#something about the old dress and making it something new

[quantomeno]

I typically prefer the past tense. I consider it as a 'neutral' tense: the reader is unperturbed by it and it makes sense since most of the time you're retelling an event. But the last book I read was written in present tense and I had this distinct 'there's something off here' feeling until I realised it was the tense.

Also there's a bit in The Great Gatsby where Fitzgerald switches from past to present:

At least once a fortnight a corps of caterers came down with several hundred feet of canvas and enough colored lights to make a Christmas tree of Gatsby's enormous garden. On buffet tables, garnished with glistening hors-d'oeuvre, spiced baked hams crowded against salads of harlequin designs and pastry pigs and turkeys bewitched to a dark gold. ... By seven o'clock the orchestra has arrived .... The last swimmers have come in from the beach now and are dressing upstairs; the cars from New York are parked five deep in the drive ... The bar is in full swing and floating rounds of cocktails permeate the garden outside until the air is alive with chatter and laughter and casual innuendo and introductions forgotten on the spot and enthusiastic meetings between women who never knew each other's names.

As you can see, it goes from absolute past (came, crowded) to present perfect (has arrived, have come) to present (is, permeate). It evokes a sense of energy: "the air is alive" and it feels alive because it is in the now.

The past tense is the natural tense because that's how we talk about our personal stories. But you'll notice sometimes you'll use the present tense when recounting: "So I'm walking down the street when I bump into Marie and she keeps me there talking for half an hour, and I'm standing there with my shopping bags digging into my hands and she just yaps away."

The present tense tends to make the reader feel more involved in the situation, it makes the story feel more immediate and more real because it's not relegated to the past. A perfect example would be Se una notte d'inverno un viaggiatore (If on a Winter's Night a Traveller) by Italo Calvino, which not only uses the present tense but the second person ('you') to make the reader a character in the story.

There are also times where the present tense is used in recounting history. I've seen it done. I think it has a similar enlivening effect as it does in fiction.

Personally, I think the present tense is strongest when you use it sparingly. Too much of it can grow tiring. Partly by virtue of being a less commonly used tense it has a more exciting edge.

One last thing though, and as a final reason for the present, is that it makes the reader think the story is playing out now and thus what will happen next is still variable. In the case of the past tense, it's implied that the full story is over and the reader feels the narrator knows how it will end. In the case of the present, it feels more like no one knows what's going on.

Also the past tense is comforting. It is the tense of old tales and sitting by the fireplace, the tense of legends and rumour. It igves things a sense of fixity and truth. Brideshead Revisited, for example, needs to be written in the past tense because it is all about a reminiscence of the halcyon days of youth. Dracula should be written in the past tense since it is a collection of supposedly real diary entries and so it needs to look like things were being recorded properly and fully. The present tense can feel rushed, fleeting, but the past is always there and gives you time to set things down.

As a bonus: the future tense is an odd tense because it implies a degree of certainty, but can also have the feeling things could change still. It is incredibly disorienting and weird and should be only used if you really think it helps the idea you're trying to convey. Don't do things for shock value or o be cool. Like, a future tense horror/thriller story about an impending disaster to evoke a sense of helplessness in the reader might be interesting. Also consider context, because if the story is set in the past, future tense would be really off-putting (that might be the goal, or perhaps it's because a character in the past is predicting the future, there are times I'd say it's justified).

(also obviously I mean this as 'the whole book or a significant section is written in this tense, you can of course have bits where there's a bit of future tense, like that present tense passage in Gatsby. I just mean reading a whole novel in the future would be annoying)

I am thinking about fan fiction writers, but anyone who writes any kind of fiction can answer. (As far as I’m aware, non-fiction is usually written in the past tense - but if I’m wrong do let me know!)

If you like, explain why in the tags!

When I was young I gathered that all serious works of fiction were written in the past tense (past tense third person to be precise) so that is what i did when I started writing. However my mind was blown by the power and immediacy of Margaret Atwood writing in the present tense so I started to experiment with it myself, and now i strongly favour it. I get the impression that past is still the most commonly used, but I’m prepared to be surprised!

Please share!

[beuxwhoyouare]

DILF Next Door

There's no better way to say this. The daddy next door is so fucking hot. I'm too chicken to ever muster up the courage to go next door and introduce myself. Every weekend, he graces me from my bedroom window with a view of him mowing the lawn shirtless.

It's a sight to behold and I wish I could just lick his salty sweat off him until he was clean. He deserves to be worshiped. The man is built like a GOD. I fell into the fantasy thinking about what his musk must smell like. My own hormones nearly fueling me to say fuck it and get semi-dressed to finally do it. I was gonna introduce myself no matter what....but fate had other plans. I was finishing getting ready when I felt something wet fall on me. I played it off but that was my fatal mistake. I was finishing brushing my teeth when all of a sudden my hand stopped mid-back and forth motioning.

My body began moving and inspecting itself as if it was foreign but I was no longer in control. Then a voice began speaking out loud.

"Hello earthling. My identifier is XE-039. I had overtaken command of your vessel and will now deploy you to my former sluglien vessel."

"Wait what do you mean?"

"This vessel is now under my control and we will spread our influence across this planet."

"Wait I can help you."

Panic overtook my common sense. How was I supposed to help when I couldn't even help myself?

"Can you aid in attaining vessels? That is the only objective we need assistance with?"

"Sure! Uh just describe to me how you take them over and we can go from there."

"We slugliens are gel based life forms that invade a species through an orifice and then put their essence in our old one before destroying them as we overtake their species."

"Perfect we earthlings love putting things in orifices. It's called being horny. Look I can show you if you take me next door. If you're going to put me in your old vessel I can try it out and show you how easy it can be."

"Hmmmmmm affirmative. Let's try this out. If you fail, you will perish."

The sluglien clunkily guided my body through the house as we arrived next door. He knocked the door and after a few minutes he arrived. Coated in light dusting of body hair and sweat, Scott answered the door in all his DILF-y glory. I tried to give the alien an express lesson on being flirty and asking to make out but before I could finish Scott began speaking.

"Hey dude, what's going on?"

"I uh, what are you doing at this point in time?"

"Well right now I'm talking to you but I just finished mowing the lawn but I was going to take a show-"

"Let's partake in the making out ceremony."

Before I could interject or Scott could even deny the advances, the sluglien placed my whole mouth over Scott's. The second he opened his mouth to protest, I knew it was my time. I used my new slug-like form to slide into Scott's mouth. Everything went dark and before I knew it my clenched closed eyes opened to see my former mouth on me.

"Dude that's so not right get off me."

I felt a knot in my new toned stomach and coughed up what must be the sluglien body. It was grey and reminiscent of other fluids humans make. It looked panicked and tried to run away but my former body quickly moved to squish it. When it lifted my shoe, the sluglien no longer moved.....did he just kill Scott?!

"That was very efficient. So we just do that until we take over this planet?"

"Well you can but there's definitely a more pleasurable way to do this."

"What is pleasure?"

Similar to the haste he just attacked Scott with. I pulled him inside the house and sat down at a chair from a nearby table. I guided him over and told him to begin feeling my up and down. I knew even if he didn't understand pleasure, my former body would get immediately horned up doing the one thing I always wanted to....worship Scott.

Curiosity clearly got the best of the sluglien in command of my body as his curiosity led him to quickly guide my hands further and further down my new strong torso. He inquisitively felt my warm tanned skin slightly exposed between my shorts and slinkily thin shirt. Excitedly yanking the shirt up.

One hand held the thin shirt up while the other rubbed over my furry torso. Slowly getting me riled up as I felt my new meat growing way thicker than mine ever did. Eventually he lifted the shirt off me and I let it happen.

The sluglien was braver than I ever was. Boldly rubbing his hand down my meaty slabs of pecs and rushing under my waistband eager to expose myself to both of us for the first time.

Eventually the sluglien stopped to my surprise. What was he doing? I never really noticed but I guess I was somewhat conventionally attractive. Watching my former body saunter in front of me was so sexy. I wanted to get up and make out but he pushed me back into the seat and began poking and prodding before immediately pulling my daddy meat out and sticking a finger in my mouth.

I had it. I whipped my former hand out of my mouth and guided the sluglien to the bedroom. Stripping of his clothes one piece at a time. Eventually I pushed him to lie down on the bed. Flexing for good measure as I picked up his legs.

My body always wanted this and I never believed I’d be the one to fulfill the dream in this position. I put my new meaty arms down and started stroking my thick rod. This was it as I felt it pulsing and hardening. I told the sluglien to breathe in and prepare for pleasure. I tried to go slow but I got too excited. Once I got close to entering pleasure hit me quickly. My former body began to wince from the pain I’m sure this tool was inflicting on it.

Soon those groans turned to moans. I was gonna make him have the best night he’d ever have. I’ve had fantasies about this and I was gonna make every single one come true…literally.

[burningembers91]

Fuscia Pink Kisses - Choi Su-Bong x Fem!Reader

Follow up piece to:

Not Who I Want to Be

The Beauty of Vulnerability

Synopsis: When Choi Su-Bong celebrates your birthday, he receives potentially life changing news

A/N: This is a reupload. I originally posted this yesterday, but for some reason this fic kept being hidden, so i have reposted :)

It’s true what people said: just as one part of your life started going well, another part fell to shit. Your relationship with Su-Bong was going from strength to strength. The two of you were so perfect for each other and neither of you could quite believe it was real. He hadn’t stopped smiling in months, hadn’t felt the need to numb his existence with a bottle of vodka or a brightly coloured pill. You were so enveloped in the blissful bubble of love, that nothing else seemed to matter.

Su-Bong had been thinking seriously about his music and career as well. Thanos was well and truly gone; his devilish alter ego died the night he met you. He wanted to rebrand, wanted to use his own name and make songs that were about more than just partying and sex. His record label hadn’t like that though. They’d signed Thanos, not Su-Bong. People were interested in his brand, not the person behind the crazy purple hair and tattoos. He’d been dropped by his label two weeks ago, a decision that had crushed him and almost made him reach for a substance to numb his brain.

You’d stayed by his side though, holding him as he cried and tried to wrap his head around the bombshell decision he’d had no say in. His whole career had gone up in smoke, simply because he didn’t want to play the part of a false character anymore. The comments on social media were just as bad. Su-Bong had been called every name under the sun, he’d been referred to as a fake more times than he could count and each insult cut as much as the last.

He was determined to stay true to himself though. To make the music he wanted, to be the person that he knew would make you proud. It had been you who’d suggested he return to YouTube. It was how he got famous in the first place, recording himself rapping in his childhood bedroom. He returned under his real name, his songs now focused on softer subjects. He still rapped, but his songs now featured softer R ‘n’ B melodies. The response had been promising, attracting a new kind of fan base, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever have the fame that Thanos did.

He’d thought about moving as well, finding a new apartment that reflected his new life. His old place held too many negative memories and he’d outgrown the space. He wanted somewhere that he could grow with you, somewhere he could create a life with the person he held the most dear. He was waiting to broach the subject with you, waiting until he’d found a place he knew you’d love. Despite the downturn of his career, Su-Bong had bigger things to focus on.

Today was your birthday, and he intended on spoiling you beyond your wildest dreams. You’d gone shopping at the weekend, picking out a bright fuscia pink mini dress you’d seen in the shop. You usually wore more muted colours, but your boyfriend’s love of bright colours had influenced you to try something new. The colour looked incredible on you, and Su-Bong couldn’t resist dying his hair and painting his nails to match. You’d giggled when you saw the shock of pick hair on his head, pulling him in for a kiss as he spun you around his vast living room.

“Happy birthday, Señorita,” he whispered, smothering you with kisses.

“Gracias, senor,” you smiled, cupping his cheeks in your hands as your eyes explored his handsome face. His skin was glowing, his eyes were brighter and for the first time since you’d met him, his smile reached his eyes. You were so glad you’d taken a chance on him; life with Su-Bong was nothing short of perfection.

He’d showered you with gifts, the presents piled high next to the sofa. He’d ordered from your favourite restaurant for breakfast, making sure you had the biggest mug of your favourite coffee. Nothing was too much when it came to you; Su-Bong would get you the moon if you asked him.

He made love to you for hours, drawing out your pleasure again and again until your shaking body could take no more. He would never tire of the way you felt, the way you tasted, the way you sounded as he brought you to the brink of bliss again and again. He could have laid there with you all day, just the two of you between his sheets. But he’d promised you a fancy dinner, and he was dying to see you in your new dress.

You looked more beautiful than he ever could have imagined, the bright pink of the dress accentuating the colour of your eyes, the colour of your skin, still flushed from the orgasms he’d given you.

“I adore you,” Su-Bong whispered, pulling you close against his taut frame, inhaling your floral scent. His hair and nails matched so perfectly to your dress, but tonight you would be the star of the show. He took you to the fanciest restaurant, hiring a private room just for the two of away from the prying eyes of his former fans. Time seemed to both stand still and somehow accelerate with you. Su-Bong had all the time in the world with you, and yet it never seemed to be enough. You ate until your stomachs were full to bursting, your eyes welling with tears of laughter. No one made you laugh as much as he did, no one made you feel as safe.

Sleep evaded him that night, and he stared up at his ceiling as your sleeping form lay nestled against his chest. He felt agitated, on edge, but couldn’t figure out why. Picking up his phone, he scrolled through his emails, coming to a stop when he found an email from a record company. They’d seen his new music and they were interested in talking to him. He looked over you, so beautiful and peaceful as you slept. His excitement was almost overwhelming, but you looked too comfortable to wake up now. He would wait until the morning to tell you. You were his muse, the subject of every song he’d written in the last 3 months. He hoped this meeting would bring only good things, and he hoped you would join him for the ride.

[two-white-butterflies]

you'll live forever | part one

Description: Hwang In-ho joins the newest edition of Squid Games as Player 001. He sees the wife that he believes to be dead, and she cannot remember him.

Pairing: hwang in-ho/reader

A/N: I love Squid Games but let us not allow the capitalism-fication of this franchise to let us forget about the series' core message. capitalism sucks. Don't let violence desensitize us. Warning: idk if I used the word hyung correctly... multipart, comment to get tagged.

There were times when he'd wake up too early in the morning when the sun would greet his sensitive eyes, and he'd take a longer time to adjust to the brightness. In those rare moments, he sees the faint silhouette of your body, in those rare times, he even smells your cherry blossom perfume.

A sigh escapes his mouth as he sinks further into the sheets.

No matter how far his hands reach out - you won't be there to hold it.

"I have work tomorrow, I don't want to drink." A complaint escapes In-ho's mouth as his younger brother drags him to the nearest bar. In-ho has never been fond of spending time around other people, he'd much rather focus on work and getting that new promotion...

"Who said anything about drinking, hyung? You promised me that you'd make time to meet my girlfriend," the younger man rolls his eyes, dragging his brother to the center of the room where everyone was huddled near the television. Yep, soccer. "My schedule is cleared next Saturday," In-ho raises an eyebrow.

"Oppa!!" He hears someone scream at the top of their lungs, and his brother quickly makes her way towards the woman - greeting her with a hug. 'Young love,' In-ho thinks to himself, as he turns to look the other way - he suddenly catches a glimpse of someone.

You.

One.

His eyes trailed upwards, soaking in the sight of your face. He sees his future inside of your eyes, your perfect lips, the way you slowly begin to smile at him.

Two.

His gaze trails downwards as he sees the beautiful dress that you're wearing. He begins to praise the summer days, his eyes brushing against your creamy thighs, making his heart thump erratically.

Three.

"Hyung, this is my girlfriend Hee-jo and that's her friend. What was your name again?" His brother turns to look at you, and that smile deepens - your eyes meeting his. "My name's In-ho," he greets, and you mumble your name underneath your breath, shaking his hand.

"I'm sorry for tagging along Jun-ho. Hee-jo's dad made me come with," You blushed. In fear that you were intruding on the couple's personal moment. "Don't worry, you're like a sister to me." Jun-ho chuckles, sitting beside Hee-jo - leaving his brother with no choice but to sit beside you.

As Hee-jo raises her hand to drink a glass of beer, the entire bar erupts into a cacophony of cheers - South Korea has earned a point! Everyone stands up, but In-ho and you remain seated.

He smiles, watching you cheer for the motherland.

This particular memory has been burned into his mind. It only took him three seconds to see you and fall in love. "Yay," you giggled after the bartenders announced a round of drinks on the house. And after that encounter, fate seemed to smile on you both.

He remembers all the memories, the good and bad.

He also remembers your first date. It was the first winter of 2008. "You were born in 1976?" You raised an eyebrow, continuing to stuff your face with beef and lettuce. "Yes, is there something wrong with that?" He pretended to look offended.

'How old is she?' his eyebrows merged together.

He places a piece of kimchi inside his mouth. "How old are you?" He asks, cursing himself for forgetting to ask Jun-ho. "I was born in 1986. I honestly thought that you were much younger," you pouted.

'That would make her...' he calculates your age in the back of his mind. Ten years younger than him! He almost bites his tongue. "Is that going to be a problem?" He tilts his head. He definitely does not have a chance with someone like you, so beautiful and young.

"No, I like older men." You say bluntly. He almost spits out his drink, earning a giggle from you. "Ouch," he pretends to be hit. "So, what is it exactly that you do for work?" You ask with a smile, happily eating your meal. "I'm a police officer. I mostly do detective cases, what about you?" He inquires with interest.

"I just graduated. I work at the hospital." You informed.

"Are you a doctor?" He asks.

"No, I'm a nurse. It's always been a dream of mine," your eyes sparkle at the mention of making your dreams a reality. "Saving people," you quickly added. "- I guess you feel the same way too, since you're a police officer." You pointed out.

In-ho nods.

"I guess we are the same," he continues nodding. The entire date, the smile does not leave his lips...then,

One date, becomes two, becomes a thousand.

And finally, you are getting married to him.

"Hey, are you okay?" In-ho wraps his arms around you, preparing to meet your guests who are waiting in the reception. A deep sigh escapes your mouth. "I'm scared," you confessed. He wraps his arms around you, already aware of your fears.

"I mean everyone's going to be from your side of the family - and everyone's already talking about how I don't have parents." You chuckled nervously. All these ajummas won't stop talking about your personal life. In-ho has even contemplated not inviting them at all, but his father insisted. "Fuck them," he shakes his head, cupping your cheeks and pressing a tender kiss on your forehead.

"Let's enjoy our wedding," he smiles.

"I love you, In-ho." You repeated.

"I love you more," he responded.

