead, and everything else came easily. things were never sugar-coated between the two of you, they were said plain and simple. (and with how charming he was, chuuya’s words often ended up being just as sweet as sugar anyway, not even needing to be wrapped up in some false front. when he said “i love you,” it was something clear. a fact, not something said just to appease you or mellow things out, he said it because he meant it).

and how refreshing it was, being lost in a sea of your own murky, unclear thoughts based off of assumptions upon assumptions, to be pulled from that ocean to the shoreline and be promised that the sun would rise again.

eventually, opening up to him became easier. even thought it sometimes took a few hours, you always ended up telling him what was on your mind and he waited patiently every time. he only ever listened unless you asked for more, and he never invalidated your feelings. trusting that he was just going to listen to you, it began to take even less time to prepare yourself to open up. it became as easy as taking a sip of water; something you had to do voluntarily, but was still needed, healing, and often refreshing.

the pitch of your voice slightly heightens as you hum a “yes” in response to his question, curling up closer to him, and his fingers have found their way into your hair, combing through it. “got tired of everything,” you whisper softly, resting your forehead against the side of his thigh, thankful for his contact.

“yeah? i’m sure you did, baby. you’re doing a lot. it’s good to take a break every now and then. anything in particular spur you to take the day off? there’s no shame in just deciding to take a rest day for the hell of it either, though,” he speaks as gently as his actions, shifting slightly on the bed so that you can rest more comfortably, your head now laying in his lap, and he brushes your hair out of your face as you look up at him and his pretty bangs framing his face as he leans down towards you.

you hum in thought at the question, searching your brain for the answer. was there something that had triggered you to break today? or was it just the build-up of it all? “not really anything in particular,” you shrug slightly, still admiring his golden-brown eyes, hooded and soft, gazing into your own, “just felt like everything came toppling down today. i’ve just been thinking too much about what others think of me. i don’t feel that important to the world, or my job. i’m easily replaceable–nothing special–and yet i have to keep fighting for this job. i have to fight to occupy space for myself in the world when i never even asked to be here in the first place. —and of course you make everything better but i mean–you know me. you’re good to me. you’re too good to me. and sometimes i can’t understand why you waste all of that goodness in you on me.” by the time you’re finished, he’s gently lifted your head out of his lap to lay down on his side next to you, continuing to face you the entire time. 

you finish your long-winded explanation of unreasonable worries, and he only stares into your face, and you begin to shift under his eyes uncomfortably. his head his propped up in his hands, and he wears a small smile on his face, eyes flicking every few moments to focus on a different part of your face. “...chuu?” you whisper his name quietly, and his smile only grows.

“sorry, got too caught up admiring your pretty face,” he apologizes, and there he goes again, being so honest it makes your heart squeeze sometimes. he shifts his position slightly, reaching out his free hand to intertwine his slender fingers with yours, gently pressing the pads of his fingertips against your own, playing with them. “well, first of all, don’t think of your life through the lens that you are now. you can’t control or read anyone else’s mind, and that’s okay. people make a lot of irrational decisions anyway, it’s impossible to predict what someone will do, so don’t worry about what they think. what makes how they perceive you or what they think more correct than what you feel? they could be totally wrong about something, and they are if they think you’re replaceable, or bad, or whatever. don’t make yourself smaller for anyone else. you’re so smart and thoughtful and if anyone makes you feel bad about who you are, i’ll talk shit back to them, alright?”

you nod at his words but don’t meet his attempt to lighten the mood, only shifting closer again, hiding your face in his chest, breathing in his scent. his hand is back on your head, keeping you close while combing through your hair. “i think you're perfect as you are, [y/n]. i wouldn't want you any other way. you're the only thing on my mind all the time and you’re all i think about—if you're worried about what goes through my mind. i'll always be here for you, i'll be right behind you even if the world is against you. all you need is me, i’d burn everything to the ground for you in a heartbeat."

dazai.

as a kid, you quickly learned not to fight back. 

others were allowed to be angry and lash out, but when you did the same, it was wrong wrong wrong.

when you were young, you learned that love was conditional.

there was no understanding when it came to your emotions. no matter the kind of day that you had you were still expected to always be kind and patient, and never yell back.

to be loved–or rather, to simply survive in this world, you had to be the smaller person; never expect someone to love you for who you are, but because they like that you’re agreeable, quiet, and passive. never expect anyone to care about how you feel, no matter how close of a friend they are.

and surely, you couldn’t expect any kind of empathy from a coworker.

but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, and you could feel the way your chest contracted, suffocating with you, every time you were the brunt of kunikida’s critiques. there was no middle between letting the man belittle you to a husk of your former self or the scariest option of all: say something and risk your dynamic with him worsening even more.

setting boundaries and speaking your mind had never been things that came easy to you, as admitting that something was wrong in your relationship with someone always seemed to leave a gaping hole in the relationship that would always be prevalent, at least to you. telling someone who seemed to be unaware of how unkind their words were “you’re hurting me” seemed to always make things awkward between you and the other party. they realized they could no longer throw you around and every time they left, you couldn't help but think you should've dealt with it and kept your mouth shut. 

so you smile and nod along to whatever kunikida’s ordering you to do next, fake laughing when he says something about how important the job is and to make sure you don’t fail, as if such an option was even possible. you had never messed up anything he asked you to do, and with how long he went on about the importance of the job, you never planned to. but his ending words always reminded you of how little your efforts seemed to matter to him. he would never trust you or see you as anything better than just a little office worker to dump work on.

your face drops as soon as the man turns his back to you, and you let out a quiet sigh before returning to the laptop in front of you before hands upon your shoulders scare you.

“caught you!” a voice pops up from behind you, making you exclaim, jumping in your seat, whipping your head around to see a familiar brown-haired man. he was always causing problems for kunikida and getting scolded, and yet he seemed to be able to take everything as a light-hearted joke. he came into work every day with a smile on his face and new ways to irritate kunikida, while you couldn’t see yourself ever returning to this office if that man yelled at you the way he yelled at the boy in front of you even once.

“dazai! you scared me,” your eyes follow him as he slides into the chair next to you, slightly rolling away from you with how he’d launched himself into the seat. “what did you…catch?” you ask, watching as he scoots closer back to you again, resting his cheek on a bandaged arm atop of the oak desk you both sit at.

“now, now. let's not try and act all innocent. why are you letting him talk to you like that if it hurts you?” he asks with a smile, while your face only pales, your heart completely freezing up the moment you hear the question you fear most. you have to tear your eyes away before he sees through you anymore, and you look down into your lap, where you’re picking at your fingers. if dazai noticed it, surely others did. had kunikida been able to read your face? had you offended him because you refused to communicate your true feelings with him? maybe you seemed like a stuck-up individual in his eyes if he could tell that you were faking with him, and you weren’t sure if him believing that lie or finding out the truth would be worse.

“well i…” you trail off when his fingers come into your line of sight, intertwining them with yours, stopping you from the bad habit.

“have i ever gotten upset with you for very understandably getting annoyed at my endless antics? have we ever disagreed on something we absolutely refused to resolve? no to both. but are humans creatures of imperfection by nature? have we all made mistakes? yes, and that’s why they’re able to forgive each other unless they’re insufferably stuck up. but don’t let your head turn kunikida into a monster he’s not. he’ll understand if you ask him to speak to you less directly, or with more belief in you. he’s giving you these jobs because he trusts you, you know. he just rambles on about the importance of them because that’s who he is. you know that, and you know him. you know he’ll work to treat others with the respect they deserve, you just have to tell him so first. but he’s not going to get mad at you,” your eyes flick up from where he’s running a thumb along your knuckles up to him, only to find him already looking at you with those warm hazel brown eyes of his. he’s right, and it feels nice to be seen and not bashed for your true feelings. instead, you're being understood. under his gaze, you no longer feel weak for how sensitive or emotional you may feel. he’s looking at you like you’re worth something, worth enough that you can fight for yourself, worth enough to deserve to be comfortable in your relationships, rather than used by those near you.

“thank you,” you mumble, and he’s pulled you close by the wheels of your own chair, your knees knocking as one of his hands reach up to caress the back of your neck, soothing you further as you continue to look at him.

his lips are still curved into a smile, not the trickster one he wears as he comes up with his next plot to harass kunikida, but a soft, genuine one, like he loves and cares about you, without you even asking anything of him. maybe this is what love is; being looked at and known, without even having to open your mouth.

“of course, angel,” he murmurs, fingers brushing against the back of your scalp, “bring it up while atsuhi or i are around if you want, we’ll help you explain how you feel. you’re not alone, you never were and you never have to be."

ranpo.

ranpo’s heightened abilities to observe, infer, and understand go far past anything related to his detective work. 

the first time he found you feeling down and wanted to comfort you, he defaulted to what he knows helps him feel better (i.e. sweet treats, dim lights, warm, quiet environments). the entire time, while his hand is on your back, rubbing it soothingly as you lean against him, soft cries muffled by the blanket he’s placed over you, his brain is running the entire time with what he can do best to support you; did you like what he brung you? do you prefer to isolate yourself or do you like the company when you’re feeling down? blankets or no blankets? do you want him to talk to you and try to provide a distraction or is just being there for you what you need? touch, or no touch?

ranpo is so attentive to your needs. whatever you want and is best for you, he will get you and do for you. he gives all thanks to fukuzawa, for helping him realize not everyone sees the world the way he does, all those years ago. since then, he’s learned to be more responsive, emotionally thoughtful, and soft-hearted in his responses if that’s that what you need. but if you want to hear logic and how he’s rationalizing out your situation, he can do that, too. again, he is completely willing to bend and shape himself to your needs. the only thing he will always push for is to be in a room with you when you’re feeling down, even if you don’t want company </3

he knows when you really need to be alone, but he doesn’t like to let you be on your own for too long. he’ll always be in the next room over if you need anything, quietly pacing the room, only worried and thinking of you and if he can do anything more for you. if you’re curled up in bed all night, he’ll eventually knock on the door to ask if he can sleep with you and keep you company. he wholeheartedly believes letting other people help you and be there for you helps, especially to prevent you from spiraling down any pits of despair or insecurity. he wants you to know how much he cares about you and your wellbeing, he wants to be there to hold you close, press gentle kisses to your head, and murmur promises that he’ll never ever leave you alone.

but if you say no to company, he is happy to sleep on the couch and will be up the moment you call his name if you need something or decide you do want company. he is there completely for you always and whenever, and all of it comes from a place of love. he’ll never push you to do anything or tell him anything you don’t want to, and he’ll try not to infer anything even if he knows he could use context clues to find out exactly what’s upsetting you. he knows you’ll tell him when you’re ready if you want to, and it’s never his job to be in your business. his only responsibility is to love you and make sure you know it <3

oda.

you’ve never been great at facing your own problems, and you’re even worse at facing others in your time of struggle. it feels impossible to rely upon anyone, no matter how close they are to you.

sakunosuke oda is a selfless man, always taking care of others, putting their wellbeing above his own. he took in five orphans despite knowing the increased risk to his own safety that would come with taking care of them, and he still chose to do it despite not having a place of his own to take care of them at. he gives half of his wage as one of the lowest-ranking members of the port mafia to the kids every time he receives his salary and he’s never once deviated from the habit.

you know he’d drop everything for you if you told him what was wrong, but you couldn’t do that to him. it didn’t feel that serious. and worst of all, telling him how you were feeling would only cause him to cut his job short and then he’d be standing there with you while you continued to wallow in misery; of course his presence would help you feel better, but it wouldn’t immediately solve everything.

it wasn’t worth it. was your justification as you slipped out of your shared apartment. it wasn’t worth telling someone else how you were feeling, because they couldn’t solve it. you couldn’t solve it. you couldn’t even figure out for yourself what was wrong. you had to make your existence worth it instead, then. the best way you found, to distract yourself from your feelings and make sure they remained pushed down, was by helping others. no one whose in need of help often asks how others are truly doing, and you like that about them.

