#tap on the gifs for slightly better quality

[meluli]

I remembered to take a picture of it every day so here's the progress ♡

[blindmagdalena]

Guilty Pleasures

18+ 3.3k homelander x plus size f!reader. workplace harassment, stalking, voyeurism, masturbation, lite humiliation kink, sublander flavored. nebulously takes place post s1. part 1/4. AO3 link. | Chapter Directory

Homelander is on top of the world. He can say or do whatever the fuck he wants, and the sycophants around him will bend over backwards to make his word law, with few notable exceptions.

He never expected you to be one of them. When you put him in his place after a workplace incident, he becomes fixated on the promise of a firm hand alongside a soft body.

It’s Thursday, which means Homelander is currently bored to tears less than ten minutes into Vought’s weekly digital marketing meeting. These monotonous discussions of percentages and trending graphics gradually begin to feel like a drill pushing slowly into each of his ears, but they’re a necessary evil if he wants to have input when it comes to his image.

He taps his fingers impatiently on the armrest of his chair. The tapping pauses, however, at the appearance of a new presenter.

You.

You’re a far cry from the dime a dozen jackass in a suit that had been presenting before you. He’s sure he hasn’t seen you before, which means you’re new. His gaze drifts from your round face to the sensible cut of your blouse, the garment buttoned nearly to your throat. Anything less would be considered lewd given the size of your breasts. He wets his lips absently, adjusting himself to sit a little straighter.

He’s completely lost track of what you’re talking about in favor of watching the way your hips sway each time you walk from one end of the board to the other, tactfully engaging each observer. You have a resonant voice, commanding attention without sounding harsh. With a rack like that, you must have to fight to have a word you say heard by anyone with even a passing interest in a good pair of tits.

Not that the cheap fabric of your bra is doing them any favors. Silk would be better. He’s always liked the shine of it. Softer, too. It wouldn’t scrape against your shirt the way he can hear that cotton blend you’re wearing is doing. 

Curious, he focuses his vision to peer through your blouse. Your undergarments are plain and sensible. Boring. Still, it elicits a distinct pang between his legs. His mouth waters slightly. Even from where he is, he can smell you, fresh and clean, slightly sweet smelling–like vanilla. Your clothes may be pedestrian but at least your perfume is nice.

Letting his gaze slide lower, he admires how the curves of your body flow into one another. He can tell just by looking at you how soft you would feel against him, under him. How good you would feel to grip and hold in place, sink into and lose himself in. Your voice has a soothing quality to it that lets him easily imagine you’re breathlessly singing his praises instead of rattling off bullet points in a presentation.

Fuck, he’s getting hard, his cock throbbing lightly against the cup of his suit. It’s the only thing that allows him to fantasize as freely as he does. The best part of it is that he’s fairly certain he can sense something warm and wet throbbing between your thick thighs.

He suspects he’s not the only one fantasizing.

The room is quiet for a second too long, and Homelander abruptly tunes back in to realize you’re staring directly at him, expectancy in your gaze. He pulls a blank, realizing he hasn’t processed anything you’ve said. “Say again?”

There’s a flicker of irritation in your eyes before you tightly school your expression back into polite professionalism. His lips slowly split into a devious smile that he consciously fine-tunes to be more neutral. How close you came to some sort of heated response was kind of… cute. It makes him want to give your proverbial pigtails another tug just to see what else he can evoke.

The thought of pulling your hair is good. The thought of you pulling his hair is better, though.

“I asked if you have any feedback for our campaign leading up to the premiere,” you say, though Homelander finds himself more interested in the flash of your tongue he gets as you run it along your teeth afterwards. Your temperature is up a notch, too. You must not be used to such direct attention from someone like him.

“Nope,” he says glibly, turning on one of his patented knock-out smiles. “Looks good to me.” At that, he pointedly looks you up and down, meeting your gaze with a quick wink. 

Judging by the slight tic at the corner of your mouth, you aren’t charmed by his response. Still, he waits in preemptive satisfaction for you to appease him by returning his smile.

You don’t.

Instead, you say nothing more than a terse “Wonderful,” the singular word barely passing for civil, let alone professional. You move on, and Homelander finds himself taken aback. You don’t meet his eye for the remainder of the presentation, and while that gives him plenty of opportunity to ogle you, it bothers him.

Towards the end of your time, he clears his throat. Everyone looks at him.

Everyone but you.

“Thanks so much for your time,” you say to the committee, smiling, finishing your piece with a small incline of your head. You go sit, and there’s a slightly awkward pause before the next presenter takes center stage.

Homelander sits in stunned silence. The idea that you, some fresh faced nobody, think you’re in any position to blow him off is laughable at best. Who cares if he didn’t pay attention to your little presentation? That’s not his job. You’re lucky he’s even here, lucky that someone like him would think to give you time out of his day.

By the time the meeting concludes, you haven’t spared him so much as a glance. Indignation builds hotly in his chest. He’s had more than enough of being snubbed lately. He’s not going to tolerate it from the likes of you.

You should be on your hands and knees begging for his attention.

He watches a handful of your peers congratulate you on your first presentation, though plenty of others cast him wary glances and decide not to approach you. They know better. They know who’s really in charge around here. Naturally, they all skitter away like roaches when he strides towards you.

“Not bad for your first presentation,” he tells you, his smile toned down into a thin, lopsided smirk.

You look around yourself, no doubt taking note of how the other little insects around you have scattered. Maybe now you’ll realize your mistake.

“Thank you, sir,” you say, your body angled slightly away from him, as if you’re ready to bolt at any second.

“Got a lot on my mind, though, so I don’t think I absorbed as much as I could have,” he says, laying on that boyish charm a little thicker than usual. “Would really appreciate it if you could stick around and run that by me one more time.”

Your gaze flickers away from him–he wishes you would stop doing that–to the others who’re filtering out of the room, slowly leaving the two of you behind. “As I said during the presentation, all the documents will be available online,” you say, finally looking back at him. You actually have the audacity to look annoyed that he’s talking to you.

“I don’t have a computer,” he replies, his own voice beginning to flatten.

“I’m sure someone in IT can help you with that,” you say, undeterred by his attempts to corner you. 

His smile tightens minutely. “Do you have some kind of problem with me?”

Your heart jumps. He finds satisfaction in that, at least.

“No, sir,” you say sharply, a barely discernible hitch in your voice. “What I have are deadlines. If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to meet them.” With that, you manage to squeeze by him. Despite the steady confident tap of your shoes against the floor, your heart races rabbit-like in his ears.

He contemplates you as you go, momentarily stupefied by your flagrant disregard for him. You weren’t entirely unaffected by his presence, though. If you’d had less of an avenue for escape, would you have been so flippant? He continues to focus on the beat of your heart as your steps carry you further from him. It doesn’t slow. You’re still full of adrenaline, the scent of it lingering alongside your perfume. He inhales a slow, deep breath, the leather of his gloves creaking as he curls and uncurls his fist.

Homelander finds himself wondering what your agenda is, what makes you so desperate to break from the norm and catch his attention. It’s clear to him that’s what you want. Why else would you be so stubborn where anyone else would yield? He scoffs to himself. 

God, it’s so obvious in hindsight.

He has no doubt that your brazen attitude would shatter if he pressed in closer, if you felt the heat of his breath on your lips. He could part your soft thighs and paint the face of God on the ceiling above you with his tongue inside you. You couldn’t dismiss him so easily then, could you?

You’re so determined to be noticed that it’s almost pathetic. He shouldn’t reward this kind of behavior, and yet he feels strangely inclined to commend it. What you’ve done is brave in a way. Insolence and sycophants he can’t abide, but a touch of bravery? Well… That can be rewarded.

Your heart thunders in your ears as you make a beeline for your office. You can feel a terrible burn crawling up your chest and into your cheeks, the reality of what just happened finally allowed to sink in. You had spent all morning preparing yourself for presenting your work in front of not only your new peers at Vought, but in front of the world’s most prolific superhero. You were solid, you were ready.

Until you felt the gravity of his gaze on you. The weight of it made you stutter where you shouldn’t have, lose your train of thought mid-sentence. Every time you dared to look at him, he was looking at you like he was going to swallow you whole. Never have you felt more acutely aware of yourself than you did beneath his stare, feeling the way he was picking you apart as keenly as you would feel his hands undressing you.

It left you as furious as you are flustered.

That arrogant bastard!

You close the door behind you with a rough breath, closing your eyes. You can’t even sit, you have to pace your office instead, shaking your hands out as you walk. You know you weren’t imagining it. He confirmed as much for you when it took a solid eight seconds of silence for him to tear his gaze up from your chest, smiling as wickedly as any devil and caught elbow-deep in the cookie jar.

You couldn’t look him in the eye after that. It was humiliating to be reduced so thoroughly and obviously in front of your peers. Worst of all, he seemed damn pleased by it. 

Though that isn’t the only reason your heart is still racing. You’re not quite ready to address that yet. You’re fairly certain if you’d been forced to speak to him any more than you had, you would have said something that would cause you to lose your job. You just need space to breathe, to collect yourself, to–

There’s a brisk knock at your door. Great. What now?

“Just a m–” You’re stopped dead in your tracks by a familiar flash of red, white and blue as Homelander lets himself into your office, closing the door securely behind him. 

“Howdy,” he greets. He looks cartoonishly wide and brightly colored against the neutral colors of your office, even more larger than life than he’d seemed in the conference room. He has a smile that looks like it belongs in the mouth of a shark about to take a bite of you. It sets you off kilter completely–not that you’d been much on it to begin with.

You gawk a moment before managing to close your mouth. “Homelander,” you say, your voice curt in your own ears. You have no idea how to address him, still frazzled from not only the presentation, but your interaction that followed it. You should ask him what he needs. 

“What’re you doing here?” That came out ruder than you meant it to. Not that he doesn’t deserve it. Still, you’re trying to keep this job.

“Are you always this pleasant?” He asks, cocking his head slightly as he comes to a stop in front of you, his arms held behind his back beneath his swaying cape. “Or did I catch you on a bad day?”

Is he serious?

“Your conduct today was inappropriate,” you say flatly, settling your hands on your hips.

Homelander scoffs lightly. “Oh, relax. You gonna ‘#Metoo’ me over a wink? Christ, you’re done up tighter than that blouse of yours,” he says, his gaze dipping. A chill rolls up your spine as you watch his tongue roll along his teeth. He’s like an animal anticipating a meal.

Your jaw drops, cold shock settling in your gut alongside that blistering heat. Of all the things you had prepared yourself for before coming to Vought, Homelander being a misogynistic sex-pest hadn’t been on your list.

Well. Not the sex-pest part, anyways.

You point to your office door. “Get out.”

He blinks, zero comprehension in those deceptively charming baby blues. His smile turns incredulous. “I’m starting to think you don’t understand what’s happening here,” he says, his tone taking on a precarious edge. He lets out a breathy, mirthless laugh. “You know, most people in your position would be begging for my attention.”

There it is.

You suck a noise through your teeth, nodding slowly. "Oh, I understand exactly what’s happening here,” you say, shifting your weight like you’re winding up for a pitch. “I know you think you're special because you're famous, or a supe, or both. I know you think I should be grateful that you’d even look at someone like me, but you’re not special, and I’m not grateful. The reality of the matter is I can get dick whenever I want it–good dick–and I can get it without being humiliated at my job.”

The silence in the room is deafening. Homelander looks stupefied, but you decide that you’re not done.

“You're not blessing me by making entitled passes and crude remarks while I'm trying to work. You’re being a nuisance,” you say, your heart beating in your throat. “So please, would you kindly leave?” You ask, voice firm despite the friendlier nature of your phrasing.

Finally, Homelander is the one left gawking. He looks like a fish with the way his mouth keeps opening and closing, but it’s the dismissive, aborted little scoffs he makes in between that really sell his wounded bewilderment. You can see tension lurking just beneath the surface, an anger that skulks in the creak of his leather gloves.

Fear begins to creep up the back of your throat, burning like bile, but you hold steady as he seems to be deciding what he’s going to do with you. The longer the quiet stretches on, your focus entirely on the subtle spasms in his expression, the more sweat begins to prickle at the back of your neck. You refuse to fill the space, you refuse to back down.

For all his power, he’s still just a man.

Eventually, he swallows. “Okie-dokie,” he says, his tone unlike anything you expected. He sounds confused–a little dazed, even. He walks to the door, and after one hesitant look back at you, he leaves.

The door closes with a soft click that still makes you flinch, the sound of it loud in the silence of the room. You blink several times, the abruptness of his departure making the whole encounter feel like some sort of fever dream. 

What the fuck just happened?

You’re not special.

The impact of those words struck Homelander’s ears like a loud, painful ringing that follows him as he walks out of your office. He feels off balance, each step leaning slightly to the right.

It’s a ludicrous statement. Objectively wrong. Who in the fucking world could be more special than him? He’s a literal god, and you’re no one. A faceless, nameless cog in Vought’s mechanism that hoists him to the top of it all. That’s your job. To elevate him. Worship him.

Instead you spoke to him as if he were nothing. He could have cut you down where you stood for that. He could have put your head through your office window, snapped your neck, held your skull and burned your eyes out of–

He shakes his head sharply, swaying. He all but stumbles into the bathroom, surprising one of the worker drones washing their hands. “Get out,” Homelander says gruffly.

“Uh, sir–”

“Get the fuck out!” He snaps, startling the man so badly he immediately rushes off, fumbling with the door on his way out. Homelander slams it shut and lets out a ragged breath, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, then his temples as he paces the bathroom. His reflection taunts him from his peripheral vision.

He hasn’t been able to look himself in the eye since he snapped his Doppelganger’s neck while he knelt before him.

That’s what he wants from you, isn’t it? Mindless desperate praise and worship. Why, then, does the thought od it make his stomach churn so violently he can taste the burn of bile? He tugs compulsively at his suit collar, the press of it against his skin uncharacteristically hot and itchy.

“I can get dick whenever I want it–good dick.”

He shamefully palms himself through his suit, confusingly hard amidst a swirling turbulence of contradicting thoughts and feelings. He could be good for you, too, if you’d fucking let him. He knows he could make you crumble, take apart that carefully constructed demeanor of professionalism and make you see him for what he is. He can prove himself to you. He will prove that you’re wrong about him, and then you’ll show him the love respect he deserves.