He has always loved you more.

The beautiful days of the roses were over, he was only left with the darkness of the night. "ESRD," the doctor opened his mouth to speak. "How dangerous is it?" In-ho fights against that heaving feeling in the back of his throat.

"ESRD, End Stage Renal Disease is where the kidney can no longer support the body's needs. Most typically, I would recommend dialysis in moderate cases, but for severe cases, I strongly advise a kidney transplant. Your wife has a very common blood type, it will be easy to get a match, but that's not the problem." The doctor hesitates, In-ho recognizes the man to be one of your closest friends.

He hands In-ho a stack of files.

"It's expensive to pay for kidney transplants in this country. There is a waiting list for donors, but it'll take decades - there are some who sell their kidneys but it costs almost a billion won, and then there's the medicine, the operation, and the hospital. It takes a lot of money and she's one of my closest friends so please feel free to reach out to me. I can give a bit of what I have." The doctor rambles.

Whatever it takes, even when the cost is too high.

₩649,344,412

In-ho stares at the cost of your transplant, and he knows that he doesn't have that money. "We'll be fine," he tells himself.

"I need to borrow money," In-ho stares at the loanshark. The man looked like a typical gangster, with tattoos all over his forearm, and the smell of cigarettes looming over the air.

"The high and mighty detective borrowing money from someone like me?" The man teased. In-ho has been watching this man for the past two years, waiting for a mistake - the loanshark's #1 enemy, and now begging at his doorsteps for money. "10% interest rate, you pay every month." The loanshark emphasized.

His cronies laugh, and one of them continues to massage him.

"5% and you give me the cash today," In-ho demands, an air of authority radiating around him. "Borrow money from someone else," the man scoffs. "- I know about the money laundering." In-ho leans cooly on the chair, pretending to be confident about the situation.

"6%," the man clenches his jaw.

"You have yourself a deal," In-ho agrees.

After the secret meeting, the loanshark got arrested. In-ho was fired from his job - the superiors believed that he was bribed to hide the loanshark's secret. And then he got a call from a random number.

He played ddakji with a strangely well-dressed man in the middle of the subway station, and he joined the 28th Squid Games.

He won the 28th Squid Games.

He exited the black van, his white shoes meeting the dirty ground. He stands to look at your home, everyone is staring at him. "What are you doing here!" Hee-jo screams at him. "She's dead, you didn't even visit her, she's dead!" Hee-jo yells.

In-ho stares in shock, looking around him, to see different types of flowers scattered all over the porch. 'I have the money,' he wanted to say as tears spilled out of his irises. "How dare you come here." Hee-jo continued crying as her grip on his forearm tightens, hurting him.

"In-ho," his younger brother looks shocked to see him.

"I'm sorry," In-ho mumbles.

I'm sorry.

Comment to get tagged for PT. 2

[summertimesadnessirl]

It doesn't matter.

If you have done everything you can to try to get the life you want and nothing works, it doesn't matter why you got that way. All that matters is don't keep trying to get love and letting people use your desire for it against you.

I'm pretty sure it's not actually real. And it's just something they made up to sell soap.

So that's the model I work with.

As long as I refuse to allow myself to believe anyone loves me, everything works out well. When I break that, people hurt me.

People will guilt you into saying it's because you don't pick the right people but no matter what criteria you use it's always the same. And no matter what treatments you apply to yourself, it's always the same. And no matter how many new styles of communication you learn to talk to other people, it's always the same.

For me the only thing that kind of worked was doing sex work and being super fake and having several hundred shallow fake relationships that had a lot of sex and weren't boring and miserable, because whenever I've tried to not date and just hang out and do other things like working or something either people bother me all the time and are really mean and annoying or they are always "conveniently" introducing me to people they want to fix me up with. Men and women and like? Those people are always basically on the same emotional level as the people I have already dated and seem really shy and kind of uninterested in me. When I talk them out of their shell, they seem still shy, like they basically admire me for not seeming shy to them and like how I dress but don't have anything in common with me and we wouldn't have anything to talk about, or they have kind of a mental picture of a type of super assertive girl who will be into their lack of experience and want to like... put spices on them and let them sit on the counter top for a full moon cycle and then write out a recipe for them that they can use to attract someone who will love them now that they aren't virgins or something, and they don't want to admit that to me up front, which is very mean to do, to want someone to like... be your character development without asking and then not let them prepare to be left with nothing from that interaction in exchange for being a cute story you talk about with your future spouse or whatever.

Most people don't seem to want a relationship with a particular person or a particular type of relationship or even like have considered their own potential deal breakers. Not "I didn't realize this thing I thought everyone did wasn't a thing everyone did" or "i was wrong about my needs in certain areas" or whatever. They genuinely have no idea like what they do for fun that is a group activity, and they make you spend like an hour trying to figure out what they want every time they want something and most of the time when you give it to them they're unhappy.

It's like people want me to be in a relationship just so I'll be in a relationship and other people want to be in a relationship with me just to be in a relationship and even people with lots of money who can leave and who spend all their time complaining about their relationship don't want to leave their relationship. And when I'm like "I don't want to be in a relationship right now because I'm broke or whatever and I wouldn't be able to leave a relationship easily." People are like *shocked pika* why wouldn't you go enter into a relationship with someone who wants to date you based on you having a normal level of kind conversation that you would have with a person on the street and being able to give them sex? Why would you not want to break up with the person you are dating and date a random old man who did your boss a favor once because he gave you a ride in his truck? Why would you not just let other people make major life decisions for you? Why are you not jumping at every chance we give you when it doesn't look or feel right?

It feels like the goal of the whole thing is having someone else to blame for your problems. I don't wanna do that to someone. I hate when stuff isn't my fault and I have to suffer for it anyway. That's why I cut my own hair and pierce my own ears and stuff. So if it gets messed up, it's just an accident and it's because I have never done that before and I just need to figure out how to fix it and I can take all the time I need instead of trying to like... figure out the magic buttons to push to get someone who broke something to be willing to admit they messed up and will try to fix it and like... having to wonder if I can trust them if they're a specially trained and certified expert and they aren't better at doing something than a person who went on the internet and read a tutorial and kind of guessed.

Idk. It's like if you told me most people in the world don't like sex or dating or anything and they aren't in love either and there's like some kind of mystic force that attacks people who don't live with a partner by such and such a time and have a kid by such and such a time and no one told me? I'd totally be like

"That explains everything."

Was I raised without love or was I born unlovable?

[thef1diary]

Thinking about dirtbag! Carlos once the piercings are fully healed…. Thinking about the CLAMPS😩 (ps theyre amazing🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️)

Happy friday!! I hope you have an amazing days gorgeous

- ❄️

— Carlos is a boob guy, you cannot convince me otherwise. Of course he’ll bedazzle your piercings 🤭 18+ content below

Carlos’s grin is pure sin as he tilts his head back against the couch, his dark eyes fixed on you perched in his lap. His cock is buried deep inside your pussy, filling you completely. The heat of him is relentless as you sit there to warm him, bare and trembling.

He reaches for the box sitting on the coffee table, his cock thrusting deeper in you as he moves, earning a sudden moan from you. Settled back, he lifts the lid to reveal the jewelry he’s picked out. Your breath hitches when you see it—a delicate, intricate set of silver chains. The centerpiece is a choker-style necklace with a dainty heart and crescent moon charm. From the necklace, two thin chains cascade down to attach to the new bars for your nipple piercings. Every link gleams under the light, teasingly sensual yet elegant.

He smirks, watching your eyes widen at the intricate design. “You got these pretty little things for me,” he murmurs, leaning close to brush his lips over your ear. “It’s only fair I get to dress you up, isn’t it?”

You nod, your breath catching as he takes the first barbell and tilts your chin up. “Hold still,” he orders, his voice a deep rasp that shoots straight to your cunt.

With one hand, he gently holds your tit, his thumb brushing over the sensitive peak, making your nipple pebble beneath his touch. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine, and you gasp softly as he carefully twists out the old barbell. The new one slides into place, cool and slightly heavier, and he takes his time securing it. His fingers graze your heated skin, his movements deliberate, almost torturous.

When the first chain drapes down, the metal kisses your chest, the weight pulling slightly as it links to the choker around your neck. Carlos hums in satisfaction, his free hand gripping your thigh, pulling you impossibly closer against him.

“Look at you,” he says, his eyes flickering with something dark and possessive. “Sitting so pretty for me, letting me play with you like this. You’re my little fuck doll, aren’t you, nena?”

You try to respond, but the words catch in your throat as he moves to your other nipple, repeating the process with maddening slowness. By the time he’s done, your chest feels heavy, your nipples hypersensitive from his teasing.

Carlos leans back to admire his work, his hands trailing down your sides, stopping just at your hips. “Not done yet, princesa,” he murmurs. “I’ve got something else for you.”

He picks up another object from the box: weighted nipple clamps, both adorned with a small dangling weight. The weights are subtle but heavy enough to promise that every move you make will remind you of their presence. Carlos’s smirk widens as he watches your reaction, his hand sliding up your thigh, finding your cunt stretched around his cock. He teases your clit, circling around it, feeling your wetness drip further down his cock, soaking his thighs.

“Carlos,” you rasp, already feeling the anticipation of the clamps on your nipples.

“Relax,” he says, his voice dripping with lazy confidence. “You’ll love it.”

His fingers pinch your nipples, the sensation sharp enough to make your thighs tremble against his. The first clamp snaps into place, the weight dragging just enough to send another jolt of sensation straight to your core. He does the same with the other, each tug and adjustment drawing whimpers you can’t hold back.

Carlos hums, watching you with open hunger as the weights sway and shift with every subtle movement. “Look at you, nena,” he says, gripping the chain to pull you flush against him. “So perfect, completely mine.”

He tilts your chin up, his mouth capturing yours in a kiss that leaves you breathless. The weights move with every grind of your hips, the constant tugging a delicious torment that only makes you want more.

Carlos grips the chain connecting the piercings, giving it a gentle pull that has you whimpering. “Feel that?” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. “Every little tug, every pull—that’s me reminding you who you belong to.”

You can only nod, your thighs trembling as his hand moves to tease your clit, his touch maddeningly light. The chains sway with every movement, the weights pulling on your sensitive nipples as Carlos toys with you, his cock twitching inside you.

“Ride me,” he growls against your lips, his hands guiding your hips into motion. “Show me how much you need it.”

The weights bounce and shift with every roll of your hips, the added sensation making you cry out, your nails digging into his shoulders. Carlos grasps the chain again, using it to pull you closer, to control the rhythm until you’re completely at his mercy.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice rough and filled with praise. “Take what you need.”

And you do, losing yourself in him, every movement pushing you closer to your orgasm.

want more dirtbag!carlos? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

[heylittleriotact]

Ｍａｓｓａｇｅ(ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1/2)

Manipulation of tissue in the course of preparation of the body

“Forgive me if I come across as overly familiar, dear, but I feel I must ask: are you nervous?” Her eyes darted from his, looked at his hands, his wine glass, his own half-finished salad - anywhere but at him. “I… I uh…” Andraste’s ashes, she felt like a dull-minded idiot whenever she opened her mouth around him.

My sensual take on Rook's dinner date with Emmrich, and how it lead to them sleeping together for the first time.

Rating: Explicit

Under the cut or on ao3

Neve was right - I should have worn the old shoes…

She shifted her knee upward slightly and pressed the ball of her foot into the ground, freeing her right heel from stiff new leather and hiding her grimace of relief behind the rim of her wine glass as she wriggled her somewhat crushed toes now that they weren’t crammed together, fighting for space in the narrow toe box. 

There were a perfectly good pair of well broken in heels sitting in her wardrobe back at the Lighthouse that would have been more than acceptable to wear to dinner with Emmrich, but no, she just had to go to Dock Town earlier in the day with Neve who had all but insisted she buy herself something nice for the occasion…

‘Not saying you don’t know how to clean up - I know you Watchers are a well put together bunch, but I don’t know… maybe you’ll have a nicer evening if you’re not sitting across from Emmrich wearing the same clothes you wear to make funeral arrangements with people?‘

‘I’m almost certain he’ll be sitting across from me wearing the same clothes he wears to make funeral arrangements with people,’ Amina had pointed out, and Neve laughed.

‘How sure are you about that? I’d put my money on him showing up in the most formal, four-piece ensemble he owns if it helps his chances of getting you into bed tonight.’

She had a point - but not about sex. Amina knew perfectly well that weeks and weeks of burning tension shrouded under the polite mantle of collegial professionalism had become increasingly difficult to ignore now that they were… well - now that they were… together. That shoe was going to have to drop sooner rather than later, unless…She wrinkled her nose at the very thought: Unless he was the sort to take a courtship so seriously that abstinence from intimate activities was expected until she shared his name…

But no… surely not. Not judging by the way his hands wandered confidently around her waist and his lips eagerly roamed her neck when he kissed her against the Lovers’ Grave.

Be that as it may, she still didn’t want to overdress for the occasion - how embarrassing would that be? How oblivious?

Her face reddened at the imagined awkwardness of waiting for Emmrich at the eluvian, dressed in a lavish floor-skimming evening gown and gloves, her mass of sleek black hair time-consumingly plaited and pinned up to emphasize the small amount of grave gold that she owned, retrieved from its dusty velvet-lined box for the first time in years because she never had occasion - nor the desire - to actually wear any of it, unlike her gentlemanly new companion who clanged and clattered around everywhere he went like a sentient drawer of silverware. 

He’d inevitably appear, descending the stairs from the library wearing what he wore every day - that well-loved waistcoat, a crisp clean shirt, and his favoured combed Druffalo wool trousers. He’d look as handsome as always, and not at all underdressed for a romantic dinner in the 

Necropolis, and his eyes would widen at the spectacle of her dressed like she was heading off for cocktails with the King of Ferelden. The corners of his mouth would twitch and he’d clear his throat in a polite attempt to stifle his laughter. 

At her. 

At how absolutely stupid she looked.

‘It’s dinner - not a setup for a marriage proposal, Neve.’

‘If you say so, but if there’s a cummerbund involved, you owe me five gold.’

‘He wears a cummerbund every day,’ she sighed, turning and pulling open the door to one of the many clothing boutiques populating the market district. 

‘I thought it was a sash.’

‘Don’t let him hear you say that unless you want an hour long oration on the particulars of ‘a gentleman’s wardrobe.’’

At the sound of the bell over the door tinkling, the boutique owner appeared from behind a rack of angular Tevene formal gowns. 

She wiped her clammy palms on her pants - shit she was bad at this. She always had been. She hadn’t even been on a dinner date in what… three years? 

And now she was sitting across from him, as predicted, wearing the stiff deepstalker leather shoes she’d purchased in a state of utter panic at the shop, along with a plunging, emerald green satin blouse that Neve insisted she leave with, and a new fishtail skirt that she admittedly quite liked: it was a woven fabric, mid-length, pinstriped in black and a rich chocolate brown. The ruffled hem was arranged with thin laces that lended the article a rather pretty bustled look that she thought nicely accentuated the curve of her rear. Disaster of an evening or not, that skirt was going to become a frequently worn item.

And as for the prospect of sleeping together…

She tipped back her glass again. Found it empty. 

Dammit.

“Allow me.” 

She looked up from the empty crystal goblet to see Emmrich’s hand reaching over the table, waiting patiently for her to pass him the glass. The warm light of the candles on the table between them contrasted with the cool light of the veilfire lanterns and the subtle, ever shifting glow of the wisps that floated lazily around them, drawn to curiously observe the spectacle of the two courting Watchers taking their dinner in the Memorial Gardens. 

He had indeed dressed as she predicted: put together, poised… perfect. A man who looked like he was always prepared to hold court at a lectern, soothe a wayward spirit, or arrange a romantic meal complete with an embossed menu with gilded corners. 

He was so untouchable, so lofty and distinguished, yet there was an aspect of him that she still couldn’t quite place - perhaps she hadn’t known him long enough yet. Perhaps their relationship was still too new and he’d not seen fit to reveal such parts of himself to her for fear that she would flee. Whatever it was dwelled deep beneath that veneer of perfection, shrouded so well from view that it simply begat speculation.

Was he some sort of deviant? Was this all a facade to disguise a self-serving, narcissistic monster who would eventually wear her down and rob her of her personhood as he claimed her and reduced her to little more than a pretty possession to wear on his arm to fancy parties? 

Maybe this was just how he operated: luring in vulnerable and attractive partners until he bored of them and left them for someone more interesting?

Was he a priggish asshole and this was a finely honed act that had worked well for his purposes until he no longer had need to maintain it?

There had to be a reason why a man as genuine and kind as this hadn’t been snatched up decades earlier. 

There had to be some literal or figurative skeleton lurking in his closet, and once she tore open the doors and shed light on it, she suspected would step back and place her hands on her hips as she surveyed the stinking desiccated corpse of Truth with a grim and knowing smile, simultaneously satisfied and despondent that she had finally confirmed that Emmrich Volkarin was in fact too good to be true, just as she knew he’d be.

‘Ah yes, there it is,’ she’d say with the nonchalance of someone who’d just found a missing earring stuck behind a cushion, utterly unsurprised and proud of herself for seeing through him and catching onto his game before he could do any real damage. Then she’d gently close the doors of the closet and leave, and he would never hear from her again.

But until such time…

Her scarlet lips parted in a smile and she extended her hand, slipping the delicate crystal stem into his fingers, not drawing back when they made contact, her fingertips brushing over over his own and lingering for perhaps a moment longer than they needed to before they parted and he refilled her glass, the steady ‘glug, glug’ of the wine filling the silence between them. 

He passed it back to her and she said thank you, and this time it was his fingers that lingered - like he had been waiting for some sort of unspoken permission to touch her. 

Heat pooled in her belly, and she pressed her thighs together, letting her other heel slip from its shoe, praying he couldn’t see the flush that was heating her cheeks under the rouge that she wore on them. She drank from the glass and set it down gently, returning to the stunningly arranged blood orange salad on the plate before her, collecting a few pine nuts on her fork before skewering a mouthful of greens as silence fell between them again.

Fuck - this was just as awkward as she thought it would be - he was probably regretting suggesting this in the first place…

“What do you make of the wine?” 

Oh good, they were going to make small talk about what they were drinking: one of the most blatant indications that a date was going terribly.

“It’s nice. Refresh me on its origin?” 

