#too lazy to clean this up any further...

[plutoons]

sammy boy for the soul

[saudadeko]

ADHD tips from a girlie who was diagnosed in her late twenties and has had little to no support since and is being so brave about it:

1) Make it easy, make it accessible, and make it appealing. If anything this is the most important thing, all tips going forward are based around this concept.

2) That thing you think would help you but you haven’t bought/done it yet because you’re technically surviving without it? Buy it, you need it. It doesn’t matter if people around you might think it’s wasteful or that you’re lazy, you’re not, just do it, trust me.

3) Expanding on tip #2, if you’re like me and eggs are your main source of protein because they’re quick and easy and feeding yourself is a near insurmountable task- buy yourself an electric egg cooker, make a bunch of hard boiled eggs and keep them in your fridge for quick and easy protein to add to any meal (handful of crackers, a hard boiled egg and a banana? 5 star meal right there. Or mash them up with some mayo for egg salad sandwiches). Other easy proteins include: potstickers (put them in instant ramen), edamame (they have microwaveable snack packs), chickpeas (put in salads!), beans (can of beans microwaved with shredded cheese and some tortilla chips), peanut butter (with crackers, apple and cheese, adult lunchable style), and tofu (cut into cubes, throw them into a ziplock with some seasoning and potato starch, shake that shit up and bake it until crispy).

4) Spend a little extra (if you are able) on daily use items that excite you, it will make you more likely to remember/want to do said daily task. For example: the only reason I remember to use sunscreen is because I bought some fancy japanese sunscreen that smells like roses so I get excited to use it, same for laundry detergent and body wash! there’s a gajillion different body wash scents out there, switch it up!

5) If there’s a task you continuously struggle with take a moment to think about which part of the task is making it difficult, it could be something even as small as “I don’t put my dirty clothes in the hamper because my hamper has a lid on it and lifting the lid is one step too many-”, sounds a little stupid huh? But trust your gut, it’s not stupid if it works. See tip #2 and BUY A HAMPER WITHOUT A LID.

6) If you are having trouble starting a task, break the task down further, sometimes the way I start a task is just by going “Ok step 1) stand up-“ and so forth. Don’t worry about the task as a whole just take it one step at a time.

7) If you’re halfway through a task and have to stop, leave it out. All this, “Put things away when you’re done with them.” is bullshit. you will be much more likely to finish the task if restarting it is easier because you left it out plus it’s a visual reminder. You can also create faux deadlines like “I gotta finish this project before my friend comes over on tuesday because after I finish it I can clean off the dinner table.” etc.

8) It’s okay to outsource tasks and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, humans are designed to ask for, and to require help (what do babies do when they’re first born?? cry for help!!) ask for help and receive help without shame, if it makes your life better, you are WINNING.

9) If you have one big overwhelming task that you think you need to get done before anything else, but you feel motivated to do other tasks, do those other tasks first, it’s okay. Otherwise in all likelihood (at least in my case) you’ll put everything off until the last minute and then have to do said overwhelming task and those other tasks won’t get done at all. Doing those smaller tasks also lowers the mental load and you can use them as a motivation launch pad to tackle bigger things.

10) If you notice you tend to not put something away/forget to do something, perhaps consider moving and storing the item closer to where it ultimately ends up or where you are more likely to see it. For example, my makeup, pills, and mail are all stored on my desk because that’s where I tend to do my makeup, take my pills and deal with my mail. I used to store my pills in my bathroom medicine cabinet but all too often I would forget because they weren’t in my line of sight. Now that they’re on my desk, I have multiple chances per day to pass by them, go “oh I gotta take those.” and take them.

11) Open storage, open storage, OPEN STORAGE.

12) Motivation can look like all kinds of things. sometimes the only reason I get out of bed is because I remember I have a fun snack and I get to go eat it if I get up. It’s okay to lean into those simple “animal-brain” type motivators, you’ll eat because then you can use that fun new kitchen gadget you got a daiso? Neat. you’ll shower because then you can paint your nails that fun new color you got? Fantastic. You’ll go to the dmv and do that annoying thing because you’ll take yourself out for boba after? Superb. Lean-IN to those small motivators, they aren’t stupid or childish, they are VITAL.

13) Don’t buy into the cult of “if it’s worth doing, do it properly” it’s guaranteed to set you up for failure. If it’s worth doing, do it in whatever capacity you are able to. I put sunscreen on once a day because that’s fucking better than not doing it at all and I sure as all hell will fail at reapplying it multiple times a day. If it’s worth doing, do it half-assed babieeee.

Go forth and prosper!!! xoxo ✌️🩵

[feederprincess]

i met you when you were slightly chubby, had a good job and were extremely hardworking. it did not take me long to figure out that you had gluttonous tendencies, by how you would always get two pastries or fix yourself bigger plates at buffets.

on our first couple of dates you would still try to hide it, ordering smaller portions and eating at a normal pace. i started inviting you over, and i would make sure to give you bigger portions, laced with appetite stimulants to help your shyness<3

can you imagine how hungry you would always be? how your stomach would be begging you to eat more? and how nice it would feel to have someone who would always give you more without any hesitation, even encouraging you to eat seconds, and thirds, and take home leftovers ~

as we grew closer i would invite you over to play games together, hand feeding you fattening homemade snacks loaded with extra butter. i would bring you lunch and feed you the entire pan. i would love to wait on you hand and foot, making sure all the food, booze and games you want are in hands reach… what would happen once a week would slowly turn into multiple days, and you would start craving my doting whenever you would not get to spend time with me.

i get you sexually frustrated on purpose while feeding you, and then send you home horny and extremely bloated from the amount of food you would pig out on thanks to the stimulants. you would not be able to fight your urges and masturbate to the thought of me sucking you off while you game and pig out, going as far as eating while getting yourself off to help your imagination and growing appetite<3

you start getting bolder and start wearing tight shirts when coming over, undoing the zip of your pants when you feel full and even asking me to sit on your lap while i feed your growing gut. i have started conditioning you into giving in and never hearing no, so you get greedier and just start doing as you please knowing i would never stop you anyway<3

you ask me for more food, you ask me to feed you while you game, to take off your pants, to get you off… and no matter what it is, i happily oblige. you get lazier and start missing work, because you would rather stay on my couch being a lazy, self-indulgent slob, which i will always encourage. your clothes barely fit at this point, but you realize how crazy it drives me when i see you in ill-fitting clothing so you refuse to buy new ones.

why would you not quit your job and spend the day at home with me instead? why not let me turn you into my spoiled, overfed boyfriend? why would you not keep indulging in hedonism? addicted to porn, greasy food and video games? seeing how easy it was to get you to this point, i would go even further: i want you to become my personal overfed hog.

when im not home i would doordash food to the door to make sure you never go hungry. i would always keep booze and soda next to the couch, id clean up after you and keep indulging each one of your wishes - id make sure you are always content, and before you know it you would only be getting up to go to the toilet as id take care of everything else for you<3

at this point you have a gut that spills over your buried dick, and moobs so big they rest on your belly. getting up to go to the kitchen gets you winded and you start feeling antsy if you go too many hours without greasy fast food. eating turns you on but you are too fat and lazy to do anything about it, so even though your dick is pressing against your stomach you would rather keep eating and wait for me to do it for you <3

you had so much potential, and all it took was a small nudge in the right direction to ruin you.. i knew this is who you were meant to be from the moment i met you 💞

[eideticboywonder]

─── ̩̩͙✩ sweet like honey, part i ; steve harrington

summary — all it took was a smile from you to bring steve harrington to his knees.

pairing — fem!reader x steve harrington

warning(s) — use of she/her pronouns, love at first sight, lovestruck steve, just sweet fluff :)

word count —  2,312

The interaction only lasted mere seconds, but Steve had every single detail forever ingrained in his mind.

It was a dreary morning, unusually chilly for early summer. The newly opened Starcourt Mall, not yet abuzz with the newly released children and teens of Hawkins, echoed with the rain beating against the glass roof. Steve, who’d just rushed in from his car donning only the ridiculous navy Scoops Ahoy uniform, ran his hand through his once perfectly styled hair, now slightly undone by the wetness in an attempt to fix it. He flicked droplets from his arms as he walked toward the ice cream shop, muttering in irritation under his breath as he went. 

That is, until he felt a light hand on his back and turned to find you behind him. He stopped cold, every drop of annoyance previously flooding his system vanishing. The world around the two of you dulled, every person, each sound fading away until there was only you.

You had been wearing the dark maroon vest of your movie theater work attire and black formal pants that hugged the curves of you just right. Even with your hair pulled back, damp from the weather, the coconut of your shampoo married with the vanilla of your perfume infiltrated his senses. 

“Sorry, I just—” Your voice dripped with a honey so sweet, so hypnotic Steve’s brain momentarily short circuited. He couldn’t even register his keys in your grasp, he was too focused on your eyes; he didn’t know it was possible for eyes to be that beautiful until he’d looked into yours. “You dropped these.”

The shy smile gracing your lips made his heart skip, then leap into his throat when your fingers grazed his as you handed him his keys. Your touch was warm against the chill in the air, and he hoped the flush rising in his cheeks could be disguised by the crisp temperature. 

Realizing he hadn’t yet spoken a word, Steve finally managed to get out a “Thanks.” before you offered one last knee weakening smile and brushed past him, presumably continuing on your way to the theater. 

He stood there for a second with his hand still held out, his brain slowly thawing. By the time he’d finished buffering and turned to call after you and ask your name, you were already too far to go after without looking like a creep. 

That was it. The “king” of Hawkins High brought down by a smile and six quiet words.

Steve told himself he’d go find you on his break, properly thank you and at least get your name (which he had no doubt would become his favorite the second he learned it). But when his break came, he made it no further than the threshold into Scoops before his stomach quickly filled with anxious butterflies, preventing him from going any further. 

Robin, of course, didn't miss the chance to give him shit about it. “You all there, Harrington? You look like you're gonna yack all over my clean floor.”

He rolled his eyes, dropping into one of the cold metal chairs. “I’m fine, your precious floor is safe.”

Her brows furrowed, leaning over the window separating the break room from the front of the store. “Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you? You haven’t been nearly as annoying as you usually are. It’s kinda freaking me out.”

“First of all, thanks for that.”

“You're very welcome.”

Steve gave a pointed glare, not even bothering to lift his arm from the table as he offers a lazy middle finger with a tight quirk of his lips. “Second of all, I said I’m fine, alright? I’m totally, one hundred percent fine.”

“Yeah, ‘cause that was just so very convincing, Harrington. If you ever had any aspirations to go into acting, I’d give up and stick to slinging ice cream.”

His second attempt occurred that day after Steve’s shift, even made it all the way to the theater this time. However, as soon as his eyes found you behind the counter helping a mother and her daughter, the warmth emanating from that damn smile of yours turned his legs into jelly, effectively putting an end to his movements. His mouth felt dry, whatever words he’d previously been able to come up with dissipating completely as he became helpless to do anything but stare. 

Then, just as you’d finished handing the little girl her popcorn, your head began to turn in his direction, triggering his legs to finally move once more… but in the opposite direction.

What the hell was wrong with him? Getting tongue tied over a girl? Steve Harrington always knows what to say, the perfect line or simple look to turn women into putty in his hands. And yet, somehow, you’d achieved the impossible by simply existing. 

In the days that followed, in addition to work, Steve suddenly saw you everywhere, his subconscious seeking you at every turn. 

At the arcade the following night when he dropped the kids at Dustin’s insistence. You’d been coming out as they went in, laughing with another girl, arms linked; your hair flowed freely this time, dressed casually in jeans and a hoodie that looked a little too big, unencumbered by workplace regulations. Even in the dim light from the arcade, your smile pulled Steve in. Your laugh, light and contagious, quickened his pulse and sent pleasant goosebumps down his spine. (He didn’t know it then but he’d spend the rest of his life trying to elicit that angelic sound from you as often as he could.) 

The community pool for the official summer opening that weekend. Steve had to work that day, so he didn’t arrive until the late afternoon. Whereas you’d been there almost all day to appease your best friend’s desire to ogle the lifeguards, so by the time he arrived the several sun exposure and energy spent in the water had you drained. 

This time, Steve came across you passed out alone in one of the reclining pool chairs on his way to the bathroom. You were positioned laying on your side, curled into yourself with your wrist tucked under your chin. A bright pink and blue beach towel was draped over your not completely covered body, contouring to your shape. Your brow is creased, a slight frown pulling on your lips. He mirrored it, wondering what could be troubling that beautiful head of yours. A breeze blows over you then, making you shiver a little and shift, which reveals the top of your white bikini peeking from under the towel. 

A deep crimson that worsened as you adjusted again spread across his flustered face, eyes wide and lips parted, and immediately averted his gaze out of respect. Steve’s eyes land on one of the white towels provided by the pool sprawled across the empty chair to the left of you. He grabbed it, feeling the residual heat from the sun before leaning forward to place it over you as added protection and warmth.

Once you were covered anew, your still sleeping face relaxes; brows unfurrow, frown receding to a more peaceful appearance. He was helpless to the soft smile that took hold as he observed you, so enchanting even unconscious. Then, before he can start to feel too much like a creep, Steve continued on his original path to the locker rooms, throwing one last glance over his shoulder.

Then again, a few days later at the grocery store. Steve’s father, as a part of the whole “teaching him to be responsible” thing after not being accepted into a college, told him he needed to learn how to shop for himself with the money earned from Scoops instead of relying on his mother. He was standing in the frozen aisle, surveying his pizza options when he heard it— that voice dripping in honey he knew could only belong to you. 

“Come on, we’ve been working hard all week. We deserve a sweet treat, I refuse to take no for an answer.”

His eyes snapped in the direction it came from and landed on you at the opposite end of the aisle where the ice cream was displayed. You stood with your arms hugging yourself, the t-shirt you wore clearly not enough to shield you from the chill coming off the freezers. You craned your neck to look at the options on the upper shelves, chewing at the corner of your bottom lip in thought. Too entranced by the sight of you, Steve didn’t notice the guy with you until you pointed at something out of your reach and he opened the freezer to grab it for you. You smiled at him in thanks as he handed you the pint of ice cream, and a tinge of disappointment pinged at Steve’s chest. 

Shaking his head, Steve grabbed a random box to throw in his cart, turned and walked away as he pushed the feeling aside. He had no reason to be jealous— he didn’t even know your name yet. 

Even still, whenever he went back to work, he found himself frequently glancing up and out from behind the ice cream counter or as he wiped tables. Each time he caught a glimpse of you effecting him all the same. Until one night you’d looked over as he was sweeping through the lobby at closing, gaze locking with his. Recognizing him as the cute, shy guy you’d helped the week prior (and have noticed numerous times since), you flashed him a smile and offered a small wave. 

He wasn’t ready for this— heat crept into his face, tinting it an adorable shade of pink, which only deepened when he tripped over the broom he was holding, sending the dustpan beside it and its contents sprawling. Just great.

You giggle, finding the whole thing endearing, covering your grin with your hand as you approach him. “Are you okay?” 

Steve does his best to avoid your eyes, knowing it would further the embarrassment and complicate his ability to think coherently. “I mean, if you classify my apparent inability to walk and operate a broom at the same time as ‘okay’, I’m doing fantastic.”

“I don’t know, I think walking and sweeping is a pretty tough skill to learn and yet, you just made it look so easy.” 

“Ha ha,” He rolls his eyes, his sarcasm playful. “You're a real comedian.”

“Why, thank you for noticing, uh…” You trail off, becoming aware you're missing a key piece of information. “I actually didn’t catch your name the other day, I was in such a rush. You know, with the keys, and the rain.”

He finally lifts his eyes from the the cleaning supplies in hand to meet yours, the now all too familiar sensation of butterflies and brain fog washing over him. “Trust me, I remember.”

Little does he know the honey brown warmth in his are having the same effect on you, your breath hitching in your throat and pulse racing. The corners of your mouth instinctively curl as you look up at him, admiring the scattered moles adorning his beautiful face, the way his shaggy hair falls just so against his forehead. Your eyes trace a path from his pink lips back up to his, a shiver travelling down your spine at the way he’s looking at you; no one has ever looked at you this way, like you’re the most precious thing they’ve ever seen.

It’s then that Steve seems to realize he hasn’t responded to your original inquiry. “Oh, um, Steve. Steve is my name, by the way. Since you… asked.”

“Well, Steve,” His name has never sounded so melodic coming from anyone else’s lips. “It’s nice to finally be able to put a name to my accidental stalker.”

“Oh, I wasn’t—”

“Relax,” Your brief touch on his forearm meant to be an act of assurance lights his skin on fire. “It’s not like there are that many places to go in Hawkins. There’s bound to be some overlap.”

“Actually, I was thinking Hawkins must be bigger than I thought if I never noticed you before.”

“You know what they say. ‘Sometimes you never really know what you’re missing until it’s right in front of you’, right?” The eye contact holds for a silent beat, the air crackling. Neither of you are aware the same delicate expression of adoration on your face is reflected in the other’s, shown in the near identical adoring grins faintly toying on your lips. Your eyes catch the clock hanging on the wall behind him, trying not to let your disappointment at the time show too much as you start to back away. “Shit, I have to go. My ride’s waiting. To be continued.”

“Wait,” You pause, facing him just outside the store; he almost forgets what he was going to ask as his eyes meet yours again. “Do I get to know your name?”

“A week hasn’t been long enough, stalker?” The mischievous glint in your eye paired with your teasing tone and amused grin feels like you’ve known each other a lifetime, warm and familiar, and he wants to stay in it forever. “When you finally do find it, let me know. Just don’t take too long because I might have a new, more motivated stalker to take your place by then.”

Then you’re gone, leaving Steve reeling in the remnants of coconut and vanilla tainted with popcorn left behind. He’s temporarily dazed, almost certain that what just occurred was nothing more than a dream (which wouldn’t be far fetched, you’d made several appearances in his sleep since that fateful day). He kicks himself for not just talking to you sooner, already impatiently awaiting your next encounter. 

Still, there's no stopping the stupid, lovestruck smile that remains on his face the rest of the night. All because of you. 