Hurriedly, he unzips his pants. His eyelashes flutter as he shoves his hand into them, roughly grabbing hold of his cock. He braces his forearm against the bathroom door and lets his head drop forward, watching his crimson glove pump the leaking head of his dick. His mind bounces between scenarios. He imagines himself in your place, fully on display for you to ogle. He imagines you’re watching him even now, staring him down with that unaffected look of indifference, of irritation, of disgust.

He bites back a whine, gritting his teeth. He wants so badly to imagine his face buried in your soft tits while he fucks the plush space between your thighs, but he knows you won’t let him. Not right away. You’d make him earn it, wouldn’t you? You’d make him watch you please yourself before he ever got so much as a taste.

The glassiness in his eyes begins to sizzle, the moisture burning away as crimson light flares up in them. Would you laugh if you could see him now, or would you scold him for touching himself without your permission?

Homelander comes hard, tipping his head back with a loud moan as he paints the bathroom door with ribbon after ribbon of come. He barely manages not to blow a hole through the ceiling, the light of his eyes flaring and softening in time with each euphoric wave of release. He pants through it, head falling forward and thunking lightly against the door, resting there while he catches his breath.

“Fuck,” he exhales eventually, sighing. He wipes his hand on the wall and then carefully tucks himself back into his pants, his mind swirling hazily on the best high he’s had since…

Clearing his throat, he puts himself back together before leaving the bathroom. Clearly, the thing that he’s been missing is a challenge. 

Luckily for him, you’ve kindly volunteered yourself.

( chapter two )

[suntoru]

─ ✰ BREWING AFFECTION.

✧˚ · . NAGI SEISHIRO loves sleeping, soccer, and gaming. he also doesn’t mind you coffee too.

— warnings: coffee shop! au, fluff, crackfic, reo hating on readers barista skills, downbad nagi (hes oblivious af), maybe ooc?

— author’s note: NOT TUMBLR BUTCHERING THE QUALITY OF MY HEADER. THIS IS NOT OK.

"…so… this was the coffee shop you were talking about?” reo probes nagi tentatively, face crinkled in slight confusion. the small café nestled in the hidden corner of some obscure street— nothing extravagant, and certainly not what he expected. it’s a quiet sanction, only a few patrons savoring the quiet ambience of the modest establishment.

"mhm," nagi hums in affirmation. his eyes are glued to his screen, fingers violently tapping his phone as he skillfully maneuvers through the critical attack from the boss battle. reo doubts he was listening to a word he was saying. he raises his eyebrows skeptically, surveying the surroundings of the quaint little shop. he’s well aware nagi sacrifices fifteen whole minutes of his precious sleep on wednesdays and saturdays to walk all the way here— there must, has to be something special about this place. yet all he can spot are a couple of worn-down couches, cute decorations, and the smell of grinding beans in the air; nothing particularly stands out.

'is the coffee just that good?' reo wonders to himself, his thoughts interrupted when you hastily set a tray down at their table. your hair is tied in a messy bun, name tag displayed largely at the side of your stained apron. "i'm so sorry— morning rush! two triple foam lattes, half a shot of espresso with a dash of cinnamon, right?" the words tumble out, an apology and a question all in one, accompanied by a warm aura that absolutely nobody else in customer service seemed to carry.

…that’s… not…. even close… he deadpans. “um, actually—” he starts, but is quickly interrupted by nagi cutting him off. “t’s good. thanks.” he mutters, hazy half-lidded grey eyes boring into your oblivious, starry-eyed ones. the tips of his ears turn the slightest bit pink as he blows a tuft of his hair out of his eyes. his phone is completely discarded, ‘GAME OVER.’ pixelated largely on his screen as reo’s eyes widen slightly. …did he… die on purpose? no way. but… he was just about to beat the whole game…?

you smile giddily. finally, you got an order right!! “really? i’m so glad! enjoy your drink!” you eagerly exclaim as you walk away, feeling encouraged to pump out the other orders.

“…we ordered two large macchiatos.” nagi shrugs lazily, fiddling with the plastic straw in his drink. “tastes the same. ‘t’s too much of a hassle to correct them.”

“whatever,” reo sighs, “we’ve been waiting thirty minutes for this— it better make my mouth orgasm.” thirstily taking a huge slurp of the drink, he lets the coffee settle for a moment before not so subtly gagging at the aftertaste. how can someone possibly screw up this badly? it tastes like… tepid brown water. this should be a war crime. no offense, but who thought it was a good idea to hire you? “uhm… it’s *retches* certainly an acquired flavour…” he represses another gag as the fluffy white haired male tunes him out once again.

as reo contemplates the questionable quality of his latte, nagi remains blissfully unaware of his own feelings, doing what he does every wednesday and saturday morning— unconsciously admire you from a distance, his attention shifting from reo to you. his fingers idly trace the ridges on the rim of the cup, distractedly watching as you struggle to get the coffee to start brewing.

and he can’t exactly understand why his heart is beating out of his chest (perhaps he’s having a stroke), why his face is tinted red (is it the cold nipping at his cheeks?), or why he only seems to want coffee when you’re there (it simply tastes different). it all doesn’t make sense to nagi’s simple little life, a simple repetition every day; sleep, soccer, game.

nagi seishiro finds the easiest of tasks to be a hassle. yet for some strange reason, waking up early on wednesdays and saturdays isn’t one of them.

©kaeffeinee 2023. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.

[frostdayz]

Sweet distractions

Loki x Reader

genre: FLUFF!!!

summary: Loki is trying to read in the library but is easily distracted.

note: can you tell I love Loki fluff. Next post will probably be an enemies to lovers but not sure yet. Anyways i hope you enjoy :)

my stories never really describe the readers gender so unless stated otherwise all my stories are gn!!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The grand library of Asgard was as silent as ever, a vast expanse of ancient knowledge stretching before me. In the far corner, bathed in the warm light from a floating lantern, Loki sat with his nose buried deep in a thick, leather-bound book. He looked so serious, so focused, and that mischievous spark in my heart couldn't resist the temptation.

Quietly, I padded into the library, careful not to make a sound. My gaze fixed on Loki's back, his dark hair brushing the edges of his emerald-green cloak. He hadn’t noticed me yet—perfect.

Tiptoeing closer, I suppressed a giggle as I slid into the chair beside him. For a moment, I simply watched him, his eyes darting across the pages, brow furrowed in concentration. Then, without warning, I reached out and flicked the corner of his book.

He barely flinched, but the tiniest smile tugged at his lips. "You know," he said, voice low and smooth, "I’m trying to focus."

"Oh, I know," I replied, leaning in closer. "That’s exactly why I’m here."

His eyes flicked to mine, the smile growing just a little wider before he returned to his book. "Is that so?"

I nodded enthusiastically, drumming my fingers on the table, the light tapping reverberating through the otherwise silent library. He sighed softly, turning a page, pretending to ignore me.

"Am I bothering you?" I asked innocently, though the grin on my face betrayed my intentions.

"Not at all," he said without looking up. But I could see the tension in his posture, the way his shoulders tightened ever so slightly. He was fighting it, and I loved every second of it.

I shifted in my chair, my hand reaching out to trail my fingers along the edge of his book, just enough to nudge it off-center. He let out a low hum of disapproval, but still didn’t react.

Fine. If that’s how he wanted to play it.

I leaned in, my lips brushing against his ear as I whispered, "Looooki."

This time, he closed his book with a soft thud, turning to face me fully. His eyes sparkled with amusement, though his expression remained stern. "You’re quite relentless, aren’t you?"

I grinned at him, utterly unrepentant. "I’ve been told it’s one of my better qualities."

He raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicking from my lips to my eyes and back again. For a moment, it felt like a silent challenge, and I wondered if I’d finally pushed him too far. But then, he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, a sly smile curling at the edges of his mouth.

"Very well," he said with a resigned sigh, "you win. But you owe me now."

"Owe you?" I repeated, feigning innocence. "And what exactly do I owe you, dear god of mischief?"

He leaned forward, eyes narrowing playfully as his voice dropped to a teasing whisper. "Your undivided attention. Later."

A shiver ran down my spine, his words hanging in the air between us. I met his gaze, my heart skipping a beat as I saw the promise in his eyes.

"Deal," I whispered back, already plotting how I’d hold him to it.

[forever-rogue]

For the I love you prompts how about tasm!peter and

[  ASLEEP  ]:     sender, having climbed into bed to cuddle the receiver (who they believe to be asleep), tells them that they love them.

🥹💕I just think this radiates Peter energy 😫

AN |  Alright, so this is just soft and with a happy ending❤️

Pairing | tasm!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 3.3k

Masterlist | Main | Peter

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Peter?” It was the combination of how softly you said his voice contrasted to your rapid knocking that captured his attention more than anything. He stopped what he was doing, jumping off the couch before almost running to the door. He opened it without hesitation, only to frown deeply when he saw you on the other. Peter was always over the moon to see you…but he hated seeing you upset. You looked at him with teary eyes, lips trembling with effort not to cry, “hi.”

“Hey,” he pulled you into his arms before you could say anything else, and you fell apart as soon as he touched you. You buried your face into his chest, holding on to him tightly as he brought you inside and closed the door. His heart broke as he listened to you sniffle, trying your best to hold in your tears, “it’s okay, sweetheart. It’s alright, I’ve got you.”

“I know,” your soft response was muffled by the fabric of his t-shirt, “‘m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he rested his head on top of yours, rubbing your back in soothing circles, “you don’t ever have to apologize.”

Peter felt you nod in response before the emotion overwhelmed you and the tears started to roll down your cheeks. It wasn’t long before he felt the cotton of his shirt get soaked. He held you, rocking you gently back and forth until you slowly calmed down. The boy possessed many amazing qualities and skills, and giving the best hugs in the world was one of them.

“C’mere,” he loosened his grip, smiling softly when he saw the pretty pout on your lips, already missing his touch. He took your hand in his, his much larger one dwarfing yours as he led you to the couch. He set you before kneeling in front of and tenderly brushing away your tears with his thumb before pushing a few rogue locks of hair behind your hair, “do you know what this moment calls for?”

“For me to stop being a blubbering idiot?” you asked meekly, the corner of your mouth twitching up ever so slightly. 

“First of all - no,” he tutted softly, “and secondly - you’re not an idiot. The moment calls for hot chocolate.”

“Oh,” your eyes widened in excitement and you reminded him of a kid on Christmas morning, “will there be mini marshmallows?”

“You should know by now that I always keep  a bag on hand for you,” he gently tapped your chin with his knuckle before standing up, “just back, get comfy, and I will be right back.”

“Do you need a hand, Pete?”

“Absolutely not,” he insisted, “you stay and I’ll be back. Less than ten minutes. Pick out something to watch - and it better be something good!”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, such a normal thing for either of you to do, and as always it made your stomach burst with butterflies. You watched him go, already feeling a million times better; Peter had that effect on you. No matter what happened or what was going on, he always made everything better. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Peter made good on his promise and was back in even less time than he originally promised, two large mugs in his hands. You gratefully took one of them and moved so he had plenty of room to sit next to you. He set his own mug on the coffee before grabbing the big, fluffy blanket off the back of the couch and draping it over the two of you. He’d never admit it, but he bought that blanket because you had liked it so much at the store and he wanted you to have it at his place whenever you wanted it. He was thoughtful like that, among so many other things.

You pulled the blanket around your frame before cuddling up into his side before putting your feet on the table. Next to Peter, whether at his place or yours, or anywhere else was definitely your favorite place in the world. You’d put on some random show, more for background noise rather than anything else. 

“Want to talk about it?” he asked after a few moments of quiet. You knew it was coming but it still made you sigh softly, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to. But I hope you know you can tell me anything.”

“Of course I know,” you gently nudged your arm into his side, “you’re my best friend, Pete. I trust you more than anything or anyone in this world.”

“Yeah?” he teased softly, giving that boyish smile you adored, “glad to know the feeling’s mutual.”

You finished off the rest of your hot chocolate and set the mug down, shifting in your seat so you were facing him. You couldn’t quite bring yourself to meet his eyes, knowing it would make you want to cry all over again. It wasn’t even Peter himself that made you want to cry; if you were being completely honest with yourself, it was that you knew he would never be yours.It was something you’d accepted over the years - not that it made it any easier - which is why you forced yourself to date other people. 

Not that any of those worked. You knew why this never did. This time around, your current boyfriend figured out exactly why. 

“Matt, umm…he broke up with me today,” you confessed, voice dropping so much that the average person definitely would not have heard you, but you knew that Peter heard you loud and clear. His eyebrows raised in surprise, so high they almost disappeared into his hairline. 

“I…what?” he asked softly, clearly not believing what you had said. Although there was no reason you’d lie to him. It just seemed so sudden, “he broke up with you? That makes no sense. You two were so good together.”

Too good together if you asked Peter Parker.

“Well,” you exhaled slowly before shrugging your shoulders, “I guess we weren’t. At least not to him. So…he ended things today.”

“Did something happen?” he asked softly, putting a finger under your chin to turn your face up towards his. He could see that the tears were welling up again and wished he could do something to make it all better. Peter could see that you were struggling with trying to find the words, “did he do something?”

“No,” you shook your head, wrapping your fingers around his wrist and pulling his hand away. Despite the fact that he broke up with you - for the most valid of reasons - you couldn’t find it in your heart to dislike him. He wasn’t a bad person….he just got caught up with someone that happened to be in love with someone else, “he didn’t. I’m not…it sucks, but I’m not mad at him. I guess it’s just the situation.”

Peter could tell that you were holding back and not telling him the entire truth but he always didn’t want to push you. He knew you’d talk about the full details if and when you were ready.  He let out a small sigh to commiserate with you before reaching over and putting his hand on your face, resting it on your cheek, “well, if you ever want to talk about it, just let me know. And if it’s any consolation, it’s his loss. Anyone would be a fool to let you go. You’re gold, sweetheart - I can’t believe he didn’t see that.”

You swallowed thickly, desperately wanting to ask what about you, Peter? Do you want me?

But you didn’t. You weren’t about to throw about two decades worth of friendship out the window just because you couldn’t get your feelings in check. 

“Thanks Pete,” you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from saying anything else. Did he really have to look at you like that? With the sweetest, most honeyed eyes that made you want to get on your knees and beg him to love you? You nodded instead, keeping your mouth shut, “there’s some girl out there that’s going to be so lucky to get to love you one day, Parker. Whether or not you see it, you’re a huge catch.”