He set down his fork and held up his own glass to the candlelight, swirling the semi-translucent garnet vintage and watching it recede down the sides, observing its legs discerningly. “Quite enigmous, truth be told: an entire crate of bottles was left sitting outside the main gate of the Necropolis over a decade ago with no note, no shipping manifest, each bottle containing this same wine - Adirondack Red, according to the label, bottled on well… a date that falls outside the format of any Chantry, Tevinter, or Elven calendars going back to the beginning of dated history.” He angled the glass and dipped his nose into the bowl, nostrils flaring slightly as he took in the fragrance of the wine. He took a sip, letting it roll over his tongue before smiling pleasantly at Amina. “Could it be the mystery of it that makes it taste so scintillating, or does it stand on its own merit?”

“Mhmm…” Amina breathed, realizing she hadn’t blinked in over a minute - she’d been tracking Emmrich’s every move with a gaze that was nothing short of predatory… hungry. The heat that simmered deep in her core flared and sparked, embers of its existence rising up through her like molten sap spitting from a piece of burning pine. “Merit…”

He set the glass down, folding his long fingered hands together in front of him to lean forward slightly, his expression soft and inquisitive.

“Forgive me if I come across as overly familiar, dear, but I feel I must ask: are you nervous?”

Her eyes darted from his, looked at his hands, his wine glass, his own half-finished salad - anywhere but at him. “I… I uh…”

Andraste’s ashes, she felt like a dull-minded idiot whenever she opened her mouth around him.

His hand found hers on her side of the table, covering it and imparting a gentle squeeze.

“I’m… yes. Yes, I suppose I am.” she finally admitted, staring at his hand on hers, still unable to meet his eyes.

“So am I.” 

That did it. 

His thumb danced over her skin, sending welcome jolts of sensation up her arm. She dared to lift her gaze to find him regarding her with a look of understanding affection, his moustache quirked slightly, following the curve of his soft smile. “Does that put your mind somewhat at ease?” 

“Yes, actually,” she managed, her voice wavering slightly. “Thank you, Emmrich.” 

“Think nothing of it, darling.” He lifted her hand over the table and pressed his lips against the backs of her fingers. “Do try to enjoy yourself - tonight is only for us: there is no expectation, nor misplaced assumption… not on my part, at least.”

He was right: it wasn’t that he was telling her to pretend she was having a nice time for the benefit of his ego. He truly did want her to relax, loosen up, and just… be. 

“It’s been uh… quite awhile since I’ve spent time with someone like this. I think I’ve forgotten how.” Despite the self-deprecating statement she felt some of the tension in her shoulders release as Emmrich set her hand back down on the table, and she felt safe enough to laugh a little.

His own chuckle of amusement joined hers and he sat back and picked up his fork again. “I daresay I find myself in a similar predicament, dear Rook, but I can’t think of better company in which to reacquaint myself with such things.”

Maker’s breath he’s smooth…

They finished their salad and the remaining courses with much more ease, conversation flowing as effortlessly between them as it had since Amina started taking him up on his daily invitations to tea instead of diligently avoiding him as she had in those early days in the Lighthouse. 

They covered the standard array of dinner date conversation topics: favourite colours, exactly how long it had been since either of them had been in a relationship, and what attracted them to each other in the first place. It was predictable, typical fare that neither tread too far into the realms of disclosing any damning personal flaws, nor deflected enough to draw suspicion that the other was being deliberately obfuscating. 

Normally Amina loathed this brand of superficial small talk - it really didn’t tell one much about a person - nothing important, at any rate. But perhaps it was the Adirondack wine, heady and rich, curiously rife with something that could only be described as magic. Or it could have been the way she kept catching faint whiffs of his fresh, mossy cologne when he waved his hands through the air as he spoke, but as traditionally banal as the topics were, she found herself hanging onto his every word: watching the shape his mouth made as he enunciated certain vowels and consonants, savouring the charming lilt of his tone and how she could nearly pinpoint the exact place in his chest from which his voice resonated…

Then of course there was the food itself: a varied and inspired spread that incorporated an exotic bevy of ingredients that Amina knew to be aphrodisiac in nature: figs and pomegranates, saffron, and spicy peppers that were sweet on her tongue but left her lips tingling, blood-flushed, and tantalizingly swollen. 

There was no overlooking the sensual tone of the menu, each course arranged like art on the plate; each morsel designed to arouse and stimulate all five of the senses: it was a meal designed to impress - and to seduce: to make plain his desire for her in the form of an elegant, sophisticated proposition. 

Yet here they were, well into dessert (a sinful dark chocolate gateau that was decadent and rich, but didn’t leave her feeling overfull) still trading surface based small talk and polite compliments: they might as well have been at the annual Wintersend Ball put on for all the Watchers, surrounded by colleagues and apprentices.

It was frustrating to say the least: her arousal had made itself known over the course of the evening; blood rushing to her sex, engorging her as she shifted in her chair, bare upper thighs damp as Emmrich prattled on about flowers. 

Amina set her fork lengthways across her bare plate and dabbed at the corners of her lips with her napkin before neatly folding it and placing it atop the plate as well. “That was delicious.” 

Emmrich finished the last bite of his gateau as well and his fork hovered over his plate as his eyes locked on her mouth and he leaned forward, “You’ve got… there’s a bit of chocolate still–” he laughed - not the cruel, jeering laugh she imagined earlier, but one of charmed endearment - and tapped the left corner of his mouth, “-here.”

Amina probed her tongue around the corner in question, “There?”

It was Emmrich’s turn to look bashful, blushing slightly as he shook his head and lifted a hand towards her, pausing midway to ask, “May I?” She nodded and his thumb found the corner of her mouth, delicately sweeping up the chocolate in question. 

He had been about to draw back, pleased that the offending confectionary had been satisfactorily dealt with, but Amina - having spent months dancing around this man, and having officially tired of it as of this moment - caught his wrist and drew his thumb across her lower lip, parting her mouth just enough to lick the bittersweet smudge from his fingertip, smiling when his eyes widened slightly at her audacity as she gently dragged the pad of his thumb over her bottom teeth.

“So chivalrous,” she noted, a hush to her voice that could no longer be attributed to nerves.

He reddened further, swallowed, and managed to take his hand back, promptly scooping up the dregs of his wine as he retreated back to his side of the table. His other hand, Amina observed, had vanished under the table for a fleeting moment and was accompanied by a slight shifting in his seat that did absolutely nothing to quell her very active imagination. 

He was nervous, the fact made abundantly clear now that she was actively flirting with him instead of staying within the safe, unthreatening confines of civilized conversation that he was most comfortable in. 

He wanted to bed her. He wanted to take that next massive step forward in their relationship. Why else would he have used his sway to have the Gardens cordoned off for the night just for them? Why else would he have conceptualized a culinary experience so blatantly steeped in raw erotic overtones? She knew Emmrich well enough by now to know that he didn’t make oblivious mistakes when it came to romantic gestures.  

She was more than willing to partake in his flesh if he was keen on hers, so why the hesitance?

Clumsy silence reigned once more as a skeletal servant cleared away their dessert plates and placed a stemmed cordial glass filled with an opaque daffodil coloured liqueur in front of each of them.

Knowing full well what it was, Amina plucked the delicate glass from the table with fingers that were deceptively gentle despite the scarred, gnarled state of them. “What have we here?” She asked Emmrich as the servant shuffled away. 

“Antivan Limón - a vivacious digestif that rounds out a fine meal quite nicely.” He lifted his own between his thumb and forefinger, immediately appearing relieved to be talking about drinks again.

She sipped it, savouring the bright, tart flavour as it pirouetted over her taste buds like a crisp summer breeze: light and vivacious indeed. “Mmmm… it is lovely.” She lowered the glass but didn’t set it down, softly tapping her lacquered fingernails against the patterned crystal. She looked up at Emmrich and treated him to the same soft, kind smile he’d shown her earlier. “Forgive me if I come off as overly familiar, Emmrich, but I feel I must ask: are you nervous?”

The cordial glass wobbled in his hand at her words and he used the other to steady it before putting it down on the table where it would be safe.

“I suppose I am,” he admitted, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards at the familiarity of this conversation.

“So am I,” she quipped, and she leaned over the table to place a soft kiss on his heated cheek, then the quaint line of his smile, etched into his skin from so many years of the kindness and compassion that he gave so freely; then the corner of his mouth. Then she kissed him fully, her tongue feathering past her lips to taste the summery limón that clung to his. He parted for her and she slipped into his mouth, caressing his tongue with her own for only the barest moment before pulling away and sinking back down into her chair. “Does that put your mind somewhat at ease?”

“It does,” he breathed, looking bemused, evidently not yet trusting himself to pick up the cordial glass again. Instead, he studied her, his rich hazel eyes taking in every detail of her hair, her face, and her bare shoulders. “You look truly ravishing tonight, dear.”

Emboldened, Amina smoothed the front of the low cut satin blouse with one hand, pushing her shoulders back and her chest out. “You mentioned that when we met at the eluvian earlier, but I don’t mind hearing it again.” 

The wine. It had to be the wine. And now the limón which was considerably stronger was making its way through her bloodstream too, and perhaps she should stop now before she made a complete fool of herself, but…

“What do you think of my shoes? I bought them just for tonight.” She slammed her heels back down into the shoes in question and lifted her feet under the table, depositing them tidily into Emmrich’s lap, causing him to jump with such abruptness that the table shifted and the candles wobbled, “Sorry,” she demurred, reaching out to steady a candlestick to keep it from falling over.

He looked down at the shiny, midnight blue shoes in his lap, the pointed toes catching veilfire and wisplight, his mouth wonderfully agape.

“They’re… they’re lovely, dear…” He rasped, his hands disappearing from the surface of the table to softly caress the leather against his fingers, curling them around the sides of her feet and tracing the shape of the expensive shoes, finding the silken texture of her stockings as they wandered towards her ankles. Something changed in his expression then - like he’d woken up and come to his senses. She half expected him to shove her feet off of him and admonish her for her lack of decorum. Instead he looked up at her, his eyes burning with passion. “But they’re hurting you.”

“They’re not,” she lied, tossing back another sip of limón. 

“My valiant, stalwart Reaper,” he tutted. “You do our order credit with your devotion, don’t you?” His hands curved beneath her ankles and his thumbs hooked under the pitch of the shoes, popping them free from her soles. “You concealed your discomfort admirably until we were two thirds of our way through the Vault of The Beloved.”

She flicked her hair, maintaining nonchalance even though every one of his calculated touches filled her with a ravenous need for more - for all of him - as much as he would give her. “That’s ridiculous. This is hardly my first time wearing shoes in this style.”

“Oh I’ve seen you traipse around the Lighthouse in shoes like these often enough…” he murmured, his fingers and palms still roving over her feet and ankles tenderly. Had the candles just dimmed slightly? “...and I consider myself to be quite capable of discerning the difference between your comfortable stride, and your belaboured one: I am familiar with the finer points of anatomy.”

Oh. Well that was certainly a response. A response that was… dripping with entendre?

“Been watching me, have you, love?” Her eyebrow raised, her heart made itself comfortable somewhere in the vicinity of her throat. 

“I can’t help myself, you see, though I have tried to compose myself and observe you with the deference you deserve…” He tugged the shoes fully from her feet and set them on the ground next to him, enfolding her tiny, pedicured toes in his large, warm hands. “But try as I may, I see glimpses of you in nearly everything I perceive of late: your smile fades through beams of dusty sunlight; a verdant gaze regards me from every living thing in Harding’s greenhouse… I fear I am bewitched, darling Amina, yet the eye does not go wanting when it has the privilege of looking upon you. If I am indeed under your spell, it is surely the happiest curse in existence.” 

His thumbs curved into the balls of her feet, cradling her arch and working slow circles into the tense, cramped joints as she took in his words - played them over in her mind… lived in them.

She didn’t know what she’d been expecting him to say, but it… it wasn’t that. 

“Emmrich…” she sighed, taking another mouthful of limón and letting her head fall back. The stupid shoes were agony, but his fingers were rapidly undoing the damage they’d done.

“They are stunning shoes, for what it’s worth.” He gathered her right foot in both his hands and began languidly massaging, “But you needn’t sacrifice your comfort in an effort to impress - I assure you: you’ve already accomplished that.” 

Unable to help herself anymore at his words, her left foot dallied, stretched, and found what it was looking for - the growing bulge in his pants, pinned against his thigh. She curled her toes against it, marking the catch of Emmrich’s breath and the flutter of his eyelids as she felt him under her toes, her heart beating faster, mouth going dry, touching for the first time this aspect of his anatomy that she had so often fantasized about late at night in her room, her own fingers moving inside her as she fucked herself to climax imagining they were his hard, hot cock pounding into her instead. 

It was her favourite thing to think about recently.

“Is this alright?” She asked, watching his throat bob; watching his eyes glass over and then darken with lust.

“Yes,” he whispered, his voice straining as he watched her continue rubbing her petite, stocking-clad foot against his hard, clothed cock under the table. “Oh… darling, yes…” 

Amina swallowed the last of her limón and set the glass on the table, tugging her right foot from Emmrich’s hand and softly caressing his cock with both feet now. “Don’t worry about me, Emmrich: I knew exactly what I was getting into when I selected those shoes.” 

His fingers clasped over her toes again and stroked her feet over his length, his hips arcing subtly into her soles. “I had rather been hoping we might get to know one another better tonight, but I must say: I didn’t anticipate dessert taking this turn,” he murmured, something even more sinful than the chocolate gateau dwelling in his smile.

“Would you like me to stop?” She meant it: she wanted him to enjoy himself, not feel uncomfortable.

“Of course not–”

She traced the shape of him with her flawless feet again, coaxing a soft hiss from him. 

“But we should–”

“- get out of here?” She finished for him. “Indulge in a nightcap back at the Lighthouse?” 

Neither of them were inexperienced in this arena: they both knew that ‘a nightcap’ consisted of Emmrich burying himself to the hilt between her legs, and both of them finally finding the release they craved after what felt like an eternity of yearning for one another. 

“That sounds like a marvelous idea, dear.” He nodded tightly, threw back his entire glass of limón in a single go, and slipped Amina’s shoes back on her feet before standing, the front of his pants visibly straining as he swept around to her side of the table and pulled her chair away from the table - gentlemanly even in his haste to leave this place. 

Amina rose to her feet with Emmrich’s hand and twined her fingers between his as he began to lead her from the table, snagging their coats from the nearby coat rack and draping them over his forearm, concealing his arousal from anyone they might might pass by on their route back to the eluvian. 

She managed not to limp the distance to the doors of the garden, and before they left the gardens behind, Amina halted and squeezed his hand. “Wait - before we go: this was beautiful,” she looked over her shoulder at the candlelit table, now empty. “It was the most thoughtful, heartfelt dinner anyone’s ever arranged for me, and…” she saw some of the urgency leave his face: his brows softened, his jaw relaxed. “Emmrich… I’m… I’m so glad I met you.” 

And she stood on her toes and curled her fingers around the back of his neck, bringing her lips to his in a bruising kiss that caused him to rock back half a step, throwing his free hand back to catch himself before they tumbled backwards into a hedge from the momentum. 

When he was sure he steadied himself, he leaned forward into the kiss, carding his fingers through her silky hair, returning her enthusiasm with a muffled groan as he licked into her mouth, tasting her lips and her tongue, feeling the smoothness of her teeth and the warm, wet heat of her. 

He pulled away, pupils blown wide, cradling her jaw in his hand as he looked down at her, a thin strand of saliva still connecting them both. “And I you, my sweet Amina,” he breathed. “I only regret that it took so long for us to find one another.” 

“Oh I fully intend on making up for lost time,” she purred, gently adjusting his treasured collar pin, worrying at her lower lip with her teeth. “Don’t you worry about that.” Her fingers drifted from the pin to his jaw, feeling the realness of him against her flesh. “What I am concerned about is a matter of logistics: where, my handsome suitor, do you propose we enjoy our nightcap?”

Surely he had a bed. She’d never actually asked, but it would be lunacy for him to pack Manfred through the eluvian, back to the Necropolis and up the lift a few dozen levels to his apartment every night… wouldn’t it? There was no way he slept in his armchair or at his desk - not when she’d seen the slow, tentative way he’d unfold from a sitting position sometimes, and heard the brittle cracking of his poor knees as they straightened, worn ligaments and tendons protesting.

She was thirty-six and her knees weren’t in much better condition due to the physical demands of her vocation: she could sympathize, and for that reason, she knew if he didn’t have a bed, he most definitely would have made it everybody’s problem by now. 

Oh no, he had a bed, and tonight she was going to learn where in the damned Lighthouse it was, and then she was going to fuck him in it until he couldn’t think straight.

He shouldered the door open, and guided her over the threshold before him, taking care to close the heavy slate doors behind him before turning to her, his eyes glinting. “As it turns out, I do in fact have a bed, darling - did you assume I slept in the laboratory, standing upright like a horse?”

“Of course not: that would be silly.” 

“Tremendously,” he concurred, his moustache twitching with a wry smile the instant before he swept one arm around her shoulders, the other behind her knees. 

“Hey–!” She warbled out, startled at this new development, and her feet left the ground as he scooped her up, cradling her to his chest, the coats still draped over his forearm.

“You didn’t actually think I was going to let you hobble the entire way back home, did you, dear?”

Home. He’d said home…

Amina knew her face was beetroot as she scrambled for words. “You - you could have just magically healed my feet!” She squirmed halfheartedly in his grip and he snorted in amusement, his breath washing over her face. 

“Now where would be the fun in that?” He teased, kissing her nose and setting off down the corridor through the cavernous vault. “But if you find it truly undignified, I’ll gladly set you down and take a moment to tend to your feet...” 

She glanced up at him. He was looking ahead to make sure he didn’t trip on anything and send them flying. The sharp angles of his cheeks and jaw stood out against the dusty tomb light diffused throughout the vault, and he still looked well-pleased with himself as he strode onwards, not struggling at all with the task of hauling her bones around. 

“I suppose this isn’t so bad…” She leaned her head close to Emmrich’s neck and nuzzled into the expanse of exposed skin between his collar and his jawline, inhaling deeply, filling herself with the comforting scent of him. “My hero… whatever would I do without you?”

He crooked his neck against her ministrations, her breath tickling him - or arousing him - she was unsure which. “I’m hardly a hero, darling - just a gentlem—“

“Professor Volkarin!”

Oh dear.

She felt Emmrich go rigid under her and he turned to address whomever had called out to him: it was an apprentice mage - a young man, no older than nineteen with a shock of curly red hair and a pointy little beard growing from the very tip of his chin.