[oceansblvds]

the early morning ; satoru gojo

pairing ; satoru gojo x reader

words ; 703

summary ; a blurb detailing waking up next to satoru gojo.

warning(s) ; slight smut, mentions of marriage, fingering,

it's during the early morning that you consider satoru gojo dutifully and wholly yours.

when you went to sleep in an empty bed and woke up with the first signs of the sun to someone next to you, his white tufts of hair poking out from under the blanket that he used to cover up his face. you wouldn't know when he arrived, probably some time between hours of 3am and 4am, whenever his job allowed for him to gain some type of reprieve.

you would ask him about it later, you supposed, taking the time to admire him, noting the cuts along his long fingers that he used to wrap around your waist. turning ever so slightly in an attempt to not wake him up, you peeked under the covers, seeing his soft eyelashes batted down and hearing his soft breathing breaking through the silence. he slept much like a child, always complaining about his beauty sleep.

as if satoru could sense that you were staring at him, his glowing blue eyes struggled to open, a grumble leaving his lips. "weirdo," he whispered to you, his hands coming and wrapping around your waist, pulling you up on top of him. your hands rested against his broad, naked chest, legs straddling his waist. "watching me sleep?"

"watching you drool," you teased, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his nose. "i just cleaned these sheets, you know."

satoru scrunched up his face, one of his hands coming to press against your upper back, pulling you closer to his body. "i do not drool," he stated. "plus, i'll just buy you new ones anyway."

"you're going to buy more instead of putting them into the wash?" you asked, raising your eyebrows at the laziness that he often presented when it came to normal, mundane tasks such as chores. "you really did grow up rich, didn't you?"

he only hummed, stretching forward and capturing your lips in a kiss, one that was clearly telling you to shut up. it was ever so composing, the dull taste of toothpaste being shared between the two of you, his tongue coming and invading the privacy of your mouth. you tried to gain the upper hand, putting your palm on his cheek and turning your head to deepen the kiss. satoru wasn't having any of it, deciding to distract you with a thrust of his hips forward, making you gasp into his mouth and allow for his tongue to slide further in. the bastard.

you decided to get revenge, rolling your hips, clothed pussy rubbing against his boxers. when you earned a particularly satisfying groan from him, you did it over and over again, using the force of his hands to help guide you to a pleasurable pace. all the while, his lips continued to kiss you. your neck, lips, collarbone, anything he could get them on. he was brutal with his kisses, sucking and biting and claiming you as his own. it was silly, really. his incessant need to continue to mark you as his as if he hadn't already claimed you the moment you two met all those years ago. still, you weren't going to complain.

"if you keep moving, i'm going to cum in my boxers," satoru said into your neck, using his hands to stop your hip movement all together. "and that would really be a shame."

to you, you thought. it would honestly be a compliment to your hip movements if you didn't say so yourself. a giggle left your mouth, one that he swallowed with his own as he pushed you onto your back, hand pushing into your panties to spread around your wetness. if he said something about it, you didn't hear it, too engrossed in his presence and the way that he was making you feel.

and as he pressed two fingers into you, pumping them in and out of you to prep you for yet another round of good morning sex, you thought to yourself how lucky you were to call satoru gojo yours.

and what you didn't know was that last night he was out late to find the perfect ring to ask you to officially call you his.

[lqfiles]

PAY THE PRICE — 22. drunken regrets

(wc: 2.572… yeah..)

entering haechan’s apartment felt like stepping foot into foreign territory. you weren’t sure what you were expecting when the door opened, but haechan who stared at you with a lazy lopsided grin and gleaming eyes wasn’t exactly your first guess. “how much did you drink?” was the first question that you voiced upon seeing him.

haechan barely registered your words, seemingly in his own world. “just.. a few glasses?” he guessed after a while, squinting his eyes in thoughts. he opened his door wider for you, stepping aside to allow you to gaze further into the place. “come inside.” he welcomed you, surprising you at the sweet tone of his words.

you’re not sure how haechan had managed to convince you to come over to his place to clean up after him, but here you were, stood in the middle of his living room as you took in the interior of his place. his walls and decor were all painted in neutral colours, and you mentally noted how it suited his aura a lot.

“come sit with me.” haechan’s words snapped you out of your thoughts, and you followed the sound of his voice to see that he had seated himself on the ground you assumed he was previously sat on. his body was leaning against the couch behind him, head thrown back as he looked up at you. he still carried the small grin, and his eyes still held that same gloss.

you clicked your tongue, taking small steps further into his living room. “why are you back on the ground? you’re making this harder for the both us haechan.” you groaned and reached down to grip onto his guitar that was placed next to him. haechan barely listened to your words as he was busy watching your every movement. “do you want a glass?” he had offered once you turned back to him.

you gaped at haechan in disbelief, remaining silent for a few moments. you were about to ask him if he had lost his mind again, but the smile on his face halted your action, and you let out a sigh instead. one that haechan found amusing. “get off the floor.” you instructed him sternly, and haechan’s amused grin only grew.

his hand was slowly grazing through his brown locks that had turned black in the shadows of the room. “come on (—), you’re awake anyways.” haechan patted the spot next to him on the carpet. “sit down.” he called you over. he reached forward to grip onto the glass that was placed on the coffee table in front of him, bringing it up to his lips. “haechan.” you warned him, walking over to him to take the glass out of his hands.

“you’re no fun.” haechan huffed. “i’m not exactly trying to be fun, i’m trying to clean up after you so we can both go to sleep.” you explained, looking around in hopes of figuring out the direction of his kitchen in the dark. “why did you turn of all the lights?” you wondered. “it was hurting my eyes.” haechan explained back, still seated on the ground.

the kitchen wasn’t far away, and you placed the cup into the sink, as well as the other dirty dishes placed on the counter. you had to physically hold yourself back from washing each of them, remembering that you weren’t here to play as his maid. or maybe you kinda were, but not to that extent.

“why are you here for so long?” you jumped away from the sink and almost shrieked at the sudden infiltration of haechan in the kitchen. your heart was beating erratically, and you turned to look back at him with wide eyes. “what the fuck? don’t creep up on me like that!” you nudged him away. haechan softly laughed, grabbing onto your wrist to stop you from pushing him any more. “you took too long, i was starting to miss your presence.” he chuckled.

it took you a moment to register his words, and once they did, you stiffened in his hold. “what?” you questioned him, but haechan didn’t seem like he was going to expand on his words any time soon, instead he continued to stare at you with droopy eyes and a small grin. “how drunk are you?” you eyed haechan in suspicion and he shrugged.

whether he was aware of it or not, his thumb had started to rub the skin on your wrist softly as he tried to put a label on his drunk status. you on the other felt every bit of it, slightly shuddering at the ticklish feeling. “i don’t know, just a little?” haechan concluded after a while. his thumb continued to rub your wrist, and you were starting to believe it was intentional by now.

“you should go to bed.” you suggested to him, taking a step back, but he followed suit and stepped forward himself. “are you leaving already?” he seemed surprised and you hesitantly nodded your head. “i mean, i put your stuff away right?” you explained. his gaze felt heavy on you as he scanned your whole face. he had somehow managed to take ahold of your wrist again. “can you stay until i fall asleep, at least?” he requested.

your eyes widened in shock, frantically shaking your head. “what? that’s weird, haechan. why would i do that?” you asked, baffled. haechan shook his head as well, mildly swinging your wrist around as he spoke. “please, (—). i just wanna talk some more, after that you can leave. please?” haechan pleaded.

it took you by surprise, because what the actual fuck. never in a million years would’ve you imagined haechan desperately begging you for a favour, let alone the favour being your company of all things. was this even haechan?

while you were taking in the unexpected moment, haechan had already started to drag you with him to his bed room. it didn’t fully click yet what he was doing until the both of you were stood in the middle of his room, and he turned to look at you. “you can sit at the end of my bed, or lay next to me, i don’t bite.” haechan suggested with a smug look. there was a tone to his words, as well as his demeanour that caught you off guard.

“haechan..” you started, and you weren’t sure what you were exactly going to say. it was like all your thoughts disappeared when he softly smiled at you and took ahold of your shoulder, guiding to sit down on his bed before he sat down next to you. “you complain a lot, you know?” haechan chuckled. you could feel the way his eyes bore into your side, and were hesitant to look back.

“it’s because you annoy me a lot.” you defended yourself, thought your words seemed to lack uncertainty, almost as if you didn’t mean it. haechan hummed, leaning back on his arms. “can’t help it, i like how aggressive you get.” he chuckled and you finally took the courage to look his way, thought it was solely to send him a disapproving frown. he laughed upon seeing your expression, slightly leaning forward towards you. “what’s with the look?”

“why am i still here.” you deadpanned. being in his apartment was one thing, but making it onto his bed and sitting closely beside him was something totally different. there was something quite intimate about the moment. you could practically feel the warmth emitted from haechan hit your bare arm, and it sent a tingle through your body. “hm? do you not like being here with me?” haechan asked. you didn’t, but you also did.

you shrugged. “well, i like that you’re here.” haechan confessed, moving back to sit right next to you. “you’re drunk, you really should go to bed, you know?” you suggested and tried to move away. his body heat was practically enclosing you, and your own body was starting to warm up from the proximity. it didn’t help that haechan had accidentally placed his hand on top of yours too, slightly intertwining them from the top. or maybe it was intentional.

“you don’t even look at me whole you say that, why would i take your words serious?” he laughed, amused at how you persistently avoided his eyes. yes, you were avoiding them on purpose, especially when this particular night, his eyes seemed to be filled with nothing but fondness and slight intimacy. you’re not sure what was wrong with haechan tonight, he was not himself.

your throat that had dried up over time, and you swallowed before deciding to go against your attempts and look haechan directly in the eyes. “haechan, go to sleep please?” you asked him, attempting to sound persuasive yet demanding as possible.

again, haechan’s gaze held a certain fondness in them as he just stared at you with doe eyes. he seemed almost hypnotised with the way he hadn’t uttered a word, and you were starting to wonder if he had even heard you. your mouth opened to speak again, but he beat you to it.

“you’re so cute when you care about me like this, you know?”

whatever air you had inhaled to speak again remained stuck in your throat as your eyes widened. you were perplexed, at a loss for words even. your heart rate had involuntarily spiked up and your breath hitched. as if he took enjoyment out of your reaction, a small smile formed on his lips before he spoke again.

“you’re much cuter like this.. when you’re not nagging me. you should do that less.” you felt your heart pulse in your throat, eyes still widened while you listened to haechan’s surprising affectionate words. his hand was still placed on top of yours, slightly tapping the tips of your fingers every now and then.

“um.. i.. i think i should go.” you stammered, attempting to stand up. your knees felt weak and you wondered whether those few minutes on his bed were the reason, or haechan himself was the reason. you wobbled a bit, and haechan’s hand instinctively found place on your lower back while he quickly stood up himself. “be careful.”

his hand had reached the side of your hip, holding you secure as if you would fall down any moment. “i’m fine.” you muttered out, trying to step away from him. he let you slip out of his grasp, and you wondered if it was appropriate to just run out of his apartment at that moment. “should i bring you to the front door?” haechan proposed, already standing right in front of you. you took a careful step back. “oh- um, i think i’ll be fine..” you responded back.

it was like all your sense of thinking had left your body the moment the two of you were sat on his bed. you couldn’t even articulate a normal sentence, let alone look him in the eye. this had to be the devil himself, because there was no way haechan had this affect on you.

but as his hand grasped for yours and he started to gently tug you with him to his front door, you reconsidered the possibility of it all.

he opened the door for you, hand still in his, and had walked you to your own door without any words. it was silly, your door was right next to his, yet he still fully exited his apartment so the two of you were in front of your door.

“you good?” you wondered why he had to duck his head just so he could look you in the eye, why he felt the need to lift your jaw upwards just so your eyes could meet, and why he had to feign worry when you know he didn’t really care. “i’m fine” you whispered out, too scared of how wobbly your voice would sound if any louder. haechan’s eyes slowly inspected your whole face before he nodded, though not letting go of your jaw.

“thank you for cleaning up for me, by the way. i owe you.” you hadn’t thought of the possibility of a payback, mostly doing this for your own sake. “it’s okay.. you don’t have to.” you quietly answered back. haechan pondered over your answer for a while, slowly letting his hand go from your jaw, his other hand strangely still slotted in your own. you weren’t sure whether to break away from it or leave it as it is.

he was drunk after all, he was most likely doing actions out of his comfort zone.

“would a kiss be enough of payback?” he quirked and you almost jump at the suggestion. if your sense of thinking had left your body previously, you’re sure that every single one of the 5 senses had just left your body as the words left his mouth. your heart was beating erratically, and it was haechan’s fault again. though this time, you were scared for other reasons.

“w-what?” you stuttered in pure disbelief. haechan’s look was nothing but playful as he leaned forwards with a slight grin. “wouldn’t it be great compensation, hm? let me try, you tell me.” he teasingly leaned in. you attempted to push your head back into your door, avoiding his incoming attempts at anything.

from the short distance between you two, you were able to smell the scent of his shampoo, a sweet vanilla fragrance to was unfortunately pleasant. you were able to see desire in his eyes as you made eye contact for a split second. the soft glow of the hall light casted a warm and ethereal beam over him, and for once, all you could think of when looking at haechan was how nice he looked.

his nose barely touched yours and the warmth of his breath had started to hit your lips. you had shut your eyes tightly, surprisingly not opposed to whatever was going to happen next. because despite haechan being extremely insufferable, he was equally attractive, and you were not one to refuse on the opportunity to get kissed by an attractive person.

a part of you didn’t believe he would actually go through with his proposal, but as you felt a pair of soft lips plant onto yours, all your senses had seemed to return to you and you realised that he was not bluffing. haechan was actually kissing you, and you hated to admit that you didn’t mind it.

his hand that was previously on your jaw found its way back, slightly caressing your jaw as he pulled you closer. it felt good, and it didn’t seem like haechan was intending on stopping anytime soon. it felt good, but it was wrong, and an alarm went off in your head as you realised what was happening.

panic surged through you and you nudged haechan off you. the boy slowly opened his eyes in confusion, and the way they held that same glimmer they had the whole night made you groan. haechan was drunk, and you were kissing him while he was drunk.

you lowly cursed, not sparing haechan another glance before you opened your apartment door and closed it right behind you. with a deep sigh, you leaned against the door in exasperation. “fucking hell.” you cursed. you regretted ever going over to his apartment. you regretted going into his bedroom, you regretted kissing him.

it ended up being a waste of your time as you remained sleepless the rest of the night anyways.

previous — master list — next

notes ; happy haechan day and also happy lqfiles day, a little birthday present from me to you! ^^

TAGLIST ; @90s-belladonna @pnkified @2jisungs @swee7dream @sinisxtea @en-dream @h-aecat @lostinneocity @sunflowerbebe07 @pookime @aerivrs @alethea-moon @yeritos @prettyrenjunn @manooffline @bath1lda @hyejooistic @emvrd @dojaejunging @odxrilove @hyuckluvr-com @jaeims @ihyucksol @tddyhyck @dalsosapple @https-yeonjun @luvlyrenwoo @yoursyuno @lilacsxjoon @heymsperfectlyfine @mystverse @ne0c0r3 @casperbutnot-theghost @hyuckies18 @w3bqrl @ckline35 @nosungluv @luvvsnae @chcnlcs @cryingforgyu @thatgirlkay @222brainrot @junviadinho @n0hyuck @sinsgaybutthatsokay @choerubies @goldustupmysea @cyber-innie @hyunjungjae @blamemef0rit @lowkeychenle @lecheugo

[justalildumpling]

the aftermath (of champagne & tequila)

synopsis: so maybe those few glasses of champagne and tequila wasn’t your smartest choice of beverages at your high school reunion. but how were you supposed to know that running into your childhood crushes absolutely wasted would have you dealing with the aftermath of making out with not one, but both within the same hour?

pairing: haechan x fem! reader & mark x fem! reader genre: love triangle, childhood crushes au, college au, fluff, humor word count: 7.4k warnings: swearing, making out, mentions of alcohol, vaping, weed, jokes about death and just a 'hol lot of y/n being a dumb drunk

note: there’s really no plot to this, just pure thirst and chaos but then again, isn’t that all my fics ever🙃 (and god forbid any of my irls see this bc they'll know exactly who everyone is based off of💀)

[ playlist: all my friends - snakehips / feels - calvin harris / pretty please - dua lip / one kiss - dua lipa / leave the door open - bruno mars / nasty - ariana grande / streets - doja cat ]

IN YOUR DEFENCE, you weren’t planning on getting this drunk. 

In fact, you remembered reassuring your group of friends about this the day before, emphasising your astounding hatred towards the very limited selection of the free alcoholic beverages available at the bar (namely, beer and wine). 

Further backing up your case, you had initially turned up to your high school reunion an hour late with the lazy excuse of your last-minute decisions towards your outfit that day – which, considering your turbulent meltdowns about having no clothes at two in the morning, was a complete fucking lie – only covering up your actual reasonings of not wanting to face your high school year group. 

You didn’t exactly have any particular reasons to avoid anyone – a matter of fact, you liked to think you got along with everyone back in the day, often bouncing around from friend group to friend group with shiny eyes, inviting smiles and friendly banter – but there was something about reuniting your cohort again after a year which felt awkward. 

There was no doubt that everyone would have changed in some way shape or form. 

Heck, you were a completely different person from when they last saw you in the body of that wide-eyed girl in the crisp white blouse with the conservative knee-length pleated skirt. Plus, judging by the daily scroll of your Instagram feed, many of your peers seemed to don an altered version of their high school selves as well – meaning you had to get to know everyone all over again. 

You vaguely remember turning up at the congested bar next to your high school building. The entrance was decorated with popped bottles of champagne with only a few clean empty glasses left on the display tray. The rest are in the hands of the various levels of tipsy college kids packed together like a can of sardines in front of the bar, eagerly milking out the bar tab set by the committee. Despite your school renting out the entirety of the second floor, it felt a little too tight, almost claustrophobic inside as you discreetly tried to scan the drunken crowd for your usual group of friends. However, your search didn’t last long, resulting in you eventually giving up after a few seconds, opting to ease the mild squeamishness with some liquid courage.

The cheap champagne burned the back of your throat as you settled on painfully chugging the glass in mere seconds, sticking out your tongue in disgust. Regardless of your initial reaction to the first taste, you began lining up for another glass, maybe in hopes of finding your intoxicated friends swimming in the chaos.