His cheeks flushed a pretty shade of rose as he turned his head away. You laughed softly. The sound went straight to his heart and was easily his favorite sound in the world. He gave you your knee a small squeeze, “well, I guess one day we’ll both find those people that are worthy won’t we?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed softly, “can I ask you for a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Can I stay tonight?” you asked, as if Peter Parker ever said no to you, “you know what, I’m so rude. I just kind barged right now and didn’t even ask if you had plans or were busy. I shouldn’t just-”

“Shh,” he put a gentle finger to your lips to keep you from rambling further, “I am never too busy for you and before you argue, you are never a bother. Besides, I didn’t have plans. Just maybe some patrolling, but it can wait.”

“You don’t have to put that off,” you insisted softly, “there are more important things out there than just me.”

Doubtful, he wanted to say. 

“I don’t mind-”

“Peter, I can just go home,” you promised, “or stay here if you don’t mind.”

“When have I ever minded?” he teased as you grinned sheepishly, “never. And I don’t mind now. Stay, please. You practically live here anyway, don’t act like some sort of stranger.”

“Okay,” you felt ready to cry again, “thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” he insisted sweetly, “and you got lucky - I just washed and put on my clean sheets.”

“Ahhh, you’re my hero,” the idea of slipping into his warm bed with the smell of fresh laundry and pillows that always smelled like him was heavenly, “thank you, Peter. Will you…don’t be out too late?”

“You just want me for my warm body,” he playfully huffed but you grinned like the Cheshire cat, “all these years, I should have known.”

“It’s not my fault you’re a radiator,” you stuck your tongue out at him, “one of the many good things that came out of you being bitten by a radioactive spider.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he teased, “there’s some clean stuff for you in the dresser, okay? Are you sure you’ll be fine-”

“I’m sure, Pete,” before you could stop yourself or overthink it, you pressed a kiss to his cheek, “I’ll be okay if you promise me two things.”

“Anything.”

“Come home soon,” you pleaded softly, “and come home safe.”

“I always do,” you raised an eyebrow, silently reminding him of the many times he came home battered and bruised, “you know I’ll always come home to you.”

“I know,” you wondered if he picked up on how quickly your heart was suddenly beating; you were sure he did. You swallowed thickly before turning your face away, “I guess I’ll let you go then.”

“I’ll be back soon,” he promised, “I know it’s pointless to say, but don’t worry about me, sweetheart.”

“It is pointless,” you snorted in amusement, “but I’m just gonna go to bed and maybe watch a movie or something while you’re out.”

“Don’t wait up.”

“Again, pointless to say,” you were both well aware of that fact, “I’ll see you soon, Pete.”

“Soon, sweetheart.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Once he left, you padded to his bedroom and snuggled up in his bed, letting the warmth and familiar smell surround you. Nothing made you feel better and more at home than being in his bed. You helped yourself to a shower as you often did before rummaging through his drawer and picking a pair of his boxers and a sweater to put on. You felt so much better already, but then, that just proved that Matt had been right all along. You pushed that thought to the back of your mind as you cuddled up in his and turned on the TV. You knew you weren’t going to be able to focus on much so you turned on a show the two of you had seen a million times.

Despite your best efforts to stay awake, you were fast asleep in less than an hour. It was definitely the combination of warmth and comfort and the overwhelming feelings you were currently trying to process. 

Peter came back at a relatively early hour, deciding that things were quiet enough for him to go home. And honestly? He really just wanted to go home and see his favorite girl; his girl  - at least in his mind. His heart panged when he remembered the fact that you were unfortunately not his and likely never be his. But he could pretend, right? There was no harm in it. 

When he got home, landing on his firescape, he was ready to tap on the window to let you know he was back, but then saw that you were sleeping peacefully. A smile crossed his features as he quietly let himself in, landing on the floor with the softest thud. The boy made quick work of pulling off his mask before grabbing some pajamas out of his dresser and quickly changing in the bathroom. He thought about changing in the bedroom but didn’t want to give you a heart attack in case you woke up. Not that you hadn’t seen him shirtless about a million times before, but still. Peter was a gentleman.

Once he came back out, he walked to his side of the bed and watched you for a moment, taking in your small, light snores and even breathing. He pulled and blankets back before climbing into bed as quietly and gently as he could. Despite his best efforts, you made a small sound, “Peter?”

“It’s me,” he whispered, “‘m back. Just rest, sweetheart.”

He immediately felt the warmth of your body and he realized just how badly he wanted to hold you. Like really, really badly. You listened to him try and get comfortable while maintaining a proper distance and smiled to yourself, “can I ask you something?”

“You just did,” oh. You could practically feel the smile on the boy’s face, “but I guess you can ask something else.”

“Will you…will you cuddle me?” the shocked look on Peter’s face was something to behold. You let out a small little exhale before slowly turning around to face him. Even in the dark you could see the pretty flush on his cheeks, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” he was quick to dispel any of your worries as he swallowed the lump in throat. He wanted nothing more, “I-I always want to.”

You hummed in content as you scooted closer to him and you felt him wrap an arm around you. Before you could say or do anything, he pulled you closer, causing you to bump noses and laugh softly, “you’re so warm.”

“You’re so soft,” he sounded like he was in awe as you tangled your legs with his, “so soft and delicate.”

“Peter,” you leaned into him and buried your face near his chest before closing your eyes again. Alright, this was definitely your favorite spot in the entire galaxy. You laughed despite your best efforts to stay away, “you smell ‘s good.”

“Oh yeah?” you felt him press a kiss to the top of your head, “so do you.”

You smiled to yourself as you let yourself get lolled back to sleep. A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as Peter tried to keep calm as you slept in his arms. He wanted to get some rest too, but found that it was almost impossible with how loud his thoughts were. He tried to ground himself with the feeling of you in his arms, along with your steady breathing. It all served to remind him just how deeply in love with you he was.

He laid there for a while, trying to figure out and process his own feelings. Eventually he ended up watching you, trailing his fingers over your cheek and along your jaw before sighing softly. How were you so pretty and soft and lovely and everything? It almost wasn’t fair. 

“I hope you know how much I love you,” he whispered into the dark, accompanied by a wistful little sigh, “maybe one I’ll actually be able to tell you.”

What he didn’t know was that you were awake as well, unable to fall asleep while you were in his touch. You tried to control your inhale, still contemplating if you should say anything or just let him think you were sleeping. But you were pretty sure that he might have just said the words you’d been wanting to hear for the years.

“Peter?” you whispered after a few moments, so softly that he almost didn’t hear it. But you could hear the small sound of surprise that he made, “I wasn’t fully honest when I told you that Matt broke up with me.”

“What do you mean?”

“He broke up with me because he said he wasn’t the one for me,” you could feel him watching you intently with baited breath, “he told me that I could never love him like he deserved to be loved because…because I was already in love with someone else.”

“O-oh.”

“Because I’m in love with you,” you confessed, finally getting it all out in the open, “because it’s so obvious.” 

Peter was silent for a few moments, his mind racing as he tried to figure out if you were being serious or just repeating what Matt had said. You pulled back so you could face him, reaching over and brushing some of his wild hair out of his face, “and he was right.”

“He was?” he asked softly, setting his hand on top of yours where it rested on his face, “sweetheart?”

“He was,” you promised, “it’s always been you, Peter. I just never thought that you’d feel the same. If I did-”

“I would have said something years ago,” he finished for you as you nodded, “me too. I…I feel so dumb. All this time…”

“It’s okay,” you insisted sweetly, “we’ve always had each other - and we always will. Now we can just…do all the other stuff too.”

“All the other stuff,” he teased and you laughed softly, a mixture of adoration and nerves, “hmm, you might have to tell me more. Just to make sure that we’re on the same page.”

“First of all,” you leaned in so your lips were almost brushing against each other, “like kissing, you know?”

“Does that mean I can kiss you?”

“I insist on it, Parker,” the two of you were grinning at each other like fools, “please.”

“What if I don’t want to stop?” you saw his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. You worried your bottom lip between your teeth, a sight he was sure would kill him. He pulled you towards him, his large hand splaying on your waist as you stared at each other intensely. 

“Don’t,” you insisted softly, “don’t ever stop.”

[darylsfavoritegirl]

hey pookies

Summary: Yall remember that episode where Daryl and Beth stay in this cabin after losing the prison (season 4, ep 12 to be exact) and thet play games like i have never.... and spend such a quality time and it's one of my fav episodes EVER! so it's fem!reader and Daryl but they play truth and dare and sort of open up about their feeling towards eachother because they're again friends with benefits lmao but it gets tense somehow👀😭😭 they find themselves in the midst of an argument etc etc and it goes on

This was requested by @duffmckagansbandana but ive also been fantasizing about this idea forever!! kalp kalbe karsiymis eheheheh

Warnings: Daryl being a dick because he is drunk and kinda slutshames the reader. Daryl grips the reader's wrists and it kinda hurts (?) a little bit of suggestive content. mentions of domestic violence/abuse

You held a glass of moonshine that Daryl found when you entered the wooden cabin. You were observing him securing the cabin incase something would occur.

"Looks secured enough to me." You mumbled spiritlessly. You took a sip of your moonshine as Daryl turned to you with a weary gaze.

"Ya really think dis the best time to get hammered?" He uttered in an evident blaséd tone. You ignored his question as he went back to securing the walls, windows. You wanted him to join you, drink booze with you, speak with you. The glass in your hand got warm before you could even consider to drink one more.

You observed his biceps flexing as he was fixing a hole on the wall. He was finally done. He turned to you, took a deep breath. You could see the sweat droplets on his forehead. His sleeveles black tshirt had damp spots around the neckline.

"You went the extra mile there." You said, failing to hide the waggish smirk bearing your face. He didn't respond to your statement but you saw the curls of his lips going upward.

He sat across you on the floor. His eyes were glossy, faint. You smiled softly as you poured him some moonshine. He gaped at you, anticipating you to stop. It was moonshine after all, God knows how long it had been sitting in this junk.

"Hey slow down." He uttered thinking you were gonna gulp down it yourself.

You saw his eyes following your motions when you passed the glass of moonshine to him.

"What? It's for you."

He didn't look at the glass once, his eyes were fixated on you

"Someone's got to keep watch." He spoke

You rolled your eyes in a cheeky way.

"No harm in drinking one glass."

"Go on." you added. Your eyes were pointing the dusty glass that was infront of him.

He gave in. He put the glass near his nostrils, sniffing the drink before taking a sip.

"That's a real drink right there." You said in a jolly tone.

" 's warm." He grumbled. He enjoyed drinking with you. The way you looked so content only made him cheer inside.

"Meh tha's a drawback." You said. You were popeyed. He couldn't deduce the basis of your zeal, yet he didn't question it furtherly.

You two spent a few minutes there, studying the cabin, studying each other when you decided to come up with something.

"You up for playing truth or dare?" You said in a hush that only left Daryl with a confounded face.

"What? Like kids?" He tittered lightly.

"You got a better idea?" You said with a significance of rebelliousness in your voice. You glared at him, waiting for a response.

"I'm worried about the others too but we can't spend this time just stressing one another." You muttered, avoiding an eye contact with him as you looked down at your drink and tapped the glass with your index and middle fingers. It was the reality. You were worried about the others, maybe even too much. However the best thing you could do at the moment was to hope for their well-being until you and Daryl started looking for them. He must've read your mind, he always did.

"Fine. Yea go first." He mouthed. Your mood shifted into a cheerful one by with just 4 words coming from him. You leaned forward slightly.

"Truth or dare." You queried. He leered at you in a gloomy way. You knew he was gonna end up savoring the game, one way or another in spite of feeling childhish at that moment.

"Truth.'' His tone barely above whisper.

You both took a sip from your drinks consecutively whilst you went on a ride in your head to come up with something to ask.

"What was your first impression about me?" You asked, not being able to hide the eagerness in your voice.

His eyes watched you cautiously. His gaze shifted somewhere else, trying to reckon the first day you met. A subtle smirk appeared on his face.

"Thought yea wer' cocky. Too cocky, even." He scoffed softly. You both stayed in quietude to remember the very first day you encountered with eachother. You chuckled.

"That was my coping mechanism. Confidence."

"Cocky." He opposed you in a childish manner, his eyebrows furrowed lightly at you.

You leered at him for a minute. You knew he was also thinking the first days when they took you in. You were drawing too much attention to yourself, pretty much everyone thought you'd be dead in a fortnight, though you didn't.

You sighed. Neither of you enjoyed thinking about any day in prison, it ached you in deep down. Neither of you could envision what your next move should be, spending this time in a wooden cabin in the middle of the woods didn't make it any better. You were in the midst of a chaos and it felt as if all your efforts were in the aim of lightening your agony.

Daryl reached for the moonshine jar that was sitting near you. He started pouring himself another drink. He almost filled the glass to the brim, peeking at you clandestinely incase you'd tried to stop him. You caught his leer and softly shrugged your shoulders indicating that you didn't mind.

He leaned against the wall of the cabin as he grunted. He took a big sip from his drink. You heard his gulp, the booze going down from his gullet. You couldn't help but chuckle at the sound, maybe you chuckled a little more than necessary. Gosh, you were getting lit; you thought to yourself.

Daryl guzzled up his second drink in less than a minute and poured himself another.

"Easy." You managed to say between your slowly-fading chuckles.

"And it's your turn." You hinted.

"Truth." You uttered without him having to ask.

He clattered an "Ahh." sound between his sips to imply he was notioning for a question. His eyes were locked on the ceiling, thinking, you glimpsed at his narrow, blue eyes. His gaze met with yours.

" 'S there sumthing ya didn't tell me 'bout the person ya wer'?" You looked dumbfounded, not catching what he could've meant by that. He must've read you like an open book. He scoffed " 'Fore all dis. 'Fore the world went to shit."

You couldn't fathom his question. He knew so much about you. He knew about your family that you stopped seeing after you moved to USA. He knew about your favorite childhood cartoons. He knew about your days as a school girl. He knew how you ended up in Georgia. He knew so much about you. Although he had never been the type to corner you with your life before the apocalpyse, you acknowledged that there must've been a lot of things you didn't tell him whether it was due to your choice or you never felt the need to do so.

"Yes." You said in cynicism. He remained silent. It was rather explicit that he wanted to investigate more; that he wanted you to elaborate.

Yet, you didn't. If he wanted to know more about you, he should've asked you more bluntly. You didn't avoid his piercing gaze. You could feel your nerves and brain going number with your increasing sips from the moonshine.

"I'm pretty sure there are atleast dozens of things I haven't told you about the person I once were."

