#unedited and with spelling mistakes

[uniquevocashark]

well, i dont have a lab tomorrow so im gonna stay up and write fanfic on my phone

[namesarehard123]

It's been such a while since I wrote anything 😭

[petalsofyouth]

you haven’t posted in so long can we have a wip or something? maybe a story you are working on right now or some parts of koi no yokan? anything would be fine pretty please

i know, love, and i am really terribly overwhelmingly sorry i haven't posted anything in so long! i can't decide what wip to post though, haha. i have 5 of them... so i am gonna go with 'kny' aka my safest choice, but tell me if you wanna see something else <3

But Ran knows you both are here. He heard his car pulling by - the sweetest fucking sound anybody could ever made - and then watched his precious baby disappear under the building, swallowed by parking area. He couldn’t see much after that, but a long time later and a pan of burnt mushroom sauce, he could hear you talking and then opening the door and then closing it. He waited for Rindou and since his younger brother clearly wasn’t coming back, hurt and neglected, Ran invited himself over and rang the bell. 

“Whatcha taking you so long?” There’s slight irritation in Ran’s intentionally lazy tone with which he addresses chewing Rindou. Ran’s eyes are slits then and his mouth presses into thin line. He’s seething. That much Rindou can tell. “Are you eating?” 

“I am eating. She is in the bathroom.” 

“Why is she in the bathroom?” 

Rindou blinks a few times, his long eyelashes dancing up and down in disbelief. He opens his mouth, clicks his tongue and bites down every harsh remark he has on his mind now regarding his brother’s ability to think rationally. Instead he steps aside and lets him in. “I don't know why people use bathrooms. Crazy, right?” 

On the counter top in the kitchen sit a great deal of plastic transparent containers full of food. Judging by the smell of it, most of it has got to be pickles and some other long preserved appetisers. Some of the containers are opened and when Ran comes close enough to peek inside of them he can see that his brother - who else? - tried food from every single one as there were missing pieces between neatly placed food.

“Harumaki is pure fucking bliss. Try them.” 

But Ran doesn’t try anything, he is still irritated and he still feels like he’s been excluded. He leans his body on the table, his back at Rindou and looks at the direction of your bathroom from where he can hear water running. He knows he is being ridiculous and he knows that Rindou - who’s rolling his eyes at his older brother - knows it too. But what’s worse is that he knows that they too both know what this irritation means. If it was somebody else, not his own brother, he could’ve played it as his usual dramatic tendencies, but Rindou understands him even before he himself does. 

Inside the bathroom, you don't hear anything. Your brain is mush and you are too tired to really focus on anything else rather than hot droplets of water that so nicely help you relax. You wash your hair, your body and then you do your skincare routine and even apply some cherry chapstick you accidentally forgot in Tokyo and missed so much at home. The bath and a bit of alone time dedicated to relaxation was all you need to feel yourself a bit more energetic. That doesn’t mean though that you were ready to go out or do any crazy active activity. All you wanted was to burrow yourself in a warm blanket, eat something and possibly fall asleep again. 

You dry your hair with a towel when you emerge from the bathroom. You want to ask Rindou if he is done with that bag and if any of the food went bad when swiftly you stop. You sense Ran before you see him. You aren’t quite sure if it’s the foreign burnt smell of mushroom mixed with his signature cologne or his tangible strong presence that you are struck with, but you hang the wet towel on the door handle and storm into the kitchen to see that you aren’t mistaken. He is really here. 

“Ran.” You say, stopping halfway. You bite your cheek to stop yourself from smiling so hard because it’s stupid and of course you look wacky and all of a sudden you get shy. Your eyes freeze and you aren’t looking at Ran, but at Rindou who is behind him and is trying so hard to pretend he is still looking through the remaining containers. 

It’s only worse that Ran too is growing timid. In his own way. His high cheekbones are dusted with pink and he smirks noticing your reaction to him. He loves that he can understand how you are searching for comfort and help in his brother. Ran’s only wish is that someday you might be able to seek those qualities in him. 

For now, he is amused. He opens his arms not ungluing himself from the table and the ease with which you fall into them makes his insides go so soft and tender he thinks he will burst right this second. Your domestic look and sleepy face intensifies his emotions even more. He doesn’t remember if he ever saw you like this or is it his first time, but he supposes and rightfully so that it’s because he hasn’t seen you for twelve days that he feels that way. 

“Did you burn something?” You ask him, tilting your head to the side so you could see his face. His hair is up in a messy bun and few coloured long strands are loosed up snaking its way around his shoulders. Before you never noticed just how long his hair is. You think it’s weird how you never paid attention to it when it’s one of the 

“Yeah. So bad I threw the pan away too.” He chuckles. “KFC?”

"KFC." You say.

“KFC.” Rindou sighs.

[hungharrington]

okay what are ur thoughts on challenging steve to edge himself everyday for no nut november 🫣 do you think he would make it through the entire month????

okay this turned into a whole rambling thought fic ??? a whole 3k of it?? this is hella unedited cos i'm running out the door so i'll be back to check for mistakes but enjoy some sub!steve & some sorta mean!reader, definitely a hint of a humiliation & exhibitionism kink so beware if that isn't your thing! enjoy u horny bastards MDNI this entire blog is 18+

the whole thing comes about because of a playful bicker.

it’s starts with talking about how long you’ve gone without sex— with steve insisting his dry spell before you two started fooling around was way longer and more difficult than yours.

and you had laughed and teased, cooing about how he could absolutely not make it through an entire week without cumming like you did for a whole month— while he insists the opposite is true.

and steve is nothing if not a competitive bastard who loves to try prove people wrong. so you challenge him to last the whole month — no cumming, no nothing.

but you don’t say no touching. and steve, poor, oblivious to the consequences he’s going to feel very soon, figures there’s no harm in giving in to his morning wood, rutting against his sheets with these quiet grunts until he gets bored and rolls out of bed. it’s something he’s done before and his hard-on goes down in the shower like usual & he goes to work far too smug, feeling so confident and ready to brag when he sees you.

you come into family video middle of the day and steve delights, ready to demolish the challenge you’ve set, bragging about his easy morning and his killer restraint.

your eyebrows raise and you look pleasantly surprised — not miffed, like steve hoped you would — and you offer to raise the stakes. leaning over one of the shelves as he works idly, you change the rules a bit… and set a prize if he’s to complete your challenge.

“if you go the whole month, no cumming, i’ll let you fuck me,” you hum, a wicked smile on your mouth at the way steve straightens up. you’ve been fooling around, tucking your hands into each others pants like horny teenagers but you haven’t actually slept together yet. “anywhere you want, any way you want,”

and steve is smarter than he looks, even as you can see this lust glazing over his eyes— options, so many options pour into his mind.

you in his car, in his lap, riding him and making those nice pitiful noises you do. you in his bed, beneath him, head thrown back in his sheets as you cry out. you, against the wall behind the family video, hidden away but only just, moaning into his hand as you try to keep quiet while you fall apart on his cock.

his cock begins to thicken in his pants just at the thought & steve shifts his weight.

“what’s the catch?” he asks.

“to make your challenge more difficult, you have to touch yourself every day of the month.”

“touch myself?”

“mhm,” you nod, eyes darting down to his bulge. your wicked grin grows at the sight of it growing in his jeans. “properly. not just a little touch, a proper jerk off. how long’s it take you to get hot and bothered? let’s say 5 minutes of stroking, each and every day.”

you’ve got this look in your face like you don’t think he can do it — so of course, steve takes the bait.

“easy.” he snips back, eyes narrowing. “hope you’ll spend the month getting prepared to take it. after a whole month of nothing? can’t promise i’ll be too gentle.”

your smile turns almost feline.

and so it begins. the first few days sail by, steve easily using his mornings in bed to stroke his cock idly, feeling his desire swell and then letting it swirl down the drain in a shower that gets colder every day. after the fifth day, steve has to admit it’s not nice — he can feel his mounting urge to cum building up but it’s not terrible. it’s certainly ignorable. he’s got this in the bag.

another five days pass— but now, he’s waking up aching hard. it takes longer now in the shower to get his hard-on to flag and worse when steve realises he has to still jerk off to win your challenge. his hand feels so much softer than usual and his keyed up lust springs to the surface to moment he starts to stroke himself— steve groans lowly, pressing his head against the tiles and tries go think of unpleasant things.

he fucks up on day 13.

his alarm goes off late and his dream had been lewd and vulgar, an endless loop of sinking his fat cock into you and envisioning how wet and warm you’d be around him. his cock is throbbing when he drags himself out of sleep and he realises he’s been humping against the mattress in his sleep.

the cold shower helps, barely. shivering beneath the icy spray, steve stares at his thickened cock and groans— knowing if he wraps his hand around it now and fucks his fist, he’ll cum in a minute.

so he leaves it and goes to work, wound up enough to snap at robin and then apologise 20 minutes later. you come into his work again, having been absent for the last couple of days, and it’s like you can smell it on him.

“hard morning?” you smirk at him.

“fuck off,” he growls, shoving a vcr back onto one of the shelves. then he looks back at you. “i’m still winning your stupid challenge by the way.”

“uh huh,” you say, not believing him at all. “how’s it’s been going? fucking your cock but never getting finish?”

even your words have an effect on him. steve feels his body flush, his dick strain in his pants, his gut churning with heat. he stiffens up and scrambles to think of a reply — but you’re already laughing.

“oh man, we’re not even halfway through the month and i think you could blow in your pants right here.” you muse teasingly. steve grips the shelf tighter and shakes over the fluster you have on him.

“i have more self restraint than that,” he snips back. the flush passes and he resumes his task, flashing you a quick glare.

you nod and hum again, like you don’t believe a thing he’s a saying, and then he’s watching you head out the door again.

the moment steve realises he’s fucked up is when he’s getting into bed. his cock is, thankfully, not hard — even if there is this persistent tug from his balls that never seems to leave. but he hasn’t stroked himself at all today.

painstakingly, he begins to — soft, gentle strokes over his cock, hoping, praying he can get five minutes in without working himself up too bad. it’s futile because it only takes about twenty seconds behind his cock is twitching in his hand, growing heavier, the head of it beginning to dribble pre-cum and steve moans in anguish into his pillow.

he stares at his alarm clock and strokes slowly, so slowly, having to stop every couple of seconds until finally five minutes passes. steve sighs and releases his cock which twitches in response, the head giving a sad spurt of pre-cum. he’s so keyed up he can’t possibly sleep. his cock is so hard it’s throbbing.

as he pulls his boxers up and buries himself under the duvet, but every touch is too stimulating, his skin on fire with how the urge to cum itches beneath it. he ends up having a very cold shoulder at 3am and his cock never fully softens.

it’s brutal from there on out. from day 14 onwards, his cock remains in this permanent state of aching, always half thickened and ready to go the moment it gets some stimulation. which turns out, is far easier to get now— jeans on the tighter side, the right seat, even the rumble of his car beneath him are enough to have steve swearing and pushing at his crotch, willing it to go down.

that’s how you find him on day 20, five minutes late for his shift because he’s staring down at his tented jeans and trying to think of anything to make it go away. your tap on his window makes him startle, seizing in his seat before he realises it’s probably the only person who’s expecting to see him with a boner in public.

“hard morning?” you joke again, this time pointing at his obvious bulge.

steve glares at you. “you already made that joke.”

“and you didn’t appreciate it the first time!” you say back cheerily. you round the front of his car and open the door, plopping yourself in the passenger seat like you own it.

“what are you doing?” steve asks, going to cross his arms but feeling terribly exposed. he settles for covering his groin, muscles twitching at the slight stimulation the weight of his hands does. his hips twitch forward.

“i’ve got a proposition for you,” you say.

steve shakes his head instantly. “nope, no way.”

you laugh at his quick insistence. “wait listen! i think you will want to consider it, okay?”

you pause and when steve doesn’t say anything more, just eyes you warily, you continue.

“i will knock off five whole days off your challenge,” you hold up your hand, fingers splayed out to indicate the number. your mischievous eyes make steve worry. even if five days off makes his challenge that much easier.

“if you do your five minutes today right now.”

steve blinks. his chest flushes hot at your proposal as it sinks in— here, in the parking lot in front of his work, you want him to jerk off for five whole minutes?

“what? right here?” the question bursts out of him.

it’s not busy out in the least. even in the store, steve hasn’t even seen keith walking about or any customers milling around. he knows keith won’t come outside to fetch him and he’s the only car in the parking lot, besides one another that parked down the other end.

“five minutes for five days off,” you say, twiddling your fingers with a wicked smile.

steve considers it, even though he can already feel his cock growing harder beneath his hands. he groans and throws his head back against the headrest. was he really about to do this?

he looks at the time and then starts to undo the button of his jeans. fuck, guess he was.

he steals a glance at you as he pulls down his zipper and tugs his jeans down a couple inches to expose his boxers. the mischief from your smile has faded, a hunger taking its place. steve averts his eyes, far too aware of how his cock twitches in his boxer at your attention.

he slips a hand into his boxers and curls it around his hard cock. a keening noise pulls from his throat and steve blushes scarlet— all his little noises as he’s spiraled into this lustful denial haven’t had an audience until right now.

he shifts his hand up, a slow stroke, but you’re quickly reaching out to grab his wrist, halting to movement. steve opens his eyes, not sure when they had closed, and makes a noise of confusion.

you grin deviously. “wait,” you point to the clock on the dash. “you can go when the minute changes, big boy.”

steve’s hips jump forward at your words, both the name and your denial. he groans before he can help it, his eyes trained intently on the dash. in his hand, his cock leaks pitifully, a wet spot beginning to stain through his boxers.

humiliatingly, you notice it too. “aw, you’re making a mess and you haven’t even started.”

“stop,” steve murmurs, aiming for stern but failing pathetically. the word comes out as a whine. his cheeks glow fiery hot.

you laugh and then tap his wrist— the minute having flicked over just a second ago.

steve starts his stroking, slow and easy, his eyes slipping closed. five minutes, he can do five minutes of jerking off. even if he was suddenly keenly aware of your watchful gaze, of the window beside him, of the pure exposure of the situation.

“that’s not jerking,” you huff disapprovingly. steve’s eyes crinkle open, his mouth already hung open as he pants softly. his hand does another pass over his cock and he smothers a moan into the palm of his hand.

“go faster or it won’t count.” you say wickedly and steve whimpers, his hand obeying without thought. with the way he’s leaking all over himself, it only takes a couple long strokes before he’s making lewd, wet noises as he fucks into his hand.

it shouldn’t be as hot as it is — rubbing his own cock while you watch, eyes darting between his moving hand and his flushed face. steve can hear himself making little noises with every exhale, tiny little whines as he burns up. the coil in his tummy tightens unexpectedly.

“f-fuck-!” he stops his hand completely, gripping the steering wheel with the other as he feels his orgasm swell. it grows closer, so near to tipping over that steve can’t control his hips as they keep moving, rutting into the air frantically, into nothing, as they try to get him over the edge.

it takes another thirty seconds for his breath to catch and steve to settle down enough to not cum immediately. he quivers in his seat. his eyes flutter open to look at you.

“that was really cute,” you muse, eyes almost feline, dragging up and down his body, slow as trickling honey. steve feels his cock twitch at your words, flushing hotly when your eyes dart to his boxers and definitely notice.

“not five minutes though,” you say with teasing tilt in your voice. you point to the clock on the dash. “i think that was… 1 whole minute?”

despite how he tries to stop it, steve can’t help the pathetic noise he makes in response. he wants to be able to finish this stupid fucking challenge you’ve set, wants to prove himself, wants to be good.

he starts moving his hand again before he can consider how bad of an idea it is. he should just say no and do the next ten days. but it’s wet and warm in his hand, the tip of his cock so drippy that he can pretend his hand is yours. you seem pleasantly surprised to see him going again so soon, your lids low as you watch him closely.

“are you normally this loud?”

steve knows you mean the slick noises coming from the way he’s fucking into his hand. he tries to huff but it comes out as a quiet moan and his face flushes hotter again.

he shakes his head instead, his hair scraping against the headrest. god, his neck is burning up. he’s pretty sure he’s never been harder in his life — but fuck, he can’t stop now.

“how- how ma- many minutes?” the words strain to get out, wrapped in his arousal. his nipples peak hard in his shirt, the friction only adding to his pleasure.

at some point, his hand stopped moving all together and his hips started doing all the work. steve presses against the drivers seat, hips lifting off and bucking into his hand and— shit, it’s too much, the sticky boxers are gonna make him cum if he rubs against them one more time.

in haste, he shoves them down his thighs, exposing his cock to you and anyone who deigns to take a peek in his window. something churns in his gut and steve screws his eyes up, willing himself not to cum yet. so close, he’s so close.

“just one more,” you say, suddenly sounding more breathy than before. steve’s eyes snap open, darting over to look at your face — but you’re fixated on his crotch, watching with a hungry expression.

your eyes lift to his face. another devious smile. steve whines. so close, he’s so fucking close, so close he can taste it. he can win, he can do it.