you don’t tell him where you’re going. you have nothing to hide; you just don’t want to worry him. you’ll tell him if he asks, but for now, you’re on your own.

but what kind of partner would he be if he didn’t know you? if he hadn’t memorized and kissed every mole, freckle, and blemish adorning your body? he knew you better than you realized, although you could never fully accept the fact that he paid attention to you, remembered your likes and dislikes, and knew your habits and routines like the back of his hand, all just because he loves you.

and when he comes home from work to an empty house, searching for any traces of you, he’s not worried. he has an idea of where you are and he knows that all he needs to do is text you, if he's curious. and he doesn’t immediately push his assumptions onto you about why you might be out and where; he knows you can take care of yourself and that you’ll communicate your needs to him. so when he texts you, it's not that he's demanding that you come home or ot tell him your whereabouts. rather, his texts are just to let you know he cares and is waiting for you at home.

sakunosuke ♡ : i’m home, just wanted to let you know

sakunosuke ♡ : text me if you need anything. and be safe

if he sees that you haven’t at least read his message within an hour or if he just can't wait to see you when you get home, whenever that may be, he already knows where to find you nine times out of 10. he’ll text the owner of his favorite curry shop, asking him if he’s seen you while already on his way down to the restaurant.

it's usually where he can find you there when you’re feeling down; braiding sakura’s hair, folding their laundry, coloring with one of the boys, helping out downstairs in the kitchen, or wherever else you can find a place to keep yourself busy. he knows that you’re always like this when you’re upset, and if you won’t take the day off to take care of yourself, then he will do it for you happily and well. he won’t even try to pull you away from what you’re doing–he’ll simply sit down with you, grabbing his own colored pencil while making small talk with the kids, giving you a small smile when you realize he's come into the room. or suddenly he’s next to you, helping you carry and hang up laundry, or drying off the dishes you’re washing.

and then before you know it, you’re walking home with him, hand in hand, a plastic bag rustling in his free one. you’ve both stopped to get food on the way home, and once you make it there, he’s immediately sitting you down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “let me do everything, love.” he’ll help you out of your clothes into something more comfortable, holding your hair back while you wash your face and clean up, he’ll pull your chair out for you as you sit back down, and run a hand through your hair, keeping any stray strands out of your face as you eat. 

outside of the house, you can bury your feelings as much as you want to and work to please others, but at home with him, you’re the focus. you’re the one who’s honored and worshipped in the house. sakunosuke’s not letting you lift a finger if he can help it, and you can’t get away with continuing to ignore your feelings when his only desire is to help you.

and you’ll tell him what’s bothering you when you’re ready. he knows that after how long you both have been together. and so in the meantime, he’ll wait patiently, showering you with all the love in the world. ♡

[barcapix]

lando norris long distance ship??? 💗

✮ Long Distance - Lando Norris

Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

SY: Your usual routine of calls with your boyfriend suspiciously stopped one night, leading to doubts about your relationship. Obliviously, he flew out to see you.

A/N: CONFLICTED idk how to feel about this

Warnings: nonee

You, Monaco. Lando, Doha.

Long distance was hard, especially when he was countries away now. Far, far away.

Since he departed Monaco, you two would always keep in touch and he would always make an effort to call you. Every. Single. Night.

Until today.

The clock on your nightstand glowed 8:56pm, your usual hour for bed rotting time and in the comforting presence of your boyfriend.

But not tonight.

You tried to lose yourself in the words on the page, but your mind kept wandering. Wandering to one place in particular: Lando.

He didn’t call you back.

Heck, he didn’t even call you at all.

Hands limp, you snuck your phone into your palms, glancing at the amount of standing calls you gave your boyfriend throughout the day.

Then the messages he never replied to, never read. Then it was the tiktoks you spammed him with — no reply.

He normally did, so why not today?

As though the world knew you needed a distraction, your sister, Kat, bounced into your room and immediately jumped onto your bed whilst sending the pillows flying.

"Whatcha reading?" she asked, her voice muffled by your shirt; her head resting onto your shoulder and peering over to your book.

You shrugged. “Nothing.”

Kat hummed, tapping her fingertips onto your forearm.

“Do you miss him?” her tone soft. “Lando.”

You pause, taken aback by the question.

How did she know?

“Everyday.” you admit, breaking away from the book in your lap. You lace your fingers in between the pages, resting it on your stomach.

“Then why don’t you go see him? Better yet why doesn’t he come see you?” Kat questions, a suspicious glimpse in her eyes.

You raise an eyebrow, unbeknownst to her stupidity. “Don’t you know that he has like the Qatar race in like 2 days?”

“And?”

“Andd he’s too busy.” you finish for her, picking up your book again. She would always bewilder you in the most unexpected ways that never failed to annoy you.

The syllables in your words cracked, your voice weak and small. You hated how vulnerable you sounded.

Kat drapes her legs ontop of your knees, stretching across your frame. “Busy wouldn’t stop love babes.”

“He does love me.” you gulp.

“Mm.” she hums, contradictory smiling.

“He does.” you firmly spit, getting increasingly frustrated — that smug look on her face pitiful.

Although you tried your best to not let it get consume you, her words were lingering around your brain, now seemingly flooded with so many questions and no answers.

Why didn’t he call you? Was he really that busy?

Did he even miss you at all?

Just as you were staring to get caught up in the doubts for the second time, a sudden lash on your window pulled you from your thoughts, startling the pair of you.

“Is that rain?” she sits up and kicks her slippers back on. “Hold on, check your window! I’ll check mine.”

“Why don’t you just check mi-” The slam of the door interrupting your words.

You sigh, neatly placing a bookmark between pages 103-104 and climb over to your window to open your blinds.

“Rain?” you mutter quietly. Ultimately, you’re confused because there’s no sign of rain on the panes at all.

However, when you pulled back the blinds, you didn't see any raindrops on the pane. That was, until a small pebble hit the glass and slid down, leaving a tiny crack in its trail.

You peer down at the ground, a small man standing at the foot of your garden, a handful of pebbles in his hand and a devastatingly charming smile etched across his lips.

You would recognise that smile from anywhere.

“Lando? Lando!” you squeal and run past the walls of the house and out the front door.

Every step was heavier than the last, your heart swirling and spinning against your ribs.

You hastily swing the front door wide, carrying yourself to his arms and crashing down onto his shoulder, eagerly wrapping your arms around the nape of his neck.

Lando pulls you in ever so firmly, his biceps contracting around your waist. The brunette lets out a sigh of relief, with your chest rising and falling rapidly to his heartbeat.

“How’d you get here? The Qater Grand Pix starts soon!” you amuse, breathless.

“Yeah well I have time.” he smiles, cupping your cheeks. You both knew he had no time, yet he still made time.

“God I love you.” he says, sweetly kissing the top of your nose. “I love you too.”

A small pinge of guilt pierced your heart and mind foggy. Your ability to doubt him so quickly was so unreasonable and he proved it to you tonight.

Your sister came running out to the pair of you, spitting out confetti, stuck in the strands of your hair.

“Was that really nessecary Kat?” you spin your head around and laugh.

“Of course it was! Perfect timing.” she giggles, awkwardly sprinting back to the porch to admire her baby sister from afar.

Lando pulls his chin from the top of your head, bodies still intertwined. “She has to bring confetti everywhere doesn’t she?” he mumbles, dusting the colourful pieces from your hair.

“Maybe just for us. She seems to carry it when it’s just me and you.” you lopsidedly grin.

“Yeah well,” he trails off, kissing every inch of your face he could reach. “If it means you look this adorable with rainbow flecks in your hair, she can do it more often.”

You reach up to peck his lips as he leans down to mirror your kiss. “Oh you.”

The world around you stopped spinning, your heartache paused and the feeling of being loved again consumed you whole.

Lando was back. In your arms, again.

tag: @n0vazsq

[mari-positas]

conflicted

Raider! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: Your captor gives you a bath. You have some conflicting feelings when he touches you.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. RAIDER ERA. DARK!JOEL. DUBCON. also tagging elements of NONCON just to be on the safe side. UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 50). READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION. mentions of Joel’s group murdering reader’s group, Joel killed her father, mention of blood, Joel pretty much kidnaps reader and keeps her as his own. pet names (baby, babygirl, honey, pretty girl, little girl), daddy kink, very minimal editing.

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS.

if this isn’t your thing, that’s fine, just scroll on by.

word count: <1k

a/n: this is a bit less than a blurb. a blurb of a blurb. a blurbette, if you will. i shelled it out in like less than an hour. to me it is part of the captive universe, but can be read as a standalone! please be advised that this is not fleshed out at all, i just felt like writing something that didn’t require too much brain power.

He pours one last pail of hot water into the tub.

“How’s the water?” he asks you.

His voice is so deep. Rich, like molasses. 

It’s also laced with a southern accent, you’d noticed.

Aware he’s still waiting for an answer, you shrug.

He tries again. “S’not too hot, is it?”

He had ordered one of the women in the group to start a fire and boil water collected from the stream they had stumbled upon just a mile south of the small cottage.

“Seriously, Joel?” Angela had glared at him. “I am not a fucking maid.” Hands planted on her hips, she foolishly added, “If I’m gonna haul and boil water for a bath, it’s gonna be for me, alright? Not for that little fucking brat of yours.”

His switchblade had gone straight to her throat.

“Fuckin’ say that again,” Joel hissed, the sharp edge of the blade lightly slicing into her flesh. “Call her that one more time and see what fuckin’ happens.”

She apologized and then got to work, completing the task within a couple of hours.

Finally, you answer his question.

“Water’s fine,” you mumble. It’s hot, but not scalding.

“Good.”

Joel kneels beside the tub.

Flinching, you hunch over and pull your legs up against your chest.

It doesn’t matter. He’s already seen you naked.

He’s the one who had undressed you, after all.

Dipping a washcloth into the water, Joel instructs, “Sit up straight, honey.”

Honey.

The pet name makes you feel sick to your stomach.

You’re not his honey. You’re his prisoner.

He frowns, the creases between his brows deepening.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, pretty girl.”

Obediently, you nod and the water sloshes around you as do what he says.

You saw what he was capable of. You’re terrified of him.

With a satisfied hum, he begins washing you.

It had been three days since the massacre. Joel gently scrubs away the crimson caked onto your skin and the color of the water turns to rust. You don’t know whose blood you’ve been wearing—could it be your father’s?

He had been standing in front of you when his life was taken by the very same man that knelt beside you. Had his blood splattered on you? Was it being cleaned off by the same man who had so violently spilled it?

Your stomach lurches at the thought.

He had been trying to protect you during the ambush.

Your father had been trying to fucking protect you.

And Joel Miller had killed him.

He had killed him just to get to you.

Joel runs the washcloth down your arm, his dark gaze dragging over every inch of your body. “Such a pretty, pretty little girl,” he murmurs. Dropping the washcloth into the water, he gently cups one of your breasts in his large hand. He sweeps his thumb over your nipple and lightly teases the pebbled flesh, his digit circling it until it becomes a stiff peak.

Your eyes flutter closed and you inhale sharply.

There’s a strange feeling in your lower belly.

Strange because it’s not entirely unpleasant.

He trails his hand lower, raking over your tummy.

Lower.

Lower.

Lower.

He rests his palm over the mound of your pussy.

Gasping, your thighs clench together.

You’d like to think it’s to keep him out, to keep him from violating you further, but the burning pressure building in between your hips seems to be saying otherwise.

Horrified, you squeeze your thighs even tighter.

No. Don’t let him in.

But what if your resistance led him to force his way in?

You shudder, unable to decide which would be worse.

Joel leans forward over the bathtub, pressing his lips to your temple. “Don’t fight it, honey. S’okay that it feels good,” he mumbles against your skin. “It’s s’pposed to feel good when I touch you, baby.”

No, it’s fucking not!

Bowing your head, quietly begin to sob.

He wraps his arms around you. “Don’t cry, babygirl,” he soothes. “Don’t cry. Daddy’s gonna take real good care of you. I promise I’ll always take good care of you.”