His eyes went from Emmrich to Amina, then back to Emmrich, widening the entire time.

“Oh - I - s-sorry Professor, I didn’t know you - uh - I know you’ve been… away… b-but I was w-wondering if you could help me understand a few things about uh… Ley lines and their relation to dowsing and other methods of cyclomancy. You see, I’m running into some difficulty wi–”

“Hamish.” Emmrich’s interjection wasn’t unkind, but there was a firmness in his tone that garnered respect and immediately shut Hamish up. “I have absolute faith that a young man of your intelligence doesn’t require a dowsing rod to divine the truth of the matter, which is that I am presently indisposed–”

Amina buried her face in Emmrich’s shoulder to conceal her grin and stifle the giggle that slipped past her lips. 

“— now be on your way and submit your questions to me in writing and I shall respond in due course when time permits. Now: good evening to you.” The farewell was delivered with curt finality that indicated the matter was not up for debate, and Amina peeked up from Emmrich’s shoulder to see Hamish soundlessly opening and closing his mouth as he struggled to come to terms with the abject horror of accidentally interrupting his professor during what was obviously a romantic evening. 

“Y-yes - of course! Good - good evening to you, Professor…” he bowed jerkily to Emmrich. “Lady.” He tipped his head further down and then turned and fled so quickly Amina thought he Fade-stepped away. Perhaps he had.

When she trusted the lad was out of earshot, Amina laughed properly, curling her fingers into the worn but lovingly kept material of Emmrich’s waistcoat. “I think poor Hamish thinks he’s ruined your chances with me and destroyed his career because of it.”

“Hmm…” Emmrich mused. “I suppose that depends: did young Hamish spoil the evening with his uncouth interruption?”

“Not even close.” She licked his neck - planted a wet, sucking kiss on the hot flesh there.

“Then he has nothing to fear,” he declared, tilting his head down and claiming Amina’s lips in one more deep kiss before setting off again towards the eluvian.

Towards home.

[amethystarachnid]

NEW YEAR EVE WITH THE KIDS

⤷ JAMES B. “BUCKY” BARNES

ᯓ★ Pairing: James B. “Bucky” Barnes x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 4.4k

ᯓ★ Summary: New Year Eve party with a 10, a 6 and a 2 years old kids isn't easy, especially when it's a Stark party, but can you and your husband, Bucky, manage it?

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing

ᯓ★ Request: not requested but I wanted to write for Bucky from the Holiday special with this trope: 29. New Year’s Eve Party with the Avengers (or X-men)  – The Avengers come together to celebrate the New Year, but there’s a twist: the kids are part of the celebration. How does your character juggle both the kids' excitement and their own fun as the clock counts down to midnight?

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ From now requests can only be done in the asks, not in the comments because it's confusing and I'm scared of forgetting a request <3

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests open)

ᯓ★ Masterlist

ᯓ★ If you are a Charles Xavier fan click on this link!

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language and this isn’t proof read

The evening begins with chaos, of course. In your household, it always does. You’re standing in front of the mirror in your shared bedroom, trying to fix the clasp on your necklace when you hear a loud crash from the kids’ room, followed by Estelle’s exasperated voice.

“Liam! I told you not to throw the ball near the closet!”

You sigh, glancing at Bucky, who is currently on the floor wrestling Julie into her tights. “I thought the party was supposed to be fun,” you mutter, and he chuckles, looking up at you with that boyish grin that still makes your heart skip.

“Fun’s subjective, doll,” he replies, finally managing to slide the tights over Julie’s chubby legs. She giggles, kicking at his vibranium arm as if it’s her favorite toy. “There we go, princess. All set for your grand entrance.”

Julie claps her tiny hands, her pigtails bobbing. “Pahty!” she exclaims, and Bucky scoops her up, planting a noisy kiss on her cheek. She shrieks in delight.

The crash upstairs is followed by Estelle shouting again. “Mom! Liam’s stuck in the closet!”

You exchange a look with Bucky. “Your turn,” you say, gesturing toward the door.

He smirks, standing up with Julie still perched on his hip. “Sure thing, boss.” He taps your chin with his free hand before heading out, his footsteps heavy on the stairs.

In the kids’ room, you hear the commotion quiet down as Bucky arrives to handle the situation. You use the brief reprieve to fix your makeup and take a deep breath. It’s New Year’s Eve, after all, and Tony Stark’s parties are legendary. You can’t show up looking like you’ve just run a marathon.

A few minutes later, Bucky returns with Liam in tow. Your six-year-old has a sheepish grin and a telltale smudge of something across his cheek. Bucky looks bemused, though not particularly surprised. “Our boy thought he could climb the shelves to get his Captain America action figure. Guess who came to the rescue?”

“Captain America?” you tease, raising a brow.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Close. His dad.” He sets Julie down and crouches to Liam’s level. “You okay, bud?”

Liam nods vigorously. “Yup! Daddy saved me!” He beams up at Bucky, who ruffles his hair and mutters something about reckless behavior being genetic. You stifle a laugh.

By the time everyone is dressed, it feels like an entire year has passed. Estelle looks radiant in her sparkly silver dress, which she picked out with great care. Liam has been persuaded into his tiny suit after much negotiation, and Julie, in her poofy pink dress, keeps twirling and declaring, “I’m a pwincess!”

Bucky, who looks as devastatingly handsome as ever in a sharp black suit, whistles low as he glances at you. “Doll, you’re stealing the show tonight.” His eyes trail over your outfit with such open admiration that it makes you blush.

“Flattery won’t get you out of diaper duty later,” you say, smirking.

He grins. “It’s worth a shot.”

With everyone finally ready, the five of you pile into the car and head to the compound. The drive is lively, filled with Julie’s excited babbling, Liam’s endless questions about fireworks, and Estelle’s occasional exasperated sighs about her younger siblings. Bucky is at the wheel, his hand reaching over to rest on your knee every so often, grounding you amidst the chaos.

When you arrive, the compound is already buzzing with life. Tony has outdone himself, as usual, with glittering decorations, an extravagant buffet, and a live band playing festive tunes. The kids’ eyes widen in awe as they take it all in.

“Remember,” you say, crouching to their level. “Stay close to us, okay?”

“Yes, Mom,” Estelle says dutifully, though she already looks like she’s itching to run off and explore. Liam bounces on his toes, clearly more excited about the dessert table than anything else. Julie clings to Bucky’s leg, her little hand clutching his fingers.

Bucky picks her up effortlessly, his eyes soft as he looks at her. “Ready to have some fun, sweetheart?”

She nods, her face lighting up. “Dance with me, Daddy?”

His grin is immediate. “Always.”

The night is young, and though wrangling three kids at a Stark party might be a Herculean task, you know one thing for certain: with Bucky by your side, it’s going to be an unforgettable start to the new year.

The party is in full swing as you and Bucky step into the grand hall with your three little ones. The band plays jazzy renditions of holiday classics, and the room sparkles with golden lights and elegant decorations. Tony is in his element, greeting guests with a drink in one hand and an effortless quip on his lips. Somewhere near the center of the crowd, you catch a glimpse of Steve, already engaged in a polite but animated conversation with Natasha.

The kids, of course, are magnets for attention. Within minutes of your arrival, they’re surrounded by adoring Avengers.

“Is this my favorite Barnes family?” Sam’s voice booms as he makes his way over, a broad smile on his face. He leans down to fist-bump Liam, who immediately grins.

“Uncle Sam!” Liam exclaims, hopping with excitement. “Look, I’m wearing a suit! Dad said I look like James Bond.”

Sam chuckles, throwing Bucky an amused glance. “James Bond, huh? High praise coming from your old man.”

Bucky shrugs, looking unapologetically proud. “He pulls it off.”

Julie, meanwhile, reaches for Sam, her tiny arms stretching toward him. “Unca Sam!” she demands, and Sam obliges, scooping her up with ease.

“Well, aren’t you the prettiest little princess,” he says, spinning her around. She squeals with delight, and you take a moment to exchange a relieved smile with Bucky. At least for now, someone else is helping entertain the kids.

Estelle, however, is more interested in catching up with Uncle Steve, who spots her and immediately crouches to her level. “Is that Estelle? Or is it a movie star in disguise?”

She rolls her eyes but can’t hide her smile. “It’s me, Uncle Steve. Can I show you the drawing I made for you?”

“Of course,” he says, his face lighting up. She pulls out a folded piece of paper from her small purse and hands it to him. It’s a detailed sketch of Captain America’s shield, meticulously colored in red, white, and blue. Steve whistles, clearly impressed. “You’ve got talent, kiddo. I’m gonna frame this.”

Estelle beams, and you exchange a look with Bucky. “She’s been working on that for days,” you whisper, and he nods, pride etched in his expression.

As the evening progresses, the kids take turns dragging you and Bucky in different directions. Liam is enthralled by the dessert table, where Thor is loudly extolling the virtues of a massive chocolate cake to anyone who will listen. Julie insists on dancing, tugging at Bucky’s hand until he relents and twirls her around on the dance floor. The sight of him, in his sharp suit, crouched down to Julie’s height and spinning her like she’s the star of the evening, melts your heart.

“You two make it look easy,” Natasha teases, appearing at your side as you watch them.

“Easy?” you laugh, sipping your drink. “Nat, I haven’t had a single moment to sit since we got here.”

“Well, you’re doing great.” She gives you a sly smile. “And if you need a breather, let me know. I’ve got my ‘scary Aunt Nat’ face ready to keep them in line.”

“Scary Aunt Nat?” you repeat, grinning. “I’m not sure they’d buy it.”

Natasha shrugs, but there’s a glimmer of affection in her eyes as she watches Julie try to dip Bucky during their dance. “Worth a shot.”

When Julie finally tires of dancing, Bucky scoops her up and makes his way back to you. “This one’s gonna crash soon,” he says, his voice warm as he adjusts her position on his hip. Julie rests her head on his shoulder, her thumb in her mouth.

“Want me to take her for a bit?” you offer.

He shakes his head. “Nah, I’ve got her.” His free hand finds yours, and for a moment, the chaos of the evening fades as he gives you a soft smile. “You look beautiful tonight, by the way.”

Before you can respond, Liam reappears, his mouth covered in chocolate frosting. “Mom! Dad! Uncle Thor let me try the big cake!”

“Of course he did,” Bucky mutters, giving Thor a mock glare across the room. Thor grins unapologetically, raising a glass in salute.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, buddy,” you say, grabbing a napkin and crouching to wipe Liam’s face. He squirms but lets you do it, his excitement about the cake apparently outweighing his aversion to being fussed over.

The rest of the evening is a whirlwind. Steve steps in to play “superhero tag�� with Estelle and Liam, giving you and Bucky a much-needed moment to sit down and enjoy a plate of hors d'oeuvres. Clint distracts Julie with a balloon animal he somehow fashions out of a stray party decoration. Even Tony gets involved, showing Liam and Estelle how to use a holographic projector to create firework simulations.

You lean back against Bucky’s shoulder, savoring the rare quiet moment. “We owe them all big time,” you murmur.

Bucky kisses the top of your head. “They don’t mind. It’s family.”

The word settles over you warmly, and you glance around the room. Estelle is laughing as Steve pretends to trip over his own feet during their game. Liam is perched on Thor’s shoulders, looking like he’s ready to conquer the world. Julie is curled up in Natasha’s lap, her eyelids drooping as Nat quietly tells her a story.

It’s chaotic, messy, and exhausting, but it’s yours. And you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

The quiet moment doesn’t last. It never does.

You’re just about to take another sip of your drink when Liam barrels into you, clutching your leg with surprising force. “Mommy,” he whines, his voice muffled against the fabric of your dress, “I’m sleepy.”

You glance down and notice the way his little face is pressed against you, his arms wrapped tightly around your thigh. He’s usually full of boundless energy, so this sudden clinginess catches you off guard. “Sleepy already, huh?” you ask, crouching down to ruffle his hair. “It’s not even close to midnight.”

“I’m not tired,” he insists, his eyelids drooping even as he says it. “I just want to sit with you.”

Bucky appears at your side, Julie still nestled in his arms. She’s half-asleep now, her thumb firmly planted in her mouth, her head resting against Bucky’s shoulder. He rocks her gently without thinking, his movements instinctive and soothing. “Looks like the little ones are winding down,” he observes, his voice low.

You glance over to where Estelle is happily chatting with a small group of other kids her age. She’s animated, her hands gesturing wildly as she tells some story or another. Clearly, she’s inherited your social streak.

“Estelle seems fine,” you point out. “We just have to figure out how to keep these two awake.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, his vibranium hand lightly patting Julie’s back. “You mean how to keep them awake without a meltdown.”

“Exactly,” you say, standing up with Liam still clinging to your side. He seems content to stay glued to you for now, his cheek resting against your stomach. You stroke his hair absentmindedly, already brainstorming.

Natasha appears out of nowhere, her sharp eyes taking in the scene. “Looks like bedtime’s creeping up on them,” she says with a smirk. “You two need a strategy?”

“We’re open to suggestions,” you reply, gesturing at Liam and Julie. “We want them to make it to midnight, but…”

Natasha tilts her head thoughtfully. “Maybe some fresh air would help. Take them out to the balcony for a bit. It’s quieter out there, and the cold might perk them up.”

Bucky nods. “That’s not a bad idea. What do you think, doll?”

You shrug. “Worth a shot.”

With that, you gently pry Liam from your leg and scoop him into your arms. He protests half-heartedly but quickly settles, his head drooping against your shoulder. Bucky adjusts Julie, who lets out a sleepy little sigh but doesn’t wake fully, and the two of you make your way toward the balcony.

The cold air hits you immediately as you step outside, and it’s invigorating. The sky is clear, the stars twinkling brightly, and the faint sound of the party inside provides a comforting background hum. Liam stirs slightly in your arms, blinking against the crisp air.

“Hey, buddy,” you say softly. “Feel that? It’s nice out here.”

He mumbles something incoherent, but his eyes stay open. Julie, on the other hand, gives a little shiver, prompting Bucky to wrap her more tightly in his jacket.

“You think this’ll do the trick?” Bucky asks, his breath visible in the cool air.

“Let’s give it a few minutes,” you reply, swaying gently with Liam.

The two of you stand there, side by side, enjoying the rare moment of relative peace. Estelle pokes her head out onto the balcony a few minutes later, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

“Mom! Dad!” she exclaims, her voice slightly too loud for the serene setting. “There’s a game inside with prizes! Can I play?”

You exchange a glance with Bucky, who nods. “Sure thing, sweetheart,” he says. “But stay where we can see you, okay?”

Estelle grins and darts back inside, leaving the two of you alone with the younger two. Liam starts to perk up slightly, his head lifting from your shoulder as he takes in the view of the compound grounds below.

“Are there fireworks?” he asks sleepily.

“Not yet,” you tell him. “They’ll happen at midnight.”

“I want to see them,” he says, his voice firmer now. You take that as a good sign.

Julie stirs again in Bucky’s arms, her big blue eyes blinking open. She glances around, taking in the unfamiliar setting, before giving Bucky a sleepy smile. “Daddy.”

“Hey, baby girl,” Bucky says, his voice as soft as the snowflakes that begin to drift down from the sky. “You waking up a little?”

She nods, resting her tiny hand on his vibranium arm. “Cold,” she murmurs.

“We’ll go back inside soon,” he promises, brushing a kiss against her forehead.

After a few more minutes, you decide it’s time to return to the party. The fresh air has done its job—Liam is more awake now, and Julie is at least partially alert. Once inside, the warmth of the room welcomes you, and the kids seem to adjust quickly.

You and Bucky take turns carrying Julie and coaxing Liam into small activities to keep him occupied. Tony, always the entertainer, steps in at one point with a bubble machine he’s somehow rigged up, and that distracts Liam for a good ten minutes. Estelle reappears briefly to show you the prize she’s won—a small stuffed animal—before darting back to her group of friends.

“Are we actually going to make it to midnight?” you whisper to Bucky as Julie leans heavily against him again, her eyelids drooping.

“We’re stubborn,” he replies with a grin. “The kids get it from us.”

You laugh softly, taking his free hand in yours. “Alright, Sergeant Barnes. Let’s see if we can pull this off.”

The final stretch to midnight begins with a burst of energy you didn’t see coming—mainly from Liam. As the games inside kick off, his drowsiness evaporates like snow in sunlight. The moment he notices kids gathering around Tony, who’s setting up some sort of interactive holographic game, Liam wriggles out of your grasp and bolts across the room.

“Uncle Tony’s got a game!” he shouts, weaving through the crowd like a little rocket.

“Liam!” you call, but he’s already in the thick of it, his excitement contagious. Other kids, Estelle included, gather around Tony as he explains the rules with dramatic flair.

Bucky chuckles, watching Liam’s antics. “Looks like he got his second wind.”

“Lucky him,” you reply, adjusting Julie in your arms. She’s growing heavier by the second, her little head lolling against your shoulder. “Wish I could say the same about this one.”

Julie lets out a soft hum, her eyes fluttering shut. You sigh, exchanging a look with Bucky.

“Almost midnight,” he says, checking the clock on the wall. “Think we can keep her up for the fireworks?”

You cradle Julie closer, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “We have to try. She’ll be upset if she misses them.”

Bucky steps closer, his vibranium arm resting gently on your back. “Fireworks, huh?” He leans down to nuzzle Julie’s cheek, his voice soft and coaxing. “Hey, baby girl, you wanna see the fireworks? Pretty colors in the sky?”

Julie stirs at the mention of fireworks, her tiny fingers curling into the fabric of your dress. “Fiwerworks?” she mumbles, her voice slurred with sleep.

“That’s right,” you say, kissing her forehead. “But you have to stay awake for them, okay? Just a little longer.”

Her eyes open a fraction, and she nods weakly, her thumb finding its way back into her mouth. Bucky grins, clearly charmed by her determination. “That’s my girl.”

The promise of fireworks seems to work, and Julie stays semi-alert as the minutes tick by. You and Bucky take turns holding her, walking her around the room to keep her from dozing off completely. Occasionally, she perks up when she hears laughter or music, but it’s clear she’s hanging on by a thread.

Meanwhile, Liam is fully immersed in the games, his earlier sleepiness forgotten. He’s running back and forth with a gaggle of kids, cheering loudly whenever someone scores a point or completes a challenge. Estelle joins in too, though she occasionally glances back at you and Bucky to make sure everything’s okay.