“steve,” you say softly, reaching out to nudge his chin in your direction. he wasn’t aware of when his eyes slipped shut again but your staring him in the face all lovingly, all wickedly and steve wills his orgasm down. another minute, another fucking minute, he can wait, he’s so close he’s— “cum,” you command.

steve does. white hot flashes through his body as he tips over the edge, ecstasy washing over every sense, stronger than he's ever felt before. his cock kicks up in his hand and a whorish moan drags out of his throat as he paints the steering wheel with ropes of cum.

for a minute, steve doesn't give a fuck if he's just lost— he just cares about how fucking good it feels to fuck his fist, to feel every pass over his slit all the way through his body. he whines and whimpers as the feeling tapers off, his hips finally settling down into the seat.

the mortification of what he's done begins to set it, like the drizzles of cum drying on his steering wheel. he can't stop panting, can't think of single word to say, his lips opening and closing as he tries to recover from the best orgasm of his life.

he hears the car door open and it shoots him into gear, stuffing himself back into his sticky boxers, a shiver going down his spine at how unpleasant it feels. oh fuck, and he's got a whole shift ahead of him.

you're still hovering, one hand on the open car door, leaned down and watching him frantically try to recover— all with that damned wicked smile on your face.

you rap your knuckles on the roof of the car. "damn. better luck next month, right harrington?"

you don't sound sorry at all. steve watches you close the door and leave, weaving between the stores and out of sight as his cock softens and his boxers grow colder. he screws his eyes up and smacks his head back against the headrest.

he's so fucking screwed.

[selfishdoll]

NOW PLAYING…. SWIM

So hard to ignore ya, keep your body open, swim

ARTIST! CHOSO x FEM!READER

sum. your poor roommate was stumped drawing the naked female body. pictures weren’t working and porn definitely didn’t help. so you did the next best thing, you modeled for him.

cw: reader is black (obviously), body image issues, modern au, choso & reader are 19-21, reader’s a little dumb, porn mention, ooc choso (this is my first time writing for him bare with me 🙏🏾), oral sex (f! receiving), overstimulation, soft dom choso, size difference, pet names, praise, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, roommates to lovers, slight possessiveness, pussy drunk choso(?), etc. unedited, please excuse grammar & spelling mistakes.

this was so rushed i’m sorry, but hope you enjoy it <3

The sweet sound of Erykah Badu surrounded the kitchen, soft murmurs of her lyrics traveling from your lips. Your eyes focused on the pan, sliding your spatula under the bacon strips with a soft hum— flipping them soon after. You were dressed in a simple random tshirt — probably your roommate’s — and shorts. So focused on your food, you became a little startled when heavy footsteps headed towards the kitchen, turning to spot Choso entering.

“Morning, Choso.” You spoke in a soft tone, glancing to see the man approaching the fridge, opening it and kneeling to inspect the shelves. He gave a soft morning back, clearly still tired. It was nine in the morning after all, and he typically spent his nights drawing or working. You knew nothing about being a artist, but it seemed stressful. You always felt bad watching his tall form drag into your shared home and to his room— or even the couch if he was tired enough.

“You want some breakfast.”

“No thanks.”

You pulled a sour face, placing the finished pieces of bacons onto a plate, reaching over for the carton of eggs. “You just woke up.. you should at least eat before drawing.” You were always so worried about him, from his sleeping habits to his eating ones; you were surprised the man was still walking on two legs. You stiffened as his large form brushed across you, reaching for a piece of bacon before turning to leave. You shook your head with a small smile, staring after him. “You know that’s not what I meant!”

After breakfast you had settled down on the couch, staring boredly at the random show you had selected. You turned into the soft halloween themed blanket, sighing softly to yourself as you stretched out upon the cushions. Your attention soon drifted away from the show, rather to the man you called your roommate. Breathing softly, you quickly realized something. You hadn’t seen the poor thing in hours.

Rising up from the couch, you slid your feet into your slides, walking towards the back of the house towards the bedrooms. You approached his door, knocking against it for a moment and softly calling his name. When you got no response, you grasped the door handle, turning it open and entering. Your eyes peered over the room; his bed unmade, black blankets and sheets disbelieved, random posters hanging on the walls, while his lanky form was hunched over his desk. You stepped fully inside, eyes widening a little. “Oh!”

His chair switched around, you now able to fully see the porn playing on his computer. To your relief, you hadn’t caught him doing anything scandalous. Instead, he looked quiet bored. You pursed your lips a bit, “Are you… watching porn?”

“Not pleasurably, no.” Choso muttered, clicking his computer to pause the video. He sighed a little, leaning back in his chair. You approached his side, glancing down at his desk to spot the many balled up papers and his opened sketchbook. The man watched as you lifted the book of his desk, you delicately flipping through the pages. Each one was littered with sketches of the female body, little notes accompanying a few. Others completely ruined by dark, harsh scribbles. You hummed a bit, leaning against his desk. “You’re trying to draw a naked woman?”

Choso nodded at your words, rubbing his hands up and down his pants. “I tried photos.. other sketches, and now— this.” He motioned towards the raunchy video on his screen, hands falling back to his lap in another soft sigh. “Nothing is working out.” He seemed a bit annoyed or rather depressed, a thought that saddened you just a tad. From the dates residing on the pages, it was clear he was working on this for a while. And while a few of the sketches looked good, you were sure they weren’t up to his professor’s standards. You placed the sketchbook back down with a little hum, thinking to yourself.

Until, possibly the greatest idea popped into your mind.

You placed your hands on your chest, turning to him with a sweet smile. “I could model for you! I’m sure that’s what you’re missing; something alive and in your face.” You watched as his eyes slowly widened, dipping across your form for a split second before rising back to your face. Choso sat unmoving, quiet as he took in your words. It begun to worry you when a minute had passed and he was still completely silent. You bit the inside of your cheek, hands falling to your sides. “Or… not?”

Choso seemed to finally breathe, blinking as his gaze turned away from you. “It’s uh.. You do realize you’ll be completely naked. In front of me. And I’ll be drawing you..” He spoke softly, slowly; assuring you heard every single word he uttered. He licked his lips hesitantly as you nodded with that same sweet smile. “It could take a while, [Name]. Plus I would be showing my professor this. Are you sure you’re comfortable with that?”

You nodded for about the umpteenth time, as if completely unfazed by this. “I don’t mind! You’ve seen me half-naked when I got drunk that one time and threw up all over myself.” You shrugged; smiling a little as you heard him snort softly muttering something like I remember that. Choso looked over his desk once more, looking over his options. Finally after a few moments he nodded, turning back to you. “Okay, sure. You need like.. ten minutes to get ready?”

Your eyes widened at his words, smile faltering for a moment as you brought your hands close. “Oh, oh! You want to draw me now?” The words came out in a soft waver, the situation finally settling into your mind. It seemed easy enough when you spoke about it, but now that it was about to happen? You weren’t so sure it was a smart idea.

Choso nodded at you, “Yeah. I’ve been working on this a while, I want to get it over with..” He spoke, staring down at the manilla colored pages for a moment before his dark eyes fluttered back to your face. “If that’s okay.”

“Of course! Yeah that’s fine. I’ll.. Ill just go get ready!” You forced a smile, turning on your heel and basically racing out of his bedroom into your own. Shutting the door behind you, you felt your heart drop to your ass. You really fucked up this time, you really just had to open your big mouth. Getting naked infront of your roommate? One that you’ve had a very, very small amount of feelings for? You wanted to shoot yourself just to get out of the situation. That would be much easier then saying you changed your mind and watching the poor artist delve back down his hole of stress and anxiety over his art.

You bit your lip, walking infront of your mirror; glancing yourself over. Your fingers curled under his your tshirt, yanking it off your body before moving onto your shorts and panties. Now completely naked you turned, grimacing a bit at prominent stretch marks etched upon your dark mocha skin. You wrapped your arms around your stomach, anxiety trickling down your spine.

What if he didn’t like what he sees? Probably would tell you nevermind, after seeing your body. Oh, you wanted to cry from that thought. Instead, however— you slapped your cheeks, the sting knocking you away from your insecurities. Everything was going to be fine. As nonchalant as Choso was, he wouldn’t comment on your body in a negative light. He simply wasn’t that type of person. So, with a different pep in your step; you approached your closet to grab your black silk robe, pulling it onto your body and securing it at your waist. You waltzed out of your bedroom with a false sense of confidence, approaching his open door and walking in.

Choso’s chair was now turned towards his bed which was now made, a silk blanket tossed across it. He was sitting waiting, sketchbook rested upon his lap as his leg bounced; eyes shifting to you the moment you entered. You gave a nervous smile, walking inside and taking a seat on the bed. “I’ve never modeled for anyone before, I hope I do alright.”

He smiled a bit at you, the tension of the room dissipating the moment he did. “You’re a smart girl, you’ll be fine.” Choso spoke, not noticing the way your eyebrows shot up at his words. Instead of speaking you simply nodded, hands coming to the knot infront of you. You delicately undid the robe, pulling it off your body and placing it off to the side. Once finished you brought your hands to your chest, legs pushed together as you glanced over at the man. Gauging his reaction— slightly disappointed it was unreadable.

“H-How should I pose?”

Choso breathed softly, straightening in his chair as his gaze switched over you. “Is it alright if I touch you?.. It’s easier then explaining.” He didn’t move until you nodded, standing up from his seat and walking towards you. He gently pushed on your shoulder, murmuring for you to lay across his bed. You obeyed, back hitting the soft silky blankets, dark colored braids fanning around your features. Your skin went warm as he gently grabbed your calf, bending your legs to lay your feet against the bed. The artist took a step back for a moment, looking you over once again before nodding to himself. “We can take a few breaks when you get cold or achy.”

“Okay..” You spoke in a sing-song tone, watching as he sat back down. His hands delicately grabbed his sketchbook and pencil, assuring he was at the middle of the manilla page before gliding the lead across it. You breathed softly, laying completely still as not to ruin the image— while also, trying to ignore his gaze. Which wasn’t an easy task. It was calculating, focused completely on your body and nothing more. Sketching you with his eyes and then his fingers, pressing the pencil into the paper. It was intense, and you felt as if you couldn’t breathe under it.

Moments of silence passed, his scribbling, soft swears, and brief erasing the only sound. You soon began to relax under his gaze, feeling your anxiety seep away from your body. With how comfortable the blankets were, you could almost fall asleep. Almost.

His soft swears and scribbles kept interrupting you, and eyes blinking open to spot the small frustrated look over taking his features. You frowned a little, tapping your finger against your collarbone and adjusting your hips. “Is something wrong?” You called softly, watching his eyes snap from the page and over to you.

“No its.. it’s fine.”

You pursed your lips, sitting up for a moment and reaching for your robe. “We can take a small break if you’re not.” You grabbed it, pulling it over your body lazily. You stood up from his bed, walking over to stand beside him. On the page were a few sketches of you, some started while others were scribbled out. You hummed a bit, “These look nice.. why didn’t you finish them?”

“It’s..” Choso sighed softly, rising the sketchbook up higher. He seemed to search for the words for a moment, finally looking at you. “I can’t focus.”

“Focus?” You questioned, squinting at the pages with a confused expression. You glanced back at him, giving a nervous smile. “You seem to be focusing just fine, you just have t..” Your words drifted off as the male set his sketchbook off to the side, standing up from his chair. You glanced up at him, sucking in a breath when you noticed how intense his gaze was. Before you couldn’t distinguish it at all, but now? Oh, you knew that emotion all to well— that desire swirling in his eyes. Your breath hitched as he came close, hand reaching towards your own and gently grabbing it. Your grip loosened, the silky black robe falling to the ground before you, revealing your body to him once again. He breathed the moment he laid eyes on your form, hands hovering as if scared to touch you.

“Can’t believe you allowed me to see you like this..” Choso murmured more to himself then you, lips dropping as if in awe— as if he was truly seeing you for the first time. His eyes couldn’t remain on one point, dancing across your form and soaking you in. You felt so hot under your skin, despite the fact he hadn’t laid a finger on you.

“Choso.. Please touch me.” You finally spoke, voice coming out in a small whine. His eyes snapped back to your face, gauging the way your pretty lips formed a pout. That was enough for him, enclosing his arm around you and tugging you into his body, planting his lips against you. The kiss was slowly and calculated, a hand of his rising to gently grab the back of your head; tilting it so he could kiss you how he wished. His tongue prodded your plump lips, slithering into your mouth as he pushed forward. The moment the back of your knees hit the bed he was laying you on it, large form hovering above you; a hand pressed beside your head.

Your hands slid up his covered arms, gripping his shirt as he somehow deepened the kiss, taking your mouth as his own; tongue curling around and sucking your own appendage. Moments continued of the sweet lip locking, pulling away when air was needed. Soft pants entered the room, Choso leaning on his hunches, hands carrying down your body to your thighs, bending your legs and spreading them. You breathed as his eyes traced your form, heat emitting from them.

“I wasted your time, [Name]..”

“Hm?” You blinked in confusion, hands falling from his arms and to the bed, tilting your head up at him. Choso glanced at your face for a moment before he came to lean over you again, sucking kisses into your neck.

“I’m never letting anyone else see you like this. Never. Doesn’t matter if I drew it or not.” The words flew from his mouth in a deep tone, tracing his canines across your skin. His kisses lowered down your body to the valley between your breasts, lowering to your stomach, and finally.. where you needed him most. His strong hands grabbed the underside of your thighs, spreading your legs open for him. Choso breathed heavily at the sight of you, leaning down to kiss your mound. The action caused you to twitch, glancing down at his fluffy buns between your legs.

A soft oh, escaped you the moment his tongue separated your folds, lazily carrying across. The action alone causes your hands to travel to his hair, fingers curling and gripping the moment his lips wrapped around your clit. He was so gentle; carefully sucking, tongue gliding across the sensitive bud as his hands gripped your legs. Choso pressed his face against your wetting sex even more, lapping you up— slowly getting drunk from your taste. The man couldn’t believe you offered to model naked for him, completely bare; across his blankets. And he definitely couldn’t believe his head was between your legs, eating you up as if you were his last meal.

The pleasure trickled across your body, eyes pinched closed as you struggled against closing your legs around his head. The feeling was far too foreign, far too much— you couldn’t think about anything but his tongue and his lips, pulling soft moans out of your body. Your hips rose into his face, smothering him with your pussy; a groan of his vibrating your body. The man pulled back for a moment, gaining his breath back before he was diving back in; tongue circling your clit, making you a mess. Your fingers began to ache from hard you were clenching him, gasping as you felt him rest your legs on his shoulders, hands now falling to your ass to grip you. Pulling you even closer.

His name fell from your lips in a sweet tone, back arched as your eyes were pinched closed from the pleasure. It didn’t take long for your end to build closer and closer, moving your hips along to expert movements of his tongue. The moment the appendage pushed inside you, however, you were lost; crying out as your came all over his face.

Choso gripped you tighter, lapping up your mess, ignoring the soft whines you exhibited from the sensitivity. He finally released you once he was done, pulling back and breathing as he leaned his against your thigh, eyes looking up at you. From the way you were panting; pretty lips parted with a glossy film in your eyes, he had half a mind to go right back between your legs.

Instead he rose over your form, hand grasping your hip as your legs hung loosely on his waist. He smiled at you, leaning down to kiss your chin. “So beautiful…I’ve always thought so. The moment we became roommates.” His words were kind, soft, a distraction to the hand carrying down your body until his two fingers curled inside you, pushing all the way down to his knuckles. He followed as you jumped from the pleasure, watching your hand wrap around his wrist. “Now I get to make you feel good.. get to see you all beautiful under me.” Choso murmured, leaning to kiss you once again. His fingers started a slow pace inside you, pushing against your velvety walls, stretching you open from the thickness of them.

Your legs shook, moaning into his mouth before breaking the kiss to gasp the moment you felt his thumb circle your swollen bud. “Choso..” You spoke sweetly, eyebrows pinched close nails digging into his skin as his thrust grew faster. As amazing as it felt to you; his strong, long appendages pushing you open— you needed more. Your eyes opened, leaning up to brush your lips across his own. “Need you..” You spoke against them, other hand coming to wrap around his neck. To your dismay, the man shook his head at you, continued to scissor his fingers inside you.

“Choso—“

“I’m not going to rush.. I don’t want to hurt you.” Choso spoke against your lips, curling his fingers up to brush across that spongy spot inside you. He smiled at the muffled whine that escaped you, sliding a third finger inside. “Be good.. just wait.” He promised, pressing his finger harsher against your clit, soft rubs turning into fast tight circles. The artist continued this treatment for a while, you feeling another orgasm approaching. Despite how close you were, the careful thrusts of his fingers stopped, pulling them out of you.

Despite missing the warmth, you watched in excitement as the man began to push down his sweats and boxers, breathing softly as his cock came into view. A lighter color than the rest of his body, heavy and long, reaching just below his navel. The tip was flushed a soft red, thick— sure to stretch got completely. The thought alone caused our legs to shake, warm flushed hot in anticipation.

Choso came close, crown of his length gliding across your wet heat; coating himself in your essence. The movement alone had the two of you hissing, his hands tight on your hips as he slowly rocked his own. Once he felt he was lubricated enough, he was using a hand to line up with your entrance, slowly pushing in. The man swallowed as he felt your walls clamp around him, hunching over your body as he breathed. His eyes looked you over, leaning down to gently kiss the pained expression away.