His vow makes you cry even harder.

divider credit @saradika 🤍

[ducksido]

HELLO DUCKSIDO! Hope your day has been well :) I have an idea!!!

Diasomnia boys with a weirdo reader. Weird as in staring for too long, randomly tearing up because they find the guys pretty, gifting the boys shiny things, mimicking members of Diasomnia so that they’d be more liked, etc. It’s not born out of anything bad, they genuinely just don’t know how to socialize!

Akvhsuckebwhd hope this request isn’t too specific :( You can ignore it if you want! Thanks Ducksido, bye bye!!!!

[HELLO ANON!!!!! i've had a good day :)]

🌙 MALLEUS DRACONIA

You’ve been staring at him for five minutes straight. Again. Malleus just tilts his head, waiting patiently.

“Child of man, is something on my face?” he asks calmly.

When you start tearing up and blubber, “No, it’s just—you’re so PRETTY, it’s not fair,” he’s... speechless. And then flustered.

Gifts him a shiny rock? A bead you found in a hallway? He treasures it so sincerely. He’ll even ask you to tell him where you found it, because he wants to remember that moment.

When you start mimicking his speech patterns (e.g., “Such quaint customs your kind practice,” said with complete seriousness), he just smiles so warmly. He doesn’t think you’re mocking him at all—he thinks you’re making an effort to connect.

Honestly? Malleus is delighted by your strange behavior. It reminds him of fae customs, which are often misunderstood by humans too. He finds you refreshingly genuine.

🦇 LILIA VANROUGE

He notices everything. The staring. The sudden nosebleed when he winks at you. The fact you started wearing your uniform the same way he does.

Lilia’s absolutely thrilled and a little bit evil about it.

“Fufu~ Are you trying to become a mini-me, dear? I must say, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

When you give him shiny offerings (a necklace chain, a glittery pen), he jokingly bows like you’ve just pledged fealty to him.

But when you nervously confess, “I don’t know how to talk to people but I really like you guys,” he drops the teasing for a moment and gives you a small, genuine smile.

“Then just keep being yourself. You’re doing great, batling.”

⚡ SEBEK ZIGVOLT

“WHY ARE YOU STARING—!!!” Cue flustered Sebek.

At first, he thinks you’re mocking Malleus-sama, especially when you mimic his mannerisms or way of speaking. He’s ready to defend his honor.

But then you sniffle, “I just wanna fit in with you guys... you’re all so cool...”

His brain breaks. He didn’t expect this level of emotional vulnerability.

He starts loudly insisting, “YOUR DEVOTION TO THE YOUNG MASTER IS COMMENDABLE!” and tries to coach you in "proper social conduct"—but like, in Sebek language, which is... not very subtle.

Secretly very proud when you give him a shiny pin and say, “This reminded me of you! Loud and sparkly!”

💤 SILVER

You gift him a silver button and quietly say, “Because your name is Silver. I thought it’d match.”

He blinks slowly, then gives you the softest smile. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

Doesn’t mind the staring—he actually sometimes falls asleep while you’re staring, which makes it incredibly awkward when he wakes up and you’re still sitting there like 🧍.

He can tell you’re trying your best to connect. When he sees you mimicking Lilia’s posture or Sebek’s shouting, he gently says, “You don’t have to act like us. We already like you as you are.”

Will absolutely keep any gift you give him, no matter how random (a sparkly gum wrapper, a bead bracelet, a shiny pebble). He puts them all in a little pouch and wears it when he patrols.

OVERALL DIASOMNIA REACTION:

At first: confusion. Then: quiet acceptance. Then: “Wait. We like this one. Keep them.”

Your behavior is odd to others, but to them, it’s kind of charming—like a fae creature mimicking human ways.

None of them are particularly socially normal themselves, so they totally get the whole "affection through shinies and mimicry" thing.

[dcangel]

^stiles would be SUCH a whore for tits

especially after an awful week, he’s just looking forward to hanging out with you. he wasn’t expecting anything from you, as usual, but when you laid down while he was kissing you, tugging his shirt for him to get on top of you, he got the hint.

he knew you probably had something more planned for him, but stiles was just happy to be here with you, let alone lined up for a good night. his jean-clad hips were situated between your spread thighs, his hands respectfully at your waist despite what you had told him about wanting him in a not so respectful way.

one hand slid up your torso and briefly rested at the base of your neck before finding home in your hair, tugging gently at the roots.

his other hand gets a little more adventurous; sliding up your torso with his thumb hooked under the hem of your shirt. the fabric is brought up, slowly revealing a gorgeous black and red lace patterned bra, a small bow in the middle where the underwire of each cup met, and neat roses lining the top. stiles was too invested in your lips to notice, but when he felt the foreign texture beneath his calloused fingertips, he took a quick peek down.

you felt his lips detach from yours. stiles was staring down as the pretty article of clothing that really did nothing to hide your hardened nipples. his jaw hung agape, yet his lips were barely parted.

he’d never seen you in such clothing. sure, you’d worn patterned bras before, but you’ve never worn lingerie for him.

stiles swore he’s never seen something prettier, someone more angelic. the ineffable beauty of his girl took every word—every thought that didn’t contain you right out of his brain.

you broke him and it was obvious. you could nearly see the gears malfunctioning behind his eyes as he tried to process the alluring sight in front of him.

you watched as stiles’ eyes skimmed over the neatly threaded fabric and the skin underneath, not a single thought of even looking up at you yet. his large hands immediately cupping the doughy mounds, thumb smoothing over your pebbled nipple.

“you like it? I just got it last week, ’nd I was saving it for—well, was gonna save it for your birthday but you were having a bad week, so…”

“you—it’s,” he blew an hefty breeze of air from his mouth as if he couldn’t believe his eyes, “I can’t believe you’d do this for me. I mean, you’re, like, so unbelievably gorgeous right now—no, I mean, you always are, but right now you’re…” brown eyes flickered up to yours briefly, but dropped back down like an invisible force was attracting them like a magnet.

smiling at his hyperactive mind that his mouth often struggled to keep up with, you brought his blushed face back down you yours, his swollen lips fervently meeting yours with esurience.

of course his hands never left your chest. long, slender fingers cupped and squished the soft, doughy mounds of flesh. he could not get over the way you looked in his favorite color. stiles’ appreciation for the color deepened along with the feeling of need.

and suddenly it was like stiles couldn’t scrape the image of fucking you, with nothing on your body except this little bra, out of his mind. it’s was as if he couldn’t imagine not having you like this whenever he wanted, and he knew you’d agree.

[solxamber]

Can i please request a reader/yuu x rollo where rollo is either visiting or like that popular hc comes to stay and live in ramshackle and over hears reader admitting they have a huge crush on him? Grimm is out here like human. Why. And reader is like he's respectful, he's curious about my world he's the only guy who was ever actually concerned about me, and rollo is like wow the bar is in HELL but I'll blow their mind fr.

Ty!!

Rollo Flamme x reader

Rollo my beloved!!! Thank you for the request <3

Rollo hadn’t planned to spy, but the creaky, haunted vibe of Ramshackle Dorm seemed to have a mind of its own, and before he knew it, he found himself standing outside the door, frozen in place by the sound of your voice.

“Grim, I’m telling you. He’s perfect.”

There was a pause. Grim’s voice cut through the quiet, pure disbelief oozing from his every word. “Henchman. Why. Why him?”

You sighed, like this was the fiftieth time you’d had this conversation, and honestly? It probably was. “He’s respectful, Grim. He’s curious about my world, he’s smart, and—wait for it—he’s the only guy here who has ever been actually concerned about me.”

Rollo blinked. Wait. Was this about him? Surely not—he, the paragon of discipline and order, the man who sought to rid the world of dangerous magic, couldn’t possibly have inspired such devotion. Could he?

Grim made an audible smack sound, probably facepalming in disbelief. “Respectful?! Henchhuman, he hates magic. He tried to murder everyone with flowers! That’s not romantic!”

You groaned. “Okay, but like… he’s intense, yeah, but have you seen the chaos magic causes around here? He’s got a point! And anyway, it’s kinda… hot?”

Grim let out the most exasperated sigh a fire cat can muster. “The bar is in hell, Henchhuman. I mean, the floor. It’s not even a bar anymore; it’s a speed bump. A pebble.”

“Look,” you huffed, “he clears it with room to spare! He listens to me, Grim! He doesn’t call me weird for being from another world. He’s… thoughtful. And he’s got a great voice. And! He didn’t try to blow me up, unlike some people here.”

Rollo’s eyebrows shot up. They really were talking about him. His mind swirled, caught somewhere between confusion, amusement, and, dare he say it, a spark of pride. You thought he was thoughtful? Respectful? Hot?

Meanwhile, Grim’s brain was clearly on the verge of short-circuiting. “Henchhuman, I can’t—look, what about Leona? At least he doesn’t wanna purge all magic. He just naps!”

You snorted. “Leona? He’s practically allergic to effort. At least Rollo has ambition. He cares about something.”

Rollo, leaning against the side of Ramshackle, ran a hand through his hair. Alright, this was too much. He needed to intervene before you said something even more embarrassing for both of you. He straightened up and knocked lightly on the door.

Inside, Grim screeched, “Oh great, you summoned him with your weird crush energy!”

You jumped, scrambling to look composed as you opened the door, revealing Rollo standing there, an unreadable expression on his face. “R-Rollo! What a… surprise! What are you doing here?”

Rollo blinked, his mind still reeling from everything he’d just overheard. “I… was in the area and thought I would stop by. To see how you were adjusting.”

Grim, squinting with all the suspicion of a small goblin, pointed an accusing paw at you. “Adjusting, my tail. They’re over here writing sonnets about how you’re, like, the best thing since sliced bread.”

Rollo’s lips twitched upward in a smug smirk as he glanced between you and Grim. “Is that so?”

You wanted to dissolve into the floor. “Grim is exaggerating.”

Grim was not having it. “Oh, am I? You said, and I quote, ‘he’s the only guy who’s ever cared about me.’”

Your face burned, and you were about two seconds away from chasing Grim into the wilderness. “Grim.”

Rollo, on the other hand, was practically glowing. “It seems I’ve left quite the impression.” He leaned in slightly, voice low and soft. “But I must say, I had no idea your opinion of me was so… glowing.”

You stared, at a total loss for words, while Grim loudly pretended to gag in the background.

Rollo, emboldened by the chaos (and maybe just a tiny bit flattered by how pathetically low your bar was), took a step closer, his tone growing more teasing. “The bar may be in hell, as your companion said, but I’ll be sure to exceed it. I promise you that.”

You blinked, brain short-circuiting under the intensity of his gaze. “Uh—well—thanks?”

Grim threw his paws in the air. “This is the worst. The actual worst.”

Rollo, amused by Grim’s melodramatics, turned his attention back to you. “If you think this is impressive, just wait. You’ll see what true concern looks like.”

You let out a nervous laugh. “What, like… flowers that won’t try to choke everyone?”

Rollo’s eyes glinted, a teasing smile pulling at his lips. “Exactly. Much more benign this time. Perhaps something to show how… thoughtful I can be.”

You could practically hear Grim’s soul leaving his body as he groaned, dragging a paw down his face. “This is the end. I’m leaving. I’ll be at Heartslabyul.”

As Grim shuffled out in defeat, Rollo gave you one last, knowing smile. “Until next time,” he said smoothly, turning to leave. “And perhaps, next time, you won’t need to admit your feelings through your… furry associate.”

You were pretty sure you blacked out for a solid five seconds, and when you came to, Grim was gone, Rollo was halfway down the path, and you were left with the overwhelming feeling that you’d just set yourself up for a whirlwind of chaos.

But to be honest? You were kind of excited about it.

Masterlist

[melshifting]

⋆˚࿔ shifting pick a pile: what's blocking you from shifting? ―୨୧⋆ ˚

disclaimer: I need you to remember that this is a collective reading, which means that not everything written here may resonate with you 100%; if it's not for you, let it go.

choose an image below!