As the final minutes of the year approach, Tony takes the stage to announce the countdown, and the energy in the room shifts. People start gathering near the large glass doors leading to the garden, where the fireworks will be launched. The kids trickle back to their parents, their excitement palpable.

“Mom! Dad!” Liam calls, sprinting over to you with flushed cheeks and wild eyes. “It’s almost time! Can we go outside? Uncle Tony said the fireworks are gonna be HUGE!”

Estelle follows close behind, clutching her prize from earlier and looking equally excited. “I want to see them too!”

“Of course,” you say, smiling at their enthusiasm. “Let’s get our coats.”

You and Bucky bundle the kids up as quickly as possible. Julie, now fully awake at the mention of fireworks, clings to Bucky’s neck as he wraps her in her tiny pink jacket. “Fiwerworks, Daddy!” she says, her earlier sleepiness replaced by anticipation.

“That’s right, princess,” he replies, adjusting her hood. “Let’s go see them.”

The five of you step out into the garden, joining the crowd of partygoers waiting for the show. The night is crisp and clear, the stars twinkling above, and the air buzzes with the thrill of the approaching countdown. Bucky keeps Julie in his arms, her wide eyes scanning the sky, while Liam stands between you both, bouncing on his toes. Estelle stays close, her hand gripping yours tightly.

As the final seconds tick down, the crowd begins to chant. “Ten! Nine! Eight!”

You look up at Bucky, who’s already watching you with a soft smile. His free hand finds yours, squeezing gently. “Happy New Year, doll,” he murmurs, leaning down to brush a kiss against your temple.

“Happy New Year, Buck,” you reply, your heart full as you glance at your children, their faces glowing with excitement.

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” the crowd cheers as the clock strikes midnight, and the first firework explodes in the sky. It’s a brilliant burst of color—red, gold, and blue—illuminating the garden in dazzling light.

Julie gasps, her tiny hand flying to her mouth. “Oooh!”

Liam lets out a cheer, jumping up and down as more fireworks light up the night. “Look, Mom! Look, Dad!”

Estelle claps her hands, her eyes sparkling as she turns to you. “They’re so pretty!”

You and Bucky exchange a look, a shared understanding passing between you. This moment—surrounded by your children, their laughter and awe filling the air—is everything you could have hoped for. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, and you smile against him.

“Happy New Year, Mom and Dad!” Liam shouts, tugging on your hand. “This is the best!”

Bucky laughs, pulling you both into a group hug with Julie still in his arms. “Happy New Year, buddy. It’s just getting started.”

The fireworks die down, and the cheers from the crowd begin to fade into a hum of conversation and laughter. Midnight has come and gone, and while the party is just getting into full swing for most, you and Bucky exchange a knowing look.

The kids, their initial excitement fading, are starting to show signs of exhaustion. Liam tugs at your hand, leaning against your leg, his earlier energy replaced by sleepy eyes and slow movements. Julie rests her head on Bucky’s shoulder, her little hand clutching his jacket. Even Estelle, who usually has the stamina of a marathon runner, yawns widely as she rubs her eyes.

“You ready to call it a night?” Bucky asks, his voice low and warm.

You nod, brushing a strand of hair from Liam’s forehead. “Yeah. They had their moment, but they’re done. And honestly, so am I.”

Bucky chuckles, pressing a kiss to Julie’s temple. “Alright, let’s round them up.”

The kids don’t protest much as you gently guide them toward the door, saying your goodbyes to the Avengers along the way. Natasha gives you a knowing smirk, Sam teases Bucky about being an old man, and Steve promises to stop by for brunch soon. Tony makes a grand gesture of bidding farewell, but even he keeps it brief, clearly understanding the delicate balance of leaving before a kid meltdown.

By the time you reach the car, the crisp night air has lulled the younger two into a state of near-sleep. Bucky carefully buckles Julie into her booster while you help Liam into his car seat. Estelle climbs into the back with minimal fuss, clutching her stuffed animal and leaning her head against the window.

Once everyone is secured, you climb into the passenger seat, exhaling a long breath. Bucky starts the car, and the hum of the engine fills the quiet night. The drive home is peaceful, the streets nearly empty save for the occasional car heading in the opposite direction. The kids are silent, their breathing slow and steady as they drift off.

For a moment, it’s just you and Bucky, the soft glow of streetlights illuminating his profile as he drives. His hand rests on the gear shift, and without thinking, you place yours over it. He glances at you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Tired, doll?” he asks, his voice soft.

“A little,” you admit, returning the smile. “But happy. It was a good night.”

Bucky nods, his eyes flicking back to the road. “Yeah. Seeing them light up like that for the fireworks… worth every second.”

You squeeze his hand gently. “And you? You didn’t hate the party?”

He chuckles, the sound low and warm. “I had you and the kids with me. How could I?”

The quiet comfort between you is palpable, and you take a moment to study him. The way his jawline softens when he’s relaxed, the way his eyes crinkle just slightly when he smiles. You’re about to say something when a small murmur comes from the backseat.

“Daddy…” Julie mumbles, her voice thick with sleep. “Fiwerworks pretty…”

Bucky’s smile widens as he glances at the rearview mirror. “Yeah, princess,” he says softly. “They were pretty.”

By the time you pull into the driveway, all three kids are sound asleep. Bucky kills the engine, and the two of you sit there for a moment, neither wanting to break the spell of the quiet car. Finally, he turns to you with a grin. “Think we can carry them all inside without waking them?”

“Challenge accepted,” you reply with a playful smirk.

Bucky goes for Julie first, carefully unbuckling her from her car seat. She stirs slightly but doesn’t wake, her head resting on his shoulder as he cradles her against his chest. Meanwhile, you gently coax Liam awake enough to walk inside with your help. He grumbles softly, rubbing his eyes but ultimately lets you guide him.

Once inside, Estelle trudges toward her room on her own, too tired to argue about brushing her teeth or changing into pajamas. Liam makes it to his bed with a similar lack of resistance, flopping down onto his mattress as soon as he’s within range. You manage to get him into a pair of pajamas with minimal effort, though his eyes remain mostly shut the entire time.

Julie is the hardest, her small body limp and heavy in her sleep. Bucky sits on the edge of her bed, holding her upright while you gently pull off her party dress and replace it with her favorite unicorn pajamas. She lets out a sleepy sigh, her thumb slipping back into her mouth as her head lolls against Bucky’s chest.

“Almost done,” you whisper, smoothing her hair back. Bucky’s gaze softens as he looks down at her, his vibranium hand carefully tucking the blanket around her tiny frame once she’s settled in bed.

“She’s out like a light,” he murmurs, standing up and following you out of her room.

With all three kids finally in bed, the house falls into a deep, soothing quiet. You and Bucky make your way to the living room, collapsing onto the couch together. He stretches his arm along the back of the couch, pulling you close as you lean against him.

“Happy New Year, Mrs. Barnes,” he says, his voice teasing but tender.

“Happy New Year, Sergeant Barnes,” you reply, tilting your head to meet his gaze.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment. “We survived another year,” he says with a chuckle.

You laugh softly, your fingers tracing absent patterns on his chest. “And we’ll survive many more.”

The two of you sit there in the quiet of your home, the promise of a new year stretching out before you, filled with all the chaos, laughter, and love you’ve come to cherish.

[suguslve]

‧˚꒰🍷꒱༘‧— 7 MINUTES OF HEAVEN IN HELL

synopsis: you’d been doing an excellent job at avoiding Lucifer these past few days—you kept your distance, stayed busy, kept your focus elsewhere—but of course, fate had other ideas. Getting stuck in a small closet with him was definitely not part of your plan, yet here you were.

♰ pairings. lucifer morningstar x afab!reader

♰ genre. smut (porn with plot unfortunately)

♰ warnings. fingering. reader gets called doll by Luci like…twice i think. she also gets called whore and slut :P

♰ word count. 1.7k

♰ a/n. first ever smut pls go easy on me 😕 YES THIS IS PORN WITH PLOT IK I HATE IT TOO BUT I HAD TO!! enjoy reading and lmk your thoughts!

Ignoring Lucifer wasn’t something you had planned, not exactly, but under certain circumstances, you had to. It all started one evening when you poured your heart out to him, confessing that you liked him—so much so that the weight of your feelings felt like it could drown you. You were a mess—sweaty palms, nervous gaze, shaky breath—but he stayed calm. "Y/N..." he said, and as you lifted your gaze to meet his, you saw only pity, and cold harsh rejection. Before he could say anything more, you had already turned away, desperate to escape the suffocating tension. You had gotten good at avoiding him, finding company with his brothers instead.

A few days had passed and Asmo decided to host a small, intimate celebration at the House of Lamentation, to honor his milestone of 2 million followers on Devilgram. You sat in his room as you waited for him to finish getting ready, he had insisted that he would be the one to doll you up.

“You know you really should take this chance to stop avoiding Lucifer. The tension between you two is so painfully obvious, everyone can see it! Even Beel can tell!” he said, making finishing touches to his makeup. You rolled your eyes at him. “Uh huh and then what? Face his rejection? I think I’ll pass.” He glanced over at you with a sigh. “Well, maybe he won’t reject you—maybe you’re just overthinking it—” You cut him off.

“Shh! No more Lucifer talk from this point on. I forbid it! Now, are you finally done so you can start dolling me up?” you asked, giving him the cutest puppy eyes. “Fine! Come here. I just got this new makeup palette that would look fab on you.” he said, ushering you to his makeup table.

After hours of hair styling, lipstick swatching, and dress fitting, he was finally done. He motioned for you to stand and turn so he could admire his work. “Perfect! Now no one will be able to take their eyes off you—especially dear old Luci—AHEM, I mean... You better not steal my spotlight okay? Not that you can anyway.” he clasps his hands together as he urged you both outside where the others were waiting.

The night was as lively—as expected from Asmo. You had danced to your heart’s content and drank without any care in the world. As you sat on the sofa, chatting and drinking with Solomon, Asmo stumbled over to you both. “Hey, want to join us? We’re about to play 7 minutes in heaven—well, hell, I guess.” he slurred. You shared a look with Solomon. “Why not?” you said, feeling carefree from all the alcohol, Solomon nodded in agreement. “Perfect! Let’s go then, everyone’s waiting!” Asmo said, cheerfully pulling you both along.

When you arrived, you noticed the group consisted of just the brothers and a few other demons. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Lucifer chatting with Barbatos, but you paid it no mind at all. You sat between Mammon and Satan, and to no one’s surprise, Lucifer sat directly across from you, his gaze fixated on you. Great, you thought, this was going to be a long night.

After a few rounds and drinks later, it was finally your turn. Asmo shot you a mischievous glance before spinning the bottle. You stared at the floor, not wanting to know who you’d be paired with. The room fell silent as the bottle came to a stop. You looked around at first before your eyes landed on the bottle—it landed on Lucifer. You were about to protest when you saw him stand up and make his way towards you. Without a word, he took your hand and gently pulled you toward the closet.

Once inside, you quickly pulled your hand away from him. Great—here you were, stuck in a closet with the one demon you were avoiding like the plague, and for 7 minutes no less! You tried to focus on anything but him, grateful for the dim light in the small space. Your dilemma was cut short when you realized the position you were in: you were face-to-face with Lucifer, his thigh positioned in between your legs, his arms placed above you. ‘Oh fuck me.’ you thought. ‘You know what? I could just ignore him for the whole 7 minutes. How hard can that be?’ your thoughts were then interrupted by a deep voice.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” he said, his tone firm. You rolled your eyes but decided to remain silent. He sighed softly before his fingers gently grasped your chin, turning your face to meet his.

“Why?” he asked, his eyes locking with yours, the closeness between you two evident as you smell the faint scent of alcohol lingering on him. “I wasn’t avoiding you.” you answer defensively. He let out a soft chuckle. “You really expect me to believe that?” His voice was low, a hint of teasing lacing his words. You tried to avoid his stare, but it was impossible to look away.

“Was it because of your confession the other day?” he asked, his voice gentle but filled with intensity. You sighed, trying to step back. “No. I’m not doing this with you. Not now, not ever.” You attempted to open the closet door, but before you could, he pulled you back toward him.

“No, we’re doing this now,” he insisted, his grip firm as he turned you to face him. He looked at you for a brief moment, and then, without warning, he cupped your face and kissed you. The kiss was full of intensity, passion, and something deeper—something you couldn't deny. You were taken aback and was about to pull away, but before you could, his hands moved to your waist, pulling you even closer. Everything around you seemed to fade as you gave in, kissing him back with the same intensity. The kiss lasted for what felt like forever before he finally pulled away, breathless.

“This was not how I wanted things to go.” he murmured. “But you’re just so stubborn so I had to take matters into my own hands.” he caressed your face before speaking up.

“Can I kiss you again?” he asked, his voice low and filled with desperation. You nodded eagerly, your heart racing. “Please.” you whimpered. He let out a soft chuckle, but it was quickly swallowed by him pulling you into another kiss. This kiss was raw, fervent, and intoxicating, leaving you weak in the knees.

His hands gripped your waist possessively, bringing you closer to him as you tangled your fingers in his hair. A deep growl rumbled from his throat before his lips trailed down to your neck. You moaned softly. “Luci, please. I need you.” you gasped, the alcohol fueling your boldness and longing.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. “Are you sure? We can—” But before he could finish, you crashed your lips against his. “If you don’t touch me right now,” you whispered breathlessly against his mouth, “I swear I’ll lose my mind.” Without a moment's hesitation, he slowly unzipped your dress, just enough to free your breasts. He immediately captured one with his mouth, while his other hand explored the other. You moaned louder this time, completely unbothered by the possibility of being overheard by the others. His eyes burned with desire as he took in the sight of you.

“Luci— fuck… I need more.” he chuckled as he pulled away from your breast. “Your wish is my command.” he whispered against your lips, his breath hot, before kissing you deeply as his hand went lower.

His hand roamed at your thighs before placing it on your pussy. His chuckle was dark, almost cruel, as his fingers brushed over the thin lace of your panties. “Jesus, doll,” he breathed. “Already this soaked for me? And I barely even touched you.” He hooked a finger under the edge of your panties and tugged them aside. The cool air hit your exposed core, making you flinch, but then his finger was there, brushing over your slick folds, and your breath caught in your throat.

“Fuck.” he muttered, circling your entrance lazily. Without warning, he pushed a finger inside you, curling it just right to press against that spongy spot deep within. You bit your lips harshly at that. He leans in closer to you, his head tilting slightly, as if mocking you. “Yeah? You like that, doll? Like being a good little slut for me?”

This man was going to be the death of you.

You clenched as he added a second finger, stretching you further. His thumb found your clit, rubbing circles that had your vision blurring.

He pulled his fingers out abruptly, leaving you empty and aching, and you whined softly, reaching for him instinctively. But he caught your wrist, pinning it to the wall above your head. His other hand wrapped around your throat. “As much as I’d love to see you cum on my fingers right now, we’re still in the closet. And as much as I want to hear you moan my name over and over, my brothers are still outside, wouldn’t want them hearing how much of a whore you are for me now would we?”

You blinked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. He was right. You fumbled with your dress, your hands shaking as you adjusted your panties and smoothed the fabric back into place.

As you made your way out of the closet you were surprised to see the empty room, the mess of the after-party still scattered about. Lucifer’s chuckle echoed softly, a mix of amusement and something else, as he looked at the scene before him, then he effortlessly lifted you in his arms.
“Well, it seems my foolish brothers have finally managed to use that brain of theirs.” he remarked, his tone teasing, as he carried you toward his room.

“Let’s continue what we started then. I’ll make sure you’ll scream and writhe for me.” he whispers against your lips before kissing you once more.

You knew that you still needed to have a long conversation about the whole confession thing, but you have plenty of time to worry about that. God, you owe Asmo one.

all rights reserved to © suguslve.

[bmbidoll]

𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫

soloist!baekhyun x f!reader

synopsis: baekhyun had his four year girlfriend break up with him, which left him without a true sense of direction. he'd only find it when another woman led the way, he just didn't know it was straight to hell.

content: 4,8k words, smut with a sprinkle of fluff, angst, and a little horror. but basically pwp. based on this moodboard.

author's notes: helloooo! this is my first fanfic posted on tumblr, I do hope you enjoy it!! the only thing I'll request is patience since I'm a fairly new writer ♡

most if not all of my content will be gravitated towards mature audiences, so minors are a no no! please have an age indicator when you interact!! thank you, and enjoy your reading!!!

warnings: dom and sub undertones leaning (barely) towards femdom, hooking up, marking, power play, mutual pining, oral sex m!receiving, cumplay, hair pulling, choking, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, pet names, slight degradation, creampie, oral fixation, brief mention of violence.

baekhyun, at thirty years old, was used to being in control — except for when he wasn't.

his 4 year girlfriend and future bride left him and his sense of control momentarily shattered, breaking up with him after weeks of continuous misunderstandings, lashing out in a final ultimatum of separation, destroying his engagement plans. still, he was above feelings when his career was at play, and although being in events on his own made him feel out of place, he needed to distract himself.

at least he thought he could.

the party in itself was a blur, and baekhyun couldn't even bother to decipher what sizzling drink was in his hand when he traded pleasantries with random people. meaningless exchanges in his view. it did mostly nothing to sooth his emotional numbness, making him stand in a corner with an anxious frown, not even his new hairstyle did much to make him feel better. he'd much rather mope at home or in a presence of a friend who actually gave a shit about him. that's when baekhyun felt your gaze.

it was like thermal shock, an extreme shiver that made his whole body alert and his hair stand. a gnawing feeling that caught to his heart like a deer in headlights, which made him look around in discreet fright, looking for what, or more so who, was watching him. it felt supernatural, like he could feel an invisible target being put on his back. his pulse rose and his stomach felt bothered in a grip of anxiousness, yet it was even more unexplainable when he found the source.

it couldn't be you, his mind didn't accept it. how could someone with such soft features and bright eyes be the owner of a gaze akin to danger? when you smiled, talking to someone next to you, he thought it was just his mind tricking him, that such feeling couldn't come from you.

but when your eyes found his again, his pupils dilated at the force of your dark dominance. you finally stood, drink in hand, as you looked away in a playful, almost mocking grin when baekhyun took your frame in. you were tall, ever more so in your louboutins. your draped, off the shoulder dress did much too little to cover your long legs, almost like a bodysuit. your arms were surrounded by viscose panels that went as long as over your thighs, and baekhyun almost couldn't quite catch you leaving the main area, too focused on your curves before you crossed a pillar.

he meakly cleared his throat, standing straight from the corner he was leaning, in order to shy away from attention, to go after you. baekhyun didn't know the reason, but for all he cared, he didn't need one. too sick of this party from the moment he arrived. he wanted something — anything, really, to take his bothered mind away from her. away from his mistakes, from what he mistook his ex partener to be. yet it was obvious you weren't anything like her, and maybe it was just what he needed.

he followed you discreetly, going through the endless hallways and stairways of the luxurious venue with his eyes focused on your shadow in the red lights. it made the darkness feel almost demonic, in a way, like you were taking him to hell. something that baekhyun, at this point, wouldn't even mind.

until you weren't ahead of him anymore, disappearing from his sight. he cursed for his lack of awareness, before a dark, womanly voice appeared from behind him.