He echoed a nonchalant glare. You, once again remained silent. You knew he'd always turn into an impossible and preposterous person to read whenever drunk. You questioned yourself. You questioned if this was a good idea after all.

He sighed. His eyes were narrower than before. He is getting wasted, you thought to yourself. You shifted your position wretchedly, grabbing your drink with both hands. You tried to put a constrained smile on your face.

The silence was unbearable so you spoke up. Your voice was raucity.

"So truth or dare?" You asked.

He gazed at you with a piercing look. You played the game not more than 5 minutes and the air had already started to feel stuffy due to intensity between you two. You couldn't understand why.

"Truth." He grunted involuntarily. He was only playing the game to pass time, to investigate and even corner you. His gaze was stern. Your smile faded away lightly. You thought of asking something private, asking something that was just about you two. Before you could even debate on that idea, you uttered

"Have you ever seen me as someone more than this?" You got hot. The alcohol was hitting you. You couldn't think clear, you spoke before giving it a second thought. You could feel your cheeks blushing. Your cheeks would never blush out of embarrassment nor humiliation. They would always blush when you did something extra, futile, stupid.

You didn't need to elaborate it. He knew exactly what you meant. He knew you had been wondering if he ever thought of you more than an appealing teammate whom he'd share a warm bed now and then. He had asked similiar questions to himself, always leaving them unsettled. He didn't want to give in, ever. He had to have a demenour where he wouldn't let anyone get too close. That was Daryl. Those were the obstacles he'd build towards anybody. You lifted your head only to meet his blue eyes. Daryl spoke the second he locked his eyes on yours.

"Ain't much of a world to keep your mind busy with that kinda stuff." He grunted. You got even hotter inside of your head.

"So, no?" You gawked.

"Didn't say dat." He looked at you with blank eyes. He didn't even get defensive whilst you were going nuts and trying your hardest to not make it plain. It was the intoxication. You were never like this. It was safe to say you did care about his feelings but you weren't a fool. You knew exactly how he'd close up, how well he'd hide in his shell.

"OK. It's your turn." You huffed as you darted away your eyes. Your temper highly depended on booze at the moment. You didn't need him to think that your mind was way too preoccupied with his words, the words that came out of his mouth with such ease. You hated the power he had on you sometimes.

He grunted with vexation as he shifted his position and leaned against the wall a bit more. Daryl rested his elbows on his knees, swinging his glass that had a little drink left in it in a motion. He kept eyeing you, so did you.

It was apparent that you both were bored to death, yet no one put forward the idea to stop it.

"Ya ever think 'bout the old world?" He grunted.

You raised your head, his eyes were squinting right at you.

"Didn't say truth." You hissed.

"Ya ain't gon' say dare neither."

"Right." You mumbled. He was biting on his pinky's nail out of lack of interest.

"Don't do that." You said as you grimaced.

"Ya gon' answer?" He insisted, his brows were slightly furrowed as he, not surprisingly, kept biting on his finger nails.

This game was all about you two finding something to bicker. You sighed. You were not looking at him but you could feel his eyes roaming all over you.

"Sometimes."

"Wish I could go back to those times." You whispered looking at the floor. Daryl's face darkened. You knew his life before the fall wasn't the greatest and perhaps this new world of silence, isolation was a jackpot for him. You caught his leer. Both of you remained in serenity.

You took a sip from the moonshine and asked the first thing that came to your mind.

"OK Daryl. Have you ever stolen something? like something big?" You begged with wide eyes. Only his eyes made you question yourself and your foolish question.

He kept swinging the glass in a slow motion as he narrowed his eyes at you. He wasn't offended. He wasn't angry.

"Ya know I didn't." He remarked. You sensed a sense of sorrow in his eyes yet you didn't step back, you never could when you were drunk.

"That's what you told me." You spoke, emphasizing the word "told" as if you were making it obvious that you didn't believe him. You kept your wide-eyed gaze. An undertone of exhilaration was on the surface of your voice.

"And after all, we barely knew eachother when we talked about this, right?" Stupid you, still couldn't make out what his gaze could've meant.

"Maybe you weren't being honest." You uttered.

"Come on. You must've done something with Merle." You insisted.

His gaze never left yours. You drank too much, you lost your basic human decency. Yet he responded spiritlessly.

"Was bein' honest." You could perceive that was the moment he lost all his interest in the game.

"Ain't no reason not to be, Merle was an ass."

He sighed. Great, now you reminded him his dead brother; at a time like this, in a place like this. Your smile and exhilaration vanished. Drunk you was never stable, you sighed as you looked down at your drink.

You lifted your head only to see him getting up, throwing his glass to the floor only for it to shatter in pieces. You flinched and leered at the pieces. You couldn't dare to look to his side. He grabbed his crossbow on the broken wooden table, slunged it over his shoulder.

"Imma take the first watch. Rest." He demanded. He breathed out before he left the cabin. You stayed there, not being able to move an inch. It was like you froze. You leered at the pieces of glass on the floor once again

"Fuck me." You groaned. You exhaled audibly, looking around the cabin. That was the moment when it hit you, he was drunk; way too drunk. God knows how he was holding up outside.

You immediatly got up, going out of kilter. You had been sitting for a long time, your body was cramping and you kept hitting to the dusty tables and chairs that were sitting in the middle of the cabin. Your head was spinning. You sauntered towards the door, grabbed the door handle. It made a squeaking sound that left you scrunching your nose.

"Come inside." You quaked, not looking at him. You were exhausted, maybe from the moonshine or maybe you were just, exhausted.

" 'm fine." He grunted. His back was facing you.

"Your drunk as much as me." You huffed with withered eyes. You were leaning against the door frame, your hand still gripping the door handle lightly.

Daryl scoffed.

"Your actin' like a child." You muttered under your breath. The alcohol was getting the best of you. His back was still facing you.

You leered at his messy hair, his vest, his arms gripping the crossbow. He was swaying in a slow motion, resting his weight on his right leg now and then.

"Just hate tha' ya still think 'm sum kinda redneck asshole." He muttered. He sounded rather disappointed, fed up with this whole situation.

"I don't." You whispered. Your eyes were wide, you couldn't process his words. He remained silent, typical Daryl.

"Daryl, I don't." You hissed as you grabbed the side of his vest, forcing him to face you.

He looked at your face with blank, stern eyes. You couldn't recognize the Daryl you knew in him. He didn't change his position, gripping the crossbow firmly as ever.

You were getting sentimental at his demenour. Your eyes were getting watery, you couldn't find words to utter. Nothing changed in him, in his cold stern stare that would make you hate yourself. He could never hurt you, that's what you told yourself but even a gaze of his could make you shatter inside. He got too close to you to a point where you could smell the booze from his breath. Deliberately, he rested all of his weight on you, cornering you against the door frame. You couldn't breath. He leered at your eyes with his blue piercing eyes for a hot minute when he spoke

"Ya'd be crumblin' 'n all if I spoke to ya 'bout your past." He hissed.

His glare was fixated on you as he got inside of the cabin. You breathed out quickly and wiped a tear that was to fall down on your cheek and looked at the woods.

"What the hell does that supposed to mean Daryl?" You turned to him. He was going through his backpack.

"Think ya kno' what I mean." He mumbled under his breath.

He grabbed a canned food and sat on the edge of small ladder. He wasn't looking at you but your gaze was at his fingers trying to get the canned food open.

"What if I don't?" You said calmly but at alert, waiting for his respond.

"I dun' kno'. Sellin' yer body for attention. Ring any bell?" He snapped, lifting his head to meet with your gaze. You stood there with complete silence, trying to process his words. His voice was pretty tall, which made you flinch.

"That's really low Daryl." You scoffed. You weren't offended, you were just astonished that he'd bring up your past as a barmaiden to hurt you.

"Right." He mocked. He was still on the small ladder, trying to open the canned food. He sighed as he threw it to the floor. He got up, completely ignoring you.

"Atleast I wasn't drifting behind Merle's ass, doing whatever he'd told me to do." You barked. You had lost yourself. You didn't care what your words would mean to him.

He turned to you, his arms flexing due to his firm grip on his crossbow. He got closer to you, his face was reddening. You could see his vein on his neck throbbing, he wasn't taking his eyes off of you. He clenched his jaw, lowering his eyebrows and leering at you with narrowed eyes.

" 'S tha' what'ca think?" He fumed.

"That's what I know." You uttered as you pout your face. You ran your hands through your hair to take a deep breath.

"Ya know nothing." He barked. He wasn't blinking.

"You were nothing." You whispered. Your eyes were getting red. You could feel them sting. Your vision blurred. Yet his rage was full of spitefullness. He gritted his teeth

"Pickin' up lonely dudes to get 'em pay ya was sumthin'?"

"Sumthin' yer dam' proud." He shouted as he pointed his index finger right at you.

You swallowed slowly. You were not looking at him.

"Just leave me be." You managed to mumble between your shaky, shallow breaths.

"No, I ain't gon' do dat." He boomed. He threw his crossbow on the mattres you two incompetently tried to turn into a cozy bed. He got closer to you, immediatly grabbing your wrists with his hands.

You looked at his hands grabbing both of your wrists quakingly. You weren't sorrowful nor furious. You were affronted at his grip on your wrists that left you in discomfort and almost, pain. You raised your head to meet with his hard-nosed gaze. You shook your forearms fiercely several times, hoping he would free you but he didn't. How could he do this do to you? Out of all the things out there, he chose to grip both your wrists. That was something you'd always highlight when you'd talk about the abuse you had to go through back when you lived with your family. How your father would grip your wrists and squeeze them thightly until you'd feel like passing out. You always told him how small it made you feel, how worthless. Didn't he say "What a dick" referring to your father. Now there he was, doing the exact same thing. You wouldn't believe it.

"Can't run yer mouth now, can yea?" He spat out. His voice was growing taller and taller. You tried to get to your other wrist with one hand only he would not let you;

"Daryl, you're hurting me." You panted, quickly exhaling. Your chest was going up and down rapidly, leaving you all panicked and crumbling under his brawny, firm grip. You looked directly into his eyes, looking for mercy; hoping this night would end without either one of you dying. His hard-nosed gaze not shifting into a softer manner at all.

You were still numb from the moonshine, so many thoughts pondering your head. You wanted to kiss him, end whatever this was. You were highly influenced by booze. You didn't care. You wanted to kiss him. You didn't know what the outcome would be.

So you did, you got on your tiptoes; your bodies were already too close. You closed your eyes and kissed him harshly on the lips. His grip on your wrists loosened, you almost toppled onto him which he didn't let it happen.

His strong hands grabbed the both sides of your face, pressing his lips onto yours like he pleaded for more of you. It all happened so swiftly that he shoved you on the wall harshly. He waited for a split second, his lips brushing yours. You could smell the pungent odour of alcohol mingled with the smell of cigarattes you smoked earlier that day. You didn't care. You wanted all of him. He panted rapidly against your lips. You stayed like that for a moment, his hands flawlessly placed on the temples of your head; the only thing you could hear was eachother's shaky breaths. You pressed your lips onto him once again. A tear that you had been holding so long fell down your cheek, you didn't mind. It was a joyful tear. You were both taking eachother breaths away that left your heart ponding like crazy. He rested all of his body weight on you, which you didn't complain this time. You could feel him growing under his jeans.

Your hands reached the collar of his vest and helped him take it off. You grabbed his bare shoulders and digged your fingernails into them. His hands shifted to your waist from the sides of your face. There was that void feeling in your stomach once again. How small you were compared to him, how you were like an insect which he could've crashed with his fingertips seconds ago.

You gasped when his hands went under your t-shirt, grabbing your hips and waist and stroking your skin. It became a sloppy kiss but you both liked it. Your whole body curved into his body, small moans escaping your mouth. He started going down on your neck from your plumpy lips. Your grabbed a fistful of his hair gently with your right hand, softly pushing his head down on your neck as he kept pecking on your soft skin.

You made up.

FOOTNOTE

Why is it actually so awkward do write even a basic kissing scene. it was painful. idk much about this fanfic it was way better in my mind but idc

@duffmckagansbandana deserves some credits too!! we exchanged so many thoughts during this :))

[bryngmemoney]

✁FASHION FLIRT✃

Megumi Fushiguro x Reader

⭑story masterlist link

tw: none

Writing in between messages!!

🪡Chapter Nine: Asleep

You and Yuta walk into the theater, Maki leading the way to the seats in the last row. The room is more filled than what you expected it to be, but that’s not really a problem. You see familiar faces among the row, watching maki take a seat in between two empty seats. Now this was your decision, on one side of her was Inumaki, the other Megumi. However before sitting down Inumaki held out a small bag and a soda, “Yuta I got your things.”

With that you decided to take a seat next to Megumi. It’d be easier considering it seemed Inumaki had taken the initiative to set up Yuta’s snacks next to him already. Next to Megumi you could recognize Yuji, and another guy with black hair but through the dim lighting and the hair covering his face it was hard to distinguish him. You recognized Choso, Yuji’s brother, and the last one in the row, his name was Todo wasn’t it? Something like that.

Seeing Nobara so far from you and Maki was a bit odd, but nothing you gave a second thought to considering she seemed content between Panda and Inumaki.

“Hey Megumi, didn’t know you’d be here,” you greeted. “Hey y/n, nice to see you,” he gave you a smile. “You like these movies?” He asked. “Personally I think they’re just okay quality wise, but they can be pretty entertaining.” “Fair enough.”

From the other side of you Maki tapped your shoulder, handing you the snacks Panda had ordered for you. Megumi felt a shove of his shoulder coming from Yuji, him ‘subtly’ nodding his head towards the large popcorn tub he had shoved in his lap minutes before you had arrived. Megumk knew what he was hinting at, and so as the previews began to play he turned towards you, holding out the popcorn. “Do you want any popcorn?” In the back of your head you thought about what you had texted earlier, wondering if someone had told Megumi to share with you, but if he was offering he didn’t mind right? “Sure, I was gonna bother someone to pass me some anyway.”

A little over halfway through the movie, the plot was finally reaching it’s climax. At first you were entertained with the stuff about the doctors and whatever, but now you’re pretty sure you’ve lost the storyline. You pulled out your phone, going to unlock it, until you felt a sudden weight on your shoulder. From the corner of your eye you could see a mop of black hair, and turning your head slightly to see better, you saw that Megumi had fallen asleep. He also just so happened to have done it while leaning on your shoulder.