.☘︎ ݁˖ For my pile 1...

you can't seem to detach yourself from your “unsuccessful” attempts - like, they have an actual chokehold on you damn. You constantly punish yourself with your past mistakes as if they were outside your house, knocking on your door every second.

this blocks you because you let it, let's be honest babes. You think you won't be able to shift if you don't get rid of your doubts/fears or don't have everything organized in your DR first (but news flash: YOU CAN). You think it's something bigger than you, that it's the most difficult obstacle; when in reality, it's just a small pebble in a wide path.

how to overcome that? easy, let everything flow. I knowwww it's easier said than done, but honey, you need to do that to get out of your head for a moment. Let go of the doubts, blockages, and intrusive thoughts and just get to shift with ease. Know that it is, in fact, possible to shift with an unfinished script or whatever you may be anxious about.

.☘︎ ݁˖ For my pile 2...

your problem is…a lack of knowledge? but not because you have to know things about shifting as if you were studying for an exam, but because you feel you need it to get there. You think that understanding why or how it "works" will help you. You're trying to find a logical twist to something that doesn't necessarily have one.

i'm (not) gonna hold your hand when I say this… "logic" blocks your intuition!!!! Thinking with the logic of this reality makes shifting lose its magic, and you don't trust your power―hey, I'm not saying that you can't enjoy investigating concepts, theories, or whatever; but don't limit yourself to restricting shifting itself, yk? See shifting as something your heart leads, not your brain.

my advice to get out of this is simply... enjoy the magic of the unknown. (Try to) open your mind beyond what you know and simply fall in love with it; be content with not knowing; you won't be hurt by the unknown this time.

.☘︎ ݁˖ For my pile 3...

i'm sorry to say this, but jealousy is a disease babes, and you're full of it.―you're so dependent on other people's processes that you fail to focus on your own, which is just as important. You like to see/hear/read success stories, but you can't help but wonder, 'when will it happen to me...?'

obviously what this mentality leads to is… ding ding ding ding! envy. Even if it is underneath, even if you want to hide it, behind that happy feeling for someone else's success, you want to have it too. As I said before, comparing your own process becomes so consuming that you become more focused on others' experiences.

but good news! healing is within you. Please, I BEG YOU: talk to yourself, give yourself compliments, and remind yourself that you are just as capable of making it as anyone else―change on the inside so that it can be reflected on the outside. Polish that confidence that for some reason you don't want to let out; love yourself.

thanks a lot for reading! feedback and opinions are appreciated (as long as they are respectful)

happy shifting :3

[sugardollcurse]

Heyyy 😏😏😏

I would like to request something with Billy Shears huehuehuehue. Maybe reader had a crush on Paul and Paul either didn’t reciprocate or just didn’t know but after he got replaced Billy starts flirting and all that stuff and maybe he is a little freaky scary but then they BANG I love his mustache god he looks SO GOOD AAUAUGGHH

𝑛𝑢𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 | billy shears x reader

𐙚 contains; nsfw!! minors dni! female anatomy, light corruption, reader’s a little fucked up about it and so is he

𐙚 summary ; you had a crush on paul. now you’re not sure who he is. and you’re not sure you care.

𐙚 note ; haii angel mwah mwah!! this is my attempt at making it not weird but also making it make sense..?! anyway i am so into him.. gosh. you know he’s a freak.

It started with the mustache.

You weren’t stupid. People thought you were, sometimes, because you smiled when it wasn’t required, because you liked pretty things (Paul), because you didn’t say much. But you’d known Paul. You knew Paul. His voice, his walk, the way his eyes always flicked down and to the left when he was lying.

This wasn’t Paul.

This was something with Paul’s shape and voice and mouth, but not his soul. Not the boy you’d carried a torch for since Hamburg. Not the one who’d kissed your cheek once after a gig and never looked at you that way again.

This one did look at you that way.

From the moment you stepped into the room, his eyes dragged across you like molasses. Slow. Heavy. Possessive. You felt it low in your belly, deep in the place that made you ache.

And God, the mustache.

Paul had been clean-cut, always trying to be the nice one. This creature in his skin, had let the softness go. The new growth made his mouth look dangerous. Delicious. Like he’d taste like smoke and secrets.

You should’ve been scared. Or confused.

But you weren’t.

You were curious.

Not afraid. Not shocked. Not even, really, surprised.

The change had been gradual, almost clever. A new mannerism here, a shift in phrasing there. Paul’s hair got longer. His smile changed shape, smaller, less eager to please, less boyish. Then there was the mustache. The one that made you stare the first time you saw it, some ridiculous day in late ‘66. Not because it looked bad, God no! But because it looked��� good. Too good. Like a lie told with a wink. Like a costume piece that somehow fit too perfectly.

It scratched at the back of your brain. Like déjà vu in reverse. Like you were remembering something that hadn’t happened yet.

And the thing was, you’d liked Paul. The real Paul. Or the old one. Whatever. You had liked him the way you liked old cinema, or rainy afternoons, wistfully. Tenderly. He’d been nice. Genuinely nice. Charming in a boy-next-door way, almost bashful sometimes. You’d had a quiet crush, one of those ones you carried around like a pebble in your pocket... small, secret, only meaningful to you.

But he’d never looked at you. Not really.

And then this new one had.

Billy walked into the studio one day and looked straight at you like he already knew what you tasted like.

That was the day you stopped pretending nothing was different.

You should’ve been disturbed. Everyone else seemed to be. Or confused, at least. You caught John once, staring at him with an expression you couldn’t read, half boredom, half suspicion. George seemed on edge all the time now, strung tighter than his guitar strings. Even Ringo had started giving little side-eyes when Billy spoke a certain way, like he wasn’t sure if the man sitting beside him was still the one who used to split chips after a gig.

You just watched.

Watched him take up more space. Watched him lean back in his chair like he owned the air in the room. Watched the way his smirk curled different now, more self-assured, more wicked. Watched the way he looked at you.

And you teased him for it.

You couldn’t help it.

At first it was harmless. Casual. He’d walk past and you’d ask, all sugar, “New shoes?” even though they were clearly not. You’d tug the brim of his cap down over his eyes when he got too cocky. You started leaning over the mixing table just a bit too far, letting him see how unbothered you were.

Then you upped the ante.

"Where's the real Paul, then?” you asked him one day, flipping through notes with feigned innocence. “Buried in the garden? Or did you eat him?”

He looked up from tuning his bass, grinned slow. “What d’you mean, love?”

Your heart kicked. Love.

You tilted your head. “Nothing. Just feels like you’ve got more teeth than you used to.”

He chuckled. “I’ve got the same mouth.”

“That’s debatable.”

You walked off before he could respond, knowing he was watching you the whole way.

⸻

You mentioned it to John once, mostly to see what kind of answer you'd get.

You were backstage, John elbow-deep in a bag of crisps, feet kicked up on a flight case. The others were still loading in, and Billy was off somewhere probably charming a reporter or a sound tech or a wall.

“So,” you asked, casually, “when did Paul get replaced?”

John didn’t blink. Didn’t even look at you at first. Just kept chewing.

Then, “You one of those then?”

“What, a conspiracy nut?”

He shrugged. “People say things.”

You watched him. He didn’t seem uncomfortable. Just… unreadable.

“You’re not denying it,” you said.

John popped another crisp in his mouth, sucked the salt off his fingers. “You denying it?”

You smiled. “I didn’t say I minded.”

That made him look at you. Really look.

For a moment, John studied your face like it was something written in a language he only half-remembered. Then he smirked.

“You’re strange.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Most people’d be upset if someone died and got replaced by some cheeky bastard in a new suit... y'know, if it were true.”

You leaned back in your chair. “Yeah. Most people.”

There was a long pause.

“You alright?” he asked, not in a mocking way.

You shrugged. “Not really.”

John huffed out a laugh. “Fair enough.”

⸻

It got worse, or better, after that.

Billy started turning the screws, and you let him.

He’d catch your eye in the control booth and raise an eyebrow like he could hear your thoughts. He’d stand too close when you passed each other in the halls, hand brushing your back, fingers ghosting your elbow. One time, in a lift, you felt his breath on your neck and didn’t move away. You heard him smile.

It wasn’t subtle.

And you were a bastard about it.

“You ever gonna stop staring at me?” you asked him once, alone in a hallway with peeling green walls and no real lighting.

“Not planning to,” he said, not even pretending to look away.

You grinned. “You know, you used to write about people like me.”

He raised an eyebrow, trying to play off what you just said as a joke. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. People you didn’t shag.”

He laughed, low and slow, and stepped into your space.

“Then I’ll have to be more creative, won’t I?”

Your stomach flipped.

You couldn’t tell if you hated him or wanted to crawl into his lap and lick the smirk off his mouth.

Maybe both, you thought about it late at night.

Not Paul. Not really. But the shape of him. What it meant that something, or someone, could just step in and be him and somehow make it work. Was it still him if it made you want him more? Was that fucked up? Probably. Did you care? Not really. You think you liked this Paul better.

He was sharp where Paul had been smooth. Wicked where Paul had been sweet. He said things that made your skin crawl in the best way, with his tongue in his cheek and his voice like honey left out too long. You wanted to see how far he’d push it. You wanted to push back.

⸻

You were curious still.

And he was getting impatient.

Billy had been walking that tightrope with you for weeks, maybe longer. Each time your eyes lingered too long, each teasing comment you dropped like a lit match into the air between you, he let it burn. He’d been smiling, cocking his head, playing along. But there was something in him now, ticking louder each time you said nothing when he said too much. Each time your gaze held something like suspicion and something like want, and never settled on either. It was as if you knew he wasn't Paul. That was making him uneasy.

He wanted to crack you open and see what you’d do when there were no more games.

He started that night, late again, another studio after-hours moment you had no right to still be awake for. You’d been sitting on the sofa flipping through Paul’s old notebook. The real Paul’s, his, not his. Lyrics, doodles, bits of songs that had never quite grown up. You were humming something under your breath. Something unfinished.

Billy came in, quiet, movements fluid. He’d stopped bothering to knock. You didn’t stop flipping pages when he dropped into the seat beside you.

“You looking for something?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Looking’s not the same as expecting to find anything.”

He leaned back. Watched you.

“Funny,” he murmured. “You poke and prod like you’re digging for a secret, but you don’t ask any real questions.”

“I don’t need to,” you said without looking up.

“No?”

“You’re not trying very hard to hide it.”

That made him go still.

“Hide what, exactly?”

You turned a page. “Whatever it is you are.”

The silence sharpened.

He let out a laugh, low and mean. “You’re really something, y'know that?”

You just raised an eyebrow. Waited.

He leaned forward. “You want me to say it? You want me to admit it, yeah? That I'm a good boy who learned the part well enough that you couldn’t help yourself?”

Your pulse jumped. “I didn’t say I couldn’t help myself.”

“No, but you keep acting like you’re too clever to fall for it.” His eyes burned. “And yet, you’re still here. Still staring at me like you want to fuck the difference out of me.”

Your throat tightened.

“I never said-”

“You never said anything!” he interrupted. “That’s the problem. You just let me hang there. Let me talk circles around it while you play innocent and clever.”

He shifted closer. You could feel the heat of him, even through the tension crackling in your limbs.

“Maybe I am him,” he whispered, voice like warm breath behind your ear. “Maybe I’m not. You think it matters now?”

Your hand curled around the edge of the notebook. “Why does it matter so much to you?”

“Because you look at me like I’m something cracked open,” he said, eyes gleaming. “Like you want to crawl inside and see what’s left. And I keep waiting for the disgust. For the oh God what have I done. But it’s not coming, is it?”

He reached out, his fingers brushing your jaw, gentle but insistent.

“You like this,” he said. “You like me. Not because I’m a ghost of something you used to love. But because I’m not. Because I see you.”

You swallowed.

“And what do you see?”

His smile was slow, dangerous. “Someone who’s too smart to pretend they’re confused.”

You licked your lips. “You’re very sure of yourself.”

He leaned in.

But it wasn’t soft.