“Oh my god, Y/N! Is that you?” 

Your ears perked at the familial voice amid of the loud chatter, head whipping towards the warm beam of Huang Renjun – a longtime locker mate/bandmate during school. Crushing you into a tight hug, you momentarily thanked the higher power of the universe for sending at least an old buddy as your first very sober interaction. 

Though you and Renjun had never exclusively shared the same social circle, your friendship went way back. It started from being in the school’s so-called “rock” band together to trauma bonding over some unfortunate extension English classes in middle school to being neighbouring lockers for the entirety of high school. You recalled Renjun being a wholesome-looking guy, uniform always neatly tucked in, hair short and well kept, so when you spotted his long bleached hair and a silver ring hanging off the left corner of his lip as you pulled away from his grasp, surprise was an understatement of your reaction.

“You pierced your lip!” you exclaimed, turning your face to various angles around him to have a closer look.

A hearty laugh escaped his lips, throwing his head back as he playfully modelled his new accessory with a childish smile, “I did! Though I would be lying if I said I got this voluntarily.” 

You cocked your head at him as the two of you received your preferred beverage from the bar counter, gesturing for him to elaborate. Renjun paused, sipping on the overflowing bubbles of his beer before adding, “I lost a bet with Donghyuck.” 

Lee Donghyuck, a name you would say you were well acquainted with. He was a popular figure with the female community of your school for his visuals and many other talents, an eye-catching part of Renjun’s circle and your childhood friend. Well, sort of.

The two of you met in second grade, the joyful period of a child’s life where everyone was automatically considered friends if you shared a class or your mothers exchanged more than two sentences and invited you to their birthday parties. Also meant, playing with the designated child of your mother’s chosen friend of the day until their hour-long conversation was over. 

Considering the sheer amount of afternoons spent with Donghyuck throughout your elementary school days running around with his family puppy on the school grounds, you would think that would automatically deem the approval of the “childhood friend” title. But the two of you didn’t really talk outside of your forced interaction nor did you share the same lunchtime activities much to your pathetic heart’s dismay. 

It would be a lie if you said you weren’t charmed by the warm scruffiness of the little boy, oftentimes guilty of shamelessly boring holes into the back of his head during class and daydreaming about your futures together instead of listening to your homeroom teacher. You had a feeling your mum knew of your little infatuation towards the boy, often sending you a knowing gaze after your weekly runarounds with him and after the mention of his name in conversation prompting you to believe that her coincidental run-ins with Donghyuck’s mother weren’t so accidental afterall. 

Though growing out of your shorts and summer tunic dresses and into your somewhat maturer age of a teenager; the validation of the excuse of your mother’s budding friendship to catch him after school expired alongside the dissipating giddiness you had once held for him. Something you saw coming for a while as you found yourself seeing less of him around which came as no surprise as neither of you shared the same class nor the same friends as you naturally started gravitating to different parts of your enlarging year group. 

Finishing off the remainder of your flat champagne, you raised your eyebrows at the boy, “Donghyuck? Haven’t heard that name in a while, how is he?”

Renjun hummed, fingers drumming on the sides of his beer glass, “Why don’t you ask him? He’s here today,” he began standing on the tips of his battered converses, peering around the bar for the boy in question.

You shook your head with a chuckle, “Don’t worry about it. It’s going to be impossible to find him-”

On queue, Renjun hollered Donghyuck’s name at the back corner of the room, waving at a shadowed figure exaggeratedly. You weren’t even sure how he was able to spot him within the chaos so quickly when you were still left in search of your friends. But that wasn’t your biggest problem anymore as you recognised Donghyuck emerging from within the darkness, jokingly shoving past the large group of huddled and what you assumed to be intoxicated boys. 

He didn’t look too different from the last time you met, maybe a few centimetres taller, skin sun-kissed from the recent summer weather but holy shit, was he still as hot as ever. If not more.

“Damn Y/N, is that you?” 

You were too sober for this. Sure, you had started to feel the buzz peppering various parts of your face; but your emotions, the logical voice in your brain remained intact, with it blaring “DON’T FUCK UP!” in bold capital letters the closer he got. 

Shoving your jitters further down your lame excuse of a brain, a playful smile was forced upon your lips, “The one and only.” 

Donghyuck grinned, lightly pulling you into a welcoming embrace, catching you off guard, “It’s good to see you again.”

You could tell the alcohol had already hit his systems judging by the uncharacteristically physical greeting and eyes lazily half-lidded as he pulled away from your grasp. “Looks like someone’s had a bit to drink tonight?” you teased, eyeing the lingering closeness between the two of you.

Donghyuck chuckled, softly shaking his head, “I haven’t had too much, maybe a couple of glasses of champagne at school and a few beers here. What about you?”

“Only two glasses of whatever they’re serving at the bar,” you shuddered at the thought, placing your empty glasses down on the side of the countertop. 

“So what I’m hearing is that you haven’t had enough yet,” Donghyuck sent a cheeky wink your way, completely forgetting about poor Renjun’s presence in the conversation as he lightly tugged at your sleeves back in front of the bar, ordering your preferred drinks with the bartender. Clinking your topped-up glasses with the boy, you wondered if making conversations with the boy was this easy before. It wasn’t like he was antisocial or judgemental during your high school years, maybe a little arrogant at times which initially caused your group of friends to have a slight dislike towards the boy.

“Y/N no,” you remembered your best friend Ningning immediately shutting down your thoughts followed by the excessive nods of your friends. 

The five of you sat on the floor in front of your lockers, the smell of the freshly made fries Minjeong had bought from the deli next door wafting down the corridor as you had your heated discussion for the day. How you ended up on the topic of your resurfacing feelings for Lee Donghyuck was a whole other question of its own. (Ah, you remembered. Minjeong tripped down the stairs as you and Donghyuck exchanged smiles and pleasantries, whilst she panicked about her one fry which flew out of the cardboard box, all you could think about was him)

Ningning scrunched her eyes, lips formed into a sour expression, “He’s just so…” 

“Egotistical?” Shuhua offered.

“Short?” Yunjin added, throwing a handful of fries in her mouth.

“Both,” Ningning affirmed. She patted your lap, a thin smile drawn on her face, “You’re too good for him Y/N.”

It was safe to say that the droplet of leaking feelings had shrivelled back up into your heart that day, both due to your friend’s confronting opinions towards the boy and the unapproachable aura he exuded. (Ok, maybe you admired his golden face from across the room from time to time but who could blame you? It wasn’t your fault his stupidly good looks started appearing at every extracurricular activity you signed up for that term) 

A full glass’ worth of conversation passed at this point, and the both of you head deep into your storytelling of your crazy nights out. Bursts of booming laughter thundered as he described canon bombing into his university’s questionable lake and audible gasps sounded as you described your New Year's celebrations earlier that year. Maybe you were wrong about your skepticisms towards the boy during your schooling years, blaming your tendency to catastrophize any minor inconvenience to blow his inherent “unattainableness” out of proportion.

Pulling your phone out of your handbag to check the time, you were greeted with several missed calls and spammed messages from your friends, slapping you back to your original goal in mind. 

“Everything alright?” Donghyuck’s face appeared beside your phone screen, eyes concentrated on your sudden change of expression.

“Uh-” you began typing your response to your group chat, reassuring them of your whereabouts in the heavily packed venue, ”-yeah. Yeah, sorry,” you clicked your phone shut, stuffing it back into your purse before facing him again, “Just reassuring a panicked group chat.”

He laughed, dipping his head in understanding, “I’m guessing I’ll have to let you go?”

You shrugged, offering him a small pout, “Unfortunately but hey, take a shot with me later?”

A soft smile littered Donghyuck’s face, hands squeezing the tops of your shoulders.

“Bet, I’ll come find you.”

NOTE TO SELF: Don’t go into the female restrooms during a big event in a relatively logical state of mind.

The girls' restrooms were a lively place for the residents of your school, always scented with the popular fumes of grape ice and strawberry watermelon vape, the tile floors littered with abandoned pairs of laddered stockings in the winter and forgotten multicoloured hydro-flasks perched on the benches. With quite the vaping addiction of your school, it was always a fun game of guess who when you took the trip to the restrooms during class, which clique was occupying the stalls together, which flavour they were attempting that day or what piece of drama you were going to be handed. 

You realised that not much had changed when you found your friends huddling with quite the assortment of other girls in your year group in the bar restroom. The air was concocted with the nostalgic smell of blue raspberry vape and Maison Margiela, accompanied by loud loving gossip in the unoccupied stalls and the occasional drunken mirror selfies in front of the basin.

“Oh my gosh Y/N! You’re alive!” Ningning screeched, glomping you into a tight hug, “I was about to get up on the tables to find you out there.”

“Sorry, I missed your calls,” you wheezed as Minjeong came over to peel the girl off of your body, “I didn’t realise my phone was on silent.”

“Don’t even worry about it,” Shuhua slurred attaching herself to Minjeong’s side, “You must’ve been bouncing around like you usually do, judging by how long it took you to find us.”

“Yeah,” – if bouncing around meant from one drink to another with the same person – “You could say that.”

“Yunjin said hi by the way,” Minjeong interrupted, pulling up a photo of your absent friend striking a cute pose in front of a sushi train in Hawaii, “She said to drink on her behalf, which I don’t think is the best idea.”

“That girl’s probably drunk right now,” Ningning snickered, turning to face the large mirror to reapply her lip gloss, “But I’ll take any excuse to drink more.”

Minjeong raised an eyebrow at the girl, “Didn’t you say that you were saving your liver for next weekend?” 

Ningning merely shrugged, waving her off before grabbing ahold of your hand with an animated wiggle, squabbling about something along the lines of you looking too sober. You ran into many old faces on the short journey to the bar front, hearty laughter and juicy gossip unconsciously spilled and overheard from the neighbouring conversations (Though whether it was true or not, you weren’t sure, but considering the topics of accidental pregnancies and very messy breakups – maybe it would be best to wish for the latter)

You were on your fourth glass of champagne at this point, something you couldn’t understand as every sip you took attempted to change your mind; it really just tasted the same – like fucking ass. The state of yourself on the other hand arguably has made some progress, to your best friend’s delight. You had joined in on Ningning’s nonsensical babbling a half glass ago, nodding along to whatever came out of her mouth with a small giggle tickling up your throat. She leaned into your ear, slurring some muddled sentence that was drowned out by the screaming lyrics of ABBA. A nod came as a reflex for you, a dazed smile tugging at your lips.

She gave you a little squeeze on your shoulders, shuffling past a sea of people and to the other end of the room. The world seemed to move faster than what your brain could handle at that given moment, only registering the disappearance of your friend as well as the foreign group of kids gathered around you a few minutes later. 

There you were, at square one once again, like a clueless fish stuck between the school of other wandering creatures. Except, replace the ocean with flat champagne and cheap house beer.

With an exasperated sigh, you took a step back from the chattering circle, but what you thought was an empty space was in fact a person. A person with a full glass of beer – well, half full after you knocked into it.

“Shit- Fuck- I’m so sorry, is your drink o…kay?” Your words trailed off as you came face to face with your ex-best friend Mark Lee.

Ah yes. Mark Lee and Y/N L/N, quite the known duo during your middle school days. Inseparable, protective and unanimously voted as most probably secretly dating or housing feelings for each other – which to be fair, wasn’t exactly false. 

Your rather complicated feelings for the boy began in fifth grade when the boy slipped you a silly doodle of a duck in a top hat during math class. The two of you were seated a table apart from each other with your respective seatmates so you weren’t too sure of why he specifically chose you to gift his work of art but regardless, you giggled, pencilling in the words “Taffy the Duck” on the top of the page to pass back to him. Your little note passings continued throughout the rest of elementary school, leading to middle school where in your despair realised that you shared zero classes with the boy. Despite this, your friendship stood as strong as ever, hanging out during lunchtimes and visiting the local 7/11 after school until well – it wasn’t.

There was no pivotal moment when you stopped being as close as you were; in fact, it was a question that remained frustratingly unanswered throughout the years. It wasn’t like the two of you ever argued or had a major fallout – which could’ve given you a proper reason to either make up or talk to him again – but rather be described as a painstakingly slow drift, enough to the point where it was unnoticeable. Maybe it started with the branching of different friend groups then led to your attention on your respective crushes at the time – which now that you recollected on your past, think that your hidden feelings for each other at the time were the only thing holding you together.

Sure, you had attempted to revive your friendship at times, starting with the ever-so-awkward first hellos in the stairwell to a couple of sentences exchanged before classes started in your final year, but all efforts seem to have unravelled as you graduated from school and went on your separate ways, until today.

“Oh hey, Y/N?” 

You handed him a napkin from the bar, “Mark.” 

Shaking the excess residue off of his hand, he mumbled a quiet thanks as he took the napkin from you. You wanted to die, really. As a matter of fact, you were convinced that it would be a much more pleasant experience than silently standing like some dumb wooden doll in front of your ex-best friend, as he cleaned up after your mess. 

“So,” he cleared his throat, “It’s been a while huh?”

You gulped down the last sip of your drink, feeling the burn of the champagne trickling down your oesophagus, “Yeah, I mean the last time we talked was, one and half years ago?” – Technically, it was his birthday a little less than a year ago when the two of you last exchanged messages. It entailed your short greeting of “happy b’day mark!” and the equally blunt response of “haha thanks y/n”. However according to the Cambridge dictionary, a conversation is defined as a discussion about a particular subject and well, nothing was discussed.

“Well, how have you been? Your brother doing well?” Mark passed his fingers through his dark locks, turning his full attention to you.

You were surprised he remembered your brother, with him starting school not long before you guys stopped being friends, “He’s doing well, grown up a lot since you last saw him,” you snorted, remembering his little presence trailing behind the two of you after school, begging for you to buy him Mcdonald's fries, “How about you? You attend NCIT right?”

“Yep, studying Business,” he rolled his eyes, “Quite the regretful choice. How about you?”

“Communications at Yonsei,” you responded, “Though, I did originally transfer from Business, due to as you said. Quite the experience.”

Mark chuckled knowingly, raising his glass to take a sip of his remaining drink, “It suits you. Communications that is.”

“What? Because I’m loud?” you joked.

He shook his head, “You always had great ideas, people always looked to you for advice.” 

A warm smile made its way onto your face. It was a reassuring phrase to hear, short but impactful nonetheless. Especially as you struggled to figure out your path after school, switching from one faculty to another in hopes of finding the one that didn’t make you want to throw yourself off a cliff side. Communications was a spontaneous jump but it was the only choice that made you confident in your abilities so hearing this sort of external validation felt nice, especially from him.

Mark returned the gesture, eyes crinkling into the tender crescent shape. Despite the maturing of his facial structure, he still housed the same childlike smile. The one which stretched to the outskirts of his cheeks, softening his overall cold exterior. The one that made you fall for him in the first place. 

“How come I didn’t catch you at school earlier?”

You blinked, snapping out of your thoughts, “O-Oh, I turned up pretty late so I missed out on the terrace drinks.” 

“That makes more sense,” Mark hummed in affirmation, eyeing you up and down, “I feel like I definitely would’ve noticed you if you were there.”

What. 

“Tequila shot?” he offered.

You bat an eye, “Uh, sure.”

YOU SEE, you were an affectionate drunk – most often seen clinging onto your friends’ bodies for dear life or littering kisses on their cheeks towards the peak of your night outs. You concluded your drastic personality change was due to the massive confidence boost and the silencing of the practical parts of your brain, meaning that your already concerning amount of extrovertedness maxed the scale.

Before that evening, this quirky little trait of yours never caused you harm, only resulting in the multitude of ‘friends’ being made in the club’s restroom line or several new followers on Instagram the morning after – half of which you barely remember the existence of. 

It was barely eleven when Donghyuck snatched you away from your friends, keeping what you thought to be an empty promise of taking a shot with you. Although you were the one originally suggesting your actions, you won’t lie that you held low expectations for him to follow through – most definitely considering his current state of mind.

Clinking your shot glasses together, you downed the liquor in mere seconds, followed by the soothing taste of the lime, melting away the burn that chased up your throat. An electrified laugh sounded from your left as the familial chords of Bruno Mars blasted through the speakers. Donghyuck held no hesitation to grab your hands, dragging you to the front of the speakers as he playfully serenaded you throughout the way.

You could only shyly giggle as he twirled you around the circling crowd, blatantly avoiding his grand gestures for you to sing along. But your resistance didn’t last long as the chorus hit, finding yourself swaying to the beat of the music, accepting the enclosing distance between your bodies. You peered up to meet his eyes, still filled with the childlike wonder and life from the early days of your friendship to the sharp slope of his nose to his scattered moles down to his supple lips.

“You know Hyuck, you’re really hot.”

A satisfied grin laced Donghyuck’s lips, “Am I now?”

“Can I kiss you?”

You weren’t exactly sure what initially prompted you to blurt your relatively forward words to the unsuspecting boy. Maybe it was the lingering fresh taste of the lime on your tongue. Maybe it was the way he swiped his tongue against his bottom lip to soak up any last droplets of the liquor or simply because you just wanted to. Either way, what you didn’t expect was for a smirk to tug against Donghyuck’s lips, stepping closer to your body, eyes flickering to your lips as a finger grazed the underside of your chin. He momentarily wavered a couple centimetres away from your lips, warm breath fanning against your face before his lips met yours. 

The once horridly ear-deafening music of the room with the bubbling chatters of your cohort seemed to fade into the background as the ghost of Donghyuck’s hands skimmed the bare parts of your waist. His tousled curls tickled the sides of your cheeks as he nipped at your jawline, pinning your body firmer against the wall. 

“God forbid if our mothers saw us right now,” you let out a slight gasp as he kissed the sensitive part of your neck.

“Well, good thing our mothers aren’t here to see us, right?” a low chuckle rumbled from his throat before reconnecting your lips again, his tongue fighting for its place in your mouth. Your fingers gripped at the back of his head, tugging at the strands to elicit a staggered moan from the boy, filling your chest with a weird sense of pride and definitely not helping your already inflated ego.

You could conclude you had certainly passed your tipsy stage, with the last shot of tequila seeping into your system and pushing your brain’s irrationality almost a bit too far. You remembered once hearing your tenth-grade biology teacher talk about the effects of alcohol on the human body and how it altered your brain’s chemical composition. Specifically, how it lowered an individual’s inhibitions and social rationalisation.