"are you looking for something, baekhyun?" the voice spoke, laced with wickedness.

his jaw clenched and his eyes widened as he turned around to face you with shocked irritation.

"what the fuck... where did you—" you didn't let him finish, "you were following me." you said, smirking knowingly, tilting your head in an almost condescending look.

one could already see a glint of defensiveness displayed on baekhyun's dark eyes. "you were staring at me." he spoke lowly, feigning angerness to mask his rapid heart that was much too frightened over your presence for his liking. "what do you want...?" he added, fighting for composure.

even the mere sound of your voice could make his hands get clammy in anticipation. it scared him.

you could only hold your grin. "I don't think it's me who wants anything..." your eyes darting in assessment of his black suit. "at least, not that much to follow you around like a stalker."

the singer only bristled, not entirely buying your excuse, wary as much as he was attracted to your womanliness. and, to his irritation, you didn't stand on the same spot for too long, walking away slowly around the halls.  he picked up his steps to walk beside you with a dry swallow, his eyes shooting daggers as much as they felt intrigued.

"who are you and what do you want with me?" he bristled, demanding in something one could sense as eagerness, even if he didn't want to admit it.

"I'm not looking for trouble, byun baekhyun." you said, almost making him lose his composure again at the usage of his full name. he gulped, trying not to stare at her as they crossed past the venue's hotel rooms, vacant in expense of the important events. "but you must be looking for something, I saw the way you stared at me." his voice was accusing, almost cocky in a way that served as bait.

"and how did I stare at you, stalker?" you finally faced him beside you, quite sick of his questions.

"I'm not a stalk—" he huffed as you interrupted him to push him to a wall.

baekhyun widened his eyes at realization of your position, and he had to admit, it was a first. not only because of your roughness, but also because of the power play, where he usually had the upper hand. he had to swallow in order to not appear fazed, although your supernatural attractiveness made it difficult to not subdue.

"what do you want, baekhyun?" you said, highlighting the 'you' with the raise of your chin as you crossed his personal space slowly, your gaze fervently acknowledging his, whom didn't know where to stare back, jumping between your eyes and your red lips. one of your hands stayed on his firm chest as the other stayed beside his hip, your wrist in close contact to his side.

"fuck— I..." he stuttered, clearly not used to being in this spot, making you smile again.

"you're so cute when you stutter." you said lowly. "let's change the question, shall we? Is there anything I can do for you?"

baekhyun clenched his jaw as he shut his eyes, the image that you painted on the impulsive side of his mind quite clear on his lids, while his rational side thought of his recent heartache. "I don't know... I don't really know anything about you." he said, worrying about where he got himself into. he wasn't one for impulsive decisions, and he was quite proud of it. it's just that with the tugging feeling on his chest, he felt even more torn.

"you don't have to. it's clear you don't really want to get to know anyone right now."  you replied, as if reading his mind.

and you were right. there wasn't anything clear on his mind about his life after his failed relationship. his only certainties laid on his work, and his eyebags showed he could use something different. someone different.

"I-I don't think I should—" baekhyun was shushed before he could finish, feeling his guard completely mush while you cooed and whispered 'its okay's, leaning closer to his face. his eyes finally opened again, turning droopy and his eyebrows raised gently, like a puppy.

you grabbed his hand and slowly motioned it to your face, his mole trembling with his lips that quivered in an obvious encantation. "see? I'm real..." you whispered knowingly as his unfocused dark eyes rushed through your supernatural face, pleading. "and I could give you something to sooth your body." your cheek was incredibly warm against his usually cold hands, making him flutter his lids with darker pupils. as his resolve was completely crumpled like humid paper.

"can I have you...?" baekhyun whispered, almost unsure of his wish and of how much power he actually had in this quiet altercation of control.

"the question, baekhyun," you started, your voice smooth and clear as his appearance made you curl your lips slightly. "is whether or not I want to have you."

"and do you?" he asked instantly, almost blushing in his eagerness as he frowned in confusion, pouting. one could almost fall for his innocent face, but something in you knew better, already expecting his switch as he cleared his throat. his eyes turned into a more controlled version of his drive as he darkened his tone with ease.

capturing your waist with a firm grip, he whispered in your ear with his known velvet voice, "I will make you want me, angel."  but you were no angel. not at all. and baekhyun probably knew that when he smelled your perfume, sending shivers through your body as he breathed onto your neck. "fuck, you smell like dessert."

you could only exhale, biting your own lip to contain the curl of your smirk as you felt his lust emanating from him. just from his presence alone. with calculated composure, you removed his hand from your waist to sway back into the crimson darkness, opening one of the unused bedrooms of the expensive hotel that was used as a venue, sneaking under his gaze.

baekhyun had to gulp to not simply barge in and press you against the door, knowing it wouldn't work quite like that with a woman like you. his expensive saint laurent dress shoes clicked as he walked into your planned out trap, one he was glad to be caught.

you pushed your hand through his curly, black strands from his perm as he stood in front of you. "i want you..." he whispered, closing his eyes again in goosebumps of your long nails grazing his scalp. gently walking him backward to the bed, you made him sit, his legs spreading to receive your presence between them with ease. your hands controlling his head as it tilted against your control.

"strip for me." you commanded, making him open his darkened eyes in surprise.

"what...?" baekhyun smiled nervously, sensing no kidding from you when he looked up to your unamused expression. "that's not how this... usually works, angel..."

you could only scoff at the nickname, almost rolling your eyes in amusement before resuming your imposing stare. "and am I your usual?"

that seemed to shut him up for a second, his eyes turning shy as he gulped, already expressing his answer.

"here's how this is going to work, byun baekhyun." your voice said as your hand traversed through his hair, lowering to his cheek. "if you want me, you're going to have to play by my rules. otherwise, I can simply walk out of this room and pretend I haven't even met you. and trust me," you leaned to his ear, "I can do a damn good job at finding someone who will play by my rules and be grateful to do it." punctuating your whispered with a lick behind the cartilage.

baekhyun only sighed, able to catch a glimpse of the roundness of your ass as you were leaning forward, which made his urge to assert control dim, too desperate in his lust to refuse such deal. in all honesty, he hasn't gotten any action for a whole month since his relationship soured.

"so I'll only say this one more time, baekhyun. strip for me." you commanded, standing straight once again to see him display a silent nod, removing his expensive suit jacket to reveal his panelled tank top that followed suit, his slim abdomen clenching at the cold air.

you didn't give him much time to think about his pants, kissing him for the first time that night in a mix of patience and softness. it made him push his head upward in demand, flicking his tongue against your closed, plush lips. baekhyun was briefly shushed, whining beautifully as you pulled his hair from his nape. "be patient, I want you to remember everything I give you tonight." your voice said as you lowered your body between his legs, meeting his needy looks with a small grin.

he breathed ragged, quiet gasps in a disheveled manner, as if trying not to assert his way too soon. "you're taking your sweet ass time... I don't have that."

"make time. you already look desperate for this, when I haven't even kissed you properly, dog." you said, imposing again, making him widen his eyes when you tugged his matching black pants with roughness and didn't even bother to glance at the small damp spot on his briefs, immediately using your palm to coax grunts and curses from him. "what is it, hm? you like being called a dog?" your smooth voice teased with a hint of a grin, as your fingers enclosed on his clothed, girthy, angry length that was close to peek around the waistband of his boxers, that aren't able to cover its size in its full hardness.

you want to stare and admire all the veins that coursed through it, feeling your own heat act up from how much you could get enamored to such a perfect manhood, but you wouldn't give him the pleasure of knowing these thoughts. he whined again when you squeezed the tip, coaxing more precome to stain the fabric of his boxers.

"is this for me, baekhyunie?" you teased, biting off your grin as you looked up to his face to see him huffing, his hips thrusting onto your hand for even the slightest friction. due to not getting a response, you squeezed harder, making him tremble in a grunt. "I'm talking to you, dog. I expect responses."

baekhyun whined, "fuck— yes! that's all for you, angel! god— please! just touch me more!" he panted, making you sizzle in satisfaction as you pressed your thighs together.

standing up to lean forward, you kept your hand on his already throbbing bulge. "you're such a good boy for me. can you raise your hips for me? let's free your cock, shall we?" you smiled devilishly as you stared at his unfocused expression of lip bites and moans.

baekhyun promptly obliged, gasping as his aching need sprung and hit his stomach. you could feel saliva pooling under your tongue from just how sinful his everything was. the tip was red and slightly darker than the rest of his length, covered in precome that oozed easily at each of its pulse, dripping with a slight curve to the left.

your hand was quick to work him with awe, your thumb meeting your middle finger in its base before moving up and finding its slit, smearing it slowly all over your palm. he couldn't really keep quiet, thrusting upwards, making a mess of both himself and your hand. so your left one found his throat and slightly choked him to stop his erratic movements, earning another set of his wide eyes, as he stuck his tongue out to breathe properly around your grip on both his neck, and cock. "what the fuck— angel, please!" baekhyun murmured, strained.

you only extended your smeared palm to his face with calm eyes, even if your aching center was anything but calm. he seemed to catch on your wish, and although he wanted to argue and retain dignity, he already had his tongue lapping onto your right hand, attempting to clean the mess he did. it was something unusual for him. everything about this was, actually. he swallowed his own precome, feeling exhilarated from how much he actually enjoyed it. so you rewarded him with your weight on his lap, therefore he could watch you suck your own thumb to taste him, and then crash both your lips together in a messy, arguably desperate, tongue kiss.

your clothed center found his bare one as you kissed, making him tug the sides of your dress up. he wanted you naked and around him as soon as humanly possible, but you couldn't just give him what you both wanted, even if you also wanted it badly.

you pushed him to the bed, making his back hit the mattress with an audible puff from his lungs, attacking him with wet kisses that started on his neck. he didn't know where to put his hands, and his putty brain didn't even have the composure to reject your open marks around his adam's apple, moaning softly at your full-on bites.

he loved the roughness. the attention just enough to make him squirm as it trailed down towards his pale collarbone, his nipple, his soft abdomen, and finally, his inner thigh. you grabbed his wrists and held them together in one hand, forcefully holding him, so that you maintained control even when your mouth found the head of his cock, making him moan louder. "fuck! what the fuck!? angel?!" he panted, physically trembling when you sucked his seeping from the tip.

you took your time, looking up to his face before withdrawing your mouth to speak. "listen here. no hands on my head, no thrusting upwards, and eyes on me. do you understand, dog?"

"yes, yes ma'am— holy—" baekhyun gasped in interruption as your flattened tongue enveloped the underside of him, making him sputter gibberish as you slowly took his cock, inch by inch. you'd comment on the name he used, but chose to allow it.

you had to close your eyes for a brief moment, even if you didn't want to, to just feel how much baekhyun filled your mouth and how much you actually enjoyed it. it almost hit the back of your throat, slightly straining your jaw. your closed eyes opened to his, almost pained, lustful, fucked out expression. his lips were red and swollen from his biting. his whole face was flushed, his temples had droplets of sweat and his perm hair was all over the place.

if you didn't already want to suck him off just for your own pleasure, you certainly wanted it for his, already starting in a somewhat quick pace to ease both of your flaming desperateness with quick bobs, fighting the reflex to gag as you relished in the feeling and breathed through your nose.

baekhyun, on the other end, fought the urge to roll his eyes, finally receiving too much stimulation that was already denied. frying his thoughts that could only sputter 'angel', like a prayer. but the battle was lost when your nails scratched his abs, making him ready to coum. "fuck! I'll c-come! I'll come in your—" you withdrew suddenly, essentially denying his high, making him almost cry. you could only smile breathlessly as you stood up, your hands working on the zipper of your dress.

"I'm sorry, puppy... I'm so sorry. you were so good... I'll make it better, hm?" you said after dropping both your dress and panties, straddling his messed up self.

"I really—" baekhyun panted soft whines, "wanna... cuss the shit out of you... right now." making you chuckle in adoration.

"i'll reward you, okay?" you put his hands on your rear, where he squeezed roughly. "have it your way, hm?" you murmured, making him essentially grunt.

"are you sure...?" baekhyun breathlessly asked, reeling from the edge. you smiled, wanting to take care of him.

"yes, touch me," you said, guiding his hand to your already slick folds, his eyes unfocused as he started feeling the warmth you radiated. it took mere milliseconds for baekhyun to find your clit, his thumb feeling the way it swelled in anticipation, making you moan.

"fuck... you're drenched..." he murmured, rubbing your center in a tantalizing manner. "do you enjoy treating me like your plaything? did it make you this wet for me?"

"shut up and touch me already!" you whined, slightly flush, receiving two digits all at once as he chuckled. "so feisty, angel..."

it was hard not to clench all over his long fingers that searched desperately for your spot, your body already moving along his wrist, moaning as he curled them inside of you. baekhyun grunted at the tight grip you held on him, biting his lower lip to contain his wish to just mess you up. "so damn tight... I can't wait to feel you..."

it was like that for a few minutes before you decided you had enough, not wanting to come before you felt his full length inside of you. you positioned on top of him, making him shudder as you sucked on his fingers diligently, making him moan.

"fuck, angel..." baekhyun breathed when you grabbed him, finally sinking onto his thick, large cock, biting your lip to conceal your moans as both of you saw stars. him, from the orgasm denial. and you, from your own self torture.

"oh god— I won't last even a minute with your tightness, holy shit!" he hissed as each last bit of him settled within your walls, knocking down your composure as you hummed deliciously.

"you can move now... please..." you murmured, your eyes closed at the mere feeling of him completely inside.

"ah, so now it's 'please'?" baekhyun glared at your face being close to his before snapping his hips in a manner that hit you deeply, making you both groan.

"don't fucking... push it." you grunted, opening your eyes to match his lust. your body enveloped with his as you straddled him, already meeting his forceful thrusts.

"you're the one—" he plunged upwards, "who said... I earned it... so I'll fucking take it." baekhyun bristled, moving in a deep, slow manner.

you could almost smile blissfully at the overwhelmingly full manner he filled you, almost as if you should be the one to beg for it, the one who's lucky to have it. your hips swayed along his pace, somewhat circling his long, pulsating length. "do you like this, angel? fuck— you take it so well, princess." baekhyun breathes through grunts as his blunt nails graze your hips. "like you were made to take my cock."

"god, shut the fuck up." you growled, choking him, which somehow made him throb even more, his eyes rolling to the back at each movement, his breathing cut as he muttered.

"g-gonna—" baekhyun strained breathlessly, "come—" completely within your mercy as you moved towards his ear. "come for me, puppy."

it was in an instant, his seed shooting deep inside you, which made you release his neck in pure pleasure, moaning. you could swear you'd come just from being filled up by him, as if his own ecstasy filled you with elation.

baekhyun panted, still thrusting "ah, fuck... you're so good... too good... I usually last longer." it made you giggle slightly.

"are you tired? do you need a break?" you whispered close to his face, staring at the way he recomposed with you, but yelped as he suddenly rolled you both, still inside.

"are you fucking kidding? no way." baekhyun snapped his hips once, making his come drip on your thighs from the abbrasiveness of his still hard length within, stealing a whimper from you. "you're gonna take me till you pass out, angel."

you could barely take in on his words when you felt a subtle touch on your pussy, focusing your eyes to find his index between your faces, coated in a filthy mix of both of your milky juices. your vision turned dizzy when he licked it without hesitation, letting it sit on his tongue that was right above your mouth.

the message was clear, and you opened it to let it drip onto your tongue before you lip locked again, baekhyun resuming sharp thrusts on your loud cunt.

it felt utterly animalistic, and you could tell from his behavior that it'd been a while for him, not that baekhyun did anything to hide it when he murmured praises that swindled your ego. "feels so fucking good, angel...!" he snapped his hips in an erratic pace, "how the fuck... are you so... fucking tight and warm...?" and you could only reply with "yeah...?" to which he'd always respond readily along with a nod. you'd gently cradle his chin, but he didn't care if you marked it with your nails to keep your anchor as he'd push your right thigh to your chest, holding your leg on his shoulder with quick developed ownership.

it took another orgasm from the both of you to make him more gentle, even if it didn't truly exhaust him. both sat up to meet each other in an intimate embrace. the stickiness barely made you uncomfortable when he fit so nicely against you, his hands kneading your soft breasts with patience, now that the fire settled into a more tranquil warmth of your presence on his broken heart.

"I don't usually do this..." baekhyun murmurs amidst his gentle pace, his eyes focused on your pleased ones that blinked slowly.

"do what...?" you whispered back, trying to stay grounded from the bliss of your connection.

"hook ups... I don't really hook up with strangers... not at this age, at least..." he chuckled shyly, and it struck you harder than you'd expect.

"I don't, either." you said, surprisingly shy from your own admission, which ceased his soft thrusts for a second.

"can I take you out...? get to know you, angel?" baekhyun cradled your cheek, his thumb on your lip in a manner that didn't feel just erotic.

"baekhyun..." you'd start, only to be interrupted by a soft peck that resumed deliciously slow movements. you were someone that baekhyun could see himself growing fond of. and if you didn't know better, you could say he was growing on you, too. the kiss grew in intensity soon enough, getting to an already familiar manner in such quick velocity, both now aware of what the other liked.

your rationality would be ruined soon enough before your own fire took hold, pushing him to his back as you started to ride him slowly, his hands settling on each of your curves, the right pinching your perked nipple as the other ramped your supple rear up and down with sweet praises. "you're so fucking perfect... I've never had anyone quite like you..."

you could only moan as baekhyun flicked his skilled fingers onto your swollen bundle. "wanna make you come again... can you do this for me, angel? before I come inside of you again?" it's as if his words could take control of you, just like you did earlier to him, the coiling of your lower stomach tightening by each bounce on his girth that throbbed viciously.

baekhyun would thrust his hips upwards, but not as fiercely as before to not sore you much more, his delicateness sure to overcome all the sting of overexertion. you'd feel yourself melting when the pinch of his digits on your clit made you snap, your silent scream echoing in shallow breathing as he pumped his come within your walls for the third time that night, kissing your lips with a care you certainly didn't expect from a hook up.

you both chuckled at the way you fell on top of him, finally feeling him soften inside you amongst the large amount of release that dripped, probably staining the sheets. baekhyun pulled you to your side as he pecked your face, pushed his come back inside with his index, then shared the mess on both of your mouths.

he'd soon step out of the bed to find the suite's bathroom, stealing a towel to dampen it with warm water, returning with a shy grin.