There was nothing delicate about the way his mouth dragged across yours. It wasn’t a kiss, it was a claim, the kind people made when they had something to prove and something to lose. You didn’t gasp prettily. You didn’t melt. You bit his lip. Not hard enough to bleed, but hard enough to say, you don’t get to be in control here.

He tasted like ego. Like something borrowed, something stolen. His hands found your waist like he was trying to memorize the shape of you under pressure, but you pushed back just as fiercely, nails dragging up his arms through his shirt, marking the fabric. If he wanted to pretend he was Paul, you’d make sure he walked out with bruises that weren’t his.

“Christ,” he muttered against your mouth, voice already ragged. “You’re nasty when you want to be.”

“You want sweet?” you said. “Dig up the last one.”

That made him laugh, a sharp, breathless sound that sounded too much like victory. His hand closed around your throat, not squeezing, just holding. His thumb traced your pulse like he was clocking the moment you gave in. You hadn’t.

Yet.

“Keep talking like that,” he said low, close, “and I’ll make sure you choke on my name. Whichever one you pick.”

You shoved him, hard, enough to rattle him back against the couch. He didn’t fall. Just smirked, smug and crooked.

“You like pretending you’re in charge, don't you?” you said, sliding into his lap like you had every right to be there.

His jaw flexed. Your weight in his lap told you exactly how much it had worked.

“You talk like you haven’t been thinking about this every night for weeks,” he said. “All your clever little digs... just a desperate way of saying please fuck me, I don’t care who you are.”

“Wrong!” you said, hands on either side of his face. “It’s I know exactly who you are. And I want you anyway.”

That did something. His fingers dug into your hips like he’d just realized they were real. That you were real. That this wasn’t a game anymore.

“Prove it,” he said.

You ground down, just once, just enough to make his breath catch.

“I’m already letting you breathe,” you whispered. “How much more proof do you need?”

And then you kissed him again, harder this time. With teeth. With intention.

He made a sound against your mouth, half startled, half amused, like you’d finally proved him right. His hands dragged up your back, rough through the fabric, not looking for comfort, just for contact. You bit at his lower lip again and he swore into your mouth, fingers tightening like he might leave prints.

“Not shy now, are you?” he murmured when he pulled back, just far enough to breathe. His voice was hoarse, nearly wrecked already.

You reached between you without ceremony, slipping your hand past his waistband, palming him through the front of his trousers with all the tenderness of a punch.

He jerked a little, hissed, and grinned like a bastard.

“Oh, bloody hell-you’re not even pretending, are you!?”

You leaned in, teeth grazing the corner of his jaw. “Wouldn’t know how.”

He caught your wrist, not to stop you, he guided you instead, like he wanted to feel every inch of your hand over him, deliberate and mean. His breath stuttered. His cock was already heavy under your touch, warm through the fabric, twitching each time your grip shifted.

His eyes had dropped, were watching your hand now, dragging slow up and down the line of him. His hips lifted, greedy for friction, but you eased off just enough to make him groan.

“Tease,” he breathed.

You smiled, voice steady. “Loser.”

And then he moved. Fast. No warning. His hands were on your shoulders, grip iron-rough, shoving you back onto the couch in a single fluid motion, your body bouncing once, breath punched out of you as he leaned over, pinning you down with his weight and that look in his eye like there you are. That wicked, wild, I’ve got you now glint.

He hovered above you, one forearm pressed to the cushion beside your head, the other hand curled just under your jaw, firm but not cruel, just enough to remind you who was on top now.

He kissed you again then, hard and dragging, all tongue and teeth and noise. His hips sank down into yours, and you felt the hot press of him against you, not coy anymore, not half-hard and aching but ready, and you arched into it without thinking, a low, involuntary noise pulling from your throat like it had been waiting to be let out.

He ground into you once, deliberately, and smiled when you whimpered into his mouth.

Then he was everywhere.

Hands under your shirt, dragging the fabric up, nails grazing skin. He didn’t ask. He didn’t need to ask. You were already lifting your arms, letting him peel it off, watching his face as he took you in, eyes dropping, lips parted, that sharp glint turning something almost reverent for a flicker of a second.

And then it was gone again, his mouth was on your throat, open and wet, sucking a mark into the curve just below your ear, like he wanted to brand you.

“Keep still,” he muttered, biting just lightly. “I want this to stay.”

You shuddered.

His hand dragged down, fingers rough through the cotton of your shirt, over your stomach, and when he reached the waistband of your pants he didn’t pause. The button popped with a practiced flick, zipper tugged slow like he wanted you to feel every tooth peel apart. Your breath hitched. He leaned back enough to look, to watch as he tugged them down, your hips lifting, cooperating without shame. He peeled them off with your underwear in one motion, dragged them down past your thighs, baring you inch by inch, like unwrapping something already half-melted in his hand.

Then his fingers were there.

Two of them, tracing through your slick with a filthy kind of reverence, like he liked what you’d done to yourself just thinking about him. He circled your entrance slow, teasing the rim, not pushing yet, watching your face the whole time. Your hips bucked, greedy, and that made him grin, dark and smug.

Your breath stuttered. He was watching you too closely now, like he wanted to see the exact second your defiance turned to desperation.

It didn’t take long.

He pulled his fingers out and dragged them across your tongue before you could argue. You sucked them in anyway, eyes locked on his. His pupils flared.

He swore under his breath.

Then he was undoing his trousers, fumbling them low enough, shifting to line himself up, and you felt the hot weight of him at your entrance, the head dragging slow through your slick, teasing but not quite, he wanted you to beg.

You didn’t. Not out loud. But your body did. And he knew it.

He pushed in slow, watching your face the whole time.

When he bottomed out, you gasped, high, caught, and his expression turned animal. His hips snapped forward again, sharp this time, and you cried out.

And then he really started. The rhythm was brutal, nothing delicate, nothing sweet. Just need-his hips slamming into yours, hands gripping your thighs to keep them spread, jaw clenched as he drove deeper each time. You were writhing beneath him, every breath punched out on the end of a thrust, pleasure curling tight in your gut.

He reached up, grabbed your wrists, pinned them above your head with one hand.

“Keep them there,” he growled. “Be good.”

You nodded, biting your lip, and he leaned in to kiss you again, sloppier now, breathless, desperate. You kissed back like you were trying to take something from him, like you were trying to swallow whatever was left of Paul down and replace it with this.

You felt him press deeper, almost too much, and then he stayed there. Just ground in, thick and hot, pulsing faint against your walls while his breath went shaky near your ear.

But he didn’t finish. Didn’t even move.

He held you in place with one hand splayed over your lower stomach, the other still wrapped around your wrists where they were pinned above your head. His chest pressed against yours, heartbeat wild but slowing, like he was forcing himself to stop.

His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. “Not yet.”

Your head turned toward him slightly. “You’re gonna hold out now?”

He kissed the corner of your jaw, open-mouthed and warm. “Didn’t drag this out just to come like some teenager. You want it quick, I’ll leave and send you the other one.”

Your legs flexed around his hips on instinct, trying to pull him back in, but he’d already started moving, slow now, deliberately so. Deep, dragging strokes that had your whole body shivering under the weight of him. Every roll of his hips hit that spot, precise, devastating. You cursed low, hands twitching in his grip.

“You’re, God, doing it on purpose-”

“’Course I am,” he murmured, licking into your neck between words. “You make me wait, make me talk in circles, least I can do is make you sweat.”

He twisted his hips at the end of one stroke, and your eyes nearly rolled back.

“That’s the spot,” he said, smug but breathless. “Knew it’d shut you up.”

You made a strangled sound, part whimper, part curse. He kissed your throat in apology and did it again, slower this time. You felt your toes curl, stomach coil.

“Feel you clenchin’ already,” he said, teeth grazing your jaw. “Gonna come, aren’t you?”

You nodded before you meant to. He grinned against your skin.

And then he started to ruin you properly.

He shifted up onto his knees, hands catching your thighs and pulling your hips forward till they hung off the couch. The new angle hit deeper, ruthless. You cried out, head thrown back, heels digging into the cushions for leverage. He rolled his hips with measured force, dragging out every inch until it felt like too much, then pushing back in with a single, maddening thrust that made your chest arch.

Your hands found his shoulders, then his face, then his neck, anywhere you could touch, anything to keep yourself anchored. He felt good, not just physically, real. Present. Not a shadow of someone else, not a question mark with a smile.

You tugged him back down onto you, and it wasn’t pretty this time. It was open, panting, clumsy, his hips still moving in those long, brutal strokes while his mouth caught yours again and again.

Your thighs started to tremble. He felt it, groaned against your mouth.

“There it is,” he breathed, fucking you harder now, finally.

Your body snapped taut, everything clenched around him, pleasure cresting fast, hard, your second orgasm slamming through you before you could brace for it. You sobbed against his mouth, hands fisting in his hair as he rutted through it.

“Yes, that’s it, just like that, good-”

He barely finished the sentence before he lost it too.

You felt him go still. His hips buried deep, his whole body shaking as he spilled inside you, moaning low and wrecked, his head tucked against your throat. He thrust once more, slower, a final twitch of his hips as the tension broke. Then stillness, just breathing, heavy and ragged.

His body sagged down onto yours, weight comforting. His breath hit your collarbone in hot bursts. You curled a hand into his hair, not to guide him, just to keep him. You felt his mustache brush your skin again, lazy and soft now, the cocky edge stripped out of him like someone had wrung it from his spine.

After a long moment, he finally spoke.

Voice raw. Quiet.

“…Still think I’m pretending?”

You blinked up at the ceiling.

Then: “You’re not him.”

His shoulders stiffened faintly.

You slid your fingers up the back of his neck.

“But you’re something.”

He was silent for a moment. Then nodded.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Yeah, I think I am.”

You didn’t move. Neither did he.

The room was quiet, save for the slow, wet rhythm of your heartbeats returning to something human.

Whatever he was now, whoever he was, you had him.

And he had you.

taglist: @sharksausages, @wavvytin, @wimpyvamps, @finallyforgotten, @lennongirlieee, @alanangels

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

My brain is absolutely mush so I'm leaving Sky period sex smut here. Pat pat. I'm so sorry you have to deal with my demons.

Don't ever apologize because I LOVE YOUR BRAIN. Your Sky requests are breathing life into me, so don't you dare feel bad <3

Crimson Comfort

Pairing: Sky x Reader

Warning(s): Period sex :). Reader is assumed female because of menstruation

Masterlist

You awoke at the crack of dawn, when the sky was but a mere sliver in the darkened horizon. A beam of tangerine light shone through the small crack in the shades, nearly blinding you as you groaned and attempted to reshuffle into a position that wouldn't sacrifice your poor eyes to the sun's fiery wrath, which was proving slightly difficult with the heavy arm sling over your midsection.

Sky, per usual, was dead asleep, his back pushed so far against the wall that you were sure he would have tumbled to the floor had it not been there. You froze when he snorted in his slumber, face wrinkling so slightly that you almost missed it. The arm around your stomach tightened minutely, fingers digging into the flesh of your side.

You waited.

Sky let out another snort, expression relaxing.

You allowed yourself a huff of relief, carefully readjusting to face him, successfully warding off the sun for another few hours. Mission accomplished.

There was a rustle.

"...Morning," Sky's voice filtered through the calm, heavy with sleep. His eyes remained closed, but you knew it didn't make him any less alert.

Fuck, you swore internally, which was an appropriate thought considering the events that had occurred just last night and the fact that he'd managed to catch you off guard yet again. Instead of vocalizing your thoughts on the matter, you flushed a dark color and mumbled, "Go to sleep, the sun's not even up."

"Hm..." he hummed. Eyes the color of the stormy sea blinked open, pupils contracting slightly as he registered the golden light washing in from the window. He gazed at you through a thick, unbrushed mess of golden curls. A thin embroidered shirt separated your flesh when he pulled you closer, head rising to nose at your hair, breath huffing at the strands. "I can't," he decided after a moment. "Not when you're awake."