And considering your ongoing messy but undeniably hot lip-locking with Lee Donghyuck, you began regretting zoning off in the latter part of that science lesson (not really. You did manage to beat your personal record in 2048) where she had subsequently explained how to piece together the drunken jumble in your brain as the following few words which tumbled out of your mouth, you would inevitably regret.

“Wait, I need to pee.”

YOU HAD TO ADMIT. It was quite scary the amount of things you managed to figure out about yourself whilst severely intoxicated.

One, you really couldn’t hold your bladder. Evident by the frequent trips to the restroom every thirty minutes or the number of times you had bumped into the same group of girls gathered outside the basins, offering you a hit of their neon-coloured vape and a piece of their drunken secrets. 

Two, realising the sheer amount of time and money wasted spent trying to figure yourself out during your high school years as the one night of limitless alcoholic beverages seemed to be a confronting personality test in itself. 

Three, the emotions you spent years persuading to simmer down in your heart were capable of rapidly firing out in mere seconds alongside the memory bank of shitty pick-up lines and your apparent drunken rizz that went through the roof.

Four, maybe your best friend’s words of you supposedly being in your “hoe phase” were really true because at that moment, you really, really wanted to kiss someone – more specifically, Mark Lee.

It wasn't exactly the best course of action, considering your heated make-out session with Donghyuck not too long before – which you left halfway through, might you add. But wise decisions weren’t things you were great at making. Especially a few too many glasses of champagne and spirits deep.

According to your very skewed sense of time, it was around midnight when you stumbled into Mark once again, this time hidden within the shadows behind a pillar in the corner with another drink in his hand. Not many people lingered around this part of the room. You guessed it was due to the immobile bodies sprawled across the dingy carpet a few metres in front and a frustrating lack of both music and alcohol. With a light trip in your step, you made your way towards the boy.

“Oh my gosh Mark! What are you doing here?” 

A concerned grimace appeared upon Mark’s lips, prompting him to place his drink on the carpeted floor to steady your rocking body. The room had begun spinning at this point in time, with Mark’s face distorting ever so slightly to your hilarity.

A giggle bubbled up your throat, followed by your hands which gravitated towards the poor boy’s face, poking various parts of his features in such fascination. Mark could only sigh, registering his sheer lack of control in the situation, as he sat you on the plastic chair. 

A wave of peace washed over your bodies for a few minutes, with Mark quietly sipping on the remainder of his drink whilst you traced your fingers across his jawline. Though much to his despair, the calm before the storm barely lasted three minutes as your loud ass mouth began itching to dominate your brain.

“Mark, has anyone ever told you how fucking hilarious you are?” 

Mark deadpanned, crossing his arms over his chest, “I haven’t said anything.” 

“SEE?!” You bounced out of your seat, “A fucking knee slapper that one!” 

Another sigh escaped his lips, getting ahold of your shoulders again to place you back down, “Y/N, how did you manage to even get like this?”

“You know Donghae? Haechang? Whatever his name is-”

“Donghyuck.” Mark corrected, eyebrows furrowing at the mention of his name, “What did that overgrown cabbage patch kid do to you?” 

“Relax, he just bought me a shot…” You drew out your words before pouting, “Or two, and maybe a couple drinks before that.”

Mark shook his head, patting your head, “I’m gonna get you some water.”

“Nooo! Don’t go, you’re so sexy!” You latched yourself onto his waist, fingers twisting around the belt loops of his jeans. 

You could feel him visibly freeze on the spot, occasionally twitching nervously the closer your hands lingered to his crotch. You staggered up from your seat again, hands grazing his torso to wrap around his neck. Despite only a part of his face being illuminated by the light behind the pillar, it was enough to make out his parted lips and widened eyes.

Just like Hyuck, you realised how much Mark had grown into his mature face over the years. His cheekbones were more prominent, and his hair styled with the hard gel he refused to use in middle school. You reached to pass a stray strand across his forehead, though your eyes never left his and your lips inching closer towards his.

“You’re drunk, Y/N.”

You shrugged, eyes flickering down to his lips, “I wasn’t drunk when I wanted to kiss you.”

“And when was that?”

“Middle school, high school,” You paused, pondering for a second, “After graduation.”

A moment of shock flashed across the boy’s face, lips partly ajar and what seemed like a rollercoaster of emotions tumbling within his eyes. You had always questioned what his response would’ve been to a potential confession back in the day; maybe he would’ve reciprocated your drawn-out feelings and lived as a happy couple to this day, or if you wanted to be pessimistic, suffered the horrors of a toxic middle school relationship and be forever traumatised by love for the rest of your life; or maybe he would’ve rejected your feelings and just remained as an awkward pair of “besties”. 

There was a little voice shrieking from the depths of your brain to shut the fuck up, most probably belonging to your sober self trying to save your face. However, it seemed as though the mystery to your decades-long question would be answered that night as Mark chuckled, clearing his throat.

"Middle school me would've gone crazy hearing this." 

You knew you were definitely wasted at that moment, his words of reciprocation to your elementary school feelings flying over your head and rather hyperfocused on the warmth of his embrace and the subtle gulp of nervousness he took.

"What about present-day Mark?” You murmured, your breath hitting his lips, “Is this making him crazy too?"

"Absolutely insane."

You were reminded of your friends’ comments on your drunken rizz, with apparently any form of embarrassment and dignity thrown into the gutter to crash and burn. With the amount of unknown dms you had woken up to the morning after drinking, you’d think you would’ve learnt your lesson by now – but your drunken alter ego was a stubborn bitch. 

A bitch who definitely needed some kind of therapy.

As Mark smashed his lips onto yours, it was then you were hit by your mother’s words about drinking responsibly. Obviously, to avoid alcohol poisoning, potentially blacking out and passing out on the side of the road, but most importantly, to avoid involving yourself in sticky situations in which your sober self had to deal with the aftermath.

But how were you supposed to anticipate that the aftermath of a fuckload of champagne and tequila shots was going to have you hooking up with your childhood crushes at your school reunion?

Oh, and blackout whilst you were at it.

YOU WEREN’T GOING TO LIE, waking up in the comfort of your sheets came as a surprise for your tired self. 

You were quite proud of yourself for making it back in one piece, or even back at home at all and not passing out on the side of the road somewhere, considering the rather large gap in your memory and the fact that you were most definitely still drunk when you woke up. 

There was a slight wobble in your step as you made your way over to the kitchen, head pounding and face still numb as you took the first miraculous sip of water. Your phone screen lit up with a bomb of message notifications and Instagram tags from last night, in which you nervously opened your active group chat.

[ yunjin ] did i miss anything?

[ shuhua ] i shit talked about ppl with aeri and somi whilst high

[ ningning ] yk i don’t think i recall parts of last night

[ you ] i mean,, understandable. u were pretty fucked

[ minjeong ] y/n wrestling tongues with donghyuck was the most unexpected for me

[ shuhua ] you what😭

[ you ] we are not mentioning that…

[ ningning ] wait i swear it was mark, was it not?

[ yunjin ] lol plot twist: it was both

[ you ] …

[ minjeong ] YOU MADE OUT WITH BOTH OF THEM!??!?!?!

You chose to shut off your phone at that moment, predicting the bloodbath of capitalised screams and spammed Facetime calls from the group. Which, in all honesty, you severely lacked the willpower to deal with.

A soft shuffle of slippers sounded at the kitchen entrance, and you turned to face your mother. Still in her pink fluffy pyjamas, drowsily waved as she made her way to the fridge, delicately opening the door to grab the milk. 

“How was last night?” she asked, making her way to the milk frother.

You hummed, walking to the coffee machine with a mug in hand. “It was…”

An absolute clusterfuck of chaos – would be the correct answer. But telling your mother you had drunkenly made out with the sweet little son of her old friend and the name of a boy she hadn’t heard from for half a decade probably wasn’t the best piece of news to be told first thing in the morning – if at all.

You slipped a capsule into the machine with a crack, half haphazardly pressing buttons on the top before a mellow whir filled the silence, “... Interesting.”

A short chuckle resonated inside the refrigerator door, “What did you do this time?” 

You scoffed, offended by the direct jab of her question, “Hey! I don’t always get into trouble!”

“So you didn’t do anything last night?” 

You groaned, pouring the foamed milk into the coffee mug, “Well, no…” Dragging on the o, you passed the mug to your mum, huffing as you sat on the countertops, “How can you always tell?”

“I think I’ve heard enough drunken antics from you to know,” she took a sip from her mug, raising her eyebrows at your phone lock screen, “And I think the amount of notifications you’re receiving says a lot too,”

You reached over the end of the countertop, swiping your phone with a roll of your eyes. Your once pretty lock screen of you and your friends had been bombarded by the stacks of message notifications, fulfilling your prediction of incessant exclamation marks and illegible keyboard smashes. However, one contact profile stood out from the rest – that being a concerned Renjun.

[ renjun ] u feeling alright after yesterday?

[ you ] physically, pretty decent.  [ you ] mentally, very confused.

[ renjun ] haha fair, u did seem pretty wasted before u left

His message made you pause, attempting to dial back your inefficient memory to when you left the venue. 

Did you even see Renjun before you left? Pfft, who were you even kidding – you didn’t even have any recollection of how you got home in the first place.

[ you ] remind me how i got home..? :)))

[ renjun ] … mark left u with minjeong who called u an uber home [ renjun ] god, how much do u remember?

[ you ] … not a lot

[ renjun ] u free wednesday? i think we need a debrief

“IS IT TRUE that you kissed both Mark and Donghyuck at the reunion?”

Now. When you agreed to get a casual drink with Renjun the following Wednesday, you had expected a few questions about your little flings with his friends to come up in conversation. But boy, did you fail to prepare for such bluntness so early on.

“H-how the fuck- did you- know?” Choking on the sharp intake of the unmixed gin at the bottom of your cocktail, the calm approach you had rehearsed on the way over to the bar fell apart as your response came out as a desperate splutter of coughs and stutters.

Renjun threw you a sidelong look, chucking the pathetic remains of the stale popcorn at your figure, which you barely dodged.

“Because those horny fuckboys told me, how else?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, the accentuation of the word fuckboys making you feel rather defensive over your drunken behaviour, “Just for the record, I don’t usually go around sucking faces with every hot guy I see.”

“I never accused you of doing so.” 

A smug look settled on Renjun’s face, clearly amused by your unfortunate situation judging by the quirk of his lips as you reached for your drink once again. 

“You are insufferable.”

“So-” Renjun dragged on, resting his elbows against the tabletop, “Who was the better kisser, hm?”

The alcoholic concoction got caught in your throat once again, sending both you and your rapidly declining self-preservation into a downward spiral. The straightforwardness of the boy is one of the contributing factors, the rest being the rather vivid flashbacks of your liaisons a few nights prior. 

It wasn’t like you hadn’t talked about this before – in fact, you recalled it being one of the first questions shoved into your face when you picked up your friends’ calls. However, whether you gave them the answers they were desperately seeking for, you weren’t sure because simply. You weren’t exactly certain about how to answer it either.

“I cannot believe that you hooked up with both your childhood crushes and managed to mess up both interactions,” you remembered Shuhua splutter incredulously through your FaceTime call with the approving nods of the rest following shortly after.

“I just- how did you get the courage to pull the two hottest guys in our year whilst being the drunkest you had ever gotten?” 

“It was because I was the drunkest I had ever been,” you grumbled in response, rolling your eyes at your screen, “I wouldn’t have otherwise.”

“So you’re saying you wouldn’t hook up with them again?” 

You chose to remain silent for Ningning’s question, neither wanting to directly confirm or deny any theorised accusations which plagued your best friends’ minds, but, with the growing giddiness which reflected on their faces, you realised that no amount of silence could ever hide your real thoughts from your friends, prompting the passing notion that maybe the silence was actually meant for you and your restless little brain. 

Shaking away your thoughts, you turned back to Renjun, “Why are you so interested in this anyway?”

Renjun slurped the last droplets of his cocktail, eyebrows raised in amusement, “Well, aside from the fact that you chose my two best friends as your hookups for the night – which, may I add, coincidentally happens to be both your childhood crushes – Let’s just say those two aren’t exactly on good terms right now.”

Your lips parted from the straw, “Aren’t on good terms?”

As far as you remembered, the three of them had been best friends since early middle school – a fact that made you want to coil up into a shameful ball of nonexistence – you recalled seeing them on the soccer field at lunch, oftentimes doubling over themselves over something on Donghyuck’s phone or the rare exchanges of shy hellos and flustered smiles when they had met up with Mark as he dropped you off in front of your classroom. 

Despite the drift in friendship from your end, Mark’s friendship with Donghyuck had always seemed to remain close – which, considering their shared activities of partying, sports and residing in the same social circle, made sense.

Noticing your puzzlement towards his revelation, he added, “Believe it or not, they fought over the same girl a few months ago.” Renjun popped the fries in his mouth as if he wasn’t casually spilling his best friends' secrets to a girl he randomly reunited with a couple days ago, “which is funny because that’s literally what’s happening right now.”

You groaned, slinking further into the wooden seat with your head buried into your hands, “Great. So what you’re saying is that I’ve just further ruined your guys’ friendship because of some silly drunken mistake.”

“I guess you could say that.”

You rolled your eyes at him, “Oh, lovely. What a great reassurance to hear.”

“I was just offering my pure honesty, no harm intended.” 

The two of you slipped into a comfortable silence, ordering the last deserving round of the cheap happy hour cocktails before it was too late. As you waited for your orders to be delivered, Renjun spent the time scrolling through the photos of their drunken nights out, replaying the short clips of Donghyuck with a traffic cone over his head and his own unfortunate events of being rolled around the empty city in a stolen shopping cart.

With the number of snorts and giggles exchanged, it felt like no time had passed since your high school days – except for the increasing recklessness between both parties.

You began retelling your version of your nights out, from the gasps extracted as you mentioned witnessing a random street brawl in an alleyway to the disapproving tuts of his tongue about your case of being stranded on the side of a highway at three am. 

“You know Y/N? You really are the bringer of chaos.”

You could only chuckle in response as you reached for your phone, “Trust me, I’m not that bad.” 

However, as you unlocked your phone to read through your missed notifications for the evening, you realised that maybe you should fix your habit of making bad decisions whilst severely intoxicated, as what you found waiting on your lock screen served as a painful reminder of quite possibly your stupidest mistake yet.

Noticing your sudden change of demeanour, Renjun frowned, “Hey, is everything alright?”

You could only bat an eye, pushing your phone to his side of the table for him to read.

[ mark ] hey, what u up to?

[ donghyuck ] { image 1 } [ donghyuck ] wuju misses u :((

Yeah, you took it back. You really were the bringer of chaos.

a/n: bro u don't even understand.. this has been sitting in my wip docs for like more than a year😭 but i finally forced myself to write and post something on this app that wasn't a longass smau OIHFOIWEHF anyways thank you for reading!! don't hesitate to leave a comment and rb this post if you liked it🥲

taglist: @polarisjisung @wooyoung-a @w3bqrl @ficrecnctskz @rv7hsua @n0hyuck @neosdaisy @baekhyunstruly @rum-gone-why @dinonuguaegi @alethea-moon @klovmasworld @moonchele @chernabogsbiggestfan @xxxx-23nct @maeumiluv @produmads @shwizhies @dearlyminhyung @barbkh8450t @cupid-yuno @mxnhoeuwu @haechansbbg @sehunniepot @ujisworld

[kurogxrix]

Passionfruit

Mob!Bucky Barnes x Wife!reader

IN WHICH you spend a well deserved lazy day with your mafia husband and son… plus Bucky getting a little handsy.

Warnings: suggestive, breastfeeding, allusions to smut.

A/N: after nearly 2 whole months of not posting…IM BAAAACK😋 albeit this isn’t anything big, it’s still something considering the massive writers block i’ve been facing😭.

The mafia life wasn’t exactly what you had expected when you’d gotten affiliated with Bucky. 

On TV, it was gruesome, it was dark, it was scary - and not to forget, it was all the more sexy. Except as of right now, you could’ve concluded that it wasn’t necessarily always that way. There was nothing gruesome and scary in the way your husband was laying his head submissively on your chest as he slept the lazy morning away, his metallic arm thrown protectively over your stomach. 

There was nothing dark about the way your baby’s colourful crib laid by the end of your shared bed, a request from the infamous Bucky himself as he claimed that his lifestyle was far too dangerous to have the baby sleeping in his own room for now. In fact he was nothing but a liar, and a softie, because even the people who reside out of state know of the many guards that pass their nights with open eyes to guard the Barnes mansion. 

For all, there was nothing sexy with the way you were spread out ungraciously upon the huge bed. As much as you could with the huge man that laid heavily upon your chest, you spread out your limbs for the comfort of it all. Your hair was a mess upon the silky material of your pillow, a face clean of any makeup twisting with grogginess. There was anything but sexiness with the way your cotton panties hugged your hips comfortably, an even less-sexy pattern adorning the soft fabric. 

The natural warmth of Bucky’s body seeped through the thin fabric of the shirt that you’d stolen from him, and it made you want to dig yourself impossibly further into him. It wasn’t long before the early morning sun rays began shining through the cracks of the expensive curtains, interrupting your little moment of staring at your husband’s fine features. He looked so cute like this, face free of any worries as he slept cosily on your chest. 

The feeling of his grip tightening around your waist was more than enough to alert you that your ‘scary’ husband had just woken up, and the kisses that he was planting across your collarbones were more of an indication. There was no need for any words as you both laid in silence, your hands intertwining in the bush of brown hair that laid atop his head. Oh and how much you loved those curls, the way they’d drip with excess water as he came fresh from a warm shower, or the way your fingers would pull at them mercilessly as his face laid buried in between your thighs- 

Bucky’s hand began exploring despite the early hour, and the silent state of the room. His vibranium hand caressed your clothed side before slipping under the hem of your shirt. You flinched at the freezing feeling of his cold fingers upon your warm skin, but the way his thumb was rubbing loving circles into your skin was enough to send warmth spiralling back into your body. You felt your chest vibrating curtly as Bucky chuckled at the way you flinched under his freezing touch, and you playfully slapped at the back of his head, your own quiet laughter rebounding across the closed walls of your shared room. 