“Takin’ me so well, princess.. I’m almost there.” Choso whispered into your skin, slowly pushing the rest of himself into you— bottoming out. He shuddered as he felt you pulse and throb around him, attempting to keep his hips still, struggling entirely. He closed his eyes, placing his face into your neck, smiling when he felt your hands grip his shirt. Gentle kisses traced your skin, a hand massaging your hip to coax you into relaxing. Moments passed before he was sure you were fine, pulling his hips backs slowly and experimentally. When he pushed in, and you only moaned in pleasure rather than pain; he knew he was fine.

Rising away from your neck, the man pulled his hips back again only pushing back in with more much force then before. He watched in awe at the way your lips fell open, honeyed moans escaping you as he rocked into you. The man wasn’t lying when he said he found you beautiful the moment you became his roommate. He hated himself, actually. Knowing any glance at you and his cock was twitching, imagining what it would be like to be with you.. to touch you, to feel every single part of you. Choso truly hated himself for thinking of his roommate in such a way.

But, he was grateful you returned the sentiment.

The moment he was placing his weight behind his thrusts your soft mind turned into sharp cries, eyes rolling to the back of your skull as you held onto him for stability. You were losing yourself, succumbing to the pleasure he was giving you, opening your body to him and only him. “Ch..choso, fuck!” You keened out, legs shaking around his form. You gasped as he came closer, pushing deeper inside to fuck right against your g-spot. Your hand lowered to his stomach, the man catching your wrist to turn it— locking your fingers.

“I know, I know.” The man cooed, soft swears escaping him each time he plunged in and out of your wet entrance. He pressed your hand against the bed, watching the way you attempted to hide your face— causing a disgruntled sound to escape him. Choso released your hand, grabbing your throat gently to turn you to face him. He grinned down at your wide eyes, “Keep your eyes right here, focus on me [Name].” The artist’s words came out soft, a complete contrast to the way he was bullying your insides. Even so, you obeyed; staring up at him even as your eyes grew blurry from the pleasure filled tears that collected in your vision.

You felt a familiar pressure in your stomach, legs wrapping around his waist tightly as your moans became shaky. In the midst of your babbles of his name and swears, you informed him you were close, causing the man to chuckle softly. “Hold it.”

“Choso..” His name came out in a whiney drag, tears trailing down your cheeks to which he kissed away. Again, a completely sweet contrast to the way he was fucking you.

“I—I can’t.”

“You can.” Choso confirmed softly, angling his hips so he brushed against your swollen nub with each thrust. “I know you can.. be good and wait for me, beautiful.” He breathed, slamming into your before his words could even escape. Though you whined again, you quickly listened, holding back your orgasm— which much trouble given the way he didn’t let up with his thrusts.

Moments of torture passed, your mind lost to the pleasure but still holding on just a bit. Choso was close now, thrusts desperate and uncoordinated as his groans turned guttural, face falling into your neck. Just when you thought you would burst he rasped into your ear, “Make me a mess, princess.”

You listened instantly, creaming all over his length, walls clenching tightly around him. Choso stuttered, plunging himself deeply before releasing inside you, filling you to the brim; shaking as you milked him. Your mixed pants entered the room, his hips stilling as he simply laid on top of you. Your arms wrapped around him, breathing him in with an exhausted smile.

“Are you really not gonna use my model?”

You whined a bit as he rolled his hips, grasping your leg and hitching it close to him. Choso pulled back to glance at you, thumb caressing the stretch marks on your skin.

“You’re all mine. No one else is allowed to see.”

[seokari]

Thinking about..

Bf! Megumi ( sfw )

Note^^: Im not really used to writing in english, it's not my first language so if I have spelling mistakes or something like that you are pretty much welcome to communicate it to me <3

Tw: None, just fluff ^^

Sfw

Bf!Megumi who needs to always have a hand on you, nothing really noticiable, just holding your hand or your waist. He is extra shy about it, when you bought it to the convo he was denying it.

Bf!Megumi who doesn't really do pda (except for the hand/waist holding), but when he is jealous he is extra clingy, standing behind you, hands on your sides, rubbing and hugging, head buried in the crook of your neck, quick pecks on your cheeks, lips and neck (All of this while looking at the other guy dead in the eye)

His friends tease him a lot because of this

Bf!Megumi who denies buying you something, but ends up buying it without you insisting with Satoru's card. He acts like he is annoyed when you are thanking him, kissing his face and smiling, but he actually loves seing his baby happy.

Bf!Megumi who denies being cuddly, a total lie, when you two sleep on the same bed, he tells you to get on your side, when he thinks you are finally asleep, he starts spooning you, obviously you have noticed, you arent dumb.

Bf!Megumi who is constantly embarassed by Dad!Satoru, (yk he raised gumi so yeah). Satoru starts telling you things about Gumi's childhood and teenager times (not so long ago).

Actually it's pretty cute, because Gumi is all red and flustered every time this happens, covering his face and murmuring something that sound like a casting spell on Satoru's mouth

Nosy!Satoru who happens to be near the place of your dates every single time, but he says its just something that happens "casually". (He's lying, he just likes seing the grumpy black haired boy being loved by someone other than him)

Bf!Megumi who gave you a promise ring and tried to act nonchalant bus was extremely nervous, face and ears red, sweaty hands and that shy look on his face.

"Dont overreact, it's just a gift" he said looking other way, late, your hand are on his neck and you lips all over his face.

"What do you mean? I never do that, its sad that my future husband thinks of me that way"

Pd: I got lazy to write more haha, hope you enjoy! <3

Unedited

[sickuma]

SILLAGE — a Simon Riley fic. 2/2

❱ again this was an au first written on tiktok! this will be the last part of it, please keep in mind that it is all fiction and that if you're going through the same thing and are having the same thoughts, please seek someone you trust. Please fight for yourselves, you're worth it ꜝ？ Warning. . this is a heavy angst fic, mentions of suicide and acts of committing, if that is something that triggers bad emotions, please exit the fic.

paring is Ghost x Reader this is unedited! mistakes such as spelling and grammatical errors are to be expected !

Part 1 (^_^;)

SILLAGE — (n.) The scent that lingers in air, the trail left in water, the impression made in space after something or someone has been and gone; the trace of someone's perfume.

—hey [name]? I know I'm the last person you want to hear from right now, but I just really—

There was a short pause, as the voicemail erupts a slight static sound.

—I love you. That should have been enough reason. No, you were enough. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I was cowardly, I figured that you'll be happier and safer, being with someone who isn't me. Someone who isn't a soldier.

It was the same night he left your apartment. He swore to himself he would not come crawling back. To protect both of you, at the time, it had been the best solution for him. Until the midnight strikes, he remembered just how serious you looked, just how accepting you looked.

Too accepting.

—because who knows when one of these missions would finally take me out. I can't let you suffer through that, I can't be the one to give you that kind of grief. So I thought leaving you was the best option.

There was a dire pause as he thought of the best words possible to express himself. He’s never been one to do such, but for you, he’s willing to be better.

—it wasn't.

He spoke desperately, almost shaking from just how much adrenaline rushed through him. He had just argued with the team, and after a long hour of explaining to them what he needed to do, he was finally permitted to bail out on this mission, it’s not like he wouldn't leave without permission, that's how urgent this is for him, he needed to get to you as soon as possible,

Even he doesn't know why he’s in a rush,

Maybe it's because of your silence, the unanswered calls, and unread messages that brought him on edge.

—I love you, far too much, my love, to even think straight without you. I love you so much it's hard to breathe. I so desperately love you to the point it hurts.

The desperation and sincerity. It was all there. He knew if he couldn't let it out now, he won't let it out ever. This was his only chance of being happy.

You were his only chance for happiness. He almost couldn't believe he thought letting you go because of his fear was the best decision.

He stupidly let you go, succumbing to the fear of dying while you wait for him. He knows better, he will do better,

For you. Because you're worth changing for, you're worth the risk.

—please don't hate me. I know I was an ass for leaving in the first place, baby, I am sorry. You loved me so much that it felt so good, I didn't know I'm capable of feeling that way, so I was scared that worse would come after. I'm not scared anymore. You looked at me like there's something in me worth looking at,

He felt like he was saying so much yet so little at the same time,

He had so much to tell you but very few words to express it. He needs to be with you. He needs to see you and physically explain to you just how much you mean to him.

—I won't waste it, love, not again. Please open the door for me when I get back. 

He frowned, realizing once again just how idiotic he was. He knew he should not have done what he did, but it was over with. The only thing left to do is to make things right somehow.

—I've never been taught how to love, I have.. I don't— I'm not the best at it. I'm sorry baby, if I'm not loving you the right way, and for leaving just like that, but I promise I'll be better. you're worth the better of me, you're worth learning love for.

He needed you, and you needed him. That should have been enough reason to risk it.

—when I come back, please let me hold you. Please forgive me for making you feel like an option between my job. It's you. It's always been you. I love you, baby, wait for me. I'll make this right.

As the line cuts, the static sound fills the eerie room of yours. The very same room he had walked out from, the same room where you sat breathing hours ago. There were no other living sounds except for the occasional ticking of the clock.

There were no signs nor sounds of life perceived in the room. The silence was thick. With your lifeless body beside the bed in a fetal position, a bottle of used pills tightly wrapped around your hands. It was light, about three to four pills left inside a newly bought bottle.

It was dead silent as if the universe sympathized with you.

Allowing silence in regards to respect for what has passed, for what has ended.

﹑

“My family’s never been the typical joyous family, I guess that affected me, as a person in general.”

You explain, running your hand through his hair while his head laid on your lap. It’s one of those days where he’d be much affectionate compared to the majority of the time. He requested to hear about your childhood while he rests on you,

For a moment you felt your heart and breath hitch.

“I guess growing up in that kind of household really—really influenced my well-being. It's given me problems and worries I shouldn't have.” You were hesitant to continue, “Fear, I started having fears for a lot of things.”It's as if you caught a glimpse of his mind, taking in the details you've just given him.“Fears like?” 

The moment the question reached your ears, he could see your body tense. He understood, and he doesn't plan on pushing it.“You don't have to answer that, my love.” he smiles, “No matter what it is you're scared of, let’s face it together, yeah? You have me. That's enough, I hope.”

Little did he know that fear was yet to come. The fear of leaving soon, the fear of being unable to keep going. How could you ever explain to him that you don't plan to stay long?

﹑

With a ragged breath from exhaustion, he dropped his things once again, the same way he did before he left. Facing your door yet again, panting as a feeling of discomfort plagued him, why exactly? He’s finally here. Why is he so distraught, he wondered.

“[name]?” he knocks,

Swallowing the lump in his throat, his voice strained, and his state dishevelled. “[name] please—it’s me, please answer.”

The lack of response made him think about just how angry he made you,

“I'm sorry,” he whispers,

“I know I was stupid and irrational. I won't do it again, petal, please open the door.”

To say he’s nervous would be an understatement. What would he do if you never find it in you to let him back into the comfort of your arms? Will he return to the familiar cold he had forgotten when he met you?

“[name] I love you.”

He desperately spoke, yearning for an answer; the smallest sign of acceptance. 

It was odd. How quiet it was. Are you that mad? He wonders, but then again, he knew you’re not one to ignore, not even when you’re the angriest you've been. You would never shut him out, not ever. “[name], please, answer, or I'll have to go inside.”

“Baby are you okay?” no response.

Each passing second was like a countdown. He was uneasy and distraught. Afraid even.

The silence felt deafening. He was afraid of what? He had no clue what he was so afraid of, surely you're okay...

Right?

“[name], I'm coming in,” he says sternly, fishing the spare key he oh so gratefully forgot to give back. His heart thumps louder with each action.

The moment he entered, the creak of the door interrupted the silence. He felt like he was intruding on an abandoned space. It felt wrong. He knew something was wrong.

“[name]? I'm back, like—like I always am.” his voice broke, stepping inside, head looking around, hoping to find you and engulf you in his longing arms. “As I told you, I’ll always find my way back… right?”

He kept speaking while he walked, checking and opening every door. Starting from the small kitchen to the bathroom, checking everywhere until there was one room left. He dreaded it, for no reason he was scared and yet he rushed,

He spoke, no—he goes on a tangent, 

“I'll take the month off. We’ll do anything you want, anything to make up for this. I promise we can even get a pet, I always say no, right? This time, I'll agree, anything for you, my love just—”

The silence rung,

Apart from the sound of the door opening by his force, there were no sounds made, not from him, not from anything. He simply stood, dumbfounded at what the room unveiled; at that moment, nothing mattered, not even the breath he had held unknowingly.

A ragged chuckle escaped his lips, though it was hollow. As if he was desperate to know that maybe this is all some sick prank. Maybe this was one of your silly games he always put up with, “Baby? What’s this? Why are you on the floor?”

“Jokes over [name] get up—”

When it all came to view, he was silenced. The second he stepped closer, he saw how your body lay lifeless, how you held that bottle, and how his eyes drifted onto the lone tear, which evidently dried along the hours. 

How long have you been here?

In this state? How long has it been since you left him?

He couldn't feel. He couldn't grasp his head around the sight before him. He’s well familiar with death. He’s seen it before, and he’s lost comrades before, but nothing comes close to what lay in front of him. 

How does one react when their lifeline lies lifeless before their very eyes?

He couldn't approach nor speak. He simply stood with weak knees, tempting to give out. It didn't take him long to crouch, eyes wide open with lips parted slightly. There were no tears, no emotions, the moment numbed him. It didn't feel like reality,

There he crouched, just a few steps away from you. It didn't feel like his heart dropped. It felt almost worse, as if you'd taken it with you. How could this have happened? Did he cause this?

If you had told him a day ago that he would witness the person he loved the most laying on the floor devoid of life, he would have laughed at your face, punching you even. This isn't reality. This isn't a reality he wants to face.

It took every courage in his body to bring himself closer to you, afraid of what more he’d discover. With slow steps, he drew closer, grabbing your hand was the first thing he thought of doing. “Oh god…” his voice broke,

Your body isn't as warm as it used to be,

Not as he remembered. The warmth he loved when he would hold you against him, it’s gone. You're gone.

He had felt countless of stiff lifeless bodies and yet yours hurt the most,

The mere thought of it destroyed him. It hasnt sinked in yet, but he could tell. He could tell his demise is near. The realization will hit him in a short while. 

“Baby, im home…” this wasn't him. This was not his voice. Stuttering over the easiest words, strained with pent-up sobs. His chest felt heavy, almost making it difficult to breathe. 

Yet with hitched breath, he picked up your limp body and placed you in his arms, crushing your icy body against him. He held you tightly, but his hands cradled your body tenderly. It was as if he’s afraid of hurting you more.

Ghost was forever fearless, always facing whatever challenge was given to him, even his mortal enemy would know that he isnt necessarily the easiest solder to crack, let alone destroy and yet he finds himself sat on the floor holding the lifeless frame of his lover,

Cradling whatever is left of you,

Desperately holding onto what he can possibly hold on to.

The lieutenant everyone looked up on, admired and viewed as an admirable man, sat on the floor with a weighing heart. Holding back the tears that had formed without his knowledge as he held your body, 

but right now, he wasn't lieutenant simon ‘ghost’ riley.

At this moment, he was just simon, the simon you loved desperately, the simon who loved you just as insanely.

This person right this moment was your simon,

He wasnt anyone else, he was yours.

As he sat on the hard cold floor, thoughts roaming with his heart screaming, he felt like a mess, but that didn't matter. Words can not describe the regret, remorse, and stupidity he felt,

If i didnt leave,

If i didn't walk out that door,would you still have been alive in my arms?Would i still have to hold you soulless?

He held you closer, bringing you closer to him, as close as possible. He felt nothing but regret, nothing but anger for himself. Why is it that the very grief he tried to protect you from, the same reason he left, the same grief he avoided you to feel, why is it that he’s feeling it now?

His ragged sobs filled the room, and the rest remained still as if everything sympathized for him. As if the world understood the hurt he carried. He sobs, holding onto you as if doing so would bring you back. He knew nothing well, and yet he foolishly cried, hoping you’ll hear him and come back to ease the pain.

Like you always did.

At the corner of his eyes, he saw the letters piled not far from them. Without standing, nor letting go of you, he reached for it. Reading the names addressed on each, until he sees the one for him.

Of all the few letters he saw, his was the only one with tear drops which ruined the ink in front, almost unable to read, he brought it closer, dropping the rest.

Simon,

I felt everything.

Thank you, and im sorry,

I love you :)

Swallowing the impossibly heavy lump on his throat, he opened the carefully folded letter. He was met with even more tear drops. The thought of you crying, alone, while you write him a letter to bid him goodbye, crushed his soul.

He cant imagine a greater pain,

It felt surreal.

How could I..

How could I have lost you this easily.

With his blurry vision, he starts to read—well—attempt to. With every sentence, every punctuation, every meaning of your words, all of it felt like a slap to reality.

How could he have not seen?

How did he not notice? Not paying attention to what you were going through? How could he have been so careless as to leave you all alone.

The very fear you spoke of,

He did just exactly what your family had done.

If anybody could have saved me,

it would have been you.

He read the part over and over again, allowing your words to cut through his heart repeatedly. He left you, and yet, at the end of the day, you still see him as someone—the only one who could save you. 

Despite the war inside your mind,

Inside your mind and unwavering emotions, which he hadn't bothered to unveil, he remained the most important person.

May it be in your chaotic mind or the furthest crevices of your heart, he remained on both.