You leaned in, the tip of your nose brushing the bobbing apple of his throat. "We'll be useless in the morning," the joke slipped from your lips, bouncing off his tanned skin and flailing in the atmosphere above.

"I don't mind," he huffed back. Your heart stuttered. "It's fine."

Just to maintain the bit, you snorted softly. "It's not."

Silence.

"What are you doing?" You asked when he pushed the blankets down, his hand gently cupping the back of your right thigh and hiking it over his hip, something warm and hard slotting against your core. You hadn't bothered putting on shorts after last night, leaving you in only one of his tunics and a flimsy pair of underwear.

"Is this okay?" The man in question mumbled against the top of your head, thumb stroking careful circles over your flesh. He was always so gentle with you, even though you had done this thousands of times. He always asked, and you loved him for it.

You paused–as if there was a reason to consider such an obvious answer–and nodded, kissing along the bobbing column of his throat. "Touch me," you said, and you couldn't have meant it more.

He obliged with a sharp inhale through his nose, the hand on your hip sliding to the hem of your tunic, fingers dipping beneath the fabric to trace firebrand lines up your side, eventually reaching the slopes of your breasts. You whined against flesh when he took one of your boobs in hand, thumb flicking lightly over the already pebbled nipple. You already felt so sensitive and he had barely started, which wasn't that thought provoking in your hazy state, but there was a nagging feeling in the back of your mind. Did you have something to do today? Something important? Whatever it was, it would have to wait, because there was no way you were letting the world tear him away now.

Sky's other hand came up, pushing lightly at your chin to coax you into gazing up at him. "Can I kiss you?" He asked, despite already knowing the answer. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at the query, scooting up slightly to slot your lips together. It was warm and oh-so-perfect, leaving you both breathless and aching for more. There was a tugging feeling in your belly, and you felt wetter than the ocean, hands clinging to his strong shoulders for any semblance of stability.

"Link," you breathed when the kiss ended and you were forced to resurface for air. Your chest heaved as the sheets crinkled around you, mussed from sleep and the numerous activities that had occurred before.

The hero palmed your breast with a bit more purpose, face flushing slightly when his name fell from your lips. "It's okay," he whispered in a tone that perfectly matched yours, eyes burning loving holes into your flesh. "I've got you."

You felt yourself shiver at his words, tilting up to steal another sweet kiss. The movement of your lips was unhurried as he continued to knead you, moving to your other, neglected breast after a few moments. This time, he tweaked your nipple, and the sharp sensation had you yelping into his mouth. Fuck, that actually hurt a bit.

As if sensing your pain, Sky stopped all movement, breaking the kiss as his brows knitted together in worry. His hand withdrew from your tunic, resting on the curve of your hip, still slung over his own. "Are you okay?"

You blinked a bit, confused yourself. Sure, you were usually more sensitive in the mornings, but this was new, as was the ache in your abdomen-

You froze when something warm and wet leaked from you, in a far larger quantity to be arousal. There was a stab of pain in your stomach and the realization hit like a dive-bombing loftwing. "Shit," you hissed, scooting off of him to confirm your fears. Sky tried to follow, only to freeze in turn when he noticed the crimson blood staining his thigh, right where your core had been.

"Oh no," Sky's voice filtered as he came to the conclusion of what had just occurred. With startling grace, he all but leapt from the bed, jogging to the bathroom and returning with several thick towels in hand. His lips formed a thin, worried line as he moved to the foot of the bed, pulled the covers all the way down, and climbed back to your side. "I'm so sorry," he all but whispered, using a hand to encourage your hips to lift so he could slide a folded towel beneath them.

"Don't," you huffed slightly, sitting up and ignoring the fresh bout of cramping in your belly. It wasn't the worse you'd had, but it definitely wasn't the lightest, either. "It's not your fault."

"I know," he said in a tone that told you he didn't. "...Does it hurt?"

"No more than usual," you shrugged, determined to keep the worst of it to yourself. You had survived alone for many years, so what made a few days any different? You did, however, have no shame in asking him to fetch you things. "Could you bring me a glass of water? And some of those herbs from the potion shop?"

Sky nodded, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead. "I'll be right back," he said, though the look in his eyes was reluctant. Still, he was up in a flash, padding to the kitchen to fulfill your request. While you waited, you busied yourself with dragging the soiled sheets from the blissfully clean mattress, making sure to keep the towel beneath you to prevent more accidents.

Once the offended sheets had been properly grimaced at and balled into a corner of the room, you sat back down on the bare mattress, grimacing at your predicament. You were usually good about keeping track of your cycle to prevent the headache of extra laundry, but a few mishaps were bound to happen, though you were glad this particular one had occurred in the privacy of your own home, even if it did interrupt what was to be a wonderful morning with your boyfriend.

The door opened, and you were grateful for Sky's quick return. He walked to your side, bearing a cup of water and a small pouch of herbs that you swore up and down on. He plopped beside you, offering the cup with a slightly strained smile.

"Thank you," you sipped the water, then took the herbs and poured a small amount into the cup, grimacing at the bitter taste coating your tongue. You drank until the cup was empty, gagging minutely at the less-than-ideal flavor.

Sky watched with a sort of nervous anticipation when you placed the cup on the nightstand, one of his hands moving to rub the small of your back. "Is it helping?" He asked, followed by a more confident: "Do you need anything else?"

"I'm fine," you shook your head and leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek with a half-smile. "I don't suppose you're still open to cuddles?"

The hero's expression instantly softened and he wrapped his arms just under your chest, coaxing you to lie back on the bed. You went willingly, one hand reaching down to make sure the towel stayed beneath you at all times. A sharp rush of blood left you, but the pain in your abdomen was fading as the herbs took effect, leaving you relaxed and, dare you say, boneless against the broad expanse of his chest. Your head fell back against the pillows, eyes closed and breathing coming in small, content puffs. "I'm always open," he mumbled into your hair, nuzzling the soft skin of your neck. "I love you."

You tilted your head to press a kiss to his forehead, already falling into the warm embrace of sleep. "I love you, too, Link."

You awoke to a horrid cramping in your abdomen.

Groaning, you willed yourself to move, to do something other than lie in pain, but it was futile when the feeling only doubled, coupled with an unpleasant flood of... fluids from you. You felt gross and sticky, and the urge to curl up and hide was a strong one.

Sky was already awake, expression concerned as he watched your movements. The fact that he hadn't succumbed to sleep surprised you, but it was quickly overpowered when another cramp crashed over you. Deft fingers, calloused from years of training, stroked your side, occasionally dipping beneath the hem of your tunic. He did nothing, though, only asking, "How are you feeling?"

You gave a noncommittal, pained huff, resisting the urge to roll off the side of the bed and let the fall take you.

"That bad, huh?" Sky's smile was deeply sympathetic as his fingers pressed under your tunic once more, applying gentle pressure to your belly in the form of small, soothing circles. It wasn't the biggest help--without heat, at least--but you allowed him to continue, gazing up with bleary eyes.

"How long was I asleep?"

"Just over two hours," he answered quickly, and you chuckled tiredly at the embarrassed flush licking at his cheeks. It was cute how he thought that would make you uncomfortable.

"Thanks," you mumbled, eyes falling closed once more. His hand felt warm against the cool flesh of your stomach, and you trusted him to know what you needed in a situation like this. "...Do we have any more of those heat packs from the academy?"

By heat packs, you meant the emergency warmers the knights were required to carry when times grew tough, which you would have never asked for had the academy not sent him home to you with several hundred of them one random afternoon. You were still trying to figure that one out, honestly, but the flash of elated recognition in his eyes was everything. "I'll get you one!"

With that, he was gone, presumably to rummage in the closet the packs were kept in, while you were left to mourn the temporary loss of warmth. You instantly relaxed when familiar footsteps padded in, followed by a sharp snap as the pack in Sky's hand activated. He was smiling as he pushed it beneath your tunic, right where his hand had been. The warmth that bloomed over your skin was heavenly, and you could have cried when he rejoined you on the bed, chest practically molded to your side, continuing to rub those sweet, gentle circles atop the pack. "Is that better?"

"Much," you all but groaned, too blissed out to offer any true eloquence in your words. "You're the best."

"Anything for you," he murmured, nuzzling your hair as he continued his ministrations. You felt safe in his embrace, like a warm blanket after a cold day.

The only thing that broke you from your reverie was another rush of blood from between your legs, which were still bare as you had elected to free bleed on the towel until your stomach decided to stop stabbing itself. You shifted your hips, feeling a bit too wet for comfort, and Sky was instantly alert, assessing the situation with a diligence usually observed when he had a sword in one hand. "It's okay, I'll get you another one," he soothed, sitting up to pick another towel from the good-sized stack on the bedside table, sliding the old towel out and the new one under your hips.

It was purely by chance that the pad of his thumb accidentally brushed over your sore core, though the borderline moan the action elicited certainly wasn't.

You slapped a hand over your mouth, but the damage had already been done. Sky paused, brows raising as he processed your reaction. You could tell by the way his face flushed crimson that he wanted to try it again, but held back for your sake.

You didn't want him to.

The way your thighs closed on his hand was almost instinctual. You had done it many times before, but never for this reason. Sky's fingers felt warm, though a bit stiff, between your flesh. "It's fine," you whispered once your voice returned, face burning brighter than the hottest hearth. "Please..."

"O-Okay," Sky cleared his throat, obviously still reeling from the suddenness of the situation. His fingers fanned out, coaxing your thighs to part once more, baring everything to his smoldering gaze. It was your first time doing this, so you expected a bit of nervousness on both sides, but the flash of hunger in those blues of his only solidified your desire. "Tell me if I do anything wrong."

"Promise," you managed to squeak before he reached forward, tracing two fingers down the seam of your lips, gathering both blood and arousal. It was enough to send a fresh bolt of warmth zinging through your belly, curling up the length of your spine.

"Link," his name was a breathless prayer on your lips when his thumb found your clit, applying the gentlest pressure to the tender, swollen bud. The sensation was jarring, and you would have been embarrassed by the way your hips jerked had he not shushed you, fingers moving a bit lower to spare you some relief, coating themselves in a mix of fluids that you should have found disgusting, but the only thing on your mind was how hot he was like this.

"It's okay," Sky shifted, using his free hand to coax you to sit up, slotting himself between your back and the headboard. Your head fell back against his shoulder when he pressed the heat pack closer to your skin. "I'll take care of you."

And so he did. He was a man of his word, after all.

You felt helpless as you squirmed and shivered under his ministrations at your slit, spreading your wetness over your thighs and coaxing you back to intimacy, making sure to avoid your sensitive clit until he knew you could handle it.

A single finger teased your entrance, dipping in with a patience that could have rivaled the goddesses, testing your slick walls for any sign of pain or discomfort. "Does it hurt?" his question came as a breathy whisper against the trembling skin of your craned neck.

"N-No," you murmured, hips canting forward in an attempt to coax him to continue. Every nerve in your body cried for relief, and who were you to deny yourself? His finger pressed all the way in, and your hips squirmed. You needed more.

Your breath hitched when the pad of his thumb brushed the underside of your clit, testing your reaction with careful precision. This time, it wasn't quite as sensitive, and you took the action with a soft whine, head falling back further against his shoulder.

"There you go," the hero encouraged, rewarding you with an open-mouthed kiss to the side of your neck, right where your pulse beat the strongest. He pumped his finger slowly, giving you plenty of time to adjust before a second one began to circle your entrance, only dipping in when your hips rocked up, trying to draw him in. "Shh, I'll give it to you."

A low moan was your response when he pushed the second finger in, carefully crooking them against your gummy walls. The cramps in your belly had faded to a dull ache, leaving behind a far different type of throbbing in your abdomen. One of your hands fisted in the mattress while the other gripped his forearm, encouraging his movements with gentle, desperate squeezes to corded muscle. Sky was kind enough not to comment, busying himself with kissing a path down the length of your neck as his fingers crooked, searching for the spot that he knew would have you seeing stars.