Your laughter was quick to cease as you felt Bucky’s fingers slip smoothly beyond the elastic band of your cotton panties, the feeling of his cool fingers making your shiver this time. You had to force your bottom lip by biting harshly down onto it to stop yourself from making noise, because god forbid you accidently awakened the little monster sleeping at the end of your bed.

He teased, and the smirk that laid upon his face told you so. The calloused fingertips beyond your waistline did nothing but rub senseless circles into the skin, not using those skilled fingers in the way you wanted him to. 

“Stop teasing already, it’s way too early for that.” 

you grumbled, and the chuckle that escaped your husband once more felt shaky upon your chest. You nearly let out a pathetic whine as you felt his large fingers retracing their steps back out, the elastic band of your panties snapping against your skin in dismay. However, it was a whole other story when you felt Bucky moving to sit up, a large hand resting upon your waist as he ushered you up to join him. His necklace clanged against his torso as he did so, the white wolf pendant sitting comfortably with the new position on his chest. 

With no hesitation, you did so, and his hands immediately started roaming your body once more as he laid them upon your delicate skin. Your face was buried in his neck as you sat up properly in his lap, thick and muscular thighs serving you as a seat. You closed your eyes as you felt his hand slipping under your shirt, head thrown back in bliss as his lips found the crevice of your neck. 

It felt almost too good to be true. A little moment shared between the both of you in perfect silence on a day filled with nothing more but slumber and laziness. Bucky felt like he was dreaming, almost like this late morning was going all too fine, and that in a normal scenario there should be something just about the moment that came to ruin the- 

Jinxed it, and if only you could read your husband's thoughts, Bucky knew that you’d make him sleep with the strays outside tonight. It was nothing else but his fault for the sudden shrill cries that resonated round the entire room. You felt your husband’s lips suddenly detaching from your neck, the area darkening by the second thanks to his skilled mouth. 

You had to physically retain yourself from laughing at your husband’s uttered ‘fuck’s sake’ in all the disappointment of your baby’s sudden awakening. Successfully ruining the little moment that you shared. Or that you were about to share, it was like much had had the time to happen anyway. 

“You’re gonna go say goodmorning to your son?” you tease, throwing your arms around Bucky’s neck as you stared into his blue iris. He glared at you for a second before his gaze softened, and he fell into the satirical state that you found yourself in.

“Absolutely no way malyshka, you know I had to tend to his tantrum yesterday while you were sleeping your ass off in the comfort of our mattress.” he laughed off in all playfulness, his hands tightening their grip around your waist as he spoke. You couldn’t find it in yourself to feel offended, because who was he kidding? You knew that Bucky would treat your son’s undying tantrums forever if it meant that you’d catch a little extra sleep. He’d do anything for the both of you, the two people who’d changed his life forever. 

The screams only got louder by the second, a stark reminder to break off your little romantic moment with Bucky and go tend to that little monster. Unhooking your limbs from Bucky’s, the brunette watched attentively as you made your way towards the maple crib. Just the best for your baby, even if he was far too young to comprehend the quality of the life that was being given to him. 

You waste no time diving for your son, a tiny human that fits perfectly in your arms. Enamoured as he already was, Bucky watched as all it took from you was a couple of coos and a few seconds of swaying the both of you from side to side to calm your wailing son down. Truly a momma’s boy, just like his father. 

Tiny fists closed in on the collar of your shirt with an incredible force that had everybody wondering where babies get it from, a desperate attempt from Lev at pulling your shirt down. The sight sent both you and your heavily tattooed husband in a deep laughter, but you’re soon interrupted by crying yet again. Another trait that he shared with his father, impatience and the urge to have everything he pleads. 

There was a moment of silence as Bucky’s eyes laid straight on you, and the love that swarmed his pupils was not new. He often wondered late at night what he’d done in his previous life to deserve such love that you and your son provide to him, because he knew that the Bucky of this life didn’t deserve it. He was a killer, ruthless at that because his line of work allowed no mercy. His hands were covered in thick layers of blood and yet you take them in yours like they needed guidance. Maybe, he wished that in another life he could be doing good in any sorts of way, like that stupid dream he had as a kid to become a superhero. 

Amidst his little love trance, Bucky failed to realise that you along with your baby had left the room. The soft noises of water running was a quick indication of where you’d both escaped to, and he took no time with the rush. He brushed past the sheets that clung at his legs, the messy bed an indicator of what went down under the sheets the night prior after your baby had been peacefully engulfed by slumber. 

Bucky was a big man by any means, and the heavy footsteps that hurried behind him resounded throughout the entire room. Not to be fooled although, he could be all sneaky and silent when he wanted to, a true man of many skills.

The pristine white marble greeted him first, a shine he’d grown to love. There by the sink was you and the little lev, except he was far too entranced in finishing up the contents of your breasts to even bat an eye at his father. His free hand clung at your sleeve tightly as if to not lose balance. You moved in all your motherly gracefulness, holding your baby above your left breast in your left arm so you could successfully lean to your right to rinse your mouth after a quick brush. 

Bucky knew that you didn’t need any help, he’d witnessed the woman phenomenon of the one-hand-everything. His own eyes had seen far too many times as you held your baby, keys, a thermos and phone all in one hand while going on with your day with the other. Yet, who was he to watch his wife vie when he had two free hands in his availability.  

The feeling of his brawny arms wrapping around your waist relit the warmth that you felt everytime he would do so, and you couldn’t help but lean back into his chest. The tall brunette planted a soft kiss onto the top of your head before moving to his own sink, but not before opening the tub of moisturizer for you, your skincare routine retained in the back of his mind. 

You smiled gently at him as a silent thanks, no need for any affirmation when he already knew that you loved him beyond your own ability to. Your baby finished his greedy assault on your chest a few seconds after you’d finished applying your entire routine, and you were sort of glad when Lev squirmed out of your embrace and onto the tiled floor. 

Any plans that you had for the day, albeit being only to go to the kitchen to fetch some food, had been completely forgotten as you felt Bucky’s arms dragging you back towards the unkempt bed. Because yet again, no lazy day was complete without laying in bed for 7 hours just staring at the ceiling. 

-

not much again but i hoped you all enjoyed🫀 also for writers (or anybody)looking for moots, please don’t be scared to text me lol😭

[laswells-ashtray]

John never thinks too hard about his childhood, he thinks he's past it. Drunken dad who died when he was a teen, mum who died the day he was born. No point wasting time on that and he thinks he's outgrown that point in his life. Maybe Dad was a bit heavy-handed with the belt but that was more acceptable back then, no need to fuss, and when he compares it to the stories Simon let slip when they both went a little too hard with the drink, he has nothing to complain about.

He never shares any family stories, yeah, Soap will share a story about how he was named after his dad and it sparks a conversation, Kyle will explain the origin of his name proudly, Simon will offer a sparse answer and none of them will ask for any further context. John will offer some half-assed explanation about being named after his old man's old man, someone he never met and never thinks about. Kyle asks him about his mother with a gentleness that can only mean he's noticed that John never talks about her, he offers the classic "never knew her" and it isn't a lie. It isn't. Because he didn't know her, she left earth the same day he made his appearance on it, the value of his life has always been at the cost of another, it's why he makes such a good captain. And he's sick of hearing "oh, I'm sorry" whenever he mentions that he's dead. He's a grown man, he can only hear so many apologies before they become just pointless words that hold no value.

So, it doesn't bother him. Two people he knew are dead, they started the list of countless other names that he doesn't bother thinking about.

And then he comes back from a mission one day, it was a shitshow. Nothing went to plan because their intel was fucked and everyone is frustrated. Ghost had to get stitches in a wound on his arm, isn't the end of the world but it was avoidable. Gaz, the poor fucker is concussed and Soap has the fun job of waking him up every two hours to check on him, a job he was assigned by a medic after they pulled the glass out of his hand. John is almost certain his ankle is sprained, his entire body is a bruise, he lost a good fucking cigar and he snapped at Laswell over comms so he owes an apology that he's planning in advance.

He wants Nik, it might be juvenile but he's tired in a way he can feel in his bones and he wants his pilot.

He finds Nik, he doesn't have to say anything as they head back to his room. Nik knows, Nik always knows. There's the briefest of exchanges as he strips out of his kit and he heads to the shower with the slightest relief knowing that his night is going to end in lazy sex and being stuck under the warm blanket of the Russian bear of a man.

He walks out with damp hair in a pair of boxers and socks because the floor is fucking cold with the constant draft and all but collapses face-first onto his bed. He'll offer Nik a murmured apology later for being selfish but he just isn't sure he can form the words right now.

He can hear Nik kicking off his boots behind him with little care as to where they land, it's a familiar sound from nights like this. He's as relaxed as he's going to get until he hears it, the sound of someone fumbling with their belt buckle. For years it's been just a noise but for the briefest of moments he tenses up in preparation, shoulders raised instinctively to try and block the leather from catching the back of his neck. He's not sure if he's breathing and he can smell whisky, the old fucker must've lobbed the bottle at the wall again and the last dredges of Johnnie Walker red label are soaking into the carpet again. If he doesn't remember to clean it before he goes up to bed then he's fucked, the old drunk will wring his fucking neck just like last time when he-

"John?" The hand on his back is warm as it lands between his shoulder blades, it should be comforting and he should relax into it. He doesn't. He's ashamed of the way he flinches, kicking out a leg as he tries to push himself up the bed and away from it hits him. It's Nikolai. The hand belongs to Nik.

He turns to face the other man, lying on his side and propped up with an elbow. He isn't sure if the sheer mortification he feels is obvious, or the tremors in his hands. He hasn't reacted like that since he was a boy.

"Fuck, Nik. Sorry, just lost in my own fucking head- Sorry, give me a sec and we can get to it." It's humiliating, he's the one who asked for sex and a fucking belt sends him over the edge.

"No, no `getting to it`. We shall continue another night." And there he's gone and done it, his fucking inability to keep his composure has just put a dampener on their sex life.

The cautious way Nikolai reaches out for him hurts, he's being treated like some scared animal. The large hand on his shoulder does act as a source of comfort when he knows who's behind it. "John, перестань. Talk to me, captain."

"I don't- I don't know, just give me a moment." How long can he spend pleading for just a little more time before Nikolai gets sick of it.

"The belt."

He looks up at the Russian with wide eyes, mouth open as he tries to form a denial of some kind, waiting for words that won't form.

Nikolai stares down at him with a look so gentle he has to look away, he can hear the faint sigh of resignation and the following mutter of something Russian that he isn't paying enough attention to in order to translate it in his head.

He sits in silence as the other man joins him in the bed, leaving a gap between that and offering John the chance to cross it on his own time. He shifts over and plaster himself against his partner's side, face buried in his neck.

"I assumed the scars down your back were from torture, just not the military kind."

"From years ago, don't matter much now do they? Taken a lot worse than a belt since then." His body was covered in scars of varying sizes, from anywhere to the scar on his hand from slicing a bagel to the silver band wrapped around part of his left thigh from a bastard with a blade that damn near nicked an artery. He'd stuck that poor sod's blade through his own throat and left him to gurgle on his blood.

"I assume your father is dead?" The fact that Nikolai sounds hopeful isn't lost on him.

"Drank himself into oblivion years ago." John had always thought it would've been his liver that did him in, would've bet money on it. Would've lost too. The old man had asphyxiated on his own vomit, silly prick.

"Good."

[short-honey-badger]

Cramps and Cream Pies

hellooo my JJk ladies. This may be a bit niche, but I am currently on my period and couldn't get my mind off Dead Beat Dad Toji. He's just too fine. Anyway! I hope you enjoy!

Warnings! SMUT. Period sex but it's not graphic. Shower sex. Vomit is mentioned. It's Toji. He's nothing but a red flag. Breeding Kink too.

@goth-mami-writer who giggled with me over the title ❤️

Fushiguro Toji could hear you retching from where he was lounging on the couch. It was your time of the month, and it seemed to be hitting you harder than usual. He usually wouldn’t bother with helping you, or even asking if you needed anything, but listening to you cough and groan made his chest feel tight and guilt eat at his black heart. He sighs loudly and rises from the couch when he doesn’t hear any sound coming from the bathroom after a while, worrying for his girlfriend making him move his lazy ass. 

Toji finds you curled on the floor, arm tight around your abdomen, and a pitiful expression painted on your pale face. He leans in the doorway, crossing his arms and giving you a look of sympathy, even if his words do not match his expression.

“You look like you feel like shit.” 

He is rewarded with a glare, though it’s less effective than a wet kitten. 

“Thanks, Toji,” You sneer and roll over with a groan, not wanting to look at the asshole you call a boyfriend.

“Thanks for stating the obvious.” 

The elder Fushiguro huffs and rolls his eyes at you, and then shoves off the door frame to kneel by your side. He slides a hand into your sweaty hair, blunt nails gently scraping along your scalp. You sigh and press into the touch, finding comfort in the surprisingly sweet action. 

Toji rolls his eyes at you again and slides his hand away after a moment. You whine at the loss of his touch but are soothed soon after when your lover scoops you up in those thick arms you love so much and cradles you close to his chest. You shove your face in the crook of his neck and focus on your breathing instead of the feeling of your insides twisting into a pretzel.

“Poor babygirl,” Toji coos softly and kisses the side of your head. He holds you up with one arm and reaches for the shower faucet, flicking it on and turning the knob to your preferred temperature. He checks the water after a moment and then carefully sets you down. 

“Come on sweetheart, let’s get you cleaned up so you don’t smell gross, anymore.” 

You pout at his mean teasing and undress as quickly as you can. You can’t deny that the hot water feels amazing when you step under the spray, and your shower gets better when Toji joins you moments later. He curls an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, his big hand splayed along your lower stomach. His other hand curls along your hip, and Toji presses his face against yours. 

Toji holds you for a while, but he is a simple man, and having you all wet and pressed against him has the mercenary’s cock swell with blood. Toji is shameless in the way he grinds against you, dick pressed into the small of your back. 

“Ya know, I heard that sex can help with those cramps. Lemme fuck you, baby,” The elder Fushiguro growls in your ear and the hand on your hip slips further around, fingers easily finding your clit and pinching the sensitive bud meanly. 

“Gah! Shit, Toji~,” You hiss his name, head falling back to rest against his chest. You open your eyes and find your lover gazing at you, green eyes half-lidded and full of desire. You nod once, easily giving in to the dark-haired man when he puts just enough pressure on your clit to make your legs tremble. 

“Mhmm. You’re such a good girl, baby. Gonna feel so good wrapped around my cock,” Toji mouths at your ear, teeth catching the lobe and nipping it harshly. He nudges your feet apart, dropping the arm that he has around your waist so that he can push you forward and down at the waist. He grabs his cock, guiding his length forward to slide the fat head of his dick through your folds. 

Your hands find the shower wall, holding yourself up as Toji parts your pussy and bullies his way inside your cunt. Your lover is thick, so the stretch is a bit painful, but it only enhances the pleasure that Toji gives you. He lets you adjust for only a second before he starts up a brutal pace, cock dragging along your walls and relieving that awful pressure that has bothered you all day. 

Toji grips your hip, fucking you back on his cock as he grits his teeth. You are tight, feeling like molten lava around his dick, and Toji never wants to leave. He leans down, lips finding your ear as he snarls filthy promises into your ear. 

“I’ll make sure that you miss your next period, yeah? You want that, Mama? You want me to fuck a baby in you?” 

You nod franticly, your body on fire as your orgasm finally crests and shatters through you. Your wall constricts, squeezing his cock like a vice, and Toji curses loudly, the suddenness of you coming dragging him down with you. You milk his cock, hungry for more, and your lover eagerly gives it to you, grunting and hissing like a damn animal until his spent dick slips from your puffy folds.

You feel much better, your insides and womanly bits having settled down for now, and the two of you catch your breath, only yelp when thick fingers find your clit, rubbing harshly and causing you to jolt forward. You turn and look at Toji, feeling dread well up when you catch the wicked look on his face. He pulls you in close for an awkward kiss over your shoulder and then reaches behind him with his free hand to adjust the cooling water.

“You didn’t think I was done, did you baby?” He rumbles and smirks against your mouth, “You’re wrong if you don’t think I’m not going to stuff you full.”

[luneaticlab]

AMORE (Chapter 1)

Pairing - CEO!Jungkook x Secretary!reader (female)

synopsis- Never in a million years you thought you'd end up with your boss, in bed.

Word count- 1.4k

IMPORTANT NOTE - Hey guys, this my first fic. I promise I'll improve. love and feedback are always welcomed.

•I do not own any of the pictures•

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

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

"come again?"

hesitantly, you repeated the words you said to your bestfriend a few seconds ago "The last time i got laid was 13 months ago..?"

"Girl, are you fucking serious?" Lena, your bestfriend not-so-aggresively threw her hands in the air.

"What's wrong with it? You know i'm not the type to have one night stands and shit" you justified defensively, delicately caressing your 5 month old persian cat, fluff.

"Dude you are in your twenties, you are hot, rich and single, what's wrong with having some fun before you settle down?" all you did was roll your eyes, ready to nag her about hygiene during sex.

"Don't tell me you still have a crush on your jackass boss" alice appeared from your kitchen, a cup of hot choco keeping her hands warm.

you were taken aback, yes, you did have a crush on your not-so-jackass boss, maybe you still do, no one knows, you are too busy with work to think about that. But something about him just makes your thighs clench.

His thick thighs which you would die to sit on, his tiddies who always threaten to come out(thanks to the buttons which do not let them), and his freaking jawline which you want to hold so bad when he kisses you.

Just to be clear the chances of this happening is 0.01% .

He's the typical rich, young, hot bachelor desired by multiple women and owned by none. Somehow you always managed to keep a very professional relationship with him so far. But what's life without some thrill?

"Jeon jeongguk? go ahead , have sex with him then. A rich man is a rich man" Lena suggests as if she's telling you to pick out some roses from the neighbour's garden.

"sure, find me a now job by tomorrow then" Lena chuckles at your reponse.

"Girl, its not that hard, he's a man and he might have needs too, if you really want him on the top then maybe wear some sexy clothes at work, you guys see each other everyday"

"Yeah yeah i'll think about it" you shrugged off the topic, not wanting to discuss it further.