He read it all,

Understanding every single thing you failed to say in person,

Everything you failed to say while you still lived.

It hurts even more. He thought nothing could be more painful when he saw you laying lifeless. But having to read what you wanted to say,

How sorry you were, how thankful you are to him, and how he made you feel. 

It was surely another cut to an already existing wound. His mind flashed memories while he went over the tear stained letter you left.

He remembered everything as if they were as fresh as yesterday. When you first smiled at him, when you first held hands, when your lips first touched.

Your words were true. The story of you really is short-lived. But he couldn't help but think about the what If's

If he stayed,

If he hadn't walked out,

If he ignored his fear of abandoning you,

If he hadn't been so stupid and cowardly.

He gave up, and the heavy lump on the throat overcame him, letting the sting linger for as long as eternity. He read the last words on the letter, with a loud sob, with repeated pleads.

Repeatedly apologising, repeatedly begging for you to come back so he could fix things so everything could return to normal,

So you could return.

A childish wish. A high-ranking soldier held the lifeless body of his lover all while he begs for them to come back. 

"I'm so sorry." He whispers, voice too broken to speak normally. "I'm sorry for not noticing."

"I'm sorry you had to be alone." 

"I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He repeats over and over again, holding you against him. 

At the back of the letter, he could barely see the words written with how blurry the tears clouded his eyes.

Thank you for making me feel.

The words only crushed him even more, sobbing and crying harder to no avail. 

"[name]..." He whispers, holding you close. "Did it hurt? I'm sorry, it must have been so hard."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm so sorry for not being here you."

He apologized, wishing he could have been with you. To convince you otherwise, wishing he could have been here to avoid this,

To avoid losing you.

Wishing he could have stayed to keep making you feel.

The thoughts of your words before he left suddenly entered his mind,

"Can I hug you?"

"One last time?"

Now it all makes sense why you looked so serene, why you looked so accepting. Why did you have that small smile on your lips,

You were bidding him goodbye.

That really was the final hug. 

The final touch he'd ever get, the final living affection he would get from you. 

He holds you now, but it wasn't the same, not even close. Back then, you were smiling and breathing, but now you're no different to an inanimate object. Stiff and cold, this is the person he loved so dearly?

It ached.

And it ached painfully.

The type of ache to never go away, the type of ache he'd keep forever.

The type of ache he'll willingly embrace,

As he held you that night, mourning for what could've been, mourning for someone beyond saving.

This was the ache he'd willingly feel forever,

If it means having you in his mind and heart. He would willingly hurt himself by keeping that ache if it means keeping you in his deceased heart forever.

As the remnant of your memories roamed the room, your presence which now passed, the scent of yours he dearly craved. It left a sillage pain to remember,

You left a sillage worth remembering.

"I'll keep you in my heart,

Even if that damage me,

Even if it kills me.

I'll keep you safe forever."

[xob1tchs]

first time with ethan please 😭

i can taste it

fem!reader x ethan landry

warnings; porn with p much no plot, brief oral (m receiving) loss of virginity (m receiving) unprotected sex, sub ethan, reader doesn’t cum, cream pie, brief mommy kink, unedited so spelling & grammar mistakes.

a/n; title song here! and I’ve never written anything w virginity or loosing it so pls forgive me if it’s a little awkward :0 and pls enjoy!

Your fingers are anxiously dancing along the ridges and dips of Ethan’s abs, nails gently scratching down the skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps as you reach the band of his boxers - fingers slipping past the black elastic, wrapping around his half hard cock “I think we’re ready baby” you mumble, lips brushing the stubble along his jaw, eyelids fluttering closed when his cock jumps in your palm.

You can hear his breathing become uneasy, taking a moment to regain composure, lips parting when you tug him free from the constraints of his Calvin Kleins, cold air hitting his already sensitive cock “i don’t have any condoms” he says, brows frowning as he watches you lower yourself to his cock head, younger lapping up the pearly needs of pre cum.

“I don’t care- I just want you”

your lips wrap around the tip of his cock before he can reply, words morphing into a strangled string of curse words, one of his hands tangling in the smooth hair at the back of your head – he doesn’t have to force you down his cock, because you’re already dragging your lips down his length, until the top hits the back of your throat and tears well in your eyes.

You squeeze at his thigh for purchase, almond nails pressing into the skin as you begin to bob up and down, not quite gagging but also not not gagging. Ethan is moaning above you, your name slipping past his lips in low whines, hips twitching and jerking from the unfamiliar stimulation.

You smile as you pull off, drool slipping down your chin, tears damp with tears, and Ethan mumbles incorrectly about how pretty you look, but he’s not really thinking about much other than the way you hike your skirt up around your waste and straddle him.

You’re hovering over him, panties caught around one of your ankles, the core of your cunt aching for some attention — you’re not a virgin but when you’d met Ethan, he’d made it clear he was, so you’ve taken things slowly. Now, you don’t think you can wait any longer to feel him.

Your fingers dig into his shoulder, the other gripping him at the base, and the stretch when you begin to sink down on him is better than anything you’ve ever experienced. Your pussy gushes wetness, burning a little from the stretch because he’s a lot bigger than anyone you’ve ever been with.

“Oh fuck I think I’m gonna-”

“No no no E- just breath, deep breaths, don’t you dare cum” you shake your head, glaring down at him, and he nods gingerly; taking a deep breath in and out.

You swivel your hips, moaning at the pleasure “That’s good babe, you can cum soon, just a little longer” you coo, rising half way up his length, before sinking back down, your ass slapping against his thighs.

He cries out, head falling forward, pressed into your shoulder as you rise and fall on his cock harshly, legs burning and trembling. His cock is so long, and so thick, it has your walls aching from the new pleasure, eyes rolling to the back of your head when the tip brushes that spot deep inside. The feeling causes you to clench around Ethan so harshly, that it has him biting the skin of your shoulder, blood seeping paste his lips and staining his teeth when he pulls back to look at you.

“It’s too good, I can’t anymore” he pleas, eyes glossy with tears as you fuck him through the new feeling of over stimulation.

You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him into your embrace, kissing a trail of sweet kisses along his cheek “it’s okay babe, you can let go” you give in, too infatuated to make him wait any longer.

The noise he lets out when he cums is insane, a whiney and breathy cry, followed by your name and a string of ‘thankyouthankyou’ that makes you smile, warmth filling you not only from the cum filling your guts but the sweetness of Ethan even if what you’re doing is filthy.

You peck his forehead, cradling his jaw on either side, forcing him to look up at you as you roll your hips once more “baby, you still have to make mommy cum”

[slytherinboysappreciation]

SMUT REQ LESGOOOOO

Male reader and Tom are from the Wool's orphanage and they grow together, so ofc it would be natural for Tom to think that they would end up together, right? To have reader standing beside him as he becomes the Dark Lord? Wrong. Reader never considered him more than a best friend or a brother that should be protected. So when there's a rumor abt reader dating someone Tom was furious, he went to search reader to confirm the rumor (which is not true) but alas, he's too furious to listen so he fuck him dumb, and Tom started speaking parseltongue while getting it on

Bruh idk how to explain this lmao, English is hard 😔 But hey u can make the setting for this one when Tom was alr a Dark Lord (daddy) or when he's in the 7th year.

Rumor - T. R. x male!Reader

A/N: I’m so sorry for taking so long to get to this 😅 My writing motivation has been a little skewed lately. However, I did it! And I hope you like it!

I changed the parseltongue part to him speaking it when he gets angry enough because it just helped the story along more. I hope that’s okay.

It’s unedited with no use of Y/N. I think I tagged everything, but let me know if I missed something please! 💛

And of course, this fic contains explicit sexual content so ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS!!!!

CW: Possessiveness; mentioned failed love confessions; angst; a mention of horcruxes; anger, lots of anger; murder mention; Tom gets a bit physical with reader; dubcon touching; dubcon sexual content, (consent is there, but not referenced); handjob; doggy style, I think?; Tom ties reader’s hands with a belt; anal sex; anal penetration; no lube mentioned; dirty talk; aftercare; slightly fluffy ending; also, this takes place after Hogwarts so Tom and Reader are both of age!!!!

1676 words

You were Tom Riddle’s best friend.

Everyone knew it. He’d made sure of it as soon as your friendship had been born. You were his friend. First and foremost, above anything else.

You were his. His friend. His follower. Almost his lover even.

Not anymore.

From as far back as he could remember until his seventh year of school, you’d been by Tom’s side. The two of you grew up together. Shared classes together. Practiced dark magic spells together.

And then graduation came and ruined everything.

He hadn’t meant it to. When he’d confessed to you, he’d thought you’d felt the same. Thought you’d felt the spark between you. The feverish heat that came with late night talks and too long glances.

But no.

You hadn’t seen Tom as anything more than a friend. Even worse, you’d called him your little brother. It had made him sick, to think that all that time he’d been pining after you, you’d never even looked his way.

So he’d cut you out of his life. Carved you out of his heart and left a bleeding hole there instead.

It hurt every day you weren’t there.

But he’s stronger now. He has Abraxas and Bellatrix to take your place.

He never finds himself clutching his chest, gripping so hard his knuckles turn white from how strong the pain is of missing you. Never. Not even once.

Not even making a horcrux hurt as badly as missing you.

But Tom was content. He was fine. He had other followers who were just as loyal as you’d been. He didn’t need you anymore.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

It all changed the moment your name fell from Abraxas’ lips.

Tom’s head snaps up immediately, eyes cold and intense. “What did you say?”

Abraxas blanches, as if realizing his mistake. “My Lord. I just— I didn’t mean—“

“What did you say?” Tom’s voice is low, almost a hiss of warning.

“I— I said that Lestrange saw him out with someone. A— A woman, it looked like.”

The fury is slow building, but its intensity could’ve fueled countless more murders. Tom rises slowly. He stands, his aura sucking the life out of the room.

“I will return.”

With that, he sweeps out of the room, a cold blaze of fury and betrayal following in his wake.

Neither Abraxas or Bellatrix try to follow.

He finds you in your house. Whether he knocked or not, you’re surprised to see him all the same.

“Tom?” You stare in bafflement, maybe even awe.

He’s not surprised. Tom’s been told many times of his physical beauty, something that only heightened over the years. And it’s been many years since he’s seen you.

You look… very much the same as ever. New hairstyle, perhaps. Your face has matured a bit, making you look a little older. But you’re still you.

“Hello.” He spits out, barely able to hold back the rage and flood of feelings that fill his mind. Anger, betrayal, hurt; as if the rejection had been mere moments ago.

“What are you—“

“Who was she?” Tom demands, interrupting you. You blink.

“Huh? Who was who?”

Tom grabs your shoulder, his fingers digging into your shirt. “The woman you were with.” His voice is venom, pure anger in his tone. His voice shakes with it as he speaks. “Lestrange saw you with someone. Who. Was. She?”

You blink, visibly confused. Then your expression clears. “Oh. Her? She’s just a friend.”

“I don’t believe you. Who. Is. She?” Tom grabs your other shoulder, barely holding back from shaking you.

“A-Aurora Greengrass,” you stammer out, looking even more startled by his anger. “I swear, we’re just friends—“

‘Just friends.’

That’s exactly what you’d called Tom’s relationship with you. A ‘just friends’ thing.

He doesn’t even listen to the rest of your words. Blind to everything but the fury in his veins, he starts rummaging through your shirt pocket. Looking for something. Anything to prove you wrong.

He only finds a pack of cigs and an old lighter.

He tosses them to the side and hauls you over to the nearest wall. Slamming you against it and holding you firmly in place with one hand. “Who is she to you?”

You stammer, unable to form words. Tom grips your shoulder tighter, pressing closer to you. “Answer me!”

“I— I can’t understand what you’re saying!” You cower in the face of his anger. “I can’t understand— Ahhh!”

You yelp and shudder as Tom’s hand grazes your groin. He ignores your reaction and digs into your pants’ pockets, looking for anything at all. There’s nothing but fabric and a single money bill.

Still, his hand continues to search, roaming from pocket to pocket like something will appear. Nothing does.

It only heightens his anger, makes his jaw clench with fury. His words coming out in a hiss. “Is she your lover? Your wife? Or is she just another useless little toy for you?”

You let out a pathetic little moan, hips jolting a bit. Tom’s vaguely aware that his hand has stopped wandering where it’s supposed to be. But he can’t be bothered to look.

“Answer me!” He spits out. “Who is she to you, really?”

“I can’t—“ Your voice comes out as a pathetic whine. “Tom, please! I— I can’t understand you!”

Your hips jolt again and Tom finally looks down. He’s groping you, hand wandering across your half-formed hard on. Unconsciously feeling you up.

And you’re not pushing him away.

In fact, you’re stifling a moan, resting your head back against the wall. Eyes half closed. As if you’re… enjoying this.

A plan forms in his mind. A wicked, wicked plan. If you’re not willing to answer him… he’ll just have to fuck the answer out of you.

“Couch,” he hisses, “Now!”

He yanks you after him, relishing the way you stumble. You don’t deserve his kindness right now; what you need is to be fucked dumb.

Tom pushes you down against the couch and reaches for your belt. You don’t even protest. You just whimper softly and let him do what he wants.

He pulls your cock out, sliding his thumb along the tip. You moan and arch up, precum coating his thumb.

“T-Tom!” You gasp as he fists your cock, gripping tight enough to make you see stars. Your hips thrust up automatically, fucking into the sweet pressure of his hand.

“Shut up!” Tom hisses, eyes narrowing. He starts to move his hand and you choke with pleasure.

“I can’t— fuck!” Your head is thrown back against the couch, hands gripping the cushions tight enough to make your knuckles white.

You moan and writhe under Tom as he guides his hand along your cock, shifting and changing the pressure until he finds what makes you gasp.

And then, he pulls back.

Making you almost sob from the loss.

You reach for him, voice cracking pathetically. “Tom, please…!”

He bats your hands away, manhandling you until you’re kneeling on the couch. Pants around your ankles.

You grip the back of the couch tightly, practically clinging to it as Tom undoes his own belt. He grabs your hands, looping the thick leather around them. Pinning your hands together. You’re tied up now, unable to free your hands.

Tom frees his own cock, lining himself up with your asshole. You shudder and whimper, face flushed red. “Please!”

“Needy little bastard,” Tom hisses. “Can barely even wait for me.”

You just moan and press back against him. “Fuck, that’s so hot…”

Slowly, Tom sinks into you. Inch by glorious inch, he slides his cock into your greedy little hole. You clench hotly around him, making his breathing stutter.

You feel divine.

Hot and tight and perfect.

He bottoms out, cock buried deep inside you. He grips your shoulders, resting his forehead against your back in an effort to keep from cumming on the spot.

You’re a moaning mess, soft pleading babbles mixed with whimpers and gasps. Tom can barely understand you, you’re so incoherent.

It’s exactly what he wants. You fucked out enough that you forget how to speak.

Finally, he starts to move. In and out, each thrust getting faster and more aggressive. Slowly building up until you’re sobbing underneath him, mindlessly whining with pleasure.

You look glorious. Perfect.

It’s like a dream come true, you underneath him finally, just like it was always meant to be.

The thought makes his hips stutter and he grips your cock. He won’t last long like this; you’re clenching around him too tightly.

With a couple good firm strokes, you’re spilling onto the couch, cumming with a loud cry.

Not even moments later, Tom thrusts into your ass, filling you up with a gasp of his own. He shudders and leans against you again, struggling to catch his breath.

Slowly, he pulls out of you, absently rubbing along your back. The rage is gone from him, leaving him feeling tired and drained.

“Are you…” Alright doesn’t seem like the right word for the situation.

But you just moan softly. Roll over onto your back and gaze up at him with dreamy eyes. “Fuck yeah…”

Tom chuckles softly, almost tenderly. He can’t help it. It’s you.

Gently, he undoes his belt around your hands. They flop uselessly to your sides, as boneless as the rest of you. You just melt into a puddle of dreamy gazes and soft smiles.

He literally fucked you dumb.

As you continue to bask in the afterglow of your fucking, clarity starts to return to Tom. This is his opportunity. His chance to look around and see what you’ve been doing with your life since he cut you out of his.

But…

Gazing down at you…

Tom settles himself on the couch next to you and pulls you into his arms. You happily snuggle into him, burying your face in his neck.

Snooping can wait.

It’s been forever since he had you all to himself like this.

And he’s planning on taking advantage of every moment he can get.

[inklore]

Dilf! Namor...so tempted to write hcs for that

well let me inspire you with this hot mess bestie 👀

pairing: dbf!namor x (f)reader warnings: eighteen+ content, unedited because it’s late and i’m lazy so beware of hella spelling mistakes, lowercase, sexual tension to the max, alcohol mention, pining, and kissing, that’s literally it but it’s more inner monologue and tension heavy than anything honestly. note: bro this was supposed to be multple hcs but turned into one long ass tension filled mess lmao, i’m sorry but dbf!namor took over, it’s just perfect for him!!

part two | feel free to send me thots on these two!

i saw a gifset where tenoch was riding a motorcycle so obviously that's dbf!namor get's around, and he's giving brooding, grumpy, man who is always scowling at you and you're not even sure if he really likes you. if he is only polite for your dads sake

but one night you go out with your friends and have a little too much to drink-and using uber right now with your vision blurry and fingers key punching so bad your messages look like a toddler did them-namor is the first person you think to call. why? you're not sure. and you almost regret it, retreat into yourself-sober up-when you hear his rough voice answer, the "hello" landing heavy in the pit of your stomach

it take you a few deep breaths and closing your eyes to steady your tipsy mind on why you even called, your name on his lips sounding stern, adjacent to being worried you think

"where are you? stay where you are." and he's there before you realize it. the loud rumble of his bike as he pulls up in front of you making your entire being vibrate with nerves. "you need better friends." he says as he hands you the helmet that was just on his head, pleasantries dead as always

"what about you?"