To distracted with the weight currently on your shoulder (literally) you missed Yuji signaling towards Choso to take a photo. Clueless to what was going on beside you a bright flash caught yours and the rest of the row’s attention. “Sorry, Choso just wanted a picture for his ummm… photography project.” That was a lie, one to take the blame off him and find a sort of reasonable excuse to take a picture of Megumi that Yuji would definitely tease him with later.

Author’s Note: Megumi wasn’t lying about being about to fall asleep, Yuji wanted an excuse to take the photo might as well just blame Choso ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

but anyways hope you guys enjoyed!

Taglist below, feel free to comment or dm me to be added!!

TAGLIST

@iridescentrays @gumimegz @maya-maya-56 @mamafly @lunavixia @swissy23 @coltsgf @m00nglad3-mp3 @etsukis @xosren @qtnfer @oengleli @harek89 @y-sabell-a @morgyyyyyyy @getolvr @liliumaraneae @k3lbade @aiieera @dancedancey @get0sfav @chuyasthighs0 @hyssoplampflickers @kpopanimen @sad-darksoul @vivi-loves-penguins

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Be With You Everywhere

A short drabble for Little Lies (and a set up for Thor's spin off)

You check your phone for the nth time. You're getting tired of waiting. In fact, you're ready to leave.

You feel like a sore thumb sticking out. Sat on the high stool with your empty martini glass, a satin top and the tight pencil skirt making you chafe for a pair of leggings and loose tee. The gin would go better with some Netflix and pillows.

You sigh and rub your cheek. You're used to the inconvenience of knowing Loki but it doesn't mean you enjoy it. You hook your heel on the crossbar and rest your chin in your hand. Another martini would ease your impatience.

You signal to the bartender, all the way at the other end. You lean forward impatiently, running your fingers up the stem of your glass.

"Martini?" A man drawls from beside you, "sounds good."

Before you can react, the man claims the stool next to you. As the bartender finally heads down in your direction, the stranger raises two fingers, "dos for us, sir."

The bartender takes away your empty glass as you thumb the ring on your finger, making a show of the gesture, "I'm waiting for someone."

"No need, he's late," he insists, "and what kind of bozo would leave a woman like you waiting?"

"My husband," you retort, "I appreciate the attention but I'm flattered. And married."

"Happily?" He muses, "I've watched you half the night, staring at your phone and scowling. A man worthy of you wouldn't leave you all alone for so long."

"Does that line usually work?"

"I to be fair, I don't usually approach married women," he smiles at the bartender as he brings your drinks. He asks him to put the order on his tab, "they usually approach me."

"Sure," you scoff and stir the toothpick in the gin, "thank you for the drink but divorces are costly."

"I can put that on my tab as well," he leans an arm on the leather trim of the bar as he angles to face you, "James. Conrad."

You shake your head and smile. You give your name and slide the olives off the toothpick into the gin, "my husband is known to get jealous. And slightly violent."

"Sounds kinky," he intones, "I've been known for a similar habit, I confess."

You look at him. He has brilliant blue eyes and a charming crooked smile. He almost reminds you of Loki, but not so uptight. A tee shirt under his slim blazer, and a pair of dark jeans. His posture suggests military, likely ex.

"It's his least endearing quality," you rebuff, "I'm not much for angry men and their egos."

"Angry? I find it fun," he raises his glass and sips.

The tap of soles crosses the floor and you turn in time to greet Loki as he strides up, phone in hand as he fixes his tie, "darling, sorry I'm... late. Pardon, I was unaware we were having company. A friend?"

"Not your friend," James chortles, "but I admit, the lady is rather friendly."

"The lady. My wife," Loki snarls as he tweaks a brow, "darling, is this man bothering you?"

"I'm keeping her company as her husband remains errant. How sad," James takes a healthy gulp of gin, "now, we've just got our drinks and I never leave one unfinished--"

"Would the both of you let me get a word in?" You sneer, "I was just informing this kind stranger that I am indeed married."

"Yes, very married," Loki intones.

"Ahem," you give him a pointed look, "and he was kind enough to congratulate me on our recent nuptials with a martini."

"Perhaps if you'd been on time, I'd have got a full round," James smirks, "I do wonder how long a marriage can last with such discord."

"Eh," Loki narrows his eyes as he steps closer, hooking his arm around you, "I have a word of advice, yes? There are plenty of single women to be found in this sort of place, not hard to spot. I can point you towards a few."

"None half so gorgeous," James winks at you, "but glad to know you've such a keen eye. Always on the lookout, yes?"

"Please," you roll your eyes, "James," you stand and take your martini, "thank you for the drink but I am much too tired to argue all night. You have a lovely evening," you grab your purse and hit Loki's stomach with it, "let's find a table, Lo."

You strut past him. He doesn't budge at first but before you can turn to chide him, he relents. You choose the table against the wall and sit, placing your purse at the side as you nurse your drink. He sighs as he lowers himself across from you, his eyes still on the bar.

"I rush across the city and find you flirting with other men," he scoffs.

"Lo, you kept me waiting nearly an hour and are whining like a baby," you reproach, "for the time being, I'm going home with my husband. Don't make me change my mind."

You peek over at James and raise your glass in a toast as you grin. Loki snarls and leans over the table, "don't, darling. Traffic was horrible, I swear--" He hisses and sits back, smoothing his shirt, "besides I didn't even get to break the good news."

"Oh, amazing news, I'm sure," you sling one legs over the other, playing deliberately with the lacy hem of your shirt. He's distracted for a moment before he can't right himself.

"It is," he chimes, his tone striking you as unusually chipper, "my brother is to be married."

You nearly choke and put down your glass heavily, "Thor? Really? Your mother must be thrilled."

"Mmm," he leans back as he considers you. The toe of his leather shoe meets your calf and runs up as he pokes out the tip of his tongue, "and you. You must be elated to accompany me back to Asgard once more. Countess."

"Ugh, don't call me that," you grimace, "yes, lovely memories call us back, do they?"

"Darling," he purrs as he drags his hand down his lapel, "you've never seen Asgard in the spring..."

"I've never wanted to."

"Well, you're mine now, you have to," he says and aims a look toward James. You don't bother glancing over, you know he's still there.

"I am, so quit being such a child," you warn as you finish your martini, "I could use another drink."

He grins and his eyes wander down to your empty glass, "you could," he hums lowly.

"Mmm," you nod and brush his ankle with your toes, "you know you're a lot easier to bear with some alcohol around."

"Yes, dear," he plucks up your glass, "but you know, so are you."

[whatwouldvalerydo]

The theory of blow magic - The girls get it - 7/9

Warning: minor sexual references (nothing major), swearing (but old fashion ;-) )

Too many characters to fit in a picture, which was delaying me so I said no thank you. We now enter the HPMA era.

Characters mentioned here or in passing belong to: @kc-and-co @lifeofkaze @flareshogwarts @the-al-chemist

Chatter drifted above the heads of multiple students crossing the halls of the school, left and right a subtle buzz of voices and laughter. Sturdy combat boots of the latest fashion tapped against the cold floor as Scarlett made her way to her group of friends.

“Well it’s here, just like last year for Nova.” She slapped down on the cold fountain stone a yellow stained page between Dana and Saffron.

“The curse followed you?” Saffron said, taking the page in her hand to read it “This is some very odd ritual, why would someone need sixty-nine candles, a bathtub in which to scrub for one hour in direct moon light.” Peering closer, she added “Bathtub can be replaced with a lake or any large body of water and a sponge of the finest quality in a slightly elongated oval shape?”

Dana leaned closer to her friend, inspecting the instructions further down the page “Left hand in” she angled her head to better see the fading drawing “what is that shape? Blow at a certain angle, nails not touching?” she looked up at Scarlett, sheltering her eyes from late autumn sun above them “Sounds like a fancy way of taking a bath and doing your manicure? Oh do you think the theory of blow magic is actually a spell for drying nail polish faster?”

Lowering her heart shaped sun glasses down her nose, Scarlett ran her piercing across her upper teeth “If anyone is inventing a spell for that it’s me. Sounds like a long explanation for a fancy spa day, or whatever qualified as spa back in those days. Do you think they washed properly?”

Saffron looked at them “I think, they had the same baths at school. It could be a way to blow dry your hair explained in another page that’s around school.”

Rolling her eyes, Scarlett tried to remember what the page Nova had back when she was year seven. Looking up at the school, she cursed out loud for the lack of signal “I can’t wait for this year to be over. I’m done with the old era vibe.” Sticking her tongue out she locked eyes with a professor “Not aimed at you so don’t flatter yourself.”

“Five points from Slytherin.”

“Of course. What else is new? Are you sure you still have points left to deduct or are you sabotaging future generations as well?” she yelled, several heads turning, some groaning, housemates having forsaken the chance of winning the most house points ever since she started causing chaos left and right “Well that went well.” She scoffed looking at her friends.

“What did?” Turning around to say something nasty, she only grimaced when she looked up to see Dorian “Aha you have one too.” Reaching inside of his pocket, he produced a single sheet of paper with only one line written on it “I think someone is playing a prank on me honestly.”

Handing the paper over to the girls, they looked at the line over and over again, confusion between their brows followed by realization and a fit of laughter erupting as Scarlett read out loud “Thou shall ingest a satchel of Richards.” Giving him back the paper, she nodded her head “Fancy way of saying you can suck it. Hey, while you’re here, why don’t you go ask your dad about this magic theory?”

“No thank you.” Dorian immediately dismissing the idea “Something tells me I can’t go to my father with this, he would give me detention for sure.”

Dana gave him an apologetic look, feeling in a sense sorry for him. Having a parent be a teacher at the school appeared counterproductive on even the best day.

“Sorry.” Saffron whispered as if feeling his pain and reading Dana’s mind.

“Oh yay, you have more.” A voice enthusiastically spoke from the other side of the yard, Phil jogging over to them “Can I have them?” he asked pointing at the papers.

Giving him a confused look, Scarlett asked “Why?” before she could even think about what the explanation would actually mean.

“Glad you asked” pointing a finger in her face, he smiled down at her “I want to get on top of it and finish this quest before it reaches me in my last year.” Taking the pages without even asking, he stuffed them in his school bag.

“You do know Hogwarts isn’t a fancy open world game right?” Scarlett asked. Taking a small box from his pocket he started turning the handle on its side, music playing “What is that?”

“Boss music from the latest expansion on the game we were playing.” Clearing his throat he continued “If I am to embark on this quest, I will use all my wits in order to ensure this dungeon gets completed in maximum time with all my stats intact.” The small group shared a confused look between themselves “Onwards to my group of knights. Good day to you ladies” he took a bow “And you my good sir.”

Dorian blinked watching him jog away “I…what did I just witnessed.”

“You get used to it.” Dana smiled causing Scarlett to roll her eyes.

“Do you though?”

“So what do we do about the curse now?” Saffron asked.

“We let Phil handle it. I don’t have time for this blow theory.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Dorian smiled “I still think someone is pranking me.”

“You’re not that interesting to prank Winger.” Strutting away, Scarlett left them alone, wandering inside the castle in search of more interesting activities. If anything needed blowing, it was some steam. She has had enough of the weird school she found herself in.

[miastideclock]

quiet, bang chan

requested by: absolutely no one word count: 968 warnings: me being a simp, also not edited :)

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

the humming of the fridge and the slight buzzing of the airconditioner in the other room. cracking of knuckles every now and again. soft tapping on two separate keyboards.

chan was sitting with his back against the headboard, tapping away on his computer. you were sitting cross legged, facing the headboard and using your pillow as a seat for your own laptop. it was just one of those nights where you had been doing each your thing, but together in a sense. you hadn't spoken in the past two and a half hours, but every now and then, you would rest your hand on his knee and rub your thumb against his exposed skin. in the same way, he would take the time to bend over and brush your hair out of your eyes and kiss your cheek once in a while.

you adored time spent like this. you both acknowledged that there was no need for talking all the time, and you could easily spend quality time together in complete silence, focusing on each your thing.

it had been a while since you rested your hand on any part of his leg, so while you were going from one tab to another, you reached your hand over and gave his thigh a light squeeze. it was then you noticed his shorts weren't keeping him warm anymore. the exposed skin on his leg was almost shocking to the touch. you looked up from your screen and at him, waiting from him to do the same.

"are you cold?" you asked him, just above a whisper. he was about to shake his head no when he went to scratch an itch on his leg, right by where you were holding your hand. it then seemed to shock him as well how cool his skin felt.

"i didn't even realize." he admitted, now rubbing his leg, trying to friction up some heat. you turned around and grabbed a wool blanket that was placed on the footstool at the end of the bed. you unfolded it while chan raised his computer so you could place it on his lap. after he had put the computer back down on top of the blanket, he did the same for you.

even though your laptop was resting on your pillow, you still lifted it so he could maneuver the blanket around easily. while you held your laptop up in the air, you looked out the window that was right over your headboard.

as far as you were concerned, the world was a much too noisy place. whether it was loud cars zooming by, or the sound it made when someone was walking across the street, you always thought everything would be better if it was quieter, or at least softer.

"the first snow." you whispered, mostly to yourself, but chan could hear it too. he finished up project-blanket, and looked at you in hopes you would give some context.

"pardon?"

you loved winter for that one particular reason. snow. it fell over the world in a gentle, white sheet that silenced everything. sounds didn't carry half as far, and footsteps grew softer.

"first snow of this season." you spoke again, this time putting your laptop down and nodding slightly in the direction of the windows. it was dark outside, so the only way you could really see the snow, was directly under the warm-colored streetlights.

"i guess it is." chan spoke equally quiet as he turned in his seat and looked outside. "c'mere, i have an idea."

you turned your attention over to the man who was no longer sitting next to you, but standing over by the closet. he changed from shorts to sweatpants, eagering you to do the same as he tossed you a hoodie of his. while you did as you were told, he left the room. you could easily hear based on his footsteps that he went to the kitchen.

after getting dressed and descending the stairs, you found yourself trying to place the smell that suddenly entered your vicinity. not many seconds later, chan revealed it to be hot chocolate as he handed you a steaming cup.

"you grab the massive blanket from the living room, i'll grab pillows for us to sit on, and then we meet out on the front steps?" he half instructed, half asked. you nodded in agreement, without really understanding what he was up to.

you turned around and moved to the living room, grabbing the biggest blanket you could find from the ottoman, as well as your slippers, and you walked out on the front steps. there he was, placing two pillows down for you, him patting the one he wasn't already sitting on, inviting you to join him.

after sitting down on your designated pillow, and wrapping the two of you in the big blanket, you took a sip of your hot drink. it was a nice contrast against the freezing temperatures you were sat in. instinctively, you scooted closer to the man on your left, trying to leech off of his body heat. he shifted and wrapped his arm around you, allowing you to snuggle into his side.