:.。..。.。o○:.。..。.。o○:.。..。.。o○:.。..。.。

"fuck!" You finally found your release , turned the vibrator off, took a shower, slouched on your bed releasing a lazy sigh

Yes ,the vibrator did wonders when you got it for the first time, but you've become too used to it, you knew you needed more and by more you meant jungkook's dic-

you pushed your sinful thoughts out of the way and forced yourself to sleep.

:.。..。.。o���:.。..。.。o○:.。..。.。o○:.。..。.。o○:

next day , 7.39 a.m

You got out of the shower, fresh and clean. Done with the skincare and your usual makeup (nude lips are mandatory!) .you were about to pick your grey sweatshirt, Lena's words resonating in your ears.

Fuck it, it's now or never.

you put the sweatshirt right where it belonged. Took out a white tube top which covered half of your tits, wore a black trouser matching with the blazer of the same colour of the trouser. A black nano belt bag from celine completing your look. Quickly wearing your jimmy choo high heels, you stepped out of your apartment, you felt confident.

You were aware of the stares you were getting at the office, you weren't surprised, not your fault you look good with a minimum effort.

You spot your coworker Diana at the cafeteria, she waves at you , her look telling you that she's got something for you

"Hey y/n, I've completed the list of the guests we are going to invite at the company's gala, Do you mind passing it to Mr.Jeon? I got some last minute work to do." She asked holding your hand

Bingo

"Sure, why not , I was about to give him his espresso anyway." you smile at her politely before taking the file.

Quickly making your way upstairs, you fic your hair before you knock his door.

'"Come in"

"Good morning Mister Jeon, the list for the guests for our company's gala dinner has been finalized." You said as you placed his espresso and the file on his table.

He looked up to see you, "Alright, thank you y/n, I hope you didn't forget we have to go to daegu today."

You caught him stealing a glance at your chest.

"Ofcourse sir" you smiled curtly before leaving his office, swaying your hips on purpose while doing so.

Jeongguk and you had to go to Daegu today for the monthly inspection of the company's factory there.

Being Jeongguk's secretary was undeniably challenging, but the salary was enough motivation to continue doing your job.

・。゜・。・o゜・。゜・。・o゜・。゜・。・o゜

3.39 p.m

"Mister Jeon, we are ready to leave." You said as you peeked out your head from the door into his office.

He nodded while fixing his blue Ralph Lauren coat as he walked past you , you followed him behind, making sure everything is on the right place.

You looked at him from behind, good Lord he was so damn hot then you looked at yourself. You guys would make such a power couple in your opinion.

"Did you have lunch sir?" You asked knowing he might not have eaten given the fact that he absorbs himself too much in his work once he starts.

"I didn't have time to"

"I figured, I ordered chipotle for you, will you be okay with a burrito bowl ?" Jungkook liked having light meals on work days and he gets carsick easily so chipotle was the best option.

"Yes, thank you y/n i appreciate it." He said gratefully, flashing you a small smile which you could write a whole thesis on.

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

You were driving the car and the ride was smooth, you guys talked about work related stuff. Until,

"How have you been lately, y/n?" Jeongguk asked out of nowhere.you glanced at him for a second before replying "I've been good, pretty much the same since 2 years. working on weekdays, staying at home on the weekends. Oh, and I've got a new roommate – a furry one. Adopted a cat a few months back. It's nice having someone waiting for me at home, you know?"

You have no idea why you are giving a detailed explanation instead of the typical 'I'm doing good' but it is what it is.

"Any special someone in the picture?" He asked, a hint of uncertainty laced in his voice.

You glance at him again in surprise before refocusing on the road, this guy is really picking his moments. "No special someone right now sir, how about you?" He started this.

He chuckled a little,"Not at the moment, not into relationships anyway."

well damn, at least it was worth the try.

You catch jungkook looking at you a lot of times during the ride.

"We have reached, sir." You both get out of the car and head towards the factory.

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

7:51 p.m, Daegu.

It was pouring cats and dogs.

"I think we should book a hotel and stay there for the night". Jungkook suggested while looking up. All of the workers were leaving and driving in this crazy rain is dangerous.

"But i don't have any spare clothes."

"Should we buy them on the way?" Jungkook asked finally looking at you.

"I think we should."

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

You guys found the nearest hotel, and went to your respective rooms.Jungkook chose a package of 1 night+ dinner because you guys didn't eat anything after lunch.

"Let us change then meet at the dinner hall yeah?" Jungkook said looking at you, your clothes were a little drenched, the droplets on your half-exposed boobs were visible and he can see your bra underneath the white tube top.

"Sure , sir"

You guys literally shoved your faces in the food because the meal was ten out of ten and ya'll were hungry as hell.

When you entered the elevator, jungkook looked at you for a second before speaking " Good day today"

You smiled at him. Damn that smile, he couldn't control himself , he brought his face closer to yours, literally a gap of 2 centimeters between. "Can I kiss you?" He asked , it came like a whisper.

"Please" You practically whimpered.

Just like that, his lips were on yours.

To be continued

[katsukisxslut]

there’s only one thing you loved more than being katsuki bakugo’s pretty little personal assistant, and that was being the pretty little assistant that helped him on days when he was abnormally stressed.

when he had called you into his office that day, you had known exactly what he had needed from you. you stepped into his office, closing the door and walked right next to his desk, immediately getting on your hand and knees, making your way right between his legs. you looked up and him with big doe eyes, palming him through his pants, “hi baby” you smiled. he looked down, returning a slight smile, bringing his hand down to lightly touch your cheek, “my pretty girl.” you couldn’t help but giggle ever so slightly. katsuki used his free hand to undo his belt and push his pants down his legs. you rubbed your hand over the tent that had formed in his boxes, causing him to bite back a groan, “you know how I feel about that teasing shit.” you freed his cock from it’s confines, watching as it sprung up to hit his clothed stomach. you grabbed it with your hand, giving a few lazy pumps before pressing a sweet little kiss to the tip, and before he had the time to protest, you took his tip into your mouth, pumping the remainder you hadn’t yet made your way to. you looked up at him, his head thrown back in his chair, one arm resting behind his head, the other hand, tangled in your hair. you took him in your mouth more and more, his hand tightening its grip in your hair, helping you guide up and down of his cock. he pushed your head further down, him hitting the back of your throat, your nose tickled by the small tuft of blonde hair. he threw his head back grunting and groaning as he listened to you moan and gag on him, the vibrations driving him absolutely wild. you pulled yourself off of him to catch a breath, a long line of saliva connected from your lips to him. you looked up at him and he looked down out you, your teary eyes lighting a fire in him. it was like a switch had just been flipped and in one quick motion, he was picking you up and placing you on his desk. “you did so well baby, but i want to taste you,’ he pushed up your short skirt and hooked his fingers in the waist on your panties, pulling them quickly down your legs and letting them fall to the floor. taking his pointer and middle finger, he ran them up and down your folds collecting the slick that had gathered, “all this for me baby? you get this wet from just sucking my dick?” you moaned out, unable to even form words as your mind and body were anticipating what’s all to come next. he placed his finger in his mouth, cleaning all of you off his fingers, “you taste so sweet baby.” he lowered himself to be face to face with your pussy, leaning in to press a couple quick kisses to your clit, listen as you moaned so softly for him. he chuckled just before licking from your hole all the way to your clit, focusing most attention there, kissing, licking, and sucking. anything he could to pull any and all noises he could from you. it was music to his ears, such a loving symphony. he looked up at you admiring how beautiful you looked, head thrown back, enjoying yourself, enjoying him. he took this opportunity to bring his pointer finger up, lining it up and pushing in inside of you, now working you with his fingers and his mouth. his other hand wrapped around his cock, stroking languidly. with the obscene noises that both you and your sopping wet pussy were making, he almost felt as if he couldn’t control himself. you were nearing closer to your end, you could feel the constant shake in your leg and the tightening in your stomach increased. that seemed to only get him to work even harder, as he pushed a second finger inside of you, curling them to hit that perfect angle, his mouth focusing heavily on your clit. you couldn’t help but card your fingers in his hair. trying your hardest not to be too loud to alert everyone on the outside of the office, but it was oh so hard, he was giving you so much with just his mouth and fingers you couldn’t help but give him appreciation. you laid on his desk, trying your best to recover from the best orgasm you had ever had. he had stood up, picking you up and moving you to the other end of the desk, standing between your legs.

“think you can give me another one, pretty girl?” you looked up at him in awe, holding yourself up with your elbows, nodding your head ever so gently. he took himself in his hands, running his dick up and down your folds to coat himself in your slick. you shuddered a bit, moaning as he slowly started to push himself inside. he inched in until he was all the way buried inside of you. he dropped his head to your shoulder, burying himself in the crook of your neck, placing a few open mouthed kisses. you wrapped your arms around his neck, running your hand through the back of his hair, anything to get him closer, as close as he could be. he pulled back from your neck, pushing a quick kiss to your lips and then to your nose, “you ready baby?” you returned the kiss to his nose, “yes, please. i need you so bad.” you had seen his eyes change, a smirk ghosting on his lips, “as you wish.” he pulled almost all the way out before slamming right back inside of you. the sudden kiss to your cervix bringing you right back to reality. he was slamming his hips into you at an unrelenting pace, fingers practically burning into your hips. you were absolutely drunk on his cock, he was giving you everything he had to chase your and his highs. tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, and at this point, you were fighting just to keep your eyes open. katsuki brought his hands to your face, pushing your cheeks together, “you better keep those pretty eyes open f’me. i want to see you look at me.” you opened you eyes to see him looking right back at you, “good girl.” he kept up his pace, skin glowing with a thin layer of sweat, “god, you’re so tight. you just keep squeezing me.” he leaned his head back to let out a low groan. he bent down once more, connecting your lips, this time for a more heated kiss. tongues mingling together. he used this opportunity to snake his hand down to rub harsh circles on your clit, causing you to whine into his month. “that’s it. who’s making you feel so good?” he spoke so slow and soft, it was very rare to see him like this. “y-you are kats,” you cried, biting into his shoulder, “i-i’m s-so close,” you felt as if you could barely speak, both you mind and body completely on autopilot, your orgasm was the only think in control at this time. every part of your body began heating up as he continued working on chasing your high, your body giving in as you started gushing around him. you couldn’t help but let out a loud moan, arching your back off the desk, panting heavy and grasping onto him. none of this at all stopping his pace, your cheeks now covered with tears as they were just streaming out of your eyes due to the overstimulating feeling pulsing through your body. he bit into the crook of your neck, “oh shit baby, i’m cumming,” and with that, you felt his warmth coat your insides. he rested his head on your shoulder once again and thrusted a couple more times, before pulling out, pressing a quick kiss to the side of your temple. “come over later?” he sighed before standing up and putting back on his clothes and fix his appearance to best hid what sins were just committed in this very office. “of course,” you smiled.

oh, how much you loved being katsuki bakugo’s pretty little assistant, and how much he loved you.

[aiyse-io]

satoru gojo who really couldn't stand geto leaving. (aka he fucks geto's (ex?) girlfriend until she sees stars because he's a raging spite machine) wc: 586. not proofread.

"fuck-" he snapped his hips mercilessly, his face containing a fury the likes of which you had never seen.

not that you could really see his face, your vision blurred to all hell by the salty tears pooling in your eyes as you cried from the brutal thrusts to your poor cervix.

"s'toru-!" your cries fell on deaf ears, the mentioned man hyperfocused on his current task-- getting revenge.

"are you the strongest because you're satoru gojo, or are you satoru gojo because you're the strongest?" he mocked, the venom on his tongue preventing any rational thought from entering his brain, "i'll show him who's the- fuck- who's the strongest."

he punctuated his ambitions with a discordant plunge of his hips into your bruised cervix, a loud wail tearing from your lips as your nails etched angry red marks into his biceps. he was so, so mean, and so, so hot.

a shamefully pleasant- and terribly familiar- feeling began to bubble up in your gut. your quivering lip tried to hide in his neck, but the sensation quickly proved too much for your ravaged body to handle and you found yourself spilling your thoughts to him.

"s'toru! ah- fuck- satoru, i can't-"

"don't worry, pretty girl-" he interrupted himself with groan, and you felt his thrusts grow weary from the continuous effort, "cum for me. prove that i'm better than him." one of his veiny hands lifted from beside your head to brush your hair out of your face before swiping his thumb across your cheek to wipe away those pretty tears.

every rational part of your mind ached for you to disobey him. it pleaded with you to hold back, to not bolster his ego any further. after all, a part of you still loved suguru. but every ounce of rationale had left you as soon as you agreed to let him fuck you, the same as every ounce of anything left you as one more wonderful thrust of his hips caused his skin to brush your swollen clit, sending you barreling over the edge.

a terribly loud and fervent sob raked from your lips as your cunt clenched around his cock like a vice, your thighs trembling violently around his waist. your eyes fluttered shut, but even if they hadn't, all the sensations were too overwhelming and you were dizzy and your vision was blurry and dark, and then everything stopped.

you were completely and utterly engulfed in bliss, a post-orgasm haze washing over you like a warm blanket on a cold night. satoru stilled above you, his chest covered in a sheen of sweat and heaving with exertion. "poor baby... little too rough for you?" he chuckled softly as he pulled out, his cum gushing out onto the bedsheets.

he sighed and cleaned it up before collapsing at your side and pulling you into his arms, earning a soft whine from you. "can't believe that bastard left such a pretty lil' thing like you." you couldn't tell if it was a compliment or meant to be just another dig at suguru, but you couldn't care less at the moment, simply choosing to relish in the comfort his arms brought. it helped just enough to fill the void suguru left, at least for now.

satoru pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his hand tracing lazy circles on your hip as your body fell closer and closer to falling asleep.

"don't worry, doll. i won't leave you like he did. i'll never leave you."

my first smut, what do we think?

aiyse-io © 2024 | do not modify or repost

[hydrangeapartridge]

In Sickness and In Health

Summary: Emmrich gets sick but Rook and Manfred are here for him.

Part of my EmmRook post game short stories (Cross-posted here on AO3 or check the EmmRookvtag on my page for other stories)

Warning for potential end game spoilers and angst (but with comfort)

Enjoy!

Emmrich was an early riser. To her chagrin, it wasn’t often that Rook got to wake up next to him. There were still benefits to her lover’s waking hour of course, namely that she was often waken up by the lovely scent of breakfast and a gentle caress or kiss from her lover, all fresh and dapper and smelling of lotion and cologne.

Their morning routine was so unchanging that Rook was surprised on, one particular morning, to find Emmrich still sleeping beside her. Especially when she remembered he was supposed to meet with a student very early. One look to theposition of the sun outside and she knew Emmrich was late. Except Emmrich was NEVER late. He could, on rare occasions, be fashionnably tardy, but never hours late.

Emmrich grunted in his sleep, and Rook noticed his eyebrows were drawn together in an uncomfortable grimace and that sweat was perling down his forehead. He was probably having a nightmare. How sad that he overslept only to be faced with unpleasant dreams. Rook pressed a hand against his shoulder and gently called his name until he opened his eyes with a disgruntled noise. But his expression softened the second he saw Rook’s lovely face.

“Darling” He greeted her, voice hoarse from sleep. “Good morning” He groggily told her with a lazy smile.

“Good morning my heart” Rook chuckled before her smile dropped as she was saddened to inform him of how late it was. “I’m sorry I woke you but I thought you told me you were supposed to meet with a student in the morning? Have your plans changed?”

Rook was barely able to finish her sentence before Emmrich bolted out of bed. “Goodness! Why didn’t I wake up sooner!”

Rook watched her lover make one step barefoot out of bed before he wobbled and had to slow down. He caught himself on the nighstand and Rook was quick to rush to his side.

“Oh dear” Emmrich mumbled, out of breath from the bare effort of getting up.

“Emmrich are you alright?” Rook asked, worried, her hand coming to rest on his arm, ready to support him is needed.

“Well, I feel a little dizzy.But I’m sure it’s only because I didn’t take the proper time to get out of bed” He tried to reassure her.

However Rook started noticing his silken pajamas were drenched in cold sweat. She stretched until she was able to place a hand on his cheek, then his forehead to confirm her suspicions.

“Emmrich you are possitively burning up!” She exclaimed.

“Oh I do feel a little hot. And I have a headache from reading too much last night” He said. “And I’m not sure what we ate yesterday agreed with my stomach.” The more he went on, the more Rook stared at him in disbelief. “But nothing a good cup of tea can’t fix” He concluded.

He tried to take another step. “How sweet of you to worry for me dearest but I assure you I feel fine. Now I do need to hurry, I have to.. hum I need to…”

Emmrich seemed lost, his thoughts scrambled in his head. No doubt from the fever he was so sure he didn’t suffer. Rook stepped in front of him to prevent him from going any further.

“No no, you’re not leaving the bed today my heart” Rook told him as she gently pushed him back onto the bed.

Her light touch was enough to make him lose his balance and fall back onto the covers. Rook knelt on the bed and proceeded to unbutton Emmrich’s pajama shirt, aiming to rid him of the damp fabric and help him change into clean ones.

“Oh my, so bold in dragging me back to bed” Emmrich exhaled as he watched her nimble fingers undress him, mesmerized. “Darling as much as I appreciate your enthusiasm, I think I have somewhere to be.. “ He visibly racked his brain for the exact detail “I have many things to do… though I’m not sure what exactly”

“Emmrich, you are visibly sick and need to rest” Rook seriously told him. She was starting to feel like he would be a bad patient.

“Nonsense. I haven’t been sick in years. I exercise, mind my hygiene, and take tonics during the colder months to prevent disease”

While Emmrich blathered, he let Rook get him out of his pajamas and into new ones. Once she was done, she pressed him into the mattress with a hand splayed on his chest, placing one free finger to his lips to stop his rambling about prevention of infections and means of desinfection.

“Close your eyes and sleep my love” She gently ordered him, and when she moved her hand over his burning forehead, he complied with a tired sigh. “I’ll call for a healer and you will be back on your feet in no time”

- - -

The healer stopped by in the afternoon. He diagnosed Rossalia, a fever usually contracted by young children, that immunized them for the rest of their lives if they survived. The disease was often benine in children, but more severe in adults who never came in contact with it before. Given he was taken in by the Watch quite young, and lived most of his childhood in the aseptic environment of the Necropolis, without many contacts with children, Emmrich had probably encountered the disease only recently. It found him weakened by overexertion (from Manfred’s extra curriculars, to the three thesis he had accepted to supervise, and the approaching deadline for a publication of his recent researches), and now it was taking a toll on his body.