"can you walk?" he asked after he finished cleaning your center and your thighs. you giggled softly, "you wanted me to be unable to walk?"

"not really... I mean—" baekhyun blurted nervously as you stood slowly.

"maybe if we spent a weekend together, hm? then yeah, I definitely would be unable to even stand" you teased, dressing yourself as you both prepared to leave the room you were sure you weren't supposed to be in. the thought of spending a weekend with you made his hair stand at the same time his heartbeat skipped a beat with anticipation.

"would you want to?" he murmured, blushing slightly at the rapidness of his attachment.

"wait, what? spend the weekend?" you widened your eyes as you combed your hair through your hands.

"I mean— yeah... my schedule is clear, and my penthouse is large enough for a crowd... I could try to get you in my van secretly, my driver wouldn't notice..." baekhyun was extremely cute, blabbering like that.

"okay, I'll go." you smiled softly to him, making him giddy as you both walked to the main exit stealthily, baekhyun striding ahead to get the van to a secluded spot as you watched from the shadows. it was almost like you could portray getting to know him, building a solid connection with him, and maybe fixing whatever it is that the other woman did to his poor heart.

if you hadn't picked him out to eat in the first place.

[kikyoupdates]

Made to Destroy ⭑˚💎⭑ 𝑡𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑟𝑦 ℎ𝑜𝑚𝑒

bnha x op!reader

op!reader, my hero academia x fem!reader, reverse harem, over powered reader, f!reader

You are the product of a series of twisted experiments, an anomaly that shouldn’t have ever existed in the first place. Thankfully, you are taken into the arms of a hero and given a new purpose in life. But as you soon discover, it isn’t easy to deny your true nature, especially when you were made to destroy.

previous | story masterlist | next

“This is... food?”  

You blink, examining the strange item sitting on the plate in front of you. It’s made of several components, and when you hesitantly take it into your hands, it starts falling apart.  

Aizawa frowns as he helps you hold it together. “It’s a burger. Have you never eaten one before? Sorry. I wasn’t exactly sure what you liked.”  

You don’t even know what you like, so it goes without saying that he couldn’t possibly know either. But your stomach keeps grumbling loudly, demanding to be heard, so you figure there’s no harm in giving it a try.  

Aizawa watches, somewhat mesmerized, as you clumsily cram the burger into your mouth. Granted, you’re just a kid, and kids are notoriously messy eaters, but there’s something about the strange way in which you’re doing it that just doesn’t sit right with him.  

It almost looks like this is the very first meal you’ve ever had.  

“Burger,” you mumble breathlessly. Crumbs and sauce are glued to your face, and you turn towards Aizawa in disbelief. “This is so... so good.”  

“I’m glad you like it,” he chuckles. “Go ahead. Eat as much as you want.”  

You certainly don’t need to be told twice, and you haven’t yet learned what it means to pace yourself, so you chow down without a moment’s hesitation. Each bite somehow tastes better than the last, and you’re relieved to find that the painful, unpleasant feeling in your stomach is slowly fading away.  

Aizawa rests his chin on the back of his hand and keeps watching you eat, but truth be told, he’s more so scanning you over from top to bottom.  

You’re a little girl. He can’t place your exact age, but perhaps you’re about six years old? Regardless, you are far too young to have been roaming the streets unattended until a creep snatched you up. It’s possible you were separated from your parents, but so far, you’ve made no mention of it.  

And then, there’s your appearance. More specifically, the clothes you’re wearing. If you can even call them clothes.  

You’re dressed in nothing more than what appears to be a thin sheet, similar to a hospital gown. Your feet are completely bare, too. No shoes, or sandals, or anything else. Do most kids run around outside without shoes on nowadays? Aizawa can’t say for sure, but it seems strange.  

Everything about this situation gives him a bad feeling, and the way that you’re desperately stuffing your face—as if you haven’t seen food in a long time—doesn’t help either.  

You make quick work of polishing off the burger, and once you’re done, you look back at him expectantly.  

“I think I’m still hungry,” you say. “Can I have another one?”  

“In a bit,” Aizawa promises. “But first, I was hoping you might be able to answer a few questions for me. To start off, why were you all alone? What were you doing before that man kidnapped you? Do you remember?”  

“I was just walking,” you reply.  

“Alone?”  

“Yes. Can I have another burger now?”  

“Sorry. Just be a little bit more patient. A few more questions, and then I promise I’ll get you another one.” He laces his hands together and leans across the table slightly. “Who were you with up until you went outside? I just want you to try retracing your steps so that you can give me a better idea of what happened.”  

Up until you went outside...? Well, you suppose he must be referring to the brief time you spent with Dr. Garaki.  

“I woke up,” you say simply. “And there was this man. He didn’t tell me his name. But he hurt me, so I left. I didn’t want to stay there anymore.”  

Aizawa’s expression darkens. His worst fears have just been confirmed. You must have suffered some kind of abuse and ended up running away from home.  

“The man,” he presses. “What did he look like? It sounds like he did something awful to you, and since my job is to take care of bad guys like him, it would really help if I knew a bit more about him.”  

“He had a mustache,” you say. “And, um... these things covering his face.” You form shapes with your fingers and place them on top of your eyes. It takes Aizawa a few moments to decipher what you mean. 

“Glasses?” he frowns.  

“Oh! Yes,” you nod. “That’s what they were. Glasses.”  

Talking is quite a troublesome endeavor, you’ve come to realize. Some terms you’re familiar with, while others, you still have yet to learn. But your brain forms the connections quickly enough, and it actually feels rather nice, discovering all sorts of new things about the world.  

“A mustache and glasses,” Aizawa sighs, lowering his head in defeat. “That’s not awfully specific. Is there anything else about him that stood out to you? Something more unique that we could identify right away?”  

You shake your head. “I’m not sure. I don’t remember much. I wasn’t there for very long.”  

“And I just want to confirm, but this man isn’t your father, is he? Otherwise, you would have been able to tell me other things about him, like his name. Right?”  

His question makes you scrunch up your brow. The term father... it feels like you should know it, and yet, the meaning of the word evades you.  

“What is a father?”  

Aizawa wasn’t expecting you to answer his question with one of your own, and it’s safe to say that his concern has just skyrocketed.  

“Your family,” he frowns. “The people you’ve grown up around, who’ve raised you. Is that who this man is?”  

“I don’t think so. Maybe. All I know is that I woke up today. There wasn’t anything else before that.”  

Memory loss. The situation must be even graver than he thought. It’s entirely possible that you’ve unconsciously blocked out traumatic events, leaving you with gaps in your recollection. This much amnesia seems rather extreme, though. Perhaps you’re still hesitant to tell him the full truth. Perhaps the truth is simply too painful.  

Aizawa smiles empathetically. “Alright. Thank you for answering my questions. I promised you another burger, so when the server comes back, I’ll order it for you.”  

You’re getting another burger. You’re getting more food. More delicious food, for that matter.  

The thought of such a thing makes your heartbeat quicken, and before you know it, your lips are lifting at the corners and stretching across your face.  

“Thank you,” you say. This man isn’t like Dr. Garaki. The fact that he isn’t hurting you, and instead getting you yummy food, is proof of it. He’s a nice person, and something tells you that nice people deserve to be thanked.  

Aizawa smiles back. He’s relieved to see that you’re not too upset, despite the circumstances.  

But he's getting another weird feeling, exactly like when he watched you struggle to eat that burger earlier. 

It’s as if you’ve only just now learned how to smile.  

“The man’s been taken into custody. Thank you as always for your assistance, Eraserhead. And I’m guessing this is the girl you mentioned?”  

Aizawa nods. “Yeah. She was hungry, so I wanted to grab her some food while you were dealing with the perpetrator.”  

“I hope she’s feeling a bit better now,” the policeman says. He frowns as he looks you over, which seems to be a recurring trend. “Are you cold, young lady? Your feet must hurt, walking around like that.”  

“I’m fine,” you say. “I ate two burgers, and they were really good.”  

“Haha. I’m glad to hear that.” He looks back at Aizawa hopefully. “Well, I think she should probably come down to the station. We’ve got a lot of questions for her.”  

“Why? Aizawa already asked me some questions, and I answered them,” you frown.  

“Yes, but they’re the police,” Aizawa explains. “I’m a hero, so I fight villains, but the police excels at gathering information and getting to the bottom of things. They'll figure out everything they need to know and get you back home, safe and sound.”  

“I don’t have a home.”  

Even though it’s only been a few hours since you’ve taken your first breath, that much, you know for a fact.  

You don’t have a home. You don’t have a place in this world.  

If you want to live, like everyone else, you’ll have to forge your own path.  

“I think she’s forgotten some things,” Aizawa explains. “I think it might be a response to trauma. But she’s adamant about one man’s involvement, and it sounds like that’s who we need to track down. Maybe we should start with something simpler, like locating her family. Could you find them on the registry?”  

“We could try,” the policeman nods. He turns towards you again. “[Name], what’s your family name? Your last name. Even just knowing that would be a big help.”  

“I don’t have a last name.” You pause, frowning slightly. “Or maybe I do? But I’m not sure. I just know that I’m [Name]. That’s all.”  

Neither of them seems particularly thrilled with your answer, which feels unfair, because you’ve been nothing but truthful.  

Aizawa scratches his head. “Well, this is kind of what it’s like. There are clearly a lot of factors in play, and quite frankly, I’m not sure where to start. But it’s obvious that she’s been through a lot and needs our help.”  

“Of course,” the policeman nods. “We’ll do everything in our power to fix this. In the meantime, while we track down her family, we should find someplace for her to stay and get some rest. The police station probably isn’t ideal. Maybe child services is better equipped to deal with this sort of thing?”  

“I want to stay with Aizawa,” you say. Of course, you don’t really understand what they’re talking about, but so far, Aizawa has yet to let you down. You’d like for him to be with you from now on.  

The policeman smiles. “Eraserhead is a good guy, but being a hero keeps him pretty busy. Don’t worry. We’ll find other nice people to take care of you, and I’m sure you’ll love them.”  

After what you’ve already been through, you don’t really feel like taking any more chances. Aizawa is good. You like Aizawa.  

There’s no point in fixing what isn’t broken.  

“I’m staying with him,” you insist, grabbing Aizawa’s hand firmly. His eyes widen at the sudden gesture, but you feel his fingers instinctively squeeze yours.  

“I understand how you feel,” the policeman mumbles nervously. “But, um, there are certain things that we just can’t—”  

“No. It’s fine.” Aizawa looks down at you, and as he does, his dark eyes soften a touch. “I don’t mind. If it’s a temporary arrangement, I don’t mind looking after her. Whatever helps her feel the most comfortable until you guys get to the bottom of this.”  

“Won’t it interfere with your hero duties?”  

“I’m not the only hero out there. Besides, if something urgent comes up, I’ll make other arrangements so that someone watches over her, but odds are that you’ll have at least found a lead by then, right?”  

“True,” he nods. “A missing child warrants a lot of concern. We’ll probably start getting phone calls within the day.”  

“So, it’s fine. At least until then, [Name] will have somewhere to stay. I can have her rest for a while at my apartment. And if there’s anything you need, you know where to reach me.”  

The policeman nods once more, and after they discuss a few more details that you can’t quite make sense of, you are finally free to go. 

It doesn’t take very long to reach Aizawa’s apartment.  

“Sorry for the mess,” he mumbles sheepishly. He then stops to reassess his words. “Actually, I guess kids don’t really care about that kind of stuff.”  

He’s right. You don’t.  

“This is your home?” you ask, looking around. It isn’t like anything you’ve ever seen before, but you suppose that’s to be expected, given your lack of general knowledge.  

Aizawa nods. “Yeah, pretty much. I’ve got a TV, if you feel like watching cartoons or something. Hopefully you can find a show that you’ll like.”  

He picks up a device and uses it to turn on another device, and you jolt in surprise as moving images appear upon a screen which was pitch-black just a second ago.  

You shuffle closer to what you can only assume is the TV. “There are people in there,” you point. “But they’re so small. How?”  

“Have you never watched anything on TV before?” he blinks.  

You shake your head.  

“...huh.”  

Once again, he is completely lost for words. You tend to have that effect on people, and you’re not quite sure if it’s a good thing or not.  

“Maybe this has to do with her missing memories,” he mumbles quietly. But he composes himself quickly enough and sits down next to you, cross-legged. “Those people aren’t really inside the TV,” he explains. “Everything you see here was filmed beforehand, and the image was captured so that we could watch it later on. Here, let me find the kids’ channel. It’s bound to be more fun than the weather report.”  

He flicks through channels until he finally finds what he’s looking for, then turns towards you, waiting to see how you’ll react.  

These are... cartoons? All of a sudden, the TV screen is awash with bright, vibrant colors, which are perhaps a bit too harsh on your eyes. For some reason, though, you can’t find it in yourself to look away. Even though you are an artificial human, your mental maturity is still that of a child, and you feel as if you’re in a trance.  

Aizawa chuckles softly. You’ve clearly got a lot going on, but you’re just a kid, at the end of the day. An innocent little kid who likes to watch cartoons.  

For a while, it’s silent, save for the sound coming from the TV. You are completely transfixed, so you don’t bother saying anything to him, and he has no intention of interrupting you.  

Someone else decides to interrupt, though. 

“Yoohoo! Eraser, are you home? I see the light under the door, so you must be!”  

Aizawa rolls his eyes. God, what awful timing. The sound of that insufferable man’s voice must have caught your attention too, because for the first time since the cartoons came on, you frown and look his way.  

“Don’t worry,” he reassures. “It’s just someone I know. You can keep watching. I’ll only be a minute.”  

You nod absentmindedly and focus back on the TV, and soon enough, you’re completely zoned-out again.  

Meanwhile, Aizawa opens the door and finds himself face to face with a carefree, overbearing idiot. 

“My schedule was looking pretty free, so I came to hang out!” Present Mic grins. 

“Of course you did,” Aizawa scowls. “But no, now’s not a good time.”  

“Why not? Don’t tell me you’re getting ready for bed already. I know you like your sleep and all, but—”  

He stops midsentence, because he can hear the TV playing in the background, and being the nosy bastard that he is, he sidesteps Aizawa and sneaks a peek inside.  

Then, he lets out a loud, exaggerated gasp.  

“Eraser! There’s a kid in your apartment!”  

“Thanks,” Aizawa mutters sarcastically. “I hadn’t realized that until now.”  

Present Mic takes a moment to assess the situation. He’s normally obnoxiously loud, to the point that Aizawa has to tell him to shut up, so the fact that he’s been rendered speechless says a lot about the situation.  

Unfortunately, he can never keep his mouth shut for long enough.  

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” Present Mic shakes his head disappointedly. “I never took you for the type to have a secret love child. But what matters is that you’ve decided to take responsibility and look after her. And don’t worry! I’ll be with you every step of the way.”  

Present Mic flashes him a thumbs-up, and Aizawa has the sudden urge to punch him in the face.  

“I think my show is over,” you say suddenly. “And I’m hungry again, so I kind of want another burger. Also, who’s that guy?” 

Present Mic steps forward, puffs out his chest, and with great pride, promptly declares:  

“I’m your uncle!”  

Aizawa really should have punched him in the face while he still had the chance. 

More chapters are available on Quotev or Wattpad!

⊱.⋅follow + post notifications on for story update announcements or join the author's discord!⋅.⊰

💎 main masterlist ♡ oneshot masterlist

[smilesatdawnmain]

Qi Bao: 

Bao is 6 years old, and the youngest of their family. Bao was born… very differently then their siblings. Bao is genetically neither boy, nor girl, and thus goes by They/them. Being the youngest, Bao has a lot of growing up to do, and a lot more things to learn in this crazy world. 

Haoyu: There is a very large age gap between these two. The things that Haoyu worries about, thinks about, and dreams of, are distant concepts to Bao. Relationships and mates are like cooties and gross, being King is a childish playtime routine for the day, and having the world look at you just feels like- a lot of strangers looking at you for some reason. It was also difficult for Bao to understand Haoyu most of the time. Their older brother truly doesn’t talk a lot due to their ears. But Bao really loves their big brother. Haoyu has this cute little mini drum toy that he plays whenever he comes home so Bao knows. Bao gets piggy back rides, dress up time, action figure fights, and all sorts of fun from their big brother. Haoyu hasn’t told anyone else this, but whispered to Bao that they would be his best man at the wedding! When Bao asked what wedding, Haoyu wrote in their palm, “When I ask my love to be my forever mate- that wedding. It just hasn’t happened yet.” Bao hates cooties, BUT they will make an exception this one time. 

MK: MK is so cool! Like a big hero! Bao like to listen and watch MK’s energy to copy him, mimicking everything he does. One time MK leapt off the mountain side to show off a cool trick- and Bao jumped right with him! They both got really scolded by Baba that day. Bao likes the feeling of MK’s head band and often sneaks it to wear for a little bit. MK usually gets mad if anyone does this- but not at Bao. Sometimes MK is superrrrr frustrating cause they won’t let Bao do fun things like he does, or like the others do. Bao is gonna get super strong just like MK to show MK doesn’t have to watch over them all the time! Plus! Bao’s Shade is so strong, sometimes it can even give MK a run for his money! So Bao has a super tough ace up their sleeve, as Xue tells them. If Bao gets scared or lonely, they got to their Daddy. But if Daddy isn’t home, Bao goes to MK next. MK is a lot like him- how he talks, and walks, and smells. Bao thinks MK would be a good Daddy too just like their Daddy. But MK thinks Mates are gross and covered in cooties too, just like Bao! 