"Ah!" The yelp tore through your throat faster than you could stop it. Your hips lifted slightly, only held down by the hand splayed on your abdomen. "FUck– right there–!"

"Here?" Sky's chuckle vibrated through your entire being as he complied, applying more pressure to the spot within you, occasionally scissoring his fingers to stretch you open. Your nails dug into his forearm, sinking into flesh and you struggled to regain even a shred of composure against the onslaught of pleasure, but it was for naught when his thumb reacquainted itself with your clit, padding slow, easy circles over the stiff nub. "It's okay, you can let go. I've got you."

As if on cue, the coil that had been brewing in your belly snapped, so suddenly that you didn't have time to censor the noises rolling from your parted mouth like the crashing waves of the ocean. It was too much and not enough, you thought as your body seized impressively, walls clamping down on his fingers and neck practically dislocating from how hard you threw your head back. Sky helped you ride out your orgasm as best he could, pace never once faltering as you gushed around him, squirming and whimpering.

By the time you finally came down from your high, you were panting like the air had been punched from your lungs. A small, satisfied grin crossed Sky's face as he withdrew his fingers, absolutely coated in crimson slick to where they met the meat of his hand. "How do you feel?" His voice filtered through the fog, and you took a steadying breath.

"Like I could die happy," was your tired reply. He hummed in acknowledgment, though you hardly registered the noise when he brought his hand to his mouth, gaze flicking intently over his fingers. There was something deeply contemplative in his eyes, and you flushed when pink lips parted, his tongue darting out to flick across his pointer finger, gathering the barest hints of wetness. "Oh–"

"It's not bad," he mused in a way that made you turn as red as the offending digits. Storm-blue eyes flicked to meet your own, dancing with equal measures of ravenous mirth and tender hunger. "I'm not a fan of blood, but I think I could get behind this."

"Please stop talking," you squeaked, a millisecond away from covering your face in your hands. Watching him lick his bloodied fingers wasn't something you ever thought you would enjoy the sight of, but the deeply depraved part of you cheered at the image, while the other, more reasonable part prayed for the salvation of your souls. "It's gross."

"Maybe," he grinned, and you wondered how someone so sweet could be so resonatingly smug. His tongue darted out again, lucking a much bolder stripe up his bloodied palm in a manner scarily similar to the way he acted between your thighs. "But you're not gross."

"And you're weird," you muttered under your breath, though you couldn't deny that his actions had definitely helped. "Thank you, though. I feel a lot better."

"Good," Sky's head dipped down to press a sweet kiss to your lips, shifting slightly to make sure the towel was still nestled beneath your hips, and it was then that you felt his bulge, hot and heavy, against the curve of your ass. He was hard. Maybe even painfully so, considering the spectacle he had just watched. That wouldn't do, not after everything he had done for you.

You shifted to sit up a bit straighter, gently nudging the cooled heat pack off of your flesh. Sky's brow furrowed in confusion when you turned to him, gaze questioning. "Is something wrong?"

You nodded to his very obvious hard-on–there was even a wet spot in his pants, for crying out loud–smiling slightly when his gaze snapped down, as if seeing it for the first time. His blush darkened. "Do you need help with that?"

"No," he answered quickly, then amended when you studied him: "I mean– not right now. I can wait."

"Are you sure?" You asked, tilting your head as you pivoted to face him, keeping your butt firmly planted on the towel. There was a mild cramp in your belly at the movement, but you knew it would fade as soon as he got his hands on you again. "I don't mind."

"It's fine," Sky continued, somehow managing to look simultaneously guilty and horny out of his mind. "Your health is more important than my pleasure."

True, but you also felt like your 'health' was about to take a nosedive if you didn't get him inside you in the next five minutes. Not that you would ever push him, but the ache was there, waiting to be satisfied. Still, you nodded, determined to respect his wishes as much as he did yours. "Okay," you murmured, leaning forward to plant a kiss in the corner of his mouth. "Want to cuddle until Zelda comes to the front door to find out if we've died or not?"

Sky's grin grew tenfold, and he kissed both of your cheeks in gentle succession, hands cupping your cheeks like the finest china. "I'd love nothing more."

I kind of want to write a part two for Legend's period fic now 👀

Also please forgive me for the title, I can't name things for the life of me.

[rafedaddy01]

Sleeping with the boss pt2

Warnings: smut

Link to part one

Part 3

-

It’s been days since rafe snuck into your bed and forced himself inside of you, and you’ve been thinking of it happening again, hoping. But you knew it couldn’t, he was your boss and it was wrong, you didn’t want it and he forced himself on you anyway. You couldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he made your brain fuzzy with the mind blowing orgasm he gave you.

You’re tidying up some laundry in the washroom when rafe comes in, throwing his sweaty gym clothes in the hamper and totally eye fucking you as he leans against the door frame and watches you move.

You try to push him away from your thoughts, focusing on your work so you can get out of here faster. Being in a conformed space with him makes your breathing turn rapid and your heart thud.

Suddenly you hear the door close behind you and the lock turn. Your eyes go wide and you’re stuck in place as Rafes firm hands grip your hips, bending you a little forward until your hands fall against the washing machine which rumbles slowly under you.

“Rafe-“ you started to say but are shushed by his soft words, “shh shh shh, don’t make a sound.” He lifts the hem of your pretty sundress and bunches it up in his fist as he groans at your sprawled out ass, the string of your thong basically non-existent as it rides between your plump cheeks.

“You walk around my house wearing this?” Your about to answer back, tell him to get off you and push him away so you can storm out the room and leave, but the sting of his hand smacking against your right ass cheek makes you push forward, falling completely against the washing machine. Tits pressed firmly against the glass lid, and the little rumbling rubbing your nipples just right, making you groan as they pebble.

“Please” you whine out. “Are you asking me to stop…” he palms your ass before delivering another, more gentle, smack “or continue” you hear him shuffle behind you and you manage to move your head to see him better, he’s pulling his sweatpants down along with his boxers and fisting his cock, “because I don’t care what you have to say. I told you the other night I’d have you begging for me to fill this tight ass of yours up, I’m here to make that happen” you start panicking. The tears starting to form as you try to move, but the hand that’s still holding your dress bunched up is pressed into your back and holds you in place.

“Ah, ah, ah. Not so fast” he tuts as he smirks down at you. He uses his free hand to pull at the little material that’s covering your ass and pull it off your body before his hand snakes around to your front and stuffs the panties into your mouth. You can smell your own arousal, taste it. And it disgusts you, knowing that you’re getting this wet from him forcing himself on you. But it also makes every nerve in your body crave him more.

You subconsciously start moving back, searching for him, rubbing yourself on him, as you muffle out little please’s.

He doesn’t even warn you as he thrusts fully into you, your walls contracting to take him in, and your body coming limp as he starts moving in and out. Rutting into your poor pussy. His thumb comes up to your tight ring and he pushes it in slowly, testing his limits. And when you push back, your hands flying to the washing machine for support, he plunges his thumb fully in. “Such a tight ass for me, baby” he groans as he pulls his thumb out and pushes back in, loving the way your pussy flutters around his cock.

“First m’gunna fill this wet pussy of yours,” he thrusts in harder making you whine and leans back against him, “and then I’m gonna fuck this tight ass of yours” he smacks your left cheek and the mixture of pain and pleasure is all it takes for you to let go, cumming all over his cock and muffled moans and grunts from rafe fill the small room. “Shh, shh, you did so good for me” he soothes you as he slowly thrusts in and out, groaning wildly as you suck him in and he loses it. “Fuck” he grits out as he stills and fills you up.

He pulls out and doesn’t waste any time, gathering your slick juices mixed with his own and lubricating your ass as his tip probes into your tight ring before pushing in slowly. Every inch feels like time slows down, every ridge making your body feel on fire. But you need more, crave it.

So you push back, hard, until every inch is inside you and you’re a crying, moaning, whining, pathetic mess. Rafe groans and both his hands fly to your hips, stabilizing himself as he feels the tightness of you suffocate his cock, his skin on fire and his body buzzing in pleasure. “Fuck, I’m not gonna last-“ he grits through his teeth as he pulls out slowly and pushes back in harder. Your fingers tread down to toy with your clit and that image alone gets rafe to blow his load. Gasping and moaning as he fully lets his cum explode inside you, filling you to the brim so much that it starts dripping out with his cock still fully inside you. “Shit, fuck” is all he can say as his sweaty body leans over your trembling one. He reaches over and pulls the thong out of your mouth.

You take a minutes to let your legs get there feeling back before you turn around, smirking at him and looking down where is cock is still semi-hard. Your fingers reach for it and he winces, but throws his head back in pleasure. He snaps his head forward and looks down when he feels the warmth and wetness of your mouth. Your eyes looking up at him as you gag and moan all over his cock. His heart flutters and he knows it’s fucked up, but shit, he might have fallen in love with you just from that. It doesn’t take long for him to shoot spurts of warmth down your throat, because the way your mouth feels and the way you look up at him makes him lose his mind. You suck off with a pop and press a small kiss to his tip which makes him shudder, you stand and pull your dress down, looking at him again and smiling. “Maybe tonight I can have you begging in my bed?” You giggle at his expression, his eyes wide and his mouth hung open as you simply pick up your underwear and stuff them into his pocket, walking out of the washroom and hoping to see him later tonight.

Taglist

@f4ll-for-you @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings @sevenwivesofrafecameron @rxfecameronsslut @findapenny @r1vrsefx @spencerreidsrealgf @rafescokenostril @thievin-stealing @rafemotherfuckingcameron @dilvcv @starkeysheart @wearemadeofstardust0 @theoraekenslover @mema10

[trashogram]

He Chose You (Pt. 9)

Lucifer/Reader: Lucifer chooses you to be the mother of his child. Rated Explicit.

Warning: Character Death, and minor details of childbirth.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 13.5 | Part 14 | End

“You’re glowing!”

You’d scoffed while watching as your body literally began to illuminate from the inside out.

“Well of course.” You’d snickered, looking from your hands to Lucifer. “Every mother does.” 

Your hand came up to clasp your mouth shut, but the Freudian slip was already out there. Lucifer stared at you and you stared back. 

Your lips wobbled and torso trembled until you could no longer hold it in and burst into laughter. Elation ran its course, and Lucifer joined you — laughing so hard that he slapped his knee. 

When you fell into his arms and let yourself be held, you imagined it would only be for a little while. This bizarro pregnancy had you on some kind of high, and all the worries and doubts that had been building up disappeared. 

—

You can’t remember for how long you’ve been walking but there’s discomfort in the soles of your feet. The landscape changes as soon as you truly behold it. 

The endless field of tall grass and the trees so tall they could touch the sky had been replaced by golden sand. You could feel its gentle heat on the ends of your toes. Beyond the sand is a gently rolling ocean, lilac beneath a honey gold sky as the sun has only just set. The sound of rhythmic, rushing water is so real and so close that you’re immediately calm. 

Memories flood your mind like a sneaker wave. You’re a child again, running away from the water as it laps at you. The shock of the cold water goes away quickly and you want to follow the pebbles and seashells that drift back out with the retreating tide. 

You look back, away from the sea, and see the blonde woman behind you. You grin. 

She’s wistful. 

It stamps down on your joy. The air is salty and wet blowing through your hair and inhaled through your nostrils. You want to speak, but you can’t think of a thing to say. 

“I wish this was goodbye.” Her voice carries above the waves, muffling them until they’re nothing but a dull roar. 

—

You awoke to the sensation of falling and seized in your bed. Lucifer startled beside you. He’d been sleeping wrapped around your belly; a compromise to laying perpendicular to you so that he could continue talking to the soccer-player in your stomach. 

He or she had not stopped moving since they decided to make it known that they were, in fact, not dead.

(You’d chided the baby for that, and for doubling in size in less than two week’s time, much to Lou’s amazement:

“Hell isn’t ready to be ruled by two speed demons.” You’d deadpanned.)

“Huh?” He grabbed you without thought. “What—”

Movement erupted from deep down in your core, muscles clenching and unclenching quickly, forcing you to seize again. 