"just get on." it's a command, rushed, demanding, as he helps your wobbly limbs onto the bike. wordlessly pulling your wrist to have your arms wrap around his midsection. and it's probably the liquor in your system that has every bump, the vibration of the bike, the wind whipping against the tops of your thighs-or maybe it's the heady affect his cologne that engulfs the inside of the helmet-how you almost feel completely compliant and light to lay your head on his shoulder. to let your palm spread flat against his rib bone

the heavy thump of his heart matching the same speed of the thumping that leads from your chest cavity to regions it has no right to be in. and when you expect him to fix your hold on him, to shrug off your head from his shoulder, he gives you no reaction. something that both makes your nerves burn and grow cold at the same time

when he pulls into your driveway, pulling himself off of the bike first, his fingers rubbing against your chin as he undoes the clip keeping the helmet steady on your head. helping your drunken hands pull it off your head-there's a moment where his eyes catch on your outfit. like he's really taking it in now, letting his eyes drag along your exposed thigh, before that signature scowl is pulling a shadow over his eyes again

"your father home?"

"no."

"do you need help inside?"

yes. is the first thing that comes to mind. yes, please. a heat bringing itself to your cheeks when you internally shame yourself for it. lock away somewhere in your brain that tipsy you cannot be trusted to think clearly-normally. and there's a split second where you think maybe he's shaming himself for something, that the two of you are sharing the same thought, the same link to something that maybe has always been there but you've stuffed away because it was better that way-proper, normal. with the way he's just staring at you

"no." you say again. your tongue feeling heavy and dry in your mouth as you swallow and force yourself to look away from him. brace your hands on the bike to pull yourself from it but end up catching your foot and ending up where you shouldn't be: in his arms. your palms once again finding themselves pressed to his front as he wraps an arm around you to stop you from planting yourself on the harsh pavement

"let me walk you inside." he says low and gruff against your temple. your insides turning into liquid compliance as you nod without a second thought. his breath heavily fanning itself across your skin as it takes a minute, two, three, before he's pulling you from his chest and holding your wrist to help you inside

once you're inside he drops your wrist, doesn't speak, just watches as you move on wobbly legs to the stairs. the pathetic thought to trip, to plummet yourself down the steps in hopes he'll touch you again, is volleying itself back and forth between just running up the stairs and sleeping this off and waking up to whatever this tension-filled-air-and insanity going on in your head-is gone

"thank you," you send over your shoulder as your fingers have a death grip on the railing. forcing yourself to surface a smile that you know probably looks as ridiculous as it feels to your burning cheeks

namor hums, nods, keeps his eyes on every step you take up the stairs, hype focused incase you fall-you assume. "do you need me to stay?"

you know he means it politely. not in the way your body is currently taking it, he's your dads friend, besides tonight he's barely shown you a kindness besides a pressed smile. you really need to sleep. need to reset your mind back to normal because his words shouldn't stop you in your tracks. have your body internally clenching at the intensity of his stare, from the glint in them that you're definitely imagining when you watch him move closer to the bottom of the steps-because you probably look like a tripping hazard right now

"do you want to stay?" the words leave your mouth before that last sober cell in your body can stop them-stop you from making a fool out of yourself

"i want you to be safe." he replies simply. you don't know why the answer only fills you with disappointment. i'll be fine, leaving your lips as you quickly take the rest of the steps up to your room. ignore the way you feel foolish and silly as you slip into bed

a silly feeling that still lingers when you walk down stairs the next morning to see a rumpled sheet and blanket on the couch deserted, and the smell of food coming from the kitchen. a sticky note stuck to a plate covered in foil on the counter: eat. simple. to the point. but still bringing a smile to your lips and those silly feelings imbedding themselves into your marrow

turning into something burning and aching when you see him again. when he drops something off for your dad and he's nowhere to be found in sight. when the two of you are stuck in the kitchen together, a heavy silence weighing down the air that seems to suck itself from your lungs the longer the two of you just stand here. the longer he keeps looking anywhere but you as his grip tightens on the neck of the beer you offered him-mentioning your father would be home any minute now

"thank you for staying, and for the food."

a nod. curt. ever him.

"you didn't have to help me-"

"think so little of me?"

"that's-i didn't mean it like that-i-" you want to state how he's avoided you like the plague before that. how his face morphs into a scowl when you enter the same room as him. how you are certain he hates you, still think that, just maybe a little less after helping you

"you need better friends." he repeats himself from the other night. making an annoyance shift your emotions

"so does my father."

the snort he lets out from under his breath shocks you, as does the pull of the corner of his mouth in the smallest-genuine-smiles you've ever seen him give you. it makes your stomach swoop

"i'm glad you called me."

"that's hard to believe. i'm confident this is the most you've spoken to me in a span of minutes." you joke, the corner of his mouth pulling into a full grin that makes you upset you've never seen him smile before this-has he always been this handsome?

"and here i thought you were a smart girl." the words would wound you if he wasn't staring at you like that over the bottle pressed to his lips. how even when he sets it back on the counter his eyes are still boring into your very being, right to that part of your body that you're understanding now has always wanted him. that you slowly realize, after much analysis to everything that happened the other night: the look in his eyes, the grip he had on your body to make sure you were kept safe, how he didn't even second guess or ask questions when you called, just demanding to know where you were, and to wait for him-that he was coming to get you and that was that

and it’s like a domino effect because now all you can think about is the stolen glances you’ve let go unnoticed, that you’ve chalked up to some festering dislike he may have had for you. how quickly his eyes shifted away from you when your father was in the room, how you’d look over and see him already looking at you when your father was distracted-that scowling coming back, the swivel of his head away from you almost something you’d see a frustrated animal do 

maybe you weren’t as smart as either of you thought. or maybe being blind to something you both ignored was better than doing something you’d possibly regret later 

if it were that, the fear of betrayal and regret, it didn’t seem to have any place in the room as you watch him finish his beer, walk around the counter to stand in front of you. reaching past you-your chests touching for half a second, your breath getting caught in your lungs-as he sets the empty bottle beside the sink behind you. and when you expect him to move away, to bid you goodbye, you feel his finger under your chin lifting your gaze from the floor. his deep brown eyes sucking every last potential breath from your lungs, your back digging into the edge of the counter as you try to ground yourself, try to settle the burning nerves that are making it hard for your brain to function right now 

“if it was only me, all this time, tell me right now.” 

you don’t need him to elaborate, there’s no need for explanation, you read through his words, the knowledge sitting heavy in your lower belly; the fear of shaking your head and having him stop touching you stops you from moving, a barely audible “no. not just you” falling from your parted lips

lips that his thumb presses into, your bottom lip met with the pad of his thumb as he rubs along it. throat bobbing with a hard swallow, eyes flashing from your mouth to your eyes. you want to ask why now? what changed? why throw both your dignities to the wind and say fuck it? but the look of stern-protection he showed the other night each time he looked at you, like he was fighting with himself with being upset at himself and upset at you for not having better friends, for putting yourself in a potential bad situation. you know why now 

“if i keep touching you-if i let myself cross that line-i’ll never stop.”

“what if i don’t want you to stop?”

“you’ll have to beg me to.” 

“i won’t.” 

his front is completely pressed to yours, a thigh between your parted legs, forehead on yours as you see the internal battle going on in his expressions, in his heavy breaths, in how he keeps dipping his mouth down to yours only to pull it away at the last minute, “you need to.”

“i need you.”

and it’s those magic words that have him cupping your face in his hands and pressing his lips to yours in a rough kiss of passion-every lick into your mouth, every bite at your bottom lip, the moans he swallows down from your throat, speaking silent words of how long he’s waited to have you like this.

[yoonia]

the bedroom hymns ● chapter xvi

⟶ Chapter summary | The many layers of mysteries that are present in the home castle are beginning to feel daunting. But the biggest mystery of all may have been about your magic. After your last encounter with Yoongi and finding yourself in a predicament which further questions the secret behind your family’s magic, you try to find ways to find your own solutions to grow stronger, to gain control of your magic, only to constantly being face with one obstacle after another. 

⟶ Title | The Bedroom Hymns: a Bluebeard’s twist ⟶ Pairings | Min Yoongi x female reader  ⟶ Genre | Fairy Prince!Yoongi, Crown Princess!reader, Fantasy AU, Fairy Tale retelling ⟶ Word count | 5,406 words ⟶ Ratings | PG-13, +18 / M for Mature for future chapters; include mentions of medical terms, fantasy magic and spells.  ⟶ Story Masterlist: The Bedroom Hymns | ⤎ previous chapter | next chapter ⇢ ⟶ Main Masterlist | Mailbox | Taglist | Feedback | Music Playlist | Ko-fi

⟶ Author’s Note | It took me a while to finish this part, so forgive me for my absence. I’m splitting what was supposed to be the filler in chapter 16 into two separate chapters because there’s going to be a lot of information dump happening and I don’t want to confuse everyone. So please don’t be surprised with the short chapter(s) coming. Thank you for your patience and have fun reading! [Ps. This is highly unedited so I’m sorry if there’s any mistake]

chapter xvi. respite

Quite some time has passed since the first time you began using the magic portals, long since you have arrived in this castle and learned about the existence of magic in this realm, and you are slowly beginning to notice the changes happening with your body. 

It seems to you that the more you are using the portals, the easier your body becomes affected by their magic. Just as how you seem to be getting more sensitive to the flow of magic that is a part of the portals. 

Returning from Grimm had costed you quite a predicament. Once again, the journey had drained your energy that you slept through the night and nearly woke up late the next morning after your return. Even the palace maids who have been tending to your needs since the day you came to the castle had become so concerned, thinking that perhaps you have gone ill.

It wasn’t until later in the evening when you figured out the reason why you have been feeling a deep fatigue coursing through your body each time you returned from your excursions. Not until the moment the royal physician was brought to see you after a full day of being listless, with barely any energy for you to have a meal. 

The royal physician took his time examining your body thoroughly, yet once he deliberated his assessment, you were quickly taken by surprise, not expecting to hear him talk about your mana and how it had everything to do with the reason why you were feeling sluggish and drained. 

“It seems to me that you have exhausted your mana. Have you perhaps been using it excessively as of late, Your Highness?”  

“I—no, not that I recall. I haven’t done much but study with my tutor and keep myself busy with royal duties,” you simply answered as you laid back against the pillows, refraining from admitting openly that you hadn’t even begun training on how to wield your magic, much less to start getting to know about it at all. 

You had no idea how much most of the people within the home castle have learned about you, or if any of them ever knew anything about your previous life at all. Particularly about your life back at The Citadel, back in the human realm where magic didn’t exist. You also had no idea if there was anyone within the castle who may have learned about the family’s magic and the responsibility that had been placed upon you to protect the secret behind the magic.

A part of you wished that you could have said something about it. Because maybe then you could find someone to help you solve the things you had wished to know. To find someone to confide in. 

Someone who belonged in the castle, who was trusted by the King himself, instead of confiding to a member of the mercenary army suspected to pose a threat to the empire. 

Shaking your head, you forced yourself to stop thinking about this—to stop thinking just how dependent you were becoming to the handsome and mysterious stranger that you probably shouldn’t trust—just as the royal physician shared with you another theory while being oblivious to your trailing thoughts.  

“Then perhaps your body is having problems adjusting to the castle. The magic barrier that His Majesty, The King, has placed here is quite strong. It must have been draining your energy as you come in contact with it, or—” the physician stopped himself as he deliberated the issue further while rubbing at his chin. But then he suddenly started shaking his head, as if brushing away those thoughts with his lips curling downward in displeasure. 

“No,” he began wondering to himself, brushing away whatever thought crossing through his mind as he murmured, “I doubt that His Majesty’s magic would feed on your mana. The barrier surrounding the castle would require a power source, but I can’t see anyone else other than His Majesty who would be powerful enough to provide such energy.” 

That can happen? You couldn’t help but wonder. Has your father’s magic been feeding on your mana? 

But that sounds—so terribly wrong.

Just as these thoughts continued to run rampant in your head, a faint tingle ran through your forearm while you were being examined, and you couldn’t help but remember how similar it felt to the sensation coursing through you whenever you walked through the magic portals. 

Had it really been the reason? Have you been right for thinking that perhaps the magic portals have been draining your mana, your energy, feeding off your magic that had been lying dormant within you? 

Is this why Father had insisted that I only use the portal only once a day and not more, and to not stay any longer than the time limit that he had given? 

Or had it been the other way around? What if it has always been my mana which activated those portals, while the keys have only been the medium to help open the doors? 

Clearing his throat, the royal physician brought your attention back to him as he gently reassured you, “I will leave you with some remedy and a special potion to help strengthen your mana and help you rest for the night until your body recovers enough. I will also leave a list of nutritions that could be added to your meal. It may help you heal faster if your body receive the proper sustenance needed for your recovery. I shall leave it in the hands of your personal maids so they could hand them to the royal chef.” 

Your mind was still stuck in his previous comment and your own assessment of the condition that you found yourself in that you barely paid attention to his words, although you were still able to answer him with a soft murmur, “Thank you, Sir.” 

The physician said nothing else after. “In the meantime, please don’t strain yourself too much, Your Highness. You have quite a delicate constitution which may require a lot of care,” he inquired, before softly adding, “I am sure that His Majesty would prefer that you take care of yourself well until he returns home.”  

You said nothing other than gratitude to the royal physician as he made his leave, allowing you some privacy and enough time to have your much-needed rest. Yet the silence that you were left with couldn’t stop you from spending the night wondering, thinking back to everything that he said; about your mana being drained without you realising it. 

Looking down at your hands as you kept them rested on your lap, you slowly opened your palms. There hadn’t been enough books in the library that could have given you any clue on how to make use of your mana and practice your magic. 

You could only figure this out simply because you had tried to look. Out of all the magic books that you had been digging into in the library outside of your tutoring hours, you had found little to nothing that was written about any magic that may conjure portals. At the very least, nothing that seemed similar to the magic that your father had cast in these portals. 

And there had been nothing other than the old scriptures you found about ancient fairies and their ability to move between space and time that sounded similar to those portals. Although there were mentions of these ancient beings traveling to many different parts of the realm, even crossing between realms. 

But what if there was something in those scriptures that could explain about the source of your father’s magic? Had there been something in those texts that you had missed? 

That night, as you slowly drifted into sleep under the effect of the potion that had been given by the physician, you made a promise to yourself to return to those scriptures and learn more about the magic that was written in them. You fell asleep that night feeling hopeful, determined to find the roots of your father’s magic. 

Perhaps, with a little more digging, you would find the reason why he had left you with such a huge responsibility of keeping this magic as a secret, while setting things in motion to have you venturing into those portals and to walk across the parts of the world hidden behind them so blindly.  

Perhaps, you could also find the answer to one of the biggest secrets that he has been keeping from you and everyone else for years. 

The secrets about your mother. 

“I might have to show it to you to prove it…”

Yoongi’s voice echoes through your mind as if it bounces against the invisible walls standing all around you. 

The words that he gave you seems to have been engraved in your memory ever since the day you met him in Grimm, and they keep haunting you both in your dreams and during your waking hours. It has been a couple of days since, yet it still feels like yesterday when you parted ways with Yoongi in the dark forest of Grimm. 

Since then, you have been overcome with a deep feeling of regret. 

The regret for not being able to have more time to spend with him. The regret of not being able to catch his sight, to be completely helpless as you watch him getting swallowed under the thick foliage, held back by fear that had a tight grip in your chest. 

And you also feel the regret that always comes to haunt you whenever you recall about the offer that he made that day. When he reached out to you, offering to assist you in learning more about your magic. You hate thinking that you might have missed out on a chance to figure out your magic. 

But it couldn’t be helped, after all, when your father’s voice—repeating the same words and warnings about how important it was to keep the family’s magic a secret—kept echoing through your head while you were staring at Yoongi’s extended hand which he offered you that day. You had felt the itch to reach out to him, to accept his hand, even if it was only for the sake of feeling the gentle touch of his fingers on yours instead of actually having him help awaken the magic that was lying dormant inside you. 

Yet you just couldn’t do it. 

And now you are left with the constant wonderings—all the what ifs and what could haves—while the long list of regrets that are still lingering with you becomes the reason why you keep seeing in in your dreams. 

The dreams are never the same. 

In one dream, you recounted the moment you refused his offer. Only this time, you had stepped away from him at the tavern, choosing to end your time together earlier than what you had intended to so you could escape his attentive eyes. In another, you haven’t even heard the same words spoken by Yoongi before his image vanished right in front of your eyes. 

But there was one particular dream that appeared so vividly that you continued to see it even during the daytime, taking over your idle mind with his presence as if you were taken back to that moment, when you sat right across from him with his deep, unwavering gaze locked on yours.