Xiaohua: Xiaohua is like Baba in how he talks. Really expressive and descriptive and just- it just makes sense in Bao’s brain when Xiaohua describes something. Xiaohua is always getting Bao treats and toys, and new Tea and Noodles band merch! Bao really really really loves that band, and so does Xiaohua! They sing, and dance- and Xiaohua and Rumble makes songs with Bao like a real band. Bao wants to be a singer when they get big. Xiaohua one time, late in the night, snuck Bao out to go to a concert. He brought MK’s noise cancellation headphones to block out all the really powerful sounds, and sat Bao on his shoulders the entire concert. That had been the first time they had ever been out of the mountains without their parents. It was a night they would never forget. Bao doesn’t like to copy Xiaohua like they do MK, cause Xiaohua likes to steal and do tricks- but… Bao likes how big Xiaohua’s heart is too. It’s big like MK’s. 

Sying: Bao has a favorite sibling. All their siblings spoil them, and protect them, and treat them with great care… but Sying is different. Everyone treats Bao so carefully, like they might break- but Sying tosses Bao over her shoulder and throws them into the river as strong as she can! It’s- it’s amazing! She wakes Bao up early in the morning, drags Bao out of bed to train- doesn’t go easy on him. Doesn’t pretend to lose- she never lets Bao win, ever. Sying often just tucks Bao under her arm and walks off the mountain- she gets scolded a lot for this, but Bao doesn’t mind. Bao has to remind her “I am blind” and she just stands there all dumbfounded because she honestly forgets! She forgets… Because it isn’t a focus for her. Bao loves her a lot. Super a lot! She is strong, and kind, and her fur is soft, and she is honest… Like, honest in a real way. Bao wants to be like her, when they grow up. She still protects Bao, but Bao also protects Sying. They protect each other. 

Savage: Bao wants Savage to be like Sying and- and play with them! Properly! Savage likes to prank on everyone but Xue, and Bao. Xue is scary, so that is fine, but Bao wants pranks done to them too! Bao even tried learning pranks to do on Savage, to make Savage mad, so that he would prank back. It didn’t make Savage made though- he seemed happy? Instead of playing pranks on him, Savage would bring Bao with him to play pranks on others. It wasn’t quite what Bao had in mind, but… they like it. They like giggling and making little schemes with Savage and learning to be sneaky like he is. Not that Bao likes to be sneaky and mean- so their pranks usually involve silly things like string and funny noises. Savage works with that best he can. Together the two are trying to prank Xiaohua. It hasn’t really worked. Xiaohua is too clever. But they did prank Daddy! That was funny! 

Rumble: Rumble is the hardest person for Bao to talk to. While Haoyu doesn’t talk a lot, he still can. Rumble however, can’t talk at all, so it is very tricky for Bao to know what they are talking about as clear as the others. Not that Rumble has a lot to say anyway. Rumble has to write in their palm a lot so Bao knows what he wants to say. That can take a bit though, especially when Bao doesn’t know how to read words or letters yet. Their language barrier was far worse when Bao was smaller. It’s a bit easier now, but they have also always had their own way of talking. Savage always knew what was on Rumble’s mind and could translate, and sometimes… it was just clear what Rumble was trying to say. Bao doesn’t know how to explain it. Plus, they don’t need to be able to talk to make music!! Bao and rumble make the best music together. Like their own personal language. Bao also likes to hear Rumbles thoughts on- who they are. Bao doesn’t really understand what they are or what “feels” right, but Rumble assures them that they’ll understand it more as they get older. That they will always love Bao exactly for who they are, no matter who that turns out to be. 

Xue: Everyone is afraid of Xue. Xue is very very scary, when she wants to be. But also super sweet, when she wants to be. She is an onion. Cause, you know, of the layers? That is how Savage explains her to be. She doesn’t like how Savage talks about her. Xue likes to make Bao a lot of soft clothes that they like, so Bao doesn’t complain a lot. She is nice to Bao and gives them sweets. She always asks questions about their Shade too. They talk and talk and talk about fun things like toys, and games, and books, and about the instability of the government- typical things. Bao learns a lot from her. She really cares about the Kingdom. She knows what works and what doesn’t- always knows when something is wrong and how to fix it. A lot of people look at her like she is a meanie who just wants power but- Bao thinks she just wants to be in charge because she knows how to run things “efficiently’ as she says. She wants people to not suffer needlessly… She is kind, just in her own way. 

Previous Sibling Qi Xue

(Bao has also gone through a bit of a redesign. Still the same look, but their hair is colored differently)

[chigiridreams]

LAUNDRY DISASTER

In the bathroom, as you stood in front of the washing machine, you froze, staring at what you found in your hands. What used to be an expensive and elegant bra was now an unrecognizable piece of fabric. Your eyes widened.

Y/N: “This… What is this?! Hyoma!”

Hyoma was in the living room watching TV. Hearing you call, he turned his head.

Hyoma: “What happened?”

You stormed into the living room with the ruined bra in your hand, waving it furiously yet helplessly.

Y/N: “What is this, Hyoma? How did my Victoria’s Secret bra end up like this?”

Hyoma glanced at the bra and shrugged casually.

Hyoma: “Oh, I threw it in the washing machine. I cleaned it, so what?”

Your face froze in disbelief.

Y/N: “Cleaned it?! There’s something called a bra washing bag! Do you even know you’re not supposed to throw it in the machine like this?”

Hyoma gave you a slightly confused yet innocent look.

Hyoma: “Oh, that plastic thing? It looked unnecessary and was just taking up space. I threw it in directly.”

You took a deep breath and looked at the ruined bra again.

Y/N: “Hyoma… This bra cost $200. Do you realize you just threw $200 into the washing machine?”

Hyoma hesitated for a moment before scratching his head with a sheepish smile.

Hyoma: “Well… instead of spending $200 on a bra, you could’ve bought a few T-shirts. Would’ve been more practical.”

For a moment, you stood there in stunned silence, then furrowed your brows and threw the bra at Hyoma’s face.

Y/N: “Practical?! I’ll show you practical! Do you have any idea how many stores I went to just to get this bra?”

Hyoma tried not to laugh as he caught the bra and inspected it carefully.

Hyoma: “Well, at least there’s still… uh… fabric left. Look, if you pull the straps a bit, it might go back to its original shape.”

You put your hands on your hips in anger.

Y/N: “Don’t even think about pulling those straps, because I’m barely holding myself back from strangling you right now!”

Hyoma couldn’t suppress his grin as he got up from the couch.

Hyoma: “Alright, alright. I admit I messed up. I’ll get you a new one, I promise. But why do you even buy such expensive things? It’s just a… bra.”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm down.

Y/N: “Because I’m a woman, and I like to dress elegantly. But next time, let’s see how you feel when your old pajamas mysteriously disappear!”

Hyoma laughed and raised his hands in surrender.

Hyoma: “Okay, okay, let’s make peace. Come on, I’ll take you out for dinner. And maybe we can stop by a Victoria’s Secret store afterward.”

You were still upset, but you realized it was hard to say no to this idea. You frowned at Hyoma.

Y/N: “I’m not done with you yet. But I’ll think about it.”

Hyoma gently took your hand and squeezed it lightly.

Hyoma: “Alright, darling. I promise, I’ll never touch your bras again.”

You rolled your eyes sarcastically.

Y/N: “You better not. Because next time, I’ll stuff you into that washing bag!”

Hyoma couldn’t hold back his laughter and lowered his head.

He glanced at the ruined bra one more time, then looked at you with a serious expression.

Hyoma: “Alright, alright, I promise. After dinner, we’ll go buy you a new one.”

You still glared at him with your eyebrows furrowed.

Y/N: “Really? You’re going to go into that store and spend hours shopping?”

Hyoma spread his arms and nodded with a faint smile.

Hyoma: “Of course. I’ll even get you the most expensive one if it makes you happy. But on one condition.”

You raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

Y/N: “And what’s that?”

Hyoma started grinning again as he held up the ruined bra.

Hyoma: “We’ll frame this one as a keepsake. It’ll go down in history as ‘Hyoma’s Great Washing Machine Fiasco.’”

You couldn’t help but laugh, but you quickly tried to compose yourself.

Y/N: “That frame is not going on my wall, just so you know!”

Hyoma, unable to stop laughing, walked over to you and wrapped his arms around your waist.

Hyoma: “Alright, alright. But next time, leave me clear instructions, okay? I admit, I’m not skilled with washing machines.”

You smiled faintly and placed your hands on his chest.

Y/N: “Next time, I’ll label everything. It’ll say, ‘Off-limits for Hyoma.’”

Hyoma: “Sounds like a fair deal.”

You both laughed as you hugged each other, and then Hyoma added with a serious tone:

Hyoma: “Alright, let’s finish dinner and head to the store. But you’re doing the picking. If I’d known bras had so many types, I wouldn’t have gotten involved.”

You burst out laughing again and playfully pushed him.

Y/N: “That’s exactly the lesson you needed to learn!”

[sammyluvr]

✶ love you like that — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, fluff, tfem!roommate!sam, college!au, insecurity, kissing, unedited, 783 words. requested ! for my 900 followers event [ closed ] .

prompt : under beige sheets and a grey comforter + “you’re loved.” “but how do you know?” “because i love you.”

the twin sized beds in your campus apartment are a tight squeeze for two people. and sure, there’s two beds, but you and sam make it work for movie nights and the likes. maybe sharing a bed like this is more than friendly, but so are lots of the things you do together.

she’s just very shy, very unsure of herself. but she’s the most comfortable with you over anyone else. you’re the first person she came out to, and the first person to really support her too. it was terrifying, but being herself around you isn’t so scary anymore.

her head rests on your shoulder, and the movie on your laptop is long finished with the dvd already back in its box. earlier this year, she’d wished her beige sheets and dark grey comforter were more feminine. so you told her you really liked the minimalist look and were tired of your old sheets anyway. you gave yours to an old friend moving out of their house and in need, took sam’s so she wouldn’t feel like they were going to waste, and went shopping for new ones with her. so when the two of you are curled up in your bed, you’re warmed by grey and beige, like tonight. and when you’re in hers, the sheets are a subtle lilac and the duvet is off white with little flowers and ruffles around the edge. she said she thought it was a bit much, but you could tell she really liked them. 

she looks very pretty sleeping in that bed, surrounded by pastels and ruffles that match the white nightgown she wears on the hottest summer nights. that dress makes her thighs look so pretty, her chest too. you have a hard time not staring when she wears it.

tonight, she’s quiet. you can feel her hesitation, her tendency towards insecurity. you understand her, of course it’s hard. she’s tall with naturally wide shoulders and strong facial features. but you think she’s so pretty, likely the prettiest girl you’ve ever met. tonight she’s in sweats and a cami, it’s not hot enough for that dress. if it were, neither of you would be under the covers. simple grey blankets both of your legs instead.

“sam,” you murmur, finally shutting your bulky laptop shut.

“mmm?” she hums in response, trying to sound light and untroubled. you know her better than that.

“you’re loved,” you say without any prompting from her at all. “for you. you know that, right?”

she hesitates like she doesn’t know. it’s hard to remember sometimes, hard to feel like it’s true. her voice is small and quiet, like she’s nervous to ask, knowing you get sad when she doubts herself like this. and yet, you reassure her with enthusiasm each and every time, and it always means the world to her. “but how do you know?” she whispers.

you give a small smile, a knowing one. she can’t even see it from where she is. “because i love you,” you say simply. so simply. you’ve said it before. you’re the type of friends who say i love you. but usually it’s casual. you always mean it, but normally, it’s on the way out the door, a friendly love ya! when you won’t see each other for a little while. it’s said while laughing about something stupid, like it’s just an appreciation for the other’s humor and silly thoughts. the way you say it this time is very obviously more. she still takes it as something friendly. in a moment of vulnerability, you’d have said this to her as a friend, too. that much is true, but you know what she means and she’s in denial about what you mean.

she sighs softly, grateful for your kindness, but not so convinced. “i… i know, i mean like–”

“i know what you mean,” you cut her off gently, “that’s what i mean, too. i love you like that, sam. i swear it.”

sam’s a shy girl, but she just has to see your face to make sure you’re not being mean, not saying something just to get her hopes up and then dash them to the floor. you’d never do that, of course. she lifts her head and turns to you, eyes soft and a little pleading too. you meet her gaze with unending sincerity and a patient sort of love.

she grabs your face in both pretty hands and kisses you with enough force to nearly knock your head against the wall behind you. you don’t even startle, just kiss her back with enough force to keep you both safely tucked in the plush of all your blankets and pillows.

[aldisobey]

vibes, we can take turns driving towards the fucked up shit we see

These breakdowns are goddamn fuel. These are the things right here.

>>> You're taking away the only reprieve from his constant mental frenzy (sleep) from a man who already has a natural propensity to spiral into overthinking. It’s a disaster waiting to happen. Sure, maybe with time he’d learn to manage it, flip a switch, regulate it somehow. But for now? For now, Emmrich lives in his goddamn head 24/7, dreaming up every scenario imaginable.

THIS. Emmrich is an anxious overthinker that struggles to remain living in the present. He’s a man of ritual and rigour. The changes of flesh to bone interrupt so many of those things? And he has so much time now? We’re assured he’s still fully possessed of himself, Solas mentions ‘what’s left anyway’ or whatever. But really. For his daily life, the things he loves and delights in, what he uses as distraction, to sate curiosity, hunger, lust, it’s all different. Gods I. I’m mad at the game for how easy they make it look.

>>> When he finally returns to wherever he and Rook call home, Rook’s standing there like, Hey, nice to see you again, it’s been four months.

And I’m so glad you mentioned this because exactly. He doesn’t have his flesh rigours anymore. He’s gonna fucking hyperfocus on a single thing to keep his mind from wandering to the less pleasant thoughts. And time has no meaning, he doesn't need to sleep. He’ll be managing panic or anxiety by studying that slip of the Fade and then he’s in it and chilling for a day, and exactly what you described. I don’t know if you’ve watched or read Frieren, but it’s a softer take on that, absolute love for that series so far.

>>> absolutely piss yourself waking up in the middle of the night to a skull on the pillow next to you.

Thank you thank you for writing this out before in that wip haha. Because YEAH FUCK THAT. And I know I’m an outlier, I’m demi or something, you got the hottest person at my door begging for favor and imma nope and go find some creature from the deep that understands me and yaps (and I’d still do a little AAA about a skelly in bed okay). And I know that’s not a norm lol. Quite possible to fall completely in love with the ‘being’ soul bit and not the ‘physical’, flesh is clothes for me, but you know what that doesn’t make it easier when you love and delight in someone’s style, their smile, the way the eyes light or that brow crooks.

You still love ‘them’ but that was part of them? It’s gone now and it’s okay to mourn while you learn the other. I mean I’m a lady that lives pretty cis and goes by Al and is fine with any pronouns. In a way we all make a glamours daily, and our bodies are part of it. But your partner is going to fall in love with all the dressing too, it’s the little things in life that we love about each other. It’d be horror to lose in a snap.

Emmrich becomes bones overnight. Rook still loves him completely but what is that going to look like. Gotta figure that out. And when Emmrich is putting on the old glamour it’s gonna make Rook think you’re regretting all this, AND it’s traumatizing because he LOVED those parts and they’re gone now. Is Emmrich trying to help him cope or holding onto before because the glamour is invoking pain because that’s not truly him anymore. Didn’t Emmrich give that up? Didn’t he want this instead? I don’t know I’m treading carefully in my writing with trans allegory as well because I know it can tie in close to this. And I do NOT think of Emmrich as a monster for wanting to change, he’s gonna be a monster because he’s not letting the one he loves change in the way they want (aging, dying all that jazz) because he fears losing them.

Well Rook already watched you die. Rook already has to learn to love the new you. The least Emmrich could do is go to lich therapy and learn to love the new aging Rook every day instead of forcing a dead glamour on ‘em. Life is chaos and change okay, death is stability and control, you need both in some balance to really thrive, but weigh too heavily in one and boop bones.

>>> Emmrich’s thoughts are the plague…. You learn to live with the scars.

Allow me to throw my pot in the park Diogenes style and be an unseemly mess spitting at rich folk because I need to think more about alllll of this as well. And yeah silly game silly characters look at me spending all this time writing and ‘philosophizing’ about it. BUT DAMn okay

Bless your write ups, still make my day every time I see ‘em and keep all the words tucked way to mull over later and say ‘hey yeah you can write, post that shit k being perceived ain’t that bad’. Ya got me in my thoughts going places.

First line page wip share thing

tagged by the ever prosely poetic @emmg go read hers now if you like dark lich stuff holy shit

I don’t know who’s been tagged but I’m nudging @thievinghippo (so you can check that above out. no pressure to share but goodness tag me if you do) but sincerely anyone share and tag me, I delight in creations.

This is a rough piece from current work I’m getting at. Not a first line but the bit I’ve got that seems best without further explanation lol it’s a rough cut okay I need to chew more but enjoy?

Emmrich was completely bare. No adornments. No glamor. Simple, plain, and yet dimly starting to glow.

The bones of his hand, all that remained, clung tight to chest. Clenched in, wrapped round rib. Held tight, quivering tips rattling soft beneath sheets. Whispers of green began a sound like so many wings of beetles. Wove hushed in the numerous moving parts of his wrist. Started to pulse as heart. The waves birthed within the pieces of him, a swarm spreading reverberations throughout his skeleton. Calmed the racing heat, pressed down rising panic with power that’d beget plague. All Rook might hear is hum. The Lich consumed, all encompassing as the gnashing millions choked on fear.

It passed. Suppressed in all those grinding maxillae.

The eternal flame slept beside him. His beloved. Forever finally his and there lurked flame before his sight. Flickering. Finite. Holding his being within it, love. Death.

Most nights, should Rook desire, he would wander Fade with him. Taking to pleasant scapes where they might enjoy whatever a master of the space might make of it. And yet…Emmrich could not control his appearance after all these months. His lich form might flicker, the mortal frame return, and Rook would immediately draw away. Glamour. He’d say. Nightmare. Don’t wear your dead face. Was it too painful? Was he trying that hard to love the other? Perhaps the memory was too fresh.

Rook woke, still asleep. Blinking. Eyes closed and moving as one might expect the dead. He didn’t speak during these movements. Would drift back to Fade soon. But he liked to wrap Emmrich’s hands, and his body kept memory of the exact time a mortal professor awoke.

[lollytea]

I thought about Hunter making Willow a pair of garden overalls before and I like to imagine that he takes her old season 1 dress that she's outgrown and repurposes the material into something practical that she'll wear all the time. She might not be the same person she was but that person is still special to her and she carries the memory proudly <333