“I think I’m — ugh!” You gritted your teeth. “—I’m going into labor.” 

Lucifer doesn’t do anything for a long moment. 

Then he flew into a panic before you could say ‘Jesus Christ!’. 

—

The hallway outside illuminated with the sheer brilliance of your body, literally glowing. It hadn’t stopped since it started, only a few weeks ago. Fortunately, the glow was tied to an almost paralyzing euphoria. It was the kind of delight that turned your blood into gold while racing through your body. The kind that kept you from complaining that you’d become Tinkerbell.  

“Steady. I’ve got you!” Lucifer assured whilst trudging over the carpet with you in his arms. 

An influx of pain rippled through you for the first time, providing distraction from the mortification you might’ve felt in that position. It hasn’t escaped your notice that the Prince of Darkness was a shortstack. Your brain had a hard time accepting that for as small as he appeared, Lucifer was capable of unimaginable feats of strength and endurance. 

So, you didn’t think about it. Instead you focused on breathing in and out deeply as your partner kicked at the front door of your neighbors’ apartment with the toe of his boot. 

As if waiting at the door, Warren Farrow appeared from behind the polished wood. His expression was of minute surprise, but within seconds he was turning back and calling for his wife.

Lucifer managed to pivot the two of you into the Farrow home. Warren guided you with an unusual vigor in his step, as though he were a man decades younger. 

“We’ve had it set up for weeks now, Sir.” Warren said gravely. 

Through the convulsions, you observed the inlet that Lucifer had taken you into. It was like a roomy closet, covered in tapestries and littered with candles of all shapes and colors. 

Warren’s wife was flitting about, quickly lighting the pitch-black surroundings until you could see the mere outline of things. 

You were drawn to the center of the crowded room, where a humble white cot covered in white towels contrasted everything else.

It occurred to you then that this entire pregnancy had been a shit show, not the least bit because you’d never gone to any OB. You hadn’t checked in with any hospital, or stepped foot in one — how could you? 

Therefore, any  and all “check-ups” you’d had had come from your creepy neighbors with their tea and their scrutinizing questions and their buzzard-like stares.

You’d consoled yourself throughout with the brief, semi-serious talk with Mrs. Farrow three months into gestation.

“What? Were you a midwife or something?” You asked incredulously. 

“Yes, honey.” Cass had patted your hand like you were a simpleton. “I helped deliver babies for over 15 years. I was younger than you were when I first started!” 

You had stared. ‘Oh god, how many crazy cultists are actually nurses in disguise?’

“Here we go, all set. You can lay her down here.” Cassie came over brusquely, smoothing over the wrinkles in the cot before Lucifer put you down. 

He laid you on the sheets, light as a feather, jarring as you felt your belly weigh you down. The King didn’t go far, reluctant to let go of your hand. You held on like a vice as well, gripping and squeezing with each contraction. 

You felt pinches in and around your abdomen, but the pain was… off. It came not from true agony, but the overworking of your internal organs in contrast to the pleasantness that you embodied post-glow stick phase. 

Hearing childbirth horror stories all your life, and just the horrors of raising children in general, you expected to be screaming and thrashing. 

This wasn’t as bad as some of your past periods had been. What’s worse than that, however, is the unnecessary guilt you feel for how troublesome it isn’t. 

—

Lucifer struggled to remain in one spot as the urge to pace up and down the cramped little birthing room ate at him. 

He didn’t want to leave you — not that his two hosts would dare make him, regardless of tradition — but old habits die hard. He was fidgeting, putting all his weight on one foot then the other. 

You were his exact opposite, laying placid and relaxed on the birthing bed, eyeing the little room. Microexpressions flitted across your face, some of confusion and some of hurt, but aside from your firm grasp on his hand, and the occasional grunt, you may as well have been dozing off. 

Eventually you glanced at him. 

“Do you wanna sit down?” You asked calmly. 

Lucifer tried to laugh but it came out like a strangled wheeze. “Nahhh, this is fine. I’m fine. Are you fine? I mean I know you’re not fine, but can I do something? Whatever you need, I can get it for you!” 

His rambling ends with you bopping him between the eyes teasingly. “You’re silly.” 

It’s inexplicable, but Lucifer’s mood lightened at your mellow admonishment. He meets your warm, drowsy expression with an adoring smile of his own. 

“I am.” He kissed your forehead. “You’re an angel to put up with it.” 

A too-loud rasp interrupted the soft moment of nothing but affection and kisses. Cass was standing at the foot of your cot, hands on each of your knees as she kept your legs apart. 

“Get ready, honey. You’re on your way.” She hailed. 

–

A cry split through the air and it went straight to your heart. 

You gulp down air (Lucifer mimicking you without meaning to) with sweat pouring from your hairline. The lack of pain hadn’t meant a lack of effort, and you still felt like you’d run a marathon just to pass the little being currently wailing in Mrs. Farrow’s arms. 

“It’s a girl.” Mrs. Farrow declared.

There was no attempt to hide the sidelong glance she gave Mr. Farrow. The lines and grooves on the elderly man’s face deepened until he resembled a gnarled tree trunk.

“Hmm.” Was his reply, deep baritone rolling like thunder in the tiny room. 

Vehement indignance blazed to life inside your mind when the old man looked at you, critical and disappointed. You felt like tearing him and the rest of this old, tacky room to shreds. Yet, exhaustion had planted its roots deep inside of you, and all you could do was glare at the old couple from your makeshift bed. 

‘Why does it fucking matter?’

“Gimme my kid.” You growled.

As if to piss you off further, Cass ignored you in favor of wiping the baby clean before passing her off to Lucifer. The old bat presented her to the King like she was a fallen bannerman’s sword, even curtsying while doing it. 

It was so weird that it brought you out of your anger for a second. 

Lucifer was clearly apprehensive, and his insecurity made the grand gesture stranger. He swallowed visibly, making eye contact with you when he couldn’t break away from the internal turmoil he was struggling with. 

“Bring her to me.” You demanded. Lucifer nodded vigorously, cocking a head toward you. 

It was fucking nonsensical, but at last Cass obeyed and brought you a bundle wrapped in silky black. 

The baby’s wailing tapered off as soon as she’d made contact with you. And like a child on Christmas morning, you shifted to sit up as much as you could and pry open the swaddling cloth. 

You sniffled. 

All at once, the breath caught in your throat and your eyes welled up with tears.

The newborn was as flagrant as her father in terms of skin tone and hair. She hadn’t yet opened her eyes but already you could see none other than a spitting image of Lucifer himself. Right down to the rosy apple cheeks that made up her pudgy little face. 

You were a little surprised to see that she had a nose. A little black smudge, puppy-like - anomalous like the little growths on her forehead and the itty bitty spade on the tip of her wagging tail. 

She was perfect. 

“I think she’s a Charlotte.” You manage to tear your eyes away from the miraculous hellspawn in your arms just long enough to search Lucifer’s golden gaze. “What do you think?” 

His Majesty is a whimpering mess beside you. “Y-yeah. That’s perfect.” 

Peeling the blanket back just that much more, you lean toward him. It takes a little coaxing, but sure enough Lucifer traces a delicate claw over the child’s tiny brow. 

“Hello Charlotte.” He whispered. “We’re so happy you’re here.” 

Adoration overwhelmed you, nigh on visible like the air was tinged with its color, its scent, its warmth cocooning the three of you. 

Daddy, Mommy and baby. A strange but happy little family. 

Lou embraced the two of you, hiding his face, and subsequent weeping, in the side of your neck while your baby cooed. 

The background chants of ‘Hail Princess Charlotte’ and ‘Hail King Lucifer’ were, thankfully, not enough to ruin the moment. 

Nothing could. Until. 

It doesn’t dawn on you that anything is wrong when the glow has faded. It’s only the incidental look at your fingers, with Charlotte’s tail curled around them, that freezes you. Numbness then began to crawl up your body, as if waiting for the moment that you’re brain would connect the dots. The copper scent of blood made your nostrils flare and heart hammer.

Fear clutched at you in an instant. “Take her. Take the baby.” 

Your desperate hiss and barely-there shuffle to push Charlotte into Lucifer’s arms fully had his face falling. 

“W-wai-wh-What’s happening?” He asked, panic rising. 

Mrs. Farrow is prompt, crone’s face scrunched and nose prominent as if she could sniff out the issue. She’s stood at the end of the bed, already lifting the sheets off your body before you can seek her out. 

A stiff hand appears over the covers, covered in shiny dark claret. “She’s bleedin’ too much.” 

Lucifer’s eyes blazed from where he hovered. “Why?”

The elderly woman was ready to shrug, but she stalled. Perhaps out of fear. “It happens, your Grace. Birthing a baby takes a toll on the mother, sometimes it’s too much.”

“Then why are you just standing there?”Lucifer bared his fangs, ivory in the lowlight. His eyes were a haze of vermillion, so opaque that you couldn’t find his pupils or the soul inside. “Help her!” 

The truly demonic scrape of his vocal chords frightened you, as did the sudden appearance of tusk-like horns protruding from his skull and the fire coming to life between them. His beautiful skin marred and stretched and cracked as if his form were a prison barely containing the true beast within. 

Energy crackled in the air, heat rising to blow back your hair and dry the air from your lungs like a flung-open kiln. The breath was stolen from your lungs as ivory wings shot out and overtook what little space was left in the alcove. 

Reality was literally distorting around Lucifer’s warped rage. 

Mr. Farrow, for all his reticence, reached for his wife’s shoulder from within your line of sight. 

“Lucifer.” You hissed, bearing the brunt of his inhuman stare when he turned to you. It took real energy to speak. “I need you… the baby…”

It didn’t take anymore prodding for the blond to intercept your daughter once your desperation got through to him. The Devil slowly shifted back, revealing the depth of his fear in the cloudless turn of his gaze. He met you halfway - finally - and pulled Charlotte close to his chest.

A pang of thankfulness made laughter bubble up from your diaphragm. It hurt. Everything hurt again.

“Stop. Wait.” Lucifer begged, voice turned to ice. Fragile, cracking. His natural white glow had dimmed significantly like a cooling star. “This isn’t— I promised you this wouldn’t happen! This can’t happen!”

A shudder ran through you. 

“Hey.” You lifted a hand and placed it on his pale cheek, thumb brushing over where white met red. “Nothing… for it now.” 

“No, don’t, that’s… No.” His agony was so palpable, as his fury had been. 

“You’re gonna be a great dad.” You murmured. 

Lucifer bowed over the side of the bed with Charlotte snug against him. You could feel the warmth of his breath, and then the splash of his tears against your cheek as he broke down. You felt it deep in your bones, and the lump in your throat that choked you. 

“Not without you.” He said. “I can’t do this without you.”

A pained smile was your response. Vision a-blur. Cotton tongue.  

“You… will.”

Lucifer shook his head fiercely. “I promised you. I swore I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. I can’t… I can’t...” 

“Please. Please don’t — ” Anguish turned Lucifer’s once melodic voice into broken notes. “Don’t leave us. Please, please, please.” 

His sobs intermingled with Charlotte’s whimpering. She fussed as she was woken from her doze by the growing, tangible urgency. You wished you could calm both of them. Take them in your arms and make it all go away, promise that you weren’t going anywhere. 

“Please. Please. Please.” The word fell from the Devil’s mouth like a prayer. 

You wondered if he really was praying. Praying to his Father. 

It broke your heart. 

The candlelight around you was getting brighter as the rest of your surroundings grew dark. Lucifer, as brilliant as he was, lingered somewhere in between. You squinted when his features began to fuse together in your mind. It did little to help, as large, dark shadows blotted out the corners of your sight. 

Charlotte was bawling and you fought to open your eyes again. You hadn’t realized they’d closed. 

You were so tired. The will to rise up and comfort your baby was dwindling. Everything had succumbed to a thin stream of light in a sea of darkness. 

With a breath, and another Herculean effort, you opened your eyes again. 

White blinded you. 

And then you were nothing.

***

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