"why are we out here, by the way?" you finally asked, having yet to understand his spontaneity.

"i know how much you love snow, and how much especially you love the first snow; so i thought we could sit here for a while and watch it for a while."

it was the perfect reason. you did love snow, and especially the first snow. so there you sat, on the front steps of your shared apartment, watching the snowfall soundlessly.

no more humming of the fridge, or buzzing from the air conditioner. only muted nothingness.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

cheers, bentley♡

[imaginesofeverykind]

The Paths That Join Us |A.T| PT.1

SUMMARY: You were supposed to enjoy your trip away with your friends when things go awry and you cross paths with a stranger who is so intent to leave his past behind, he tries to steal your car...

Enemies to Friends to Lovers???? I GUESS?????  

WARNINGS: My terrible editing?? Some swearing I guess lol? Some light violence. 

MODERN!Aegon x F!Reader

PART 1 of 8

---------------------

“— Yeah, I know… You don’t need to remind me, alright? I brought everything.” You sigh in exasperation; you hadn’t even arrived at the lodge and this trip away was already such a chore. If the four-hour drive to your destination wasn’t already a chore, then talking to your friend Julie was even more cumbersome. 

“Right, well you better – Ray’s already here… he’s so down to fuck.” Julie snorted over the phone, among the sounds of distant chatter which only indicated that most of your friends had made it to the lodge. It wasn’t your fault that you were racing out of a stranger’s apartment in the early hours of the morning… well… mostly.

Your eyes were firmly planted on the road ahead, one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding the phone up, you could already feel the expectant gazes of your friends as you arrive to ‘consummate’ the fantasy relationship they had built in their heads between you and this Ray person who they wouldn’t shut up about over the first half of the Summer Break.

“Mmhmm, well you can tell the big fella he is going to have to wait a little longer,” you smiled to yourself hearing the anticipated groan on the other side of the line. 

Finally, you had driven past the outskirts of town and onto the road where only trees were seen on both sides of the divide, a pleasant sight to see. “I’ll be there by dinnertime at the latest. I’ll stop into Oldtown before I make it to the lodge and get some extra stuff, alright?” 

“Fine, you better be bringing the fucking liquor store amount of alcohol with you, or you can sleep outside with the bears.” 

“Oh finally, some actual quality company on these types of trips. That’s so thoughtful, Julie.” You snort half-heartedly, concentrating hard on the winding road, knowing that you were best off to have two hands while navigating the countryside, that, and you needed two hands to function the stick shift, “I’ll see you later, don't start the party without me.” 

Not waiting for a response, you hung up the phone and tossed it over to the passenger seat, feeling more at ease with both hands on the wheel. It wasn’t like you hadn’t driven these roads before, in fact every year at the height of summer and in the middle of winter you and your friends would migrate to Ashton’s family lodge to drink and spend time with each other. 

It was the only time of the year where everyone came together because with half at University and the other half in adult jobs it was just impossible to see each other anymore. 

You leaned over slightly to turn up the music, tapping at your steering wheel as you sing along with your eclectic mix of music. Because of said mix, you were banned from any input or freedom to use the Aux among your friends but that was okay, you were a connoisseur in every type of music anyway so it's not like you would ever miss out. 

The fresh air spilling in from the windows was a welcome one, sometimes the air got so thick in the cities it felt like you were slowly suffocating. But here? It was like you could finally breathe again. 

A deep and contented sigh fell from your lips as the songs faded into one another. You had closed your eyes for but a moment, a second even, to bask in the journey to your friends when it felt like a car appeared out of nowhere as you approached the crossroads that you had right away through.

But it was too late at that point, you did what you could to slam the breaks to alleviate the collision, but you had already impacted, and the rest was a blur.

——————————

Your eyes flutter open, body aching and you were disoriented. What was happening? Was I dreaming? 

It started to slowly come together, your Truck mere feet away from the trunk of a robust tree, but from the inside all looked fine. Your windscreen was unscathed  which was an absolute miracle, but then again, you were driving an older truck. You could hear your Dads voice clearly as you imagined his response to what just occurred, ‘they don’t make ‘em like they used to.’

Clambering out of the truck, you slowly walked to the front of your vehicle to examine the damage. Your dad was right. Only a broken headlight and minor dint to show for the accident, which you couldn’t say the same for the Black Audi. It was totaled. 

“Dude! You realise the Stop sign means stop, or did you just fucking get your license yesterday asshole?” You marched over to the instigator; he was dazed and quite honestly beside himself that his car was fucked. Beyond fucked. It was a miracle that he was unscathed. (If he had a concussion or not that was up for debate.)

“Y-yeah, I did but you came out of nowhere—“

“Are you drunk?” You scoffed, hearing the slight slurring in his words and the prominent aroma of whiskey on his body. Not to mention the bags under his eyes were red and raw. You hadn’t waited for an answer, “your ass is grass man, you're lucky my truck is still intact.” 

He became more alert at the threat, he couldn’t deal with the Police, not right now. “Woah-woah-woah, Just wait… I’m just hungover… I promise.” He began to bargain, his hands out in front of him like he was urging you to relax. 

You turned to look at him, really look at him. And he was a little pathetic looking, shorter than average and he did look like a textbook alcoholic, but you suppose you weren’t one to chastise him. Considering you yourself were hungover. Clearly you were just better at hiding it. 

“Okay… but you still pulled out infront of me you fucking idiot.” You ramped up your frustration as the sentence drew on, it was like talking to a child that didn’t understand that they did a bad thing. 

“Look.. I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it —- Here! Look, I’ll give you some cash for your troubles,” he began to pat himself down before locating his wallet in his pant pockets, pulling out what you could only assume was hundreds of dollars in cash. What a weird turn of events, you had thought to yourself. 

Narrow eyes trained on him, you looked between the stranger and your truck gesturing as if you were unsure what his deal was, “dude the truck is fine, I don’t want your money—“

“I need your truck.”

“Excuse me?” 

He had opened his mouth to explain but you started closing in on him and his personal space, “you just fucking caused an accident and you want my truck?” You watched as he raked a shaky hand through his silver hair realizing how bad he sounded. But he was desperate. 

“Yeah…” He sounded deflated, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his neck in mild discomfort. He didn’t have an argument to counter you with, it was quite the preposterous ask considering the circumstances. 

“You’re insane! I’m going —,” you spun on your heel and started heading toward your truck, you were already behind on time and now this just delayed you even more. You had planned on sticking around for emergency services or even the towing company, but this stranger was not with it, it seemed, and you were better off leaving. You heard him mutter a quiet ‘fuck’ before the gravel scraped under his shoes as he started running toward you and more importantly your truck. “Hey— HEY!” You yelled at him, picking up your own pace in an attempt to beat him to the truck.

He was quick, all things considered and reached the driver’s side by shoving you out of the way. You stumbled back, your footing had slipped on the loose gravel but you recovered quickly and gripped him by the waist, yanking him out from climbing into the driver's seat, he was unrelenting as he tumbled to the ground, gripping onto your legs so that you came down with him. You yelped and started wrestling with the deranged stranger, he was surprisingly weak but then again he didn’t look like he had much meat on his bones. 

You had pushed his face in the dirt while you scuffled with him, he whined and spluttered out the dirt that got stuck in his mouth while you stumbled to your feet and brushed yourself off in disbelief this was how your afternoon was going, of all things. At this point you were ready to put the first half of this day behind you and just be on your way. 

Finally reaching the driver’s side door, you opened it and were hesitating on calling the police or not. This stranger was insane and it never crossed your mind that he could kill you… No, he was too pathetic for that. 

Before you had the chance to climb into the vehicle, he had staggered up and made another break for you. “Ugh you are fucking relentless you are,” You grumble out, thankfully having had the forethought to rip the keys from the ignition in time with him jerking you away from the vehicle causing you to hit the ground with a surprised ‘oof’. 

The door slams while you lay on the ground in momentary contemplation, it wasn’t like he could go anywhere without the keys. 

You staggered up on your feet and tried to open the door as he locked it from the inside, feigning ignorance with a slight pout. He was a ballsy bastard, you had to give him that but nonetheless flipping him off with one hand and dangled the keys in retaliation with the other, matching his same smug expression. 

The both of you were at a stalemate it seemed. 

Truly, neither of you seemed to be in the mood to deal with this, and it was well past the point of calling the police because this man was behaving like an insolent teenager who had his allowance taken away from him. 

His expression was unreadable, but one could assume he was possibly thinking the same thing about you. 

It was a wonder that no cars had driven past the accident, granted this was quite the path least taken to navigate around so it made sense no one had driven by just yet. 

You sighed and ran your hands over your face, the little patience you had was dwindling fast but he had your truck and your belongings inside. 

Matters needed to be taken into your hands, and as desperate time called for even more desperate measures, it was time to think a little more like your father.

Your eyes narrowed at him before you retreated into the tree line, eyes firmly planted to the ground in search of a sturdy branch… Or a rock would work too. 

His eyes watched you from afar, unsure what exactly you were doing, but his patience had also run thin. This wasn’t supposed to happen, but there was nothing he could do about it now. 

He contemplated apologizing, leaving your truck and just dealing with this mess on his own but he had dug himself far too deep now, and jail wasn’t an option for him, although it was enticing to be away from the noise of life—

THUNK. 

He jumped in fear by the sudden noise, turning to its source: it was you, hefty branch in hand beating down the driver's side window valiantly. His eyes widened, “Are you fucking insane?” His voice muffled through the window as you swung once again, bringing the branch down to collide with the tempered glass. 

“Me? Insane? You fucking pull out in front of me, and steal my car? You’re a psycho.” You scream at him, trying once more to break the window but to no avail. You throw the branch to the ground and yell at no one in particular, merely at the situation you landed yourself in. Truly unbelievable. 

You were well and truly stuck, an hour’s drive away from your parents, an even longer drive away from your apartment, no phone, no money in your pockets because it was in the car, a laughable situation at best. So that’s what you did, you simply laughed and began walking away from the situation. None of your friends would ever believe this ordeal happened, in fact it was so insane of a situation that no one would ever believe you but c’est la vie. 

The stranger watched as you hung your head in defeat, dropping the keys on the ground and just walked off without a word. 

Now he felt guilty… He was never one to feel guilty but he really did feel bad, it was his own fault that you crashed into him but he needed to get out and away and your truck was his ticket out since his car was royally fucked. 

Maybe I could hitch-hike? The thought crossed your mind, it was a miracle that this man wasn’t an axe murderer, you doubt you’d be as lucky when the next guy pulls around. 

Whatever the matter, you simply continued in your stride as you headed back into the direction of the town you left not too long ago. 

Fifteen… Or was it Twenty minutes? You lost track of time as you walked in silence. The first car you heard in a long while was approaching, you edged off to the side of the road out of safety of not getting hit but were surprised to see your own truck pull up next to you, the man driving it with an ashamed expression painted on his face. 

He leaned over to the passenger side and pushed open the door for you, “get in.” 

A scoff befell your lips, “that’s mighty fuckin’ generous of you.”

“Listen… I’ll take you where you need to go, I’m sorry for all the trouble.” His apology was sincere, you knew that much. Your eyes scanned the tray in the back of the truck, noticing that there was far more stuff than you remember putting in when you packed this morning, assuming that this guy put his own shit in there. 

“You think I’m gonna let a fucking —“

“Lady, do you want a ride or not?” His fingers tapped the steering wheel, he really had the nerve to ask you if you wanted a ride in your own car. 

“Fine…” You reluctantly climbed in, looking at him expectantly. He returned the same look either in defiance or in an attempt to challenge you before turning the truck around and driving through the windy roads and past the accident he caused. 

It was mostly silent for a while, not even music was playing through the stereo, just the wind filtering through the open windows. You leaned down to pick up your phone and began typing in Julie’s number to explain the increased delay.

The man panicked, thinking for a moment you were calling the police, and with a quick snatch, the phone was out of your hands and thrown out the window. 

You exhaled sharply, not having the energy to begin another argument, “thanks dickhead.”

“I’ll buy you a new one.” His response was quick and sharp, wincing ever so slightly that he may trigger your wrath once again. His eyes darted to you, your expression was poise and annoyed, which was warranted, he could admit that. “Where - uh… where were you heading?” 

You looked at him with pursed lips and a blank expression, “four hours south…. The outer outskirts of Oldtown.”

He blew out a surprised breath, not anticipating the drive with you to be so long. But it was the least he could do, for all the problems he caused you so far. 

“You got a name, or will I just settle for calling you a cunt?” You were looking out the window and must admit that was much nicer of a drive being a passenger and looking at all the trees and foliage. 

“Aegon.”

You turn to him in disbelief, “sorry did you just say ‘egg-on’?”

“Aegon… It’s uh… It’s not from around here.” He shifted uncomfortably, grip tightening on the steering wheel. 

Humming in response you see a small pitstop coming up on the left, “can you just pull over for a second?” 

He was hesitant at first, but nodded and started slowing down so he could pull up safely to which you were grateful for. Once the truck stopped you smiled at him, like lightning striking a tree or a snake striking its prey, your fist snapped forward and collided with his nose. 

His head snapped back in shock; positive he heard a bone break as a distinct metallic smell filled his nostrils. “You broke my nose!?” He shouted, covering his face in pain. The pain that seered through your hand indicated you had definitely broken a few fingers from the assault, but at least it was cathartic. 

“Yeah well… You threw my phone out the window of the car — which you stole, I might add and pulled out in front of me while questionably under the influence. You’re lucky all I did was break your nose… Asshole.” You muttered, opening the glove box and retrieving the small travel first aid kit you kept with you, handing him some painkillers and tissues to clean his mess up while you wrapped your hand. 

This drive was going to be long. 

——————————

“— Pull up into town.” You pointed lazily in the direction of the small-town centre. The sun had begun to set but it was still high enough that it peaked over the trees in a bright golden glow. 

“What — why?” Aegon was reluctant, thanks to your last request to pull over, it had earned him a broken nose. 

“What do you mean why, just fucking pull into town. I need to get shit.” You sounded exasperated, growing tired of his company. Not that the two of you spoke all that much, mostly driving in awkward silence until you finally put your collection of CD’s in the stereo for some relief.

He sighed, and pulled into town at your behest, “You’re not going to punch me again... are you?” 