“I might have to show it to you to prove it…”

You never truly understood what he meant by saying those words, but in this dream of yours, none of it mattered. And your father’s voice hadn’t been there to stop you from leaning forward at the table to give him your rapt attention. Your mind was also silent, and the thunderous sound of your heartbeat faded away when you spoke to him, 

“How?” 

“Give me your hand.” 

Time seemed to remain still as you reached out to him, giving him your hand. You barely touched the tips of his fingers when something magical happened; as a bright sparks of silver dust light up between both of your hands, with specks of blue dust erupting the moment you made contact with his skin, and the same tingling sensation that you had often felt from the portals came surging through your arms before settling inside your chest. 

Before your mind could ever make sense of what was happening, the light only grew brighter, and everything faded under its blinding glow which later pulled you away from the dream. And as you slowly woke up, finding yourself lying on your bed alone, nothing else remained from the dream, except for the tingles running across your skin which took their sweet time to fade away. 

Stepping out of the treasure room, you clutch the golden pocket watch in your palm, feeling victorious that you finally have it in your hand. 

You had come to the treasure room right before your afternoon lessons with your tutor, hoping that you would be able to find anything that might be useful for your next trip through the portals. Your father had been right, after all, that the treasure room may provide you with anything that you may need to support your daily activities while you adjust with your new life at the castle. 

Like a pocket watch, for example.

Something that is so small and simple, yet crucial for the sake of your safety while you are out there, roaming through any foreign land that the portals are taking you. 

Why have I never thought of this before? 

You cannot help but wonder as you look down at the ticking watch in your hand, regretting that you didn’t think of getting one in the first place. It could have saved you a lot of trouble if you had.

The last couple of trips you made had been risky, as you kept cutting it too close to the time limit that had been given to you by your father, only missing merely minutes or even seconds before the portal started closing behind you after you slipped back through. 

You had nearly gotten into a bigger trouble when you returned from Grimm, almost missing a toe when you barely managed to return to the portal before it closed on you. You blame it to your impulse need of chasing Yoongi into the deep forest when you started to feel like he was slipping away from and disappearing for good. 

It was after that incident when you finally learned your lesson and decided that something needed to change. That you would need something to hold onto which may help you to keep up with the time, instead of simply relying on the signs of dusk as a reminder to let you know when it was time to return home. 

The idea first came to you after observing Lord Gordan, the royal aide and the head butler of the castle, while he was working on his duties. You had often seen him pulling out a golden watch from the pocket of his suit to help him tell the time, and wondered if it would be something that you could make use of.  

After receiving the royal physician’s approval to return to your daily duties this morning, you feel like you are ready to embark on another adventure. With this golden pocket watch in your hand, the magic necklace that had been passed down to you from your late mother, and the dagger hidden under the skirt of your dress, you feel as if you are unstoppable, ready to face anything that may come to your path as you walk through the portal later once your tutoring hours are over. 

Now if you only could just find a way to calm the restless thrums of your heartbeat inside your tight chest, then everything would be well. That is all that you could only hope for, at the very least, as you make your way to your tutoring lesson.

Because what better way to find answers other than to gain them straight from the people who are in charge of teaching you everything that is needed to learn as the heir of throne? Who else would know the answers you need, other than your tutors? 

“You want to—” Lady Laurel carefully repeats your question. She is looking slightly wary to even voice it out loud, even if it is just the two of you in the library that her voice is lowered when she continues, “—practice using your magic?”

You have only been away from the library for a couple of days while you were resting, only keeping contact with Lady Laurel by corresponding through letters and the books that she had left behind through your personal maids for you to read. 

Today would be the first day that you are back with your daily lectures. You could tell from the moment you saw Lady Laurel sitting by the study desk in the library as she waited for you to arrive that she had a lot of things planned out to keep you busy for the day. 

But you have come up with your own plan when you marched your way to the library. 

For weeks now, Lady Laurel had filled your private lessons with lectures about the fairy tale land to get you to know this new realm a lot more. So far, you have learned about its history, about the kingdoms and the people, even the non-human beings that you may find should you ever have the chance to visit those lands—elves, fairies, werewolves, even human mages—and you have heard about the real events that are the makings behind all the tales known and shared in the human realm. 

During those long weeks, Lady Laurel had also been teaching you the basic knowledge of magic; the types of magic that you may encounter and each of their origins, the history behind them, and the ancient spells that have been written in the textbooks that you have found in the library during your solo studying. 

She was also the one who first taught you to find a way to identify your mana. 

She had mentioned how it would be helpful in the future should you start using your magic, as you would have become familiar to the mana flowing inside you by the time you begin your magic practices. If only she knew with what you have been doing once you were done with her lessons, how you have been using the theories that she had taught you into practice once you were left on your own. 

There has been nothing much that Lady Laurel could teach you in her lessons other than the ability to reach within, to feel the presence of your magic and have a good grip on it, to recognise it as a part of yourself instead of something that simply appeared in your body overnight. But your solo practices that you have been doing in the shelter of your bedchamber had taken it a step further, enhancing it until you could make use of it to recognise and then respond to the magic that exists around you. 

Just like the way you had used it to respond to the magic in the portals and to recognise Yoongi’s inner mana. 

Yet that is just as far as both of you could get. You could tell that there are restrictions that your tutors would need to follow when they are guiding you through your lessons. Because not once had she ever tried to do more; whether it was to help you unleash the magic inside you, nor to use it by conjuring the magic for a purpose. 

But you want more. You have been ready for more. And after your last encounter with Yoongi, you have gained the courage to express your desire to learn how to properly use your magic more actively. To learn how to expel its powers and make use of it for your own benefit. 

And that is exactly what you said to your tutor the moment you joined her at the library’s study area, as you were taking the seat right across from her as you usually would during your tutoring hours. 

Keeping your eyes on Lady Laurel, you try to gauge her reaction. Even from the moment you had first thought of bringing this up to her, you had expected to have an intense response from her, and for her to straight up refuse your request. 

And you have been prepared to deal with whatever the outcome may be, knowing that you are not going to back down that easily.

“Yes, that is exactly what I said,” you answer her with your chin raised, feeling determined about taking the next step into learning how to use your magic. “I want you to teach me how to unlock my magic and help me practice using it, instead of just trying to feel it. Because I already know that it’s there, lying almost dormant inside me without me knowing how to use it to protect the people who are dear to me, which is something that I want to be able to do.”

These thoughts have been running through your head for the past few days while you were being holed up in your bedchamber under the royal physician’s restrictions. The feeling of want and the deep curiosity you have to know more about your magic, to be able to reach within yourself so you could somehow wield it so that you could make good use of it, has been growing stronger that you can no longer deny it. 

That need had been lingering in your thoughts that it was almost impossible for you to remain idle during your bedrest, and you had then taken the risk to secretly try to find ways to unlock your magic on your own.  

You just couldn’t help it, after all. When you had nothing else to fill your time with aside from watching the scenery outside of your windows and reading the pages of your books, until neither could easily calm the havoc happening inside your mind. So you stole the short chances you could get between the hours you were given to rest under the heavy medication and the constant flurry of lady maids coming and going into your room as they attended to your needs. 

Using the vivid images of your dreams, the basic knowledge of magic that you learned through your lectures, and the small facts about your magic that you learned from Yoongi as your guidance, you had spent your quiet nights trying to get in touch with the magic that was believed to be coursing through your body.  

You tried everything you could; from using your necklace to see if it could bring out the mana inside you, to copying Yoongi’s action which you saw in your dreams, by placing your hands together to see if it could bring out your magic.

But no matter how hard you tried to concentrate and tried to cast your magic out through your fingertips, nothing seemed to be happening. Nothing more but a surge of energy crawling its way from your palms, through your fingers, stopping at each tip, before they vanished into your veins. 

And you continued to try, until there was nothing left but the exhaustion rolling through your body and the missing warmth of Yoongi’s hand which your body seemed to have memorised from that day and what you are now craving to feel the most. 

Having to openly ask your tutor for her help had been your last resort, knowing that she has her limits to what kind of guidance that she could offer you in learning about magic. Yet you had every reason to harbour some hope that she would somehow comply with your request. 

Oftentimes, whenever you would try to inquire about any specific theories to learn about during your lectures, Lady Laurel would have embraced it—she has always loved your curiosity and your eagerness to learn—and grabbed any chance that she could have to share any knowledge about the realm that you were still struggling to understand. 

This time, however, she seems uneasy to hear your request. Not because she is reluctant to teach you about magic, as she has been doing so ever since the first day she started her lessons. What seems to make her reluctant about this is the fact that you are asking her to help you learn about your magic. 

With a remorseful sigh, Lady Laurel leans forward in her seat. Reaching out across the desk, she places a gentle grip on your wrist. “Your Highness, I’m sure that you are curious to learn more about your magic,” she begins with a polite smile, “But His Majesty had specifically inquired—” 

Before she can finish her words, you immediately cut her off.

“I know what my father said”—as you have repeatedly said each time I tried to bring this topic up before, you silently wonder with a frown—”but His Majesty has yet to return, while here I am, feeling like my soul is slowly being sucked out of my body without understanding why. Maybe if I could control my magic, things will be different and I’d know how to prevent something like this from happening again.” 

Through the letters that you have been exchanging with your tutor, you had explained everything that the royal physician had relayed on you about your condition. 

At first, you simply mentioned about your draining mana in your letter to try and ask for her opinion to see if this was something that could possibly happen. Without mentioning the secret doors and the magic portals in your letter, you questioned her if there was anything that you may have come in contact with which might be able to drain your mana without you ever realising it. 

The response that you were given with hadn’t been enough to answer your curiosity. But there was something in her letter which caught your attention, when she explained in a rather plain sentence—

“There are certain elements that have been built all over the castle, each one imbued with His Majesty’s magic. Perhaps, with His Majesty being gone, these elements have been trying to find a new source of energy. I have highly suspected that your magic might be similar to that is of the King’s, which made it possible for the energy around you to mistakenly drain your mana to fill whatever they are lacking.”

“You know very well the reason why I would have to refuse taking over your magic training, Your Highness,” Lady Laurel regretfully says as she pulls back. You hate how genuine she seems to be as she is saying all of this, about the regret of not being able to fulfil your wishes, as she is being held under the King’s orders. 

It wouldn’t be until later when you notice the unspoken words hidden perfectly in her response, that she isn’t refusing your request because she isn’t capable of doing so. Because she is capable. But she is also bound under your father’s rules when it comes to your lessons. 

“All I can do without His Majesty’s guidance would be to guide you to become in tune with the mana that you have inside you, preparing you for the actual training that you are about to have under the King’s guidance himself,” she continues, and just like that, she turns to pick up the guidance textbook and the set of candles that she would use during these sessions, ready to start another one of her practices that she has been introducing you as of late. “We can continue to do that today and see how far ahead we can go this time. The last time we did—” 

Once again, you cut off her words before she could finish talking. “The last time we had our lesson, you were helping me identify my mana and how to channel onto it so I could feel its flow inside me.”

And to recognise it without exposing your magic form. Something that you have caught on after a while and seems to be one of the main tasks given to her when your father passed down the duty of tutoring you while he is gone. But you say nothing of this. 

After all, if you are trying to convince her to change her mind and sneak behind the King’s orders to fulfil your wishes, the last thing you should do is to show her that you have figured out all of her cards—the little tricks that she had played to skirt around the subject of your magic. 

You may never figure out the reason behind all the secrecy about the family’s magic, or why your father would prevent anyone from helping you in unlocking your magic without his presence. But oddly enough, the more you think about it, the more you understand why your father would take such measures. 

The magic that he uses to create the portals wouldn’t have been a regular kind of magic. You can tell that it is something special, something that your father has treasured for a long time, even before you ever came into the world. 

But would your magic be anything similar to what your father has, just like what Lady Laurel previously claimed? Would you be able to create your own portal one day to find your own escape? 

As if answering your question, Lady Laurel gently speaks to you, “I know that you are curious, and the lessons that you have been getting so far no longer seems to adequate to your needs, as you have gotten enough of the basic knowledge that you could gain in such a short amount of time. All I can ask of you is for you to be patient for now. His Majesty will be returning soon, and he will be able to guide you with your magic and answer a lot of your questions.”  

As much as you hate backing down, you realise that you have no other choice—at this moment, at least—but to give up, and follow your tutor’s advice. 

“I suppose, I can be a little more patient,” you finally say to her with a sigh. 

Your acceptance seems to please her, as a smile grows on Lady Laurel’s face. She beams as she rings the bell to summon the maids for a serving of tea and snacks to accompany your lesson, just like always. And while in waiting, she continues to set up all the books of magic that she would need for your lesson, followed by lighting up the set of candles that she has laid out in front of you.

“Let’s continue with our practice on your focus today,” Lady Laurel says to you as she returns to her seat while gesturing you to keep your eyes on the flickering flames. The same way that she has always guided you during your focus training. 

This practice might be far off from helping to unlock your magic, yet you still have to admit that this practice may have been quite helpful so far. Because it was through this practice that you had inadvertently figured out one of the skills that you have developed ever since you started learning about magic. 

The skill which allows you to trace and identify others’ mana; be it within a person or a place. 

The same skill that you revealed to Yoongi the last time you were together. 

As you try to empty your mind and focus on the flickering candlelights, the dejected feeling that came over you earlier is slowly being lifted when you remember that this day is still far from ending, and you still have other tutors to turn to. 

So you try to make it through the end of your lecture, doing your best with your simple training, Even if it only means that you will be walking out of here in the afternoon with sharpened focus. Perhaps it might be able to help you later by preventing you from falling asleep too soon if you ever decide to try to unlock your magic on your own again. 

— © 2024 Yoonia, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind is not allowed. unsolicited translations are not allowed.

[peetaslefttoe]

can I request Peeta x reader smut where reader and Peeta are together but when Katniss and Peeta return home after winning the first games they have to pretend to be in a relationship because of Snow and the reader is hurt because she thinks it’s real but Peeta reassured her and it leads to smut? Thank u!

warnings: p in v, praise, oral f receiving, AFAB reader

summary: request above 🫶

authors note: absolutely i love this idea, thanks sm for the request i hope it’s good as it’s my first, love you lots xx this is slightly unedited so excuse any spelling mistakes

Masterlist Pinned xx

Today was the day Peeta would step off the train back into District 12. You’d been waiting for this day since his name was called and he stood on stage beside Katniss. You had endured days of tears, nightmares and stress, as you anxiously awaited the return of your boyfriend. You were unbelievably happy that he was alive, that he had beaten ever odd and won the 74th Hunger Games. But despite your glee you couldn’t help but feel a darkness rating away at your heart. Katniss. He’d left you behind in the arena, you’d never forget the way your heart dropped and your stomach burned when you saw their lips touch. You’d recognized the look painted on Gale’s face as he watched the screens, you’d recognized it because your displayed the same face of shock and heartbreak. 

The train from the Capital pulls into the station. You rush forward through the crowd of families waiting to greet the winners. Finally you reach the front, standing beside Gale and Prim you peer out at the train. It feels as if minutes have passed when you finally see Katniss’s face appear out of the door. And behind her trails Peeta. You glance downwards to see their hands entwined. Tears pool in your eyes and you turn away into Gales embrace.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this,” you finally said against Gales chest before turning back and running through the crowd. You slammed the door of your house and slumped down on your bed in silence. Sobs racking your body as tears streamed down your red cheeks.

Suddenly the door opened once more and you heard Peeta’s voice ring out.

“Y/N! Are you in here?” he called, desperately. You couldn’t stop crying to respond. He slowly pushed open the door to your bedroom and his eyes darkened when he saw your tears.

“I’m so sorry, fuck- i’m so so sorry Y/N” he said, grasping you as he sat beside you.

“You left me behind, you love her?” you finally gasped struggling in his embrace.

“No, Y/N look at me,” he tilted your chin, your eyes meeting his. “I promise you, you’re the only one I’ve ever loved. It was an act, an act to keep us alive. I don’t know how to prove it to you,” he whispers.

“Oh Peeta,” you broke down sobbing once again, clinging to his strong arms. Finally you leaned back and wiped your tears from your face, sniffling and looking up at him once more. Suddenly he grasped your face in his hands and your lips met. He kissed you feverishly, gasping for breath and pulling you impossibly close.

“Let me prove it to you Y/N, let me prove that you’re the only one I’ll ever love, please,” he begged, kissing down your neck slowly.

“Oh god, please- I missed you so much Peeta,” you scrambled to pull off his shirt, groaning to his tanned skin. You leaned down to kiss up his torso, suckling at his sensitive skin. He groaned and threw his head back, wrapping a firm hand into your hair.

“Please, please let me fuck you, Y/N I love you,” he whined, looking down at you. You leaned back, giving him a chance to slide your dress over your head. He pushed you back onto the bed, hovering over you as he kissed across your chest and down to your stomach. You moaned against his firm kiss as you reached for his belt buckle. He caught your hand and held you back.

“Such a greedy girl Y/N, did you miss this cock? Hm? It’s all for you baby, only for you.” he smirked and kissed you again before leaning back and unbuckling his pants. They dropped to the floor with his boxes revealing his hard length against his stomach. You stifled a moan as you reached for his cock.