The fever was high, but the healer was not worried, it was a natural mean of defense agaisnt the infection. He gave Rook embrium to ease the breathing, and a potion of garlic and spindleweed to lower the body’s temperature; both to take thrice a day and into the night if needed. Emmrich was barely conscious during that exchange, too tired to move or talk. The fever was supposed to alleviate overnight, and the healer asked Rook called for them again if Emmrich didn’t get better in the two following days.

Rook diligently applied the prescription, part of her wishing she had studied healing magic. Nevarran medicine had similarities to that of the dalish, but wasn’t exactly identical, and she wished she could ask a dalish keeper for advice. But she couldn’t; she was far from home, had been for a long time. Yet her roots still called to her in times of doubt.

In the evening, Manfred came back from the Necropolis and immediately asked about Emmrich’s condition. In the morning Rook had convinced the spirit to leave without Emmrich so he wouldn’t miss any lessons. She thought that was what Emmrich would have wished, but she now realized that Manfred had been preoccupied all day.

“Sick?” He asked, not quite grasping the meaning of it while Rook prepared some tea mixed with embrium. Emmrich hadn’t been this sick since she knew him, and probably since he took Manfred as his assistant, which explained the skeleton’s suprise. It was one thing to learn about the theoretical aspect of illness, but it was another to be confronted with a sick loved one.

“Yes. It’s an infection. There’s something attacking his body but he’s fighting it off with fever” Rook explained as best she could. But she didn’t have Emmrich’s patience and knack for teaching.

“Like blight?” Manfred asked and before Rook could reply, he added. “I learned sick people die”

Rook froze, then turned to the skeleton.

“No Manfred, he’s not going to die. It’s just Rossallia. I caught it as a child and I’m still here! The healer said he would be fine” She tried to reassure him, coming closer and placing a hand on his scapula.

“Good” Manfred perked up. “Don’t want him die”

“Me neither” Rook said, a strained chuckle escaping her. It seemed Emmrich’s fears were contagious, and bled on them as the years passed.

Rook went back to the tea when Manfred called her name.

“Rook?”

“Yes Manfred” She distractedly replied.

“What do I do when Emmrich die?”

The cup she was holding escaped Rook’s grip and crashed onto the floor, the porcelain breaking in a million pieces. She barely heard Manfred announcing “I’ll clean” because of the ringing of her blood beating in her ears.

While Manfred used the broom to dispose of the debris on the floor, she took a few shaky breaths. Deep. Slow. Like he told her she should when distressed. Emmrich. Her sweet and patient Emmrich. Her older, mortal Emmrich.

“Rook?” Manfred came to stand next to her when he was done. “What about tea?” He asked, unphazed, like he didn’t just ask a simple and innocent question that sent her spiralling into a near panic attack.

“Yes, yes I’m on it” Rook told him, gulping back the dread struck in her gut and around her heart.

“I help!” Manfred offered, pouring the tea from the teapot into another cup and placing it all on a tray.

Together they climbed the stairs to the bedroom and tended to Emmrich without another word.

- - -

That night, lying on the couch to leave the bed for Emmrich, Rook couldn’t sleep. Her lover’s condition hadn’t improved but it hadn’t worsened either. She knew healing took time, but there, alone in the silence of the huge empty living room, an irrationnal fear seized her heart. It was stupid, but uncontrollable. A fear that was unjustified, but that she understood came from the conversation she left unfinished with Manfred. It was less a worry for the days to come than an anguish for much later; for gloomy occurrence that she couldn’t forsee and yet was inevitable.

In the darkest hours of the night, Rook found herself fearing for Emmrich’s death more than she ever did. More than when the world was ending. More than when they directly risked their lives facing dragons and gods.

She remembered Emmrich had described it well, that fear, back in the Necropolis’ gardens. Back then she had been smitten with his humanity, touched by his words but too distracted, too young and bright to truly grasp their meaning. She hadn’t tasted the peace of their domestic intimacy yet; the true bliss of living by the side of a kindred spirit.

This fear that couldn’t be reasonned with, or soothed over, plagued her rest; raw and strangling, nested somewhere deep past her heart.

She did her best to control it, but spent the night in its company, like Emmrich probably did many times before her.

- - -

The following day brought no progress towards Emmrich’s recovery. In the early sunrise, Rook found her lover drenched in sweat again, tossing and turning in an agitated fever dream.

He hadn’t spoken to her since she put him to sleep the previous morning, and she was already missing it.

With Manfred’s help she changed his clothes and helped the medicine down his throat. Rook stayed by the bed a few hours, hoping the treatment would lower the fever, but by noon Emmrich was still burning up and started coughing too. Rook kept encouraging him as she caressed his hand between hers, telling him how strong he was, and how he would get better soon. After a particularly dire coughing fit, she pondered calling for the healer again. But she decided against it, reasoning with herself, grasping onto her limited scientific knowledge. Emmrich was is no immediate danger; she had seen people on the verge of dying, and he was not in that state.

Rook was carefully wiping Emmrich’s sweaty forehead when Manfred entered with afternoon tea and biscuits. She realized then that she had missed lunch. She wasn’t feeling hungry anyways.

She thanked Manfred for the tea but left it untouched. When another coughing fit seized Emmrich, wheezy and painful to hear, Rook stood up and rummaged through the drawers of her dresser until she retrieved a small cream jar.

Manfred curiously looked as she opened it and proceeded to spread its content on Emmrich’s bare chest. The strong mint and camphor scent reminded her of her childhood, when her mother would sing her hushered lullabies to get her to sleep despite her sore throat and muscles.

“What this?” Manfred asked.

“A poultice. A recipe from my clan. It helps breathe better” She explained, focusing on the task at hand. She felt less powerless as she applied the treatment, and hoped the medicine from her people would help him like it once helped her.

Emmrich’s coughing visibly receeded, but he was still agitated, his sleep non-restorative.

“I help too” Manfred said, and Rook soon felt flickers of magic prickling her skin.

Light emanated from the spirit’s hands, and he slowly moved them over Emmrich’s face, careful and focused. Rook recognized a basic healing spell. She often forgot that necromancers of the Watch were almost as apt at healing as they were at handling corpses.

Emmrich’s contorted features relaxed under Manfred’s spell, and he fell back into a peaceful slumber in a deep relieved sigh.

“Well done Manfred. Thank you” Rook praised him with a genuine and pure tenderness, coming from the bottom of her heart.

“Don’t like sick” The skeleton declared and Rook sighed in exhaustion.

“Me neither…” She told him, her shoulders hunched under the weight of her worries and the lack of sleep.

She turned to look at the spirit that she sometimes liked to playfully call their son, just to make Emmrich flustered. She liked to jest about it, but she truly felt an indiscriptible affection for this curious being. She couldn’t rival the bond Manfred shared with Emmrich, but she loved the skeleton none the less. With all her heart.

“Manfred, about what you asked me yesterday” She started, hands tightly clasped together. “I think it is best you discuss it with Emmrich directly. When he’s better of course, don’t go dropping this on him too soon, or you’ll truly end him” Her jest had always been a protection, but right then it felt weak and wobbly. Rook’s vision blurred. She couldn’t look Manfred in the eyes as she whispered “But for what it’s worth, I’ll be there for you if you want me. For as long as I can”

Two bony arms drapped around her. It felt weird to be hugged by a skeleton she thought; but in that moment, it was all the comfort she needed.

- - -

In Rook’s dreams, she was with Emmrich. Always. She was faithful to him, and drawn to him even in her nightly escapes. He was calling her name, gentle and sweet; sleepy, like they had just awakened together on the lazy morning of a blissfully unbusy day.

“Darling” He said as he pat the top of her hair, scratching the way she liked it. She never wanted him to stop.

He hissed in delight then.

Wait. Emmrich did not hiss.

Rook opened her eyes and found herself kneeling by the bed, her cheek resting on her folded arms, drool on the corner of her mouth.

“Darling you’re awake. Good morning”

Upon hearing his voice, she straightened up at lightning speed and surveyed her surroundings.

Emmrich sat on the bed, dishevelled and still coughing, but his complexion looking far better than the day before. Beside him, Manfred was placing a tray full of breakfast material: tea and bread, butter and fruits.

“Emmrich” Rook could only sigh his name in longing, so happy to see him better that it brought her to tears. Her worry had been such that her relief was crushing.

“Dearest, are you alright?” Emmrich asked, tone laced with worry, but Rook shook her head and smiled.

“I am now that you are” She replied, and climbed onto the bed to nestle by his side.

Emmrich took her in his arms and kissed her forehead. “Thank you for watching me dearest”

She pressed closer against him and he chuckled, the sound turning into a small coughing fit. The Rossallia access was receiding but not over yet and he musn’t overdo it.

“Are you sure you want to cling to me like that, I’m all sweaty, it is positively appaling” Emmrich sighed but Rook didn’t move an inch.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed Manfred leaning towards the bed, knees bent, brushing the bedding but not quite climbing on it; hesitant.

“I’ll help you clean up soon, but for now, you must indulge us” She told her lover, and then motionned for Manfred to come closer. “Come on Manfred. Time for cuddles!”

A thrilling wistle escaped the skeleton before he pounced on the bed and hugged Emmrich from the other side, where despite an outraged sigh, he was welcomed with opened arms.

The fear was gone for now. It would return, and it would be fine. The happy moments easily outweighted those of doubt. And in the end, what was fear of a loved one’ death if not only a side effect of a love too deep, too strong for such an imperfect creature as a mortal being.

[morgana-ren]

On the subject of cheating…. How do you think Astarion would react to a dark urges Tav who doesn’t show any disapproval towards him for infidelity but does try to brutally murder all of his other flings

I can’t reconcile if he would be upset about them having too much agency in this situation and stop it or just into Tav being possessive of him in the way he’s possessive of them

He wakes to the pleasant and unmistakable tang of blood.

It's not uncommon for Astarion to greet the morning steeped in the sweet, saccharine scent of blood. Not at all. In fact, it's most welcome upon first waking, ranking among a deep, rich brandy and defiled silk sheets for his favorites. A metallic bouquet of a lovely, robust breakfast just begging to be supped on, just for him. If you were to ask him, there's truly nothing finer in the world.

An indulgent inhale has him sitting up, slipping a lazy hand through his hair and tongue running over his fangs as his mouth waters. The pit of hunger gnawing at his gut isn't quite so terrible as it used to be when he was but a filthy spawn, but he wouldn't ever deny himself the decadence of breakfast served up to him in bed.

The source of the delectable scent lies flopped over on the opposite side of the mattress, and he glances over with sleepy, hazy eyes to admire the sight. Her long, silky hair splays raggedly over her face, one of her arms limply hanging off the edge in what cannot be a comfortable position. The sheet haphazardly wrapped around her only scantly covers her rear, and by proxy, the sloppy mess he'd made between her thighs a few hours prior.

Clearly, he'd worn her clean out.

He chuckles; he can't help it. He's almost proud of himself-- if it wasn't so commonplace, that is. It's so terribly difficult for these weak and paltry little things to keep up with his kingly stamina, and he cannot begrudge the delicate humans that end up beneath him for losing consciousness.

Still! It's time to wake up, as he's remarkably hungry and he will not go another second without sinking his fangs into her swan-like neck.

"Darling, you sucked me dry and left me ravenous," He reaches for her, tracing a teasing claw up the dotted curve of her spine. "It would be positively unacceptable to leave me in such a state before you go."

She doesn't respond to his sentiment, and so after several seconds of testing his patience, he prods at her upper arm, eventually resorting to jostling her lightly with his hand, pinching her flesh between his clawed fingers--

--and it's only then that he realizes that her skin is ice to the touch, and he cannot feel her chest move with her breath in his palm. While that is entirely normal for him, it's not normal for small human women.

The sharp aroma of blood is far too palpable, even for his palace.

His red eyes truly focus on the girl contorted in his sheets for the first time: Her skin far too pallid, her stench far more enticing than it had been hours ago. His hand goes to brush the hair from her face, and there's a slick, wet feeling between his fingers as he does.

He is hit with the subtle yet bitter scent of freshly dying blood. Something that is usually sequestered only to beings beginning a state of decay. Something that should not be in his bed.

Unsettling, he thinks, but mostly irritating. Dead, hmm? He's almost certain he didn't kill this one on accident. Fairly certain. He callously rolls the woman's dead weight onto her back, frowning as he's met with a scene that he's quite certain he couldn't have done accidentally.

What was her throat is now a gaping maw of blood and bone-shine, scraps of gore clearly ripped out from inside. Her mouth-- or what is barely left of it-- is twisted in an eternal wordless scream, her face eternally contorted in some unseen horror. Her lovely eyes are wide and frozen in terror, unblinking and milky. Upon further inspection of her body, there is a hole where he assumes her still-beating heart had once been, clawed savagely free from her ribs by some brutal, unrelenting force.

He scowls, needling his lower lip with his teeth. It's a shame, he thinks with an exasperated sigh. He's sure was a beauty before all of this.

Another vicious, deadly beauty clearly demands his attention now, and he pushes the dead whore off the bed with an annoyed huff, snatching his long silk robe from the bedpost before affixing it around his body.

"Such a pity," He fastens the tie around his narrow waist, stepping carefully around the bedframe to stand in front of the newly made corpse with a grimace. "You were so vivacious last night, dear girl. But you're making the wrong kind of mess of my sheets, and I cannot abide that."

With a careless tug, he rips the remains of the young woman off his mattress, her mutilated body landing on the floor with an uncomfortable, wet thud. He steps over her, striding towards the door, feeling decidedly irritated. He was planning to spend a lazy afternoon in bed, but it appears something more urgent demands his immediate attention.

"Good morning, my lord--" A servant greets him just outside of his door with a sweeping bow and an expertly balanced tray. Astarion doesn't bother to look at him, instead grabbing a morning glass of wine, taking several deep swigs before finally sneering unpleasantly down at the man.

"Where is my wife?"

Another scraping bow, but Astarion doesn't stay to witness it. Rather, he takes off down the hall in search of someone more important. Someone that, he imagines, was rather busy last night after he fucked-- Hells, what was her name? He doesn't remember. Did he ever know?

"In her garden, sire."

"Right," Astarion carelessly tosses the glass back onto the floor, where it shatters to pieces. "There's a rather putrid corpse on the floor in there. Have it taken care of. I want it spotless before I return."

"Yes, my lord."

He tries to recall as he makes his way through his palace and towards the garden, and ultimately decides he doesn't care.

He finds his lovely wife right where he expects to, taking a leisurely stroll in her strangely fruitful garden. The scent of damp, rich soil permeates the air, mingling with odd, exotic flowers he has brought her and lush, fertile plants that she has coaxed into life with her hands. Blossoming organic life from nothing is not something that he imagined was in the wheelhouse of a favored child of Bhaal-- quite the opposite, really-- and yet, she seems to have nurtured a niche talent for it of late.

It irks him that she's grown somehow cold to his affections. She no longer stares at him with owlish eyes and flushing cheeks and a rapidly beating heart; rather she seems to shrug off even his most endeavored attempts at seduction with an ease that, if he didn't know for a fact that he was the most powerful and attractive man in a country mile, might hurt his pride.

She seems entirely at peace and unbothered, gently cradling a small rose between her fingertips, admiring it as it slowly blooms into a lovely, blood-red bud. The placid expression of someone either entirely unacquainted with the art of murder, or a masterful artist with it, and he knows all too well which one. As he approaches, she doesn't acknowledge him with anything other than a brief turn of her head and flick of her eyes.

"Your garden is looking lovely as always," He saddles up behind her despite her aloof silence, gingerly sliding his arms around her waist and leaning to scent along the side of her neck. "As are you, my sweet girl."

She only hums her acknowledgement, her ever-present sly semi-smile unfaltering as he speaks, still clearly far more taken with her flowers rather than his company and flatteries.

A deadly mistake for everyone other than her.

"Been busy this morning, little love?"

"Oh, only as much as usual," She gives him nothing--no guilt, no anxiety, just the hints of a mischievous, murderous smile-- as she releases the flower from between her fingers, turning instead to continue sauntering through the row. "I try to keep busy."

A quick sniff reveals all he needs to know. He doesn't need to get any closer to the freshly filled hole to smell the rancid stench rising from it. Underneath the sopping wet dirt, mingling with fertilizer and fallen leaves is the unmistakable stench of dead flesh; A muscle steeped in still blood, to be specific. Buried beneath soil alongside the foreign seeds lies what is left of the mangled heart of the woman he'd taken to bed last night, now planted in his wife's garden in some macabre ritual to sustain yet another carnivorous horror she's gotten her hands on and is now coddling into growth.

"I can see that," He croons, eying a fresh mound in the dirt, clearly freshly dug. "Is this one new?"

"Just this morning, dear," She lulls softly, a barely discernible playful edge to her voice. "Newly planted."

Dozens more peculiar vines twist up from the ground in various states of growth in nice, even spaces carefully organized into rows. Under the lively essence of plants and sticky-sweet flowers is the painfully apparent stench of decay and rot; Months and months of the still-lingering scent of blood of all the lovers he'd taken, turning spoiled and foul in putrefaction in her grisly little garden. All of their lives ended preemptively by his wife with the same feral glee that a rabid mongrel must feel upon sinking its fangs into a terrified, defenseless creature.

All for daring to indulge in him.

What a senseless thing. Died so futilely and no doubt miserably at the hands of his wife, alone and panicked only feet from their powerful king, and for what? Finding their way into his bed? How absurd. Who could resist him? Who would dare? He almost pities the funeral procession of poor creatures whose hearts have become fodder for the dirt, no honoring of their lives save his consort's nursery, fed and weaned on their innards. Their final moments belong to his insatiable wife's ruthless bloodlust through no fault of their own, and yet--

--Something about her vicious possessiveness over him smolders in his core, igniting a twisted arousal that coils the length of his spine and constricts like a serpent until he simply cannot stop himself. Deadly, precise, perfect little wife of his, so vicious and yet so precious to him. He swears her bloodlust only serves to stoke the flame, and how he longs to devour her.