You turned to look at him as the car came to a stop just outside the country sized supermarket and liquor store attached, it would have to do given your time frame. “If you don’t give me a reason to… C’mon I need you to help me—“

He groaned and threw his head back to rest on the chair's headrest, “I’ll stay with the car,” was this guy being for real right now? You thought. 

“No, you won’t you prick, your face broke my hand and I need help to carry the booze.” It was a question or a favour, it was a demand, that was clear in the tone of your voice, and he heard you loud and clear. Even if it was just so he didn’t get socked in the face again. 

He followed you around the Liquor store, intrigued why you had accumulated so much alcohol in the trolley, it reminded him of a juvenile teens party with the selection you had accrued. 

Whatever it was that you were going too, he wouldn’t mind getting in on the action if there was this much alcohol. 

When the two of you unloaded everything into the back seat, you took the single-handed items while Aegon managed the slabs and bigger items. “Long way for a party,” he remarked, kicking the trolley into the car park, content with dismissing it as you looked at him in disbelief, watching the trolley descend down the small incline before slowly coming to a stop in a vacant parking spot. 

You didn’t say a single word to him as you slowly walked off to the trolley and angrily put it back in its spot with the others, adding extra vitriol in the way you pushed it back and it clattered with the others obnoxiously. 

“That —,” you pointed to the trolley once you climbed back in, “was fucked up what you did. You always put the trolley away.” 

He shrugged in defense, unsure what it was this time you were annoyed about, “what? Its what the people get paid for to do, it's not like it’s a crime.” The truck started with a roar, and he took off back onto the road. 

“How out of touch are you? fuck me…” You were unsure the man you were with right now was even a properly functioning individual with how he behaved. But the fact he drove a black Audi, offered you hundreds in cash for the inconvenience of causing an accident and wore what you could only describe as designer brands. He was rich. So you expected nothing less of his behaviour.

With your directions you had finally and painstakingly arrived at your friend’s lodge, pulling up beside the several other cars that surrounded the front. As the only functioning headlight flicked off with the engine, the door to the lodge opened and out poured your friends, ready to greet you. 

A smile pulled at your lips as you exited out, excited to finally see your chosen family for the first time since christmas last year. 

Pulling each and every one into a hug, greeting their respective partners politely and finally introducing yourself to the so-called-hunk of man called Ray. 

“What happened to your hand?” Julie examined your wrapped hand, making you wince only slightly. 

You considered indulging everyone in the happenings of your morning, but decided against it to avoid the impending interrogation that came with it. 

“I cut it at work — wild, huh?” You dismissed it. The lie wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility considering your job was being a Head Chef. It was only luck that it wasn't your cutting hand that was broken, otherwise you’d be out of work longer than you’d like.

The truck door slammed behind you, announcing the presence of your stowaway as he slowly made his presence known to everyone.

“Oh uh… this is my..” You looked at Aegon, sizing him up to figure out the best way to describe his relationship to you that didn’t look at all fishy.

“Cousin.”

“Boyfriend.” 

You both had answered at the same time with widened eyes.

“Boyfriend.”

‘Cousin.” 

The two of you desperately tried to fix the error you originally made but only made it worse again. It was an awkward silence that followed between yourself and the others, it made you wince slightly in discomfort, but you had dug your grave it seemed and now it was time to lay in it. 

“Anyway… Who wants some booze?” You cleared your throat, beckoning your friends to the truck, you didn’t need to tell them twice as they came crowding like a horde of zombies, while they were distracted, your eyes set on Aegon with a glare. Your shoulders lurched up as you gestured a faint ‘what the fuck?’. Prompting him to silently gesture back to you and pull a face, an additional ‘what the fuck’ to your ‘what the fuck’. 

It was clear that wasn’t going anywhere so you sighed loudly and began to offload your own stuff carefully, not wanting to use your broken hand. In the spare moment where your friends cleared the back seat of all the alcohol, the very stick up your arse lingered in a way you could only assume to laugh at you struggle with your things, after a few moments of nothing he finally breaks the silence, “you mind if I uh… stick around for the night?”

You groaned dramatically, “Yeah actually I do mind — but you kinda just do whatever the fuck you want so I can’t stop you.” It wasn’t venom that dripped off your lips, more or less exhaustion and reluctance. Despite the way you worded things, there was no amount of vitriol that ever compared to the same he experienced in the past, and he was okay with that. 

Silently, you handed an unfamiliar bag to him, assuming it was his own stuff and closed the door behind you, “well if you had an unforgettable and enjoyable day today, I’ve got good news for you — you’re bunking with me.” 

If it was any luck, he’d be gone by the morning and even though that meant your truck too, you’d just be glad to see the back of his head and him out of your life. 

[huntedarte]

There's a certain savage quality to the woman that puts Arte on edge, and her response doesn't make them feel any better. One slim hand has disappeared into her jacket and they stand still, not approaching any closer because they know that move. The instinctual one of someone ready to pull out a weapon in threat. They'd seen it plenty with hunters and witches alike.

But they're both alone out here and Arte looks around and doesn't smell anyone else lurking nearby. When the hand comes out of the jacket without anything in is, their shoulders come down slightly and they straighten up.

"I am jumpy," they say with a shrug, something that they've been told by several different people at this point. It's just an objective truth and something that Arte is not necessarily inclined to change after all this time. They fish around in their pocket for their own phone but after tapping on the screen a few times to no avail, they frown. "Mine too."

Arte reasonably knows where to go around the area, and they're not that far from the main roads. "Where are you trying to go? I think I recognize where we are. I can at least help you towards some other people or a place where you can charge your phone?" They second guess the offer the moment it comes out of their mouth, still suspicious of the way the stranger had reacted, but also knows well the uncomfortable feeling of being lost.

No service. She could smash the damn thing to the ground. A small bettery low sign flashed across the screen, before it turned all black. Her phone vibrated one last time in her hand, like that last muscle spasm before a dying body ceased all movement. It was useless now, tucked in the depths of her jeans pocket out of sheer frustration.

With her arms tossed in the air, Anika spun around — weapons in the safest place, always prepared. Life had taught her plenty.

Footsteps lingered close and then curses spilled past parted lips, because lord she almost whipped out that sharp thing and —

She's met with an apology. And Anika, despite the kindness that was suddenly offered, only eyed the other as if to assess if they posed as possible threat. "Do I look lost?" she was only sick of people asking her that. Surely, it was written all over her face, but that never meant she was going to admit it.

Yet, she wasn't foolishly stubborn enough to refuse help, when in fact — she was very much in need of it. At least until she got familiar with the place. Stubborn almost always got you killed, and getting killed was at the very end of her to do list right now.

"Didn't mean to scare you." softer. Hand coming down from the inside of her jacket. Empty-handed. "My phone died."

[wexregolden]

gratulerer med dagen, even.

[planetsano]

𝐨𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐬! 🌐

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — never trust michi when he says he’ll pull out on time. ☹

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — 18+, dub/noncon, babytrapping, himbo takemichi, vaginal sex, creampie, closeted sadist michi, afab reader, ovulation mention, established relationship.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 — takemichi hanagaki.

Takemichi has many charming qualities. He’s handsome, caring, honest and (slightly) adventurous. All those traits are surely in the top ten lists of what the average person would look for in a potential love interest. He sounds like the perfect guy on paper to a lot of people. It's true in concept, but Takemichi made up for a lot of what he lacked, which was intelligence. The messy haired guy wasn’t the brightest bulb in the bunch, far from it actually— but it was endearing. And it wasn’t just book smarts, but he was.. incredibly naïve. Starry eyed and optimistic, the fighting spirit type. His bright enthusiasm and seemingly unaware sense of humor made up for his lackluster and bizarre logic when even dealing with the simplest of things. Sometimes it was hard to understand the thought process he had but ultimately, when it came down to it, he thought with his cock.

It wasn’t difficult at all to sway his decisions, actions or opinions if pussy or even pretty face was involved. It’s been a running joke amongst Toman that he let his dick do all the thinking for him. Hina and him were no longer together for that very reason but that’s neither here nor there. The point is: it was too easy to get what you wanted out of him, all it took was a bat of an eyelash and a pout for him to fold— to melt in the palm of your hand like golden honey dripping from the wooden dipper. Call it what you want but Takemichi was the definition of a himbo.

him·bo /ˈhimbō/

noun humorous

an attractive but unintelligent man.

Takemichi often.. got ahead of himself sometimes— specifically during sex, but that was the easiest time to get what you wanted out of him. Whether it be getting him to get a haircut, taking you out to a nice dinner or buying you something sparkly and rather expensive. Maybe it was a little mean to get him to buy something for you that was way out of his tax bracket but he’d get it back anyway. It’s not like you ask for things constantly, you know? And you give him things in return too! Your time! Affection! Sex! Make him a better person! Let’s be honest, Michi needed a girlfriend.. for various reasons. That apartment was atrocious and now it's all nice and cozy with wax melters all around that smell like fruity pebbles. But! The most satisfying part of it was getting into his wardrobe and throwing away those god awful khaki shorts and baseball t-shirts then replacing all of it with some nice streetwear that gives him a cute indie boy look. That’s what a good girlfriend does.

Speaking of being a good girlfriend, that’s maybe how you ended up at his apartment with bags of groceries. Takemichi’s fridge consisted of nothing but Mt. Dew, takeout boxes and a cold bottle of ketchup, he wasn’t the best eater in terms of eating healthy so you often stopped by the market for him from time to time. He’s getting better though! Instead of door dashing he’ll text you and ask if you two want to go to the market and make some dinner or if it's earlier in the day a light lunch.

Michi usually comes up behind you as you stock his fridge, his slender hands gently grabbing your hips as he presses himself into your backside. It starts off innocent, you giggling as he nestles his chin in the crook of your neck. He’s listening to you ramble about a new fruit juice that’s good for detoxing, your cute manicured finger tapping the label as you read all the benefits and the flavor. He nods along and tells you that he’s excited to try it, giving your cheek a kiss before you turn your head a bit to look at him. He looks good today, really good. You don’t know what it is but you can’t help but to ask for a proper kiss. A longer one. Then you two end up on the plush futon in his studio apartment.

Takemichi pulls himself from your swollen lips and sits on his knees from between your legs, struggling to discard his shirt in his haste with cute grumbles emitting from him during his actions. You giggle as you watch, playfully biting your lip with an amused glint in your eyes. His cock is rock hard by now, straining against his sweatpants and leaking precum. It's been well over 48 hours since he last got his cock wet and to be frank, he was starting to get antsy. That kiss sent all bloody in his skull straight to his cock and within seconds he was looking at you with that glazed over look in his eyes, silently begging for some pussy. He’d settle for a hand job, he just needed you to make him cum so bad.

During his hurry, you reach over to the nightstand beside the bed, opening the drawer and frowning softly when you see an empty space. Hm.. that’s not right..

“Michi,” You call for him softly, looking back over your shoulder to see him finally pop his head back out from the fabric of the shirt. His hair is messier than usual and he looks at you with an expression that resembles a curious puppy who’s name had just been called. “We don’t have any more condoms.” A small pout on your face as you speak.

“We don’t? I.. I just bought some last week.” He deflates a bit, his eyes still big and expressive as the gears turn in his head. He looks so defeated and god, he was so cute— naïve even.

“Well, we have a lot of sex, Michi.. ‘nd we used the last one the other day I think.” You say as you sit up on your elbows.

“Aw man..” His sapphire eyes look back onto your own. “What should we do?” His question makes you giggle, he always asked you for your input or opinion on things when he wasn’t he should do next. Another endearing quality he has and luckily for him, you were in a good mood.

“You’re so cute, c’mere.” You lifted yourself up and ushered him over with a beckon of your pointer finger, hooking the digit under his rainbow beaded choker. Takemichi wastes little time crawling back over you meeting your lips once more. Before things get past the point of no return, you pull away breathlessly with a hand cupping his face. Your acrylic fingernails dig into the baby fat still clung onto his cheeks even in his mid twenties.

“Promise to pull out.” Your eyes gaze down at his plump and shiny lips as you speak.

“I pr-womise.” He says with a nod, his voice slightly slurred from his cheeks being squished in between your grasp.

Twenty minutes in Takemichi has you on your back in missionary. His soft hands hold the back of your knees, hiking your legs up and open while he’s on the verge of fucking himself stupid, You’re proud though, he’s lasting longer than he usually does but you can tell he can only take so much. His cock is just so sensitive but one thing about him is that he’s able to stay hard even after he’s cum. It's both a blessing and a curse, which is why you have to stop him when he gets a little too far gone. He can’t hear anything nor does he have anything of substance floating in head. Michi only wants to fuck until he’s shooting blanks and on the verge of passing out.

Michi leans over, his naked skin pressed onto yours in an act of intimacy within itself. He hides his face in your neck, his moans getting whiner and more frequent as he continues pounding his cock into your velvety cunt. He was close, you knew it and now it was the perfect time.

“So— can I?” Your voice cracks a bit, feeling your high build up deep in the pit of your belly by the second. His red flushed mushroomed tip is hitting just the right spot, dragging along your throbbing walls in quick rhythmic thrusts.

“C-Can you w—what?” He asked through a moan, voice muffled from your skin.

“The purse, baby— will you get it for me?” You clarify. It was a pretty purse, something you saw when you were shopping on the strip earlier. It would go perfectly with an outfit you’ve been waiting to wear but it needed something else to complete it and that bag is the missing puzzle piece.

His lack of response was worrying to say the least, he usually answers immediately but the only thing you got in return was a series of grunts and pounding that almost hurt.

“Baby,” You whimper between the erratic thrusts you were receiving from the thick cock pounding into your slick and pulsating cunt. “Michi, look at me.” Your hands slide up from his shoulders, to his neck until they rested on the sides of his cheeks forcing him to look down at you. “Are you gonna cum?” You looked in his pretty blue eyes.

“You have to pull out, okay? I’m serious, I haven’t taken my pill.” You push gently. Takemichi had a.. “habit” of not wanting to pull out when he came but it was never really an issue because you were on birth control. Sex with a condom is always preferred because you can never be too safe but sometimes there were exceptions. This time was a little different though. You.. you knew it wasn’t a good idea having sex with Michi right now for a couple different reasons, 1.) You were ovulating and 2.) You hadn’t taken your birth control in a few days.