“Ah ah ah, this is about you, lay back down” Peeta said lowly, a firm hand pushing you back into the mattress. He smiled at you before yanking off your panties. His fingers gripped onto your hips, surely leaving bruises. He held you down as he buried his face in your heat. His warm mouth suckled at your clit. You moaned at the contact and thrust up into his face. He placed a hand on your stomach pushing you down against the bed as he continued his assault. He lapped at your folds, bringing his other hand down to circle your sensitive bud. Slowly he slid his tongue into your weeping hole, fucking you slowly as you ground against him.

“Please Peeta,” you gasped out, “please fuck me, take me I’m yours,”

“I’m yours Y/N all yours,” he took your hand in his and spat in it. You whimpered at the sight and brought your hand to his hard cock, mixing his spit with precum. He groaned slightly at the motion before grasping your wrists in his and pinning you against the sheets. He lined up with your hole and inched into you.

“Fuck, always so- perfect, god- you take me so well,” He slowly rammed into you.

“Faster Peeta, please,” you groaned, pulling his hips into you and wrapping your legs around his waist, bringing him deeper.

“Anything for you,” he leaned down pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips before slamming into you roughly. He snapped his hips into yours, panting into your mouth.

“You’re so beautiful, I missed you- uh— so much, please oh, you feel so good around me,” he gasped against your lips.

“Please let me touch you darling,” you said. He obliged, releasing your wrists from his hold and moving his hands to your waist, pulling you into his thick cock. You ran your hands up his back tangling them in his dirty blonde locks before cupping his face.

“You’re so pretty Peeta,” you slurred as he pounded you. He beamed down at you, enveloping you in a deep kiss.

“I’m gonna- uh” he struggled in an attempt to pull out.

“Shh Peeta, you can cum in me, please fill me up, please” you begged him, stroking his flushed cheeks. He whimpered at your words before thrusting deep into you. You slid over the edge, shaking and clenching around his cock as his warm seed filled you. He fucked you through your high, planting soft kisses on your head. Slowly he started to pull out.

“Wait, Peeta, can you stay? In… me?”

“Of course I’ll stay Y/N” he reassured you, brushing the hair out of your face. “I’ll always stay,” he rolled you both onto your sides, facing one another.

“I love you so much Peeta, I was so afraid that you didn’t love me anymore, I- I was so scared Peeta,” you held his soft face in your hands, looking into his beautiful eyes.

“Oh Y/N, I could never stop loving you, and I never will, I promise,” He pulled you into a deep, warm kiss.

That night he held you closer than ever, never moving until the sun shone through the curtains and he propped his head up to watch your face glimmer in the daylight.

[sickuma]

SILLAGE — a Simon Riley fic. 1/2

❱ This is the au i wrote on tiktok captioned "he realized he wanted to stay too late" this will have two parts! I've been making a lot of ghost fics lately LMAO and I'm sorry if the plots are consistently angst, it's what I like doing the most. This one though is a little heavier than most of what I've written, definitely has some personal linking to it with my experience :)

ꜝ？ Warning. . this is a heavy angst fic, mentions of suicide and acts of committing, if that is something that triggers bad emotions, please exit the fic.

paring is Ghost x Reader this is unedited! mistakes such as spelling and grammatical errors are to be expected !

! if you are going through something heavy right now, please seek someone you trust and you are able to talk to about your emotions, nobody should have to go through their troubles alone, you're loved<3 My messages are open if you need a stranger to listen :)

Part 2 (^_^;)

SILLAGE — (n.) The scent that lingers in air, the trail left in water, the impression made in space after something or someone has been and gone; the trace of someones perfume.

"The deployment takes place soon."

He mumbles, without turning to face you. Occupied by packing up the things he'll need for this mission and more,

He was packing everything.

"Do not wait for me [name]."

"What does that mean?" You ask, a look of indifference plastered on your face. It wasn't necessarily the first time this conversation has been held. 

Though it is the first time you're not opposing. For the entirety of that 7 months you're together, fights happened, arguments would sprung. Yet you find yourselves back into each other's arms within a week,

It was a tiring cycle. Something you knew was unhealthy for the both of you, especially with your deteriorating well-being which he has no waking idea about. You've never brought light to it.

It was an ugly part of you, something you despised.

Something you won't ever show him yourself.

With a short sigh, he stood straight, hands propped on his forehead indicating his rising stress. "I can't, we can't."

"I can't let this go on longer.

You kept quiet, awaiting for him to speak more, to tell more of his worries you're evidently familiar with. It was something you've grown aware of,

His fear of abandoning you,

His fear of dying on the field while you wait aimlessly for him.

"This is for the better [name]." Cowardly, is what you would have described this. But you are in no place to be speaking of such as you're also deep into your own hell of mental instability.

For a lot of times this argument has happened, it was the first time you are not tearing up. Asking him to stop spewing nonsense and convincing him to stay.

Why did you keep doing that? You wondered. Now you finally have the answer. 

It's the fear,

Fear of your darkness once he's far from you, far from your heart. He was completely unaware of how he'd changed you temporarily, how your sleeping heart awoke with just the sound of his voice.

For the longest time you have not felt anything close to what he made you feel; for the first time you are able to feel. And the thought of that suddenly being taken away from you made your body tremble.

But this time you stood firmly,

He was right. This can't go on forever,

You two may have different reasons for saying such but what mutual fact was that it was true. Staying with each other will only drive you to madness.

With his fear of attachment, and your fear of abandonment. It was bound to fail.

You were already planning on cutting ties even before he brought this up once again; you knew you can't stay. Not any longer,

Not when this void plagued you like a curse.

The air was thick and dire, your lack of response threw him over the edge. It was unpleasant. He had expected you to do the same, to react the same, to stop him.

To fight for him like you always have,

But you're no longer capable of doing that. If you can't fight for your own will to live, how does he expect you to fight for this wilting relationship?

You hated it. Feeling helpless.

But you're certain it's the right thing, tonight, you'll finally do it. Like you always planned.

"I see."

Simon felt conflicted, your short answers and your lack of expression, it gave him a strange gut feeling. This sudden gut decision to stay and make sure everything's okay,

He can't.

He needs to go, one way or another. He's doing this in regards to you, and the safety of your feelings.

If only he'd know you're incapable of feeling, without him you can't. Your gaze followed his walking figure as he brought his things at the door,

Turning to you with a pinched expression, though he was shocked to see you looking at him with a smile.

"Be safe."

You spoke ever so gently, with that slight smile he adored but for some reason it felt odd to see it. It troubled him, he shrugged it off, not wanting to drag this moment longer,

Afraid he'll give in and pull you into his arms.

He kept staring, as if he didn't wish to walk out the door. If he does, it means permanently, his heart was against that. "Can I hug you?"

"One last time?"

He was taken aback, stunned at your sudden request. And for a lot of reasons it hurt him, to hurt you in such a way you end up smiling in acceptance, asking him for one final hug.

With an anxious swallow, he dropped the bags and slowly drew closer to you. Pulling you close, perhaps too eagerly? Too desperately. But he didn't care. 

If its the final time he gets to have you in his embrace, he'll make the most of it. 

He lets the moment linger, with your hands clutching his shirt, he took you in. Taking your scent, the calm thumps of your heart, he needs all he can get.

With his eyes closed, he carefully rubs the back of your head when he suddenly felt warm on his chest,

It was tears,

Your tears. You were crying silently.

"[name]—" 

You interrupt him with a chuckle, pulling away from the hug to wipe your tears. 

"Sorry, it escaped." You humoured, wiping them away.

Right at that moment he felt his heart shatter, he felt cruel. On the other hand you felt fulfilled, with the final hug you wanted,

You can finally do it.

"I love you Si." You smiled once again, looking up at his towering figure. Though his expression remained stoic, almost softening as his thoughts dwelled with what his heart wants.

He shook his head, closing his eyes shut as he turned around to take his things. Twisting the knob in the process, stopping to spare you one last glance.

"I—" he almost said it but he stopped himself, he didn't want to make it any harder for himself, no matter how badly he wanted to say it.

"Goodbye [name]."

Those were the last words he spoke to you, as the sound of the door closing erupts in your ears. Leaving you in the eerie room you dreaded,

It's as if you could still feel his embrace.

Once you're sure he's far enough, it's when you started the preparation. Sitting down indifferently to write a few notes; letters to those few you held close.

One final regard of what you were too cowardly to say in person, a goodbye.

And so, you wrote.

﹑

To Simon,

My Simon.

If you're reading this, I am gone.

Whether or not you find this letter, I can only hope you know how much I've loved you. That even without reading this, you're still aware of how much you made me feel.

Thank you, truly.

For the longest time I have struggled to feel, most times it would just be devoid of yearning; my yearn to view life as something worth living for. To no avail I never got that, the idea to keep living never shone bright to me, of course, until you showed up and brighten up my space with your own special way,

It took us quite a few to get along, we really did.

But when it happened, it was ethereal. Things felt right, for the first time I was able to feel,

For the first time I had this sudden urge to keep living, to keep living for you. To see you, to hear your voice, to be beside you. I'm afraid I've grown dependent on that,

As someone who has never felt love nor care, I had no sense of value for myself. Yet you looked at me, you told me you love me and believe me I was ecstatic.

I depended on you, you were my source of happiness and I owe you for every bit of happiness I've gotten from this unfortunate life so when we're apart i find myself remembering just how miserable i am, how my family is, how i am as a person and how hard it is for me to feel.

Without you I can't feel anything.

But that was unhealthy,

I was merely distracted. The void never left, it was there temporarily filled with what I convinced myself was a will to live. I'm sorry. I really am, I wish I could have been better. I wish I could have been stronger,

Braver, to see your achievements even if we're not together anymore. My heart remains yours. It's not your fault, it never will be. I'm sure that you know If anybody could have saved me it would have been you. 

I know I lack the ability to feel, but with you, I never lied. I never faked anything. My love for you is here and it's the only feeling I am able to recognize, I know that night you walked out of the door saying we are better off apart, for the safety of my feelings and for the sake of your growing attachment. I cried but I cried because I agreed.

I'm sorry for surrendering to my weakness,

But I can't keep it together; not any longer. I can only hope that you'll be glad to know that maybe I'm somewhere free from the void of my emotions. I'm somewhere better, freely able to feel. Please be proud, with you I felt so much and that will never change. It's me your [name] :) always will be.

Goodluck to the strongest lieutenant! Remember to keep him happy and healthy, take care of the person I cherish the most, okay? Wherever I am, I am somewhere carrying the short-lived love we had. Treasuring it forever,

Stay frosty yeah? Don't be like me. 

Until next time, lieutenant :)

﹑

[keigh0e]

Friendzone ♥ Bakugo Katsuki

Prompt: It wasn’t just a one off for me; it was me hoping you’d see the connection

Word Count: 3.6k

Triggers: No spice, just fluff, some explosive behavior and naughty words

Author Note: Hi guys! This is my first ever post on this blog, I’d really appreciate some feedback. I’d also love it if you sent me some requests, check out this pinned post to see what anime’s I write for and find a very big prompt list

This is an unedited piece so apologies for any spelling/grammar mistakes

Being Bakugo’s longest friend comes with its own perks, at least in your eyes.

You and Bakugo had existed together for as long as you can remember, your mother was best friends with his and they’d ended up getting pregnant around the same time which meant you went through school together. You followed one another to UA as well, and there was no doubt you’d start a Hero agency together, or at least share the same building… Maybe just the same street, depending on how overbearing Bakugo is with you.

You and him were petals flying in the same gust of wind, there was no questioning it, you were simply together.

That didn’t mean you avoided his wrath, you probably got it more than anyone actually, that was only because he knew you could handle it and even match against him.

But you also got all of his softness, it wasn’t as loud as his rage and it made itself apparent in ways most people missed, but not you, you were Bakugo’s best friend, your soul attuned to his.

His quiet softness appeared when he always rushed ahead of you to open a door for you, and when he’d stop mid sentence and kneel down to take care of your undone shoelace, or when he’d always step closer to you and wrap his arm around your shoulders because a stranger had gotten too close to you (or Mineta, but Bakugo normally kicked the little perv away before he got the chance to get too close to you).

There was only one time his softness became loud and that was at night.

You’d taken the UA move into the dorms as bravely as you could, but after a week you were homesick. The longest you’d ever stayed away from your parents was when you had a sleepover at Bakugo’s, that was usually only for one or two nights, plus, it was only a trip down the road.

You struggled with falling asleep and it didn’t take long for Bakugo to notice the change in you. The same day he finally clocked on to the bags under your eyes and the invisible weight slumping your shoulders, he snuck into your room that night.

As he got into your bed you asked what he was doing and he respectfully told you to ‘shut your face’. The next thing you knew, he’d wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you onto his chest, then his hand was running through your hair and sleep came so easily it swept you as easily as he had swept you into his arms. He hadn’t cured your homesickness, he’d done something much better than that, he’d given you a new place to call home.

That was also the night when the lines between friendship and something more started to get blurry. He was still your best friend, still protective and caring, still a pain in the arse. But suddenly, his hand always found its way into yours, his arm always around your shoulder even when no one else was around. And every single night, without fail, he came to your dorm room and snuggled up with you, petting your head before falling asleep.

You did try speaking to him about it once, but it didn’t go very well.

A month had gone by of him sleeping in your dorm room. Once it got to the weekend, you and Bakugo went for your routine coffee which you treated yourselves to every Saturday as a ‘well done’ for making it through another week of high school and surviving all the villian attacks. 

You got a caramel latte while he went for a black coffee, after getting your drinks Bakugo walked you over to a table with his hand on your back and pulled out your chair before sitting down.

“So,” you began, and then you stumbled on what to say so you just blew on your latte to cool it down.

It had never been like this with Bakugo before, so stilted and awkward. He seemed to be noticing the tension as well as he stared down at you with a raised brow. “So?”

“So…” You tried to start again, tried to push through your awkwardness. “Are sleepovers a regular thing now?”

His whole body tensed, but that was the only sigh he gave that your question had affected him. “Yeah, that a problem?”

Yes, you wanted to say.

Yes, it was a big problem, because even after a month you got excited whenever it got to night time and your heart fluttered every single time he wrapped you up in his arms and pulled you so tightly against his body, as if to say ‘you are mine, and you’re not going anywhere’. You were 90% sure those weren’t feelings friends were meant to have for one another.

But, at the same time, the thought of losing that, losing him, was too painful.

You shook your head. “No, not a problem.”

“Then stop acting weird, you’re freaking me out,” he snapped, no real bite to his words. There never was.

That was that. You and Bakugo were still best friends, still hung out, still argued and every night, no matter what kind of day you’d had, you cuddled up together and fell asleep.

It became the new norm, as did living with your brewing emotions.

Until you and the gang had all decided to play a game together one night.

You and Bakugo could have only lasted so long, one of you would have broken eventually, you were just surprised at who broke first.

♥♥♥

You laughed along with Kirishima as Denki did his best opera impression, the noise filling up every crevice in the room and making you cringe to the point your teeth were grinding together.

On your other side was Bakugo, one hand covering his ear, the other resting on your bicep as his arm wrapped around your shoulder. 

“Will you shut up already?!” He yelled. Whilst you’d been coping with Denki’s singing, you did have to lean away from your friends as he yelled directly in your ear. Once he finished, he sent you an apologetic look and then used the arm around your shoulder to pull you closer.

“I caaaaaan’t!” Kaminari sang with a dramatic swing of his hands, “I was daared too serenade the ever-so-lovely Jiroooooooooouuuuuu.”

“She also wants you to shut up, moron,” Jirou hissed. Her words made it out like she was angry, but the blush on her cheeks and the fact she couldn’t look Kaminari in the eyes made you think she was feeling something else other than anger. Though, you may have just been projecting. 

“Fine,” Kaminari huffed, arms flopping down at his side as he finished his performance. He gave you and your friends the gift of perfectly serene silence, for all of three seconds before he straightened up and pointed a finger directly at Bakugo. “As it’s now my turn, I choose you, Bakugo, to be my next victim.” 

The hothead smirked, and you hated the way your stomach flipped at the sight of it. “I’m no one's victim, do your worst Sparky.”

The night had escalated after Mina had proposed a game of ‘truth or dare’, but you had an awful feeling stirring in your stomach when you saw the devious glint in Kaminari’s eye. You knew whatever Bakugo got given, he had too much pride to bow out.

“Truth or dare,” Kaminari asked.

“Stupid question, dare,” Bakugo replied.

“I dare you to kiss Y/N.”

You were the first to move, before Kaminari had even finished his sentence, you were up on your feet, putting space between you and Bakugo. “No, no, no,” you laughed, noticing it sounded more strained than joyful. “Absolutely not.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to?” Mina asks, her tone teasing. You’d been asked a million and one times if there was something more between you and Bakugo by your fellow students. It looks like no matter how many times you say no, they just don’t believe you.

“Yes, I’m absolutely sure,” you gruffed, doing your best Bakugo impression as you scowled over at Mina.

You take another step back as Bakugo stands up turning to face you, that usual frown playing on his lips and a surprising amount of determination in his eyes.

You’d seen that look before. The day he decided you were both becoming heroes, the day you decided to go to UA. That look only ever appeared whenever he decided something monumental and life changing. Normally you were filled with excitement when you saw that look in his eyes. Not on that night.