(How long has she denied him? How long has she teased and tested him, tantalizing him with memories of burying himself inside of her sweet, tight heat with merciless drive, supping from the delectable blood of her soft body, her voice crying his name like a chant to some dark God until she rips what is left of his soul clean from him to take it into herself. She would yield for no one, a primal and ferocious creature beneath the veneer of illustrious, undead beauty, and yet she would heel to only him, letting him lose himself in her warmth, her fire until he burned--)

He reaches around and whirls her to face him so that she cannot feign indifference under his scrutinizing gaze. She knows better than to fight his manhandling and allows him to spin her towards him, though she refuses to wilt under his sultry glower. Her expression remains entirely passive as his hand reaches up to take her chin between two fingers, squeezing hard enough to have her wincing.

"Another one, darling?"

"You dislike the roses?" She blinks big eyes at him, the perfect picture of innocence. She hasn't been innocent a day in her life, and today certainly isn't a start.

A part of him wishes he could remain angry-- or at least a little indignant-- about the fact that she believes she has some overarching and indisputable claim on him, but deep down, he knows that she's right; she does have a staked claim in his heart in a way no one else ever possibly could. Even as his eyes and body might stray from her, he is forced to admit time and time again that nothing compares to his wrathful little lover. The strays he shepherds into his bed don't fill the gaping hole she leaves within him in her absence, her wretched denial of him. It is only silently that he acknowledges his wayward lust is just his spiteful response to her cruel neglect.

"Don't play the fool for me, my dearest girl, you're a terrible actress. Another concubine. Another corpse in your grim little graveyard. Is calling it a well-tended monument to your jealousy perhaps too romantic?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, my love," She smiles gently, lifting a hand between their chests and up to her face, slipping a finger between her plush lips. He smells the lingering blood on it and yet he cannot take his eyes off her tongue as it curls sensually around the length of her knuckles and how immaculate it might feel on him. He cannot help himself but think just how graciously daddy Bhaal has blessed him with his beautiful daughter; How fiercely alluring it is to watch his undomesticated little monster clean up her homicidal mess.

It started as all things do: With a seed. A bladed joke bloomed into irritation and resentment. His endless libido and her cresting bloodlust come to blows over priorities. The only woman who dared to gainsay him, her lovely little hands covered in blood and the power of Bhaal coursing through her veins keeping her too wild to be truly tamed by his vampiric blessing. His appetite for domination was insatiable, as was hers.

A child of Bhaal would not be tamed-- even by him.

He craved obedience and reticence-- he craved raw reverence and worship. To be viewed with wide eyes and admiration and blind devotion from some poor, pitiful creature too weak and foolish to resist him; To be seen as a God before a miserable little mortal; For his subject to offer willingly for a chance to taste of his splendor.

It is the only thing his beloved would never give him: acknowledgement of his superiority; submitting before him, allowing him to enforce his will upon her willingly. She is a fanged and clawed creature, wild by nature, and she would not purr her praises chained at his feet. She commands respect-- even from him.

She could never play the fool for him, encouraging him to believe that she was helpless against him, or weak, or pitiful, or foolish. It would insult her pride and her lineage. She is a force of nature in her own right, and he could never truly own her without her consent-- consent she has withheld.

And so, he would tell you that he simply retaliated.

She never spared him a sour word when he teased the waters about bringing other people into their marital bed. She only smiled that damn smile of hers and told him that he can do as he wishes as the king. Hells, she hardly seemed to notice when he first took some pathetic creature into their sheets for some harmless fun. The reaction he yearned for from her, some measly sign of her devotion to him, she wickedly denied him, seemingly knowing full well the impact it had upon him.

It drove him to madness, a spiraling misery fueled by his pride. He refused to beg for her, and she would refuse to kneel before him. He came to believe that truly she did not crave him with the same veracity that he longed for her. He no longer sought her out, and she did not come seeking. Surely, if she loved him, she would show some sign, some indication of caring that his fingers caressed a pale pastiche of her rather than where they desperately longed to be: Tracing her lovely mouth, coaxing her clever tongue, circled around her neck, between her warm thighs--

--And then corpses began popping up like flowers, and his beloved suddenly took up gardening.

She grinds his patience to a fine powder, and something about that gets his fires burning hotter than it ought to. Her insouciant dismissal of him, the absurdly casual slaughter of insignificant sex partners and then having the audacity to seem almost bored of his presence. She clearly cares enough to rip the bleeding hearts out of his inconsequential conquests, and yet, here she stands, utterly unfazed by him, having the audacity to feign indifference.

"If you're jealous, my love, you only need say so," He hushes to her, batting her cheek softly as he forces her to look up at him. "You needn't kill everyone who finds their way into my bed. I would cease if you simply said the words."

"Jealous?" Her brow furrows, head cocking, her lips jutting into a little pout. "I don't know what you mean."

What he asks is simple, so dreadfully simple. So easy, so, so easy--

Acquiesce to me.

And yet, she dares to deny him even as there is blood on her hands from strangling and wringing his full attention from his lover's corpses.

The wall of the greenhouse he built for her isn't particularly comfortable, but he couldn't care less as he shoves her against it, bullying his body against hers with brutal force, slamming her head against the glass with a lightning-fast palm encircling her throat.

"Why do you insist on being such an obstinate little brat?"

She opens her mouth to reply, and he squeezes tighter in response, choking the air from her little neck and stoppering the words on her tongue. There is a flash of something in her eyes once they open again, but he isn't entirely certain which sin it's indicative of: wrath or lust, or some degenerate mix of both.

It had to be her.

"I don't know what you mean, my lord," She croaks as he allows it, her hand clasped on his wrist as he clenches the rounds of her neck. He swears he sees her lip twitch in the ghost of a smirk even as he suffocates her. He holds all the power over life and death over her, and yet she is insufferably calm.

"I warned you not to play stupid, darling. You know very well what I mean." He growls against her ear, frustration and arousal building to impossible levels. Of all the women in Toril, it had to be her-- it had to be--

"Admit it," He hisses, sharp fang nipping at her ear. "Just admit it, and ask-- beg me, and I'll stop."

He feels the chuckle bubble in her throat even as he cannot hear it through the pressure he applies to her windpipe. "Beg what, my lord?" Her eyes narrow, her amusement apparent even as she has a practiced expression of apathy, whispering back to him with a strained voice still somehow full of unmitigated audacity. "Do you think I suffer?"

His lip curls downwards, and he realizes that he has no leverage here other than her violent jealousy, which she will happily unleash upon his unfortunate bedfellows rather than swallow her pride and cling to him as she should. She has no qualms with murder, and he might as well hand-deliver her victims. It has become an inevitable truth that whoever finds themselves romping beneath the sheets with their king won't be leaving alive because the queen would rather die than admit she cares that he spends his affections elsewhere.

"You can't hold out forever," He knees her legs apart and wedges himself between them, grinding his lust into the clothed heat of her core. "You will beg for me. You will acquiesce. You know your place is at my side."

He pushes forward again, lips brushing against her cheek, his warm breath on her neck sending shivers spiraling down her spine. The way she rhythmically gyrates her hips deliberately against where he wants her most has his hands flexing, kneading deeper into her flesh. His nails dig into her deceptively soft skin, sliding one hand up her body to grope gratuitously at her curves before crawling up to thread his pale fingers through her hair. With the silky strands weaved between his knuckles, he yanks, exposing her throat to the mercy of his razor-sharp fangs like a wolf perched over carrion. He'd die before admitting the overwhelming, frantic need she inspires within him, but he swears if he doesn't have her now, he will perish.

She exhales ragged and husky, squirming against him in apparent need, but still manages to stand her ground. "I am at your side, my lord. Your front, to be more specific."

"On your knees, on your back, whatever I demand. Give in to me. Heed my command, my love," He releases his fingers from her neck, both his arms snaking behind her to scoop her ass in his palms and hike her up against his waist, bidding her wordlessly to lock her legs around him. She does it instinctively, throwing her arms around his neck, tugging playfully at his silver hair as she does. He keeps her up with easy purchase against the wall, keeping her prisoner between a wiry cage of eager limbs and foggy glass panes. "Submit to me of your own free will. Kneel to me, your husband and king, and submit to me fully."

His voice is low and husky as he exhales against the shell of her ear, doing his best to swallow down the desire to rip her pretty dress to shreds with his bare hands and ravage her on the filthy ground of her greenhouse.

"All you need do is say the words," He mutters, barely audible even to her, the scent of her driving him to the precipice of insanity. "Say you belong to me, body and soul. Submit to me, girl, and I'll never have need of another."

He feels the derisive chuckle in her throat reverberate against his own mouth and pulls away to observe. Her eyes are glassy and low as they meet his, moist lips parted in a little 'o', trying so hard not to do that hateful little smile of hers. His hand tightens in her hair, jerking his hips ruthlessly against her once again. So close now, he can feel it, he's going to destroy her, ruin her, tear her to pieces only to put her back together and do it again--

She dares to deny him, dares to have the raw audacity to mock him-- he's going to hurt her so badly, sink his fangs into her neck and drain her fucking dry, force himself inside of her until she has to beg him through hiccupping sobs to stop, unable to fend him off in his full power. He will show her who is the master--

"No."

She cranes her head forward just a little and gives him a mockingly gentle peck on the mouth. It's deceptively gentle and cruel in its intention, entirely meant to taunt him. In his shock at her gall, he is stalled, almost paralyzed and entirely unresponsive and numb to the tidal wave of rage and lust that collides in a nuclear cocktail deep in his gut. It's but a brief moment before he regains control over his senses, and when he does--

"Maybe," She flicks her tongue out, licking a small, red stripe up his cupid's bow. "But not yours-- and you can try, my love."

He releases his grip on her hair only to grab her cheeks, digging his fingers into her jaw so hard that he can feel her gums scrape against the ivory ridges of her fangs. Her wince of pain doesn't escape him, fueling the inferno inside of him as he snarls, baring teeth down on her as a predator might.

"You dare to play games with me? You are a miserable, stubborn little whore and I'd see you put back in your proper place!"

It's more animalistic growl than spoken sentence, and even as he squeezes her face, he can see the twitches of a smile on her crumpled mouth. He can smell the blood on her tongue, the utter defiance in her expression, and despite his frenzy of anger, he throbs between her thighs.

--and yet it's him on the cusp of inescapable frenzy, the taste of her now blasting away the dull, gray months and the now; this one fiery moment where she is wholly his, reminding him of the untamable bonfire of desire she stokes within. His beloved consort, his wife, until death take them both or not at all--

It should drive him into a blind, red rage, but it just makes him harder, pulsing against her insistently, his body demanding entrance to what is rightfully his--

"You will always belong to me."

He crushes his mouth to hers so hard it pains the both of them, more devouring gnashes and fierce, hungry greed for her than passionate kiss. His fangs break the skin of her lip, his tongue thrusting between her teeth, determined to taste every inch she offers up to him. She mewls weakly into his mouth, trying to break the kiss to breathe, but he won't allow it; she only breathes by his will and he'd see her reminded of that--

A battle he will win.

"Mine-- only mine--"

He pants it sloppily into her open mouth, still desperately trying to swallow her essence into himself. She manages to tug away from his unhinged fervor, though only briefly, just to heave and whoop air into her lungs, desperate to catch her breath before she speaks:

"Not if you're not only mine."

It's a fool's facade, this game they play. Around and around and around once more, each demanding prostration of the other only to burn themselves on their own encompassing greed for the other. A toxic whirlwind of emerald-green jealousy and blood-red rage, enveloped entirely by hazy, punch-drunk lust. Two titans locked in a battle for dominance, chasing the vulnerability of the other one.

He hard-swallows, using every ounce of strained willpower he has in his willowy body to retreat away from her, casting his savage need into an abyssal pit inside of him and sealing it before it swallows him. instead. Slowly, he manages to peel away, slowly setting her feet back on the ground, doing his best to compose himself despite the very blatantly obvious signs of arousal and his apparent state of both mental and physical dishevelment.

"I won't humor you forever, darling," He purrs, giving her one last squeeze before stepping back away from her, distancing himself from her control over his body that he loathes. "I always get what I want. You should know that."

She blinks up at him again, her lips puffy and skin smeared with swatches of blood that he has to bite his tongue to keep from tasting. "Not this time."

His lips quirk in a condescending grin at her adorable little show of defiance, resituating himself within his linen pants without shame. "We'll see, my dear."

With that, he abandons the 'conversation,' turning to walk out of the greenhouse, only sparing one last glance at her garden of flesh-- and then once back at her. It breaks his willpower in a way he is miserable to admit, but his need for her overwhelms his pride.

One last snarl in her direction, and he turns to stalk out, itching to backhand the smugness from her pretty face. If he does, he knows well enough that he will not be able to walk away from her. He will take her here and now in a maelstrom of blood, violence, and ruthless sex, and he will lose this little game of control, and he cannot have that.

Still, that doesn't mean she is allowed to believe she has any choice in the matter.

"It's been long enough. I am expecting you in my bed tonight. Do not make me come searching for you. You won't like what happens if I must seek you out."

She seems surprised and almost pleased with his minor acquiescence. It comes in the form of a demand, but she knows full well that it's the best she's going to get. She offers him a sweet smile, smoothing her skirts back down her legs from where he'd hiked them up around her still-quaking legs. He can still smell her, the wet between her thighs, the rich, royal blood flowing through her veins, her body that sings to him a siren song luring him to his fall. If he doesn't break something in soon, he is going to combust--

"We'll see."

He traipses back into the palace, body shuddering and shivering in its effort to control the raging hormones. He is ravenous, needing to drain someone dry and be drained dry-- and soon. Another well-trained servant greets in the halls, cautiously approaching upon seeing his dour expression, bowing from some distance away in case his master decides to lash out.

"My lord--"

"A concubine. Now. Sent directly to my chambers. We are not to be disturbed, no matter what you hear. Do not keep me waiting."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mission Control 18

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, blood, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You pant as your body shakes uncontrollably. The pain is unbearable. The monster keeps your foot raised as he wraps a new bandage around it. The throbbing eases slightly though the sting remains. Your screams still echo in your skull. You passed out at least once as he cleaned the wound. 

He pins the dressing and lowers your leg tenderly onto the pillow. He stands and pulls the blanket up to your waist. You catch your breath as you wipe the beads of sweat from your forehead. 

The last day has been torture. You don’t know how much more you can handle. He stares down at you with chagrin woven into his expression. He bows his head and turns sharply. You can do nothing but languish as he stomps around. 

He opens the armoire. You shudder. He takes out black boots and a jacket. He closes it without retrieving the shield or his body armour. 

He comes back to the bed and sits to tie his boots. You push yourself up on your elbows. 

“You’re going somewhere?” You ask. 

He glances at you, then the night stand. He leans over and swipes up the pill bottle. He rattles it. 

“You’re getting more?” You guess. 

He frowns then shakes his head. He looks at the label then once more at you. He points to the bruise around his eye. The one he inflicted himself. 

“Pain killers?” You can’t help the eagerness in your voice. He nods. “Oh, but...” you glance around. He extends two fingers and moves them back and forth quickly. You have to guess again, “you’ll be fast?” 

He confirms again with a tilt of his chin. You lower yourself back to the pillow. He focuses on tying the laces, the leather straining as he does, then rises again. 

He pulls on the coat and leaves the room. You listen for the front door but instead, his footfalls approach once more. He brings in a glass of water and bag of trail mix. He puts them beside the bed and steps back. 

“Thank you,” you utter. 

He twists on his heel and marches out. Despite not wanting to grow used to his place, his staunch lack of response is more and more familiar. At least when he is placid, he is manageable. You only worry about that other side of him. The one even he seems afraid of. 

The front door opens and closes. The wintry air flows through and you slip further beneath the blankets. You shift onto your side and settle in. You can’t sleep any more but you find yourself drifting into a state somewhere between waking and not. A sort of trance that has you etching each knot in the wood walls with your eyes, trying to memorise them all, trying to see faces or fantastical scenes in the dark markings. 

The winds bellow without, beating the walls, whistling and wailing. You fold an arm over your head as the constant nose starts to itch in your ears. You turn onto your back and sit up to have some water. The antibiotics make your stomach heavy. You make yourself eat a handful of nuts. 

The edges of the covered windows soften with the rising darkness. You while away the time by counting the stitches in the trim of the patchy quilt. Fatigue slowly creeps into your eyes. 

Your head begins to droop as you lean back against the bed frame. You’re too lazy to slide down, instead slumping uncomfortably. Your mind sinks into itself as the billowy undertone fades. 

Click. The subtle but decisive noise of the front door rouses you. You blink and rub the sleep from your eyes. You look at the bedroom door expectantly, waiting. 

You can hear footsteps but they don’t come to you. What is he doing? You listen as they pace around; through the front room, slow, measured. Something is different about them. 

You sit up as much as you can and stare at the door. You see the shadow before the stranger. You know by the silhouette it isn’t him. Your eyes flick up to meet the dark pair that come to peer into the bedroom. 

The man’s lips slant as he looks you over. He scoffs as he steps into the room. He nonchalantly walks the parameter as you sit in silent horror. You can tell by his demeanour that he isn’t a friend. Yet how did he find this place? How did he get inside? With all those traps, he wouldn’t just stumble upon you. 

His dark hair is pushed back from his face, a shadowy stubble around his jaw, and his shoulders are broad and set straight. His boots scrape the floor as he goes to the corner and looks down at the shelf. He touches one of the pictures and laughs. 

“Hello?” You croak at last, “who are you?” 

The man turns and chuckles again. He crosses his arms and approaches the bed. You don’t know if you should hope he can save you. The void depths of his eyes is terrifying. There’s no light in them. 

“I should ask you the same,” he sneers. “But I can guess what you are.” He teethes his lip and angles his head arrogantly. “So the automaton found himself a pet. How precious.” 

“Please, I’m not—he took me--” 

You choke on your words as he grabs the blankets and rips them off of you. You squeal and instinctively bend your legs. You press your heels into the bed and roar at the agony it lights in your calf. He tosses the blankets away as he gives another sinister laugh. 

“I don’t care about any of that,” he snarls and reaches for your bandages foot. He latches on and you shriek as he drags you down the mattress. “That... thing doesn’t get toys. So, I’ll just have to break you so he can’t play no longer.” 

You cry out and thrash as the man crawls onto the bed. Fuck, fuck, fuck!