You were playing with fire but.. Michi promised. Everything would be okay, right? You trusted him but he's looking at you and it’s so clear that he’s not all there mentally. He has a distant look in his eyes, unhinged almost. Completely checked out and only focused At this point, Takemichi has completely tuned out your cries and whines as he continues to rut clumsily into you. He’s already made up his mind— he’s done so months ago actually. He wants to cum inside of you. Can you blame him though? You’re letting him fuck you raw, are you insane? This was such a rare privilege, you’ve only let him do this only once before and ever since then he’s been yearning for the day he’ll be able to fuck you raw again. It’s addictive and a feeling that can’t be quite replicated no matter how many fancy toys he obtains.

As Michi continued to fuck into you caught up in his thick and hazy pussy drunk trance you cried out in a panic, eyes tearing up quickly when you realize the predicament you've got yourself in. He wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. You wind your hand back and land a slap on his cheek with enough force that his head turns to the other direction, the outline of your hand appearing as a light pink mark on the side of his pale cheek.

Time seems to slow down as you watch his head slowly turn towards you, his eyes seem different— like he’s more present than he was moments before. Michi locks eyes with you and blinks, his cheek still stinging in rhythmic ripples from the slap you just gave him. He watches the tears pooling at the corner of your eyes fall and be absorbed by the hair at your temple. He feels a sense of pleasure he’s never felt before seeing you cry in a setting like this..

Before you could open your mouth to say something, his cock twitched. His head falls and he shuts his eyes tightly before muttering a strained and shaky apology, painting your innermost walls white with his thick and potent seed.

Oopsies? ♡

[beskarrd]

Polish and Promises

Summary: You’ve always wanted to paint Eddie's nails before a set with his band. He finally agrees.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: kissing, sexual-ish touching (no actual smut), eddie being a flirty little shit cause that's a warning in itself, very very brief mention of marijuana, no use of y/n

Your hands shook slightly as you swiped the small brush over his fingernails, careful not to catch on his skin as you pulled down. The scent of a musky cologne with a hint of weed wafted into your nostrils as you inhaled deeply. You tried to steady your breathing, but it was hard as Eddie’s right hand danced across your left thigh, tracing something unintelligible into your skin.

He had asked you lovingly if you would paint his nails black for his set tonight with Corroded Coffin and you all but jumped at the opportunity. You always insisted he would look great with nail polish. “Totally metal, baby,” to be exact. He had finally given in to your wishes but you didn’t think this is what he had in mind as far as positions go. 

You had started standing over him as he sat on the edge of his bed until Eddie piped up, “If you don’t want to keep standing, may I suggest sitting in my lap? Much recommended. Great comfort quality.”

You shook your head knowingly and that was how you found yourself balanced precariously on Eddie Munson’s lap, your thighs straddling his dark jeans as he rested his back against his headboard. You felt his gaze burn into you as you continued painting, but you remained focused on finishing up the work you had started. 

“Watch those fingers, Munson. Can’t have you ruining my hard work right before your show,” you smirked. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart,” he replied smugly. He knew he was teasing you by delicately palming your thighs. They had always been a soft spot of his. He always found time to tap a beat into your skin or etch love into your legs any chance he got. Whether it be at school, while you were driving somewhere, or just sitting in his trailer like this. He was never a fan of keeping his hands to himself. 

Much to your dismay his hand began to venture to the tip of the waistband of your shorts, delicately running the pad of his fingers over and slightly flipping it outward, exposing more of your skin.

“Eddie,” you warned. He gently threw his hand up in surrender.

“Alright, alright, I’ll be good,” he said with an exasperated tone and a humorous eye roll. “Do hurry up though cause this whole ‘having a pretty girl on my lap and not being allowed to touch her’ thing really fucking sucks.”

You chuckled lowly, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you tore your eyes away from his nails and looked up at your boyfriend. Being so close to him gave you the excellent view of watching his breath hitch in his throat as you finally made eye contact with him. You used that to your advantage and simply returned what he had been hinting at all night. You softly ground your hips on his lap and watched his eyes close as his mouth broke out into that killer smile you had been waiting for.

“Is that so?” you asked, feigning obliviousness. 

“Sweetheart, you’re killing me here,” he sighed out. 

You gave him a quick kiss on the cheek to hold him over and returned to your work attentively. “The less you move the faster I’ll be done and the better it’ll look,” you replied. You moved on to his ring finger, holding onto the large metal ring that adorned it to keep it steady. 

You didn’t get very far before Eddie leaned in close and replied “I know I asked for this and all but, it’s getting harder to care cause, you’re really fucking hot and I’m trying very, very hard not to abandon this little idea of yours and fuck you senseless.” Your breath stilled and he knew he had you there. Your gaze moved swiftly from Eddie’s nails to his face, only to find his lips inches from yours. He moved in to kiss you, however, you weren’t one to give in easily. You leaned back and returned to swiping the dark polish over his nails. 

“Two more minutes, Eds, and then I’m all yours,” you promised. 

You were surprised when he actually remained still for the rest of the process. You didn’t know he even had it in him to sit nicely for more than two whole seconds. Unbeknownst to you, Eddie spent those final minutes staring at your focused face, eyebrows scrunched in concentration, biting your lip in order to hone your skill. As he watched you put the finishing touches on the final finger, he wondered how he had ever gotten so lucky as to have the most beautiful girl in all of Hawkins not only support him and his band, but also patiently deal with his fidgeting in order to make his set all the more fun tonight by giving him an, agreeably, ‘metal’ look.

You let go of Eddie’s hand and screwed the cap back on the nail polish, leaning back to admire your work. “All done, Eds,” you said softly. To reward him for his patience you gently grasped the palms of his hands and placed delicate kisses on his knuckles, careful to avoid any smudging. 

“They’re perfect, princess, thank you,” he grinned, admiring your handiwork. You pumped your first triumphantly. “I knew you would like it! See, it wasn’t that bad,” you stated. 

You moved to get off his lap but his palms stiffened around your hips. The friction against your core was enough to send you into a spiral, your breath catching in your throat as you met his hungry eyes. He lightly took his thumb and forefinger and hooked them under your chin in order to hold your gaze, still remaining vigilant in not ruining the nail polish. 

“I’m not done with you yet,” he smirked as he met your lips in a heated kiss. You could feel the want, no the need, Eddie exuded into your mouth but you abruptly ended the kiss, not without a few pecks from Eddie in a desperate attempt to continue. He whined like a child as you broke apart and you couldn’t help but giggle. 

“Your nails are still wet, baby, don’t mess them up before your set,” you chided. 

“If you stopped teasing me so much, I wouldn’t be tempted to ruin them!” Eddie shot back. 

You swung your legs off Eddie’s lap and stood with your arms crossed, looking at Eddie slumped on his bed in defeat. His pouty face almost made you laugh. He truly was unbelievably childish, even though that was one of the things that made you fall in love with him in the first place.

“Tell you what Eds,” you said lovingly. You climbed back onto his lap, on your hands and knees (purely for dramatic effect of course) and stopped right in front of his nose. “Keep those nails of yours pristine all night and when we get back home I’ll let you do,” your hands ran down his stomach to toy with his belt buckle and pull him closer to your face. “Anything you want to me.”

Eddie scanned your face with lust blown eyes. His eyes eventually traveled lower to where your shirt separated from your chest in a not-so-subtle move you caught and noted for later. He met your stare again and leaned back with a Cheshire cat smile. “You’ve got yourself a deal, sweetheart, and I will not be using the word anything lightly,” he remarked. 

“By all means, Munson, do your worst,” you met his lips in a searing kiss and hopped off his lap to grab your bag. “Come on now, wouldn’t want to be late, huh?” you called as you made your way to the other side of his room. 

“Fuck me, I love you,” he groaned as he stood up slowly. 

“I know,” you smiled over your shoulder. 

[coffee-with-bucky]

Home

Summary: You have an epiphany about Viktor during the snowy and festive yet cozy morning of Winterfest.

Pairing: Viktor x Reader

Words: 1.2K

Genre: Fluff 

Warnings: Brief allusions to sex

A/N: I know League has winter skins and Christmas skins, but I have no idea if they have Christmas in the lore. I concluded that Winterfest is the closest thing. Anyways, Merry Christmas and happy holidays everyone! (Reader is kept gender-neutral)

Warm – Everything was warm.

The edge of your blanket tickles your nose, slowly shifting you from your fuzzy dreams. It is bright from what you could tell, the light making you squeeze your eyelids. Opening your eyes, your sleepy gaze meets the bedroom window, beige curtains drawn halfway.

As the fog of sleep dissipates from your eyes, your sight fixates on the snowflakes gently dancing and swaying from the sky. Rooftops of homes and businesses in Piltover were blanketed in powdered snow and the sun just began to peek from behind the horizon. Fairy lights decorated the walls, edges of rooftops, and streetlamps – twinkling. You smile at the winter wonderland landscape before you.

You and Viktor have the weekend off for Winterfest and nothing sounded better than starting the weekend with cozy clothing, cuddling under a fluffy wool blanket, and drinking hot mugs of something sweet. The halls of the academy, grading papers and running errands for Heimerdinger were done for the semester for your time being.  

Speaking of Viktor – turning over, you are met with an empty side of the bed. You run a hand over his spot, still warm on the mattress. 

Sitting up, the blanket fell from your shoulders. The cold air prickles your skin, making you wince. You bring the blanket back up to your chest.  

Your nose soon picks up a sweetness in the air. You think it was coming from the kitchen when something caught your eye by your nightstand. 

A steaming mug sits by your lamp. Reaching over, you wrap your hands around the mug, heating your chilled palms. Taking a sniff of the drink, you instantly knew what it was.

Sweet milk.

With a wide smile, you take a sip. The hot and saccharine drink warms you from the inside, a content sigh escaping your lips.

You continue to watch the snow fall with bright eyes, taking occasional sips here and there. Your ears then pick up on the muffled padding of steps, along with a tap of a cane.

Turning your head to the door, your eyes soften at the sight of Viktor, a hot mug of sweet milk in one hand and his cane in the other. His hair is slightly askew, the shorter strands by his ears curl around them. He adorns a burgundy sweater and some sweats, looking comfortably cozy. His presence makes your heart swell with love. He radiated domesticity.

“Oh, you’re up, my love,” Viktor grins, golden eyes shimmering like the fairy lights hung up around the city.

You mirror his smile, “Morning, love.”

Sipping his drink, he places his mug on his nightstand and leans his cane on the edge of it. “Good morning.” He sighs, climbing back into bed beside you and kissing your temple.

“Thanks for the sweet milk, Vik.”

Viktor’s eyes gaze at you, a lopsided grin lacing his features. He reaches for your mug, grabbing it and placing it beside his own on his nightstand.

“Hey, I just thanked you and you take it away?” You chuckle.

Viktor hums. Wrapping his arms around your middle, Viktor snuggles into you, pulling you into him and pressing your back into his chest. He buries his head into the crook of your neck, a chilly nose brushing the skin there.

“We have Winterfest to ourselves. I’m not going to let anything become a hindrance between our quality time together.” He murmurs into your neck.

You laugh, “Even a mug of sweet milk that you gave me yourself?”

You feel Viktor smile on your skin. Kissing the base of your neck, his lips trail to your shoulder, placing a kiss there.

Rolling over, your faces were mere inches away from each other. Your eyes flicker to his moles, the one above the corner of his lip, the other under his right eye. Reaching up, your fingers toy with the curly strands of hair by his ear. Leaning forward, you kissed the tip of his slightly rosy nose. He scrunched his nose, chuckling and brushing it against yours tenderly.

“So, is there anything in particular you want to do today?” Viktor asks, pressing his forehead to yours.

You pretend to ponder, “Hmm… How about staying in this bed all day?”

Viktor’s eyebrows raised, “And what could we possibly do all day in our bed?” He smirks with a hand resting on your hip, thumb caressing the sliver of skin exposed after your shirt had ridden up during your sleep.

Your fingers trail downwards, grazing his jaw before the tip of your index finger gently traces the outline of his bottom lip.

“We could sleep all day… Although I reckon it wouldn’t be healthy to do so.” Pursing his lips, Viktor pressed a light kiss to the pad of your finger. Your breath hitched before you smirked, “Or we can do… other activities.”

Pressing your lips to Viktor’s in a chaste kiss, your lips spill down to his chin, his jaw, and down the front of his neck, leaving warm kisses in your wake, especially one on his Adam’s apple.  

Hooking his fingers under your chin, Viktor brings your head back up to his eyeline. A rosy flush dusts his cheeks like the snow outside dusting on every roof. His lips graze against yours – a soft chuckle, “You tease.”

Lips moulding to yours, you close your eyes at the feeling of his warm lips, his hands cradling your cheeks. Your sigh is suppressed. Thumbs sweep across your heated cheeks, his gentle kiss morphing into more tender caresses and the tip of his tongue prodding the dip of your mouth. You smile against his mouth, the taste of sweet milk prominent on your tongue as you also taste a hint of something distinctively Viktor. Your hands find themselves on Viktor’s chest, lightly gripping the soft burgundy sweater.

Pushing you onto your back, Viktor’s arms cage you in beside the sides of your head. The kiss deepens with each passing and touch of tongues. Your hands wrap around his neck, one hand settling behind his head with fingers running through his hair.

Pulling away with deep breaths mingling, Viktor pecks your lips briefly before placing gentle kisses on your cheeks, forehead, and nose.

“How about a proposition?” Viktor nudges your cheek with his nose, honey eyes glimmering.

You laugh, “Please, do tell me.”

“I suggest we continue to sleep a little past noon,” Viktor lies on top of you, legs intertwining with yours, “We do the activity you had in mind, and then after we drink more sweet milk with our lunch.”

You snicker, “It’s a date then.”

Resting his head on your chest, Viktor laughs with you. Closing his eyes, Viktor snuggles into your chest with a gentle sigh. You continue to comb your fingers through his hair, which emits a content purr from Viktor. Wrapping your free arm around his shoulders, you chuckle, eyes roaming over the sight before you.

The cold snow floating is outside a mere backdrop to the warm and snug bedroom. The calming sounds of yours and Viktor’s quiet breathing, the smell of sweet milk still lingering in the air, and Viktor’s messy hair sprawled on your chest. His body, sweater, and bed comforter cocoon you in warm bliss. Your eyes soften.

“I love you.” You whisper.

Your heart leaps when Viktor lifts his head for a moment, sleepy eyes peering into yours, “And I love you.” The smile on his face never falters as he resumes his spot back on your chest.

It then hit you, Viktor’s warmth from both his body and words morphing into an epiphany.

Home for Winterfest. This is your home.

Viktor is your home.