“What are you doing?” You asked whilst taking another step back. It became a new game for you and Bakugo, he took a step forward and you took a step back. Unfortunately, the wall behind you was closer than you realised and the next thing you knew, Bakugo was standing right there, centimeters from your face.

You’ve stood that close before, plenty of times, but never before had you been so aware of his body, of the heat emanating from him. When you looked into his eyes, you saw them solely focused on your lips.

He wanted to kiss you, wanted to break that line between friends and something more.

Is that what you wanted? You weren’t sure and Bakugo wasn’t giving you much choice as he grabbed your face and pulled your lips towards his, the momentum slamming the two of you together.

It started rash and rough, which wasn’t all that much of a surprise as this was Bakugo you were kissing. But then it hit you, the most achingly beautiful thing about every moment you’ve spent with Bakugo, his quiet softness.

The way he moved his lips against yours, guiding you rather than demanding you. It had you melting against him, your hands searching out his chest to relax on, your body leaning on his for support.

His own hands had fallen to your neck, his palm resting on your pulse point while his thumb stroked encouragingly against your jaw, gently moving the angle of your face so that he could explore your mouth further.

You would have given up a lot in that moment if it meant you could stay there in that embrace. Screw the line, it was boring. This, Bakugo’s lips, were exciting and awe-inspiring. He was everything, he was your everything.

“Alright kids, time for bed,” Aizawa appeared out of nowhere, or at least you hoped he had. If he’d watched you fall apart in Bakugo’s arms the way you just did, you weren’t sure how you’d face him in your next class.

You were meant to be a superhero, a badass, but when Bakugo pulled away from you, your lips tried to follow him and a whimper escaped before you could stop it.

You watched him take in your expression, you weren’t in control of it, too taken by how good it had felt to kiss your est friend and how shocked you were by how much you wanted to do it again. At best, you imagined there was a hazy and dim look in your eyes.

That determined look was still fiery in his eyes as he straightened you up so you weren’t leaning completely on his body. Then with a slight nod of his head and one more glance into your eyes, he said the very last thing you expected: “Talk to you tomorrow.”

You blinked at his retreating figure, so many questions floating through your mind as you watched him meander his way to the boys dorm rooms.

‘Talk to you tomorrow’? What did that mean? Surely it didn’t mean he wasn’t going to come to your room later? Right?

♥♥♥

That bastard wasn’t coming to your room. It would be the first night in months that you didn’t have him, and he’d decided it needed to be after he kissed you. He got you hooked and then took away your addiction.

Well screw him. He didn’t get to just do that, not to you.

There was a reason you were best friends for that long, because you could be just as explosive as him when you wanted to be.

The fact that you needed to sneak to his room ruined your ire a little bit, especially when you had to gently tap on his door when what you really wanted to do was knock the damn thing off of its hinges.

A few moments later a tired looking Bakugo appeared. It was well after ten O’clock at night so it didn’t surprise you to see a sleepy expression on your best friend, he was very strict about his sleeping routine and the conditions that he needed when sleeping. You didn’t mind most of the time because it just helped you fall asleep as well.

One rule you’d both always followed was to never go to sleep angry with one another, it stopped you from being able to fall asleep quickly, the anxious thoughts keeping you awake, and Bakugo obviously wouldn’t stand for that when his beauty sleep was much more important..

“What are you doing here Y/N?”

Not bothering to respond, you pushed past Bakugo, earning no resistance from your best friend who often let you have your way. Up until your kiss, you hadn’t though much about why.

“It’s bed time.” You simply answered, shuffling onto Bakugo’s bed and settling yourself on the side furthest from the door. That was Bakugo’s rule, not yours. He wanted to be close to the door in case someone tried to break in and he needed to protect you, when he’d confessed that to you, you’d just rolled your eyes at him.

He continued eyeing you as you moved the comforter over your knees, you met his stare head on, refusing to back down. “Exactly, both of us should be asleep, not knocking on my door.”

“Well I wouldn’t have to knock on your door if you’d come to my room, you know, like every other night,” you sassed back.

He averted his eyes from yours, something had flashed in them though before he’d turned away. Was it hurt? Or shame? “Well I guess things have changed now.”

“And that’s my fault?” It certainly felt like it was. You were the one losing your best friend, even though he’d been the one who’d kissed you. It was unfair, you’d been safely balancing on the line for years, not reacting at all to the way he’d make you feel sometimes. But now he was messing it all up!

He scoffed again at your words, just fuelling your rage. “Did I say it was?!”

“You kissed me Bakugo, then you just walked away and told me you’d speak to me tomorrow? I’ve been your best friend since the day I was born, I deserve better than that.” You were getting so passionate you’d started speaking with your hands, throwing your arms out and slamming your hands against your chest. 

Your former best friend (at least for now) took several moments to take in your words, then he started walking over and you prepared yourself to get manhandled. Instead, he flumped down on his side of the bed, still not looking at you. “You’re right.”

“No, you shut up! Wait, what? I’m right?” He said you were right? Those were rare words form your best friend, you’d totally been prepared to have a screaming match with him, thats how your arguments usually went. You weren’t sure if this was some new tactic to try win arguments with you, so you chose to stick with being defensive. “Yeah, I am right! Glad we’re in agreement.”

Finally he looked at you. “Will you quieten down? Someone will hear you’re in here.” Those his words were aggressive, there was nothing on his expression that showed he was angry with you. He looked upset more than anything else. For some people it might have been hard to tell the difference, but you read his every feature like it was your favourite book. 

So he wasn’t angry with you. Anger would make more sense than that upset expression on his face. You couldn’t figure out a reason for why he’d be upset, unless the kiss had been that bad? No, you realised, if it was bad then you definitely would have known, even if Bakugo didn’t tell you, you’d have been able to read it from his body if he’d not enjoyed it.

“The fact you of all people are telling me to quiet my voice is very laughable, I hope you know that,” you commented. Your voice had gone softer, the anger being swept away like the tide.

“Funny.” He responded, in a tone that held no amusement. He seemed to take a moment to do a deep breath before he continued to speak, finally explaining himself but still not looking you in the eyes. “I thought maybe you’d want space after I kissed you, I know it’s going to change things, I know how I want things to change, but I wanted to give you time to figure out what you wanted.”

“What do you mean?” You knew what he meant. You’d been thinking the exact same thing, but the difference is you weren’t as brave as Bakugo was. You needed him to continue being brave, because you couldn’t just step over that line, you needed his guidance. No, you needed reassurance that he’d be stepping over that line with you.

Maybe he knew that’s why you asked, maybe he heard it hidden behind your nervousness, despite you not saying it. He finally looked up and he even reached out, grabbing your hand in his. “It wasn’t just a one off for me; it was me hoping you’d see the connection.” 

You looked from his hand in yours to his eyes, he was analysing you just as much as he was analysing you. “So you want to be like, boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, and it was almost laughable at how nice he was being to you in that moment. Of course, as soon as you thought that he had to go ruin it. “I mean, we pretty much are already, you’re always hanging off my arm and cuddling up to me at night, only difference is we’d be kissing, and you weren’t that bad.”

The thing is, you liked his backhanded comments, because you knew they were always just compliments disguised. He wasn’t loud with his kindness, and that worked well for you. He was loud with everything else, and nine out of ten times, it amused you.

So even then, as he tried to blame you for all the cuddling you’d been doing together even though he’d been the one who started every interaction, you were completely and utterly charmed. Whilst you may have said ‘so you want to be like, boyfriend and girlfriend?’ He had heard ‘I’m scared you’re not thinking this through and we might be risking our friendship’. And whilst he’s said a load of hot air, you heard ‘you’re who I choose, you’re worth every risk’.

“Uh huh,” you hummed in response. “Ask me.”

He blinked over at you. “What?”

A prideful look that matched Bakugo’s filled your expression as your stature straightened slightly. “You want to date me, then you need to ask me to be your girlfriend.”

“You’re a real pain in my arse, Y/N,” he groaned, letting go of your hand and flopping down on his bed beside you.

“Back at you.” You got comfortable beside him, snuggling under the blanket and turning to face him.

He was looking up at the ceiling. “Be my girlfriend.”

You frowned at that. Did he really think you’d agree so easily? Had he forgotten who his best friend is. “You gonna say please?”

Turning around, his arm automatically fell onto your waist. “You want to be my girlfriend, I don’t need to say please.”

“It’s polite Bakugo.” You admonished.

“After all these years we’ve been friends, you still don’t know I don’t care about manners, they’re just a waste of time.”

“Guess being your girlfriend would be a waste of my time then,” you tutted. 

“Whatever. I’m done with this shit, I’m going to bed.”

“Fine.” Your words were terse but you didn’t budge an inch, comfortable in his hold.

“Fine!” He yelled, showing just how much you’d riled him up. You’d lying if you said it didn’t make you smile.

“Will you stop yelling? They might figure out I’m in here,” you hissed, mirroring his earlier words because you apparently weren’t done with pissing off your best friend.

His arm raised from around your waist to your shoulders, until he was shoving your face into your chest. “Shut up,” he hissed, smothering you. You slapped your hand against his chest three times before he relaxed.

Neither of you said anything, just fermenting in your annoyance towards one another for a little while before it faded. Anytime you argued with Bakugo, it would always fade, the feelings of anger or disdain taking off their mask and revealing themselves as something else, normally frustration. 

Because you loved him, a lot, and you hated fighting with him. It was a difficult thing to avoid when you were both so spirited sometimes, but it didn’t matter, because that love you had for him was stronger than anything else.

It seemed Bakugo agreed with you as his hand lowered back down to your waist, crawling under your vest. He didn’t need his powers, just his touch had you feeling like tiny explosions were going off wherever his hand moved. He gripped you on the curve of your hip bone, his entire body stiffening.

“Y/N,” he started, his voice low, giving it a rough tone that had you trembling in the most wonderful way. “Will you please be my girlfriend?”

[iinsertblognamee]

friends or lovers?

summary ― sam and y/n started out as neighbours and became friends but what if they wanted more?

pairing ― sam kerr x reader

warning/s ― fluff, angst, illusions to smut, injury & more to be added

disclaimer; discontinued for now. this story is unedited, and may have spelling and grammar mistakes. there is no set time on when stories will be posted.

the beginning (1993 - 2009)

» i think i might love you

one year (2010)

» purple to blue

two years (2011)

» how the matilda's found out

» it wasn't meant to go like this

four years (2013)

» cheers to 20, have a tattoo

» social media au; 20th birthdays & cyprus

five years (2014)

» hello new york

[acciopietro]

Hi, I have a request.

So like Pietro and the reader are in a relationship and Pietro is really insecure about him being not able to give reader enough gifts and attention. (Reader is from a wealthy family)

He's scared that Reader could leave him for a wealthier person than him. Reader reassure Pietro that they won't leave him.

Yea, so angsty & fluff.

The reader can be gender neutral, I don't really care.

Thanks, I love how you write

Have a nice day.

anything from you - p.m.

pairing: pietro maximoff x gn! reader

summary: pietro’s unsure whether or not he’s enough

word count: 1662

tw: no!

a/n: this was such a cute idea! i apologize for how short this is, i'm trying to clear out my drafts LOL! this is unedited so if u see any grammar or spelling mistakes lmk!!!! <3

"I CAN'T ACCEPT THIS," PIETRO'S mouth had fallen agape at the sight of the small box he opened, resting it on his lap. The light flashed off of the glittering silver of the watch inside, it's glass face perfectly clear, so well made that it looked like there was nothing there. "This is... this is very expensive gift."

"You have to accept it," you grinned, shrugging your shoulders. "I saw it and thought you'd like it."

"Yes, and I-- I do, but..." Pietro opened and closed his mouth like a fish. "I have never worn something so expensive before."

"Firsts for everything!" you giggled and gave him a bashful smile. He pursed his lips, melting at the sweetness of your face, and glanced back down at the watch. Your face sunk a bit at his hesitation, and you grabbed the bag that previously held the box. "I can return it, if you don't like it."

"No, I... I love it," Pietro grabbed ahold of your hand, smoothing his thumb over the top of your knuckles before bringing it to his lips and kissing it. "Multumesc, dragă."

---

“AHA!” Pietro mumbled to himself, pulling his hand out from behind the couch cushion of the couch in the Avengers Compound’s foyer, another quarter pinched between his fingers. He was lucky enough to live there and earn a decent wage, but he certainly did not have as much disposable income as say, Tony Stark, or even Y/N L/N. 

“Pietro,” came Wanda’s voice from behind him, her tone slow as though she were confused. He turned his head to see her standing there, arms crossed over her chest, eyebrow raised. “What on earth are you doing?”

“Right now, I am counting,” he said, sitting down and dumping out his pocket, muttering the numbers under his breath. “I have a total of twenty-three dollars and...seventy-three cents. But then once I add the money from my wallet, I’ll have about...”

“What do you need this for?” Wanda sauntered over, sitting across from him and his measly pile of dented dollar bills and dirty coins. Pietro didn’t respond, still counting in his head.

“Sixty-five dollars and eighty-two cents,” Pietro nodded his head, muttering under his breath. “That might be enough...”

“Nice watch,” Wanda complimented. “From Y/N, yes?”

“Yeah,” Pietro muttered, rubbing the band of it with his thumb. “They are very generous.”

“I see.”

“I want to buy them something,” Pietro told his sister. “But... I cannot really afford something very expensive, you know? So maybe something for fifty dollars. Or maybe more, but I... I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you just make them something? Or take them some place nice?”

“I could,” Pietro scratched his chin, dropping his shoulders in exhaustion. “But they’re always buying me things, I feel like I need to return the favor.”

“You don’t owe them anything, though,” Wanda told him gently. “Just because they buy you all these things doesn’t mean you need to buy them things, it just means you need to gift them with other things. Experiences, homemade things... as long as there is love in it, no?”

“I am not wealthy like them,” Pietro sighed. “What if they think I am using them for their money? I need to show them that --”

“They do not think that,” Wanda gave him a gentle look. “They love you, trust me. I was with them when they picked out that watch for you.”

“Yeah, well,” Pietro didn’t have much to say in response to that. “They’d be better off with someone who can afford to take care of them.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Wanda shook her head. “You take care of them just fine.”

“Hmph,” Pietro only shrugged and began to leave the room. “Maybe. But they could do better.”

---

“Wanda?” you said, poking your head into the kitchen. Said woman stood over a steaming pot, stirring the contents with a long wooden spoon. Vision glided into the room, holding onto a container of paprika looking triumphant. 

“Found it!” he said cheerfully. He turned his head and grinned at the sight of you. “Oh, hello, Y/N. Did you want some paprikash?”

“Maybe later, thanks Vision,” you smiled. “Have either of you seen Pietro?”

“Uhm, I’d assume he’d be in his room,” Wanda guessed.

“No, he’s not in there,” you frowned, sitting on one of the bar stools. “I’ve been looking around for him all day. I think he’s avoiding me.”

You knew Wanda and Vision shared a glance, but you were too busy staring down at the ring on your finger to say anything. Pietro had gotten it for you in the early stages of your relationship; you hadn’t the slightest clue where it was from or if the gems were real, but it was beautiful and fit like a glove. That was all that mattered, anyways. You twisted it around on your finger, frowning.

“Did I upset him?” you asked Wanda. “Has he said anything to you?”

Wanda gave a quick, almost unnoticeable glance at Vision. “Erm... he’s not upset at you, no.”

“What is it, then?” you pressed. There was a pregnant pause of silence.

“Look, I think you should talk to him,” Wanda trailed off, her brows slowly raising as she glanced behind you. Vision did nothing, however he was not slick about the way his eyes widened and he mouthed, “Go!”

You whipped your head around, and before you set eyes on Pietro, the blur of his red sweatshirt caught your eye and you knew he had run off. You sighed, running a hand across your scalp. 

“Sorry,” Vision apologized to you, bowing his head. “It’s... it’s your business, you and him.”

“Yes, I know,” you sighed again. “Thanks, I guess.”

“We’ll save some paprikash for you!” Wanda called out to you as you disappeared down the hallway. The lights of Pietro’s room were on, and you could hear the soft sound of a record playing from outside the door. It was Billy Joel’s The Stranger, one of his favorite American records; you had bought it for him, along with Songs in the Key of Life by Stevie Wonder and Goodbye Yellow Brick Road by Elton John. 

With “Vienna” playing from the old record player, you creaked open the door. Pietro was at his desk, hunched over a piece of paper with a ballpoint pen in his hand. He was humming along softly under his breath, scribbling away and not noticing you. You walked up behind him and put a hand on his arm, bending over to place your chin on his shoulder. He jumped.

“You scared me,” he muttered, hastily folding up the paper and shoving it into a drawer. “Did you knock?”

“No, sorry,” you drew your face away from him, glancing at where he hid the paper. “Did you want me to leave?”

“I--” he hesitated. “No, I don’t.”

“Okay,” you rocked on your toes for a second before crossing the room to sit on the edge of the bed. “You okay? Whatcha doing?”

“Just drawing,” he sighed, putting the pen down and leaning back in his chair. “Bored, I guess.”

“Haven’t seen you all day,” you continued.

“Been tired,” he lied through his teeth.

“Yeah, okay,” you scoffed. “You slept for like ten hours.”

Pietro’s lips quirked up. “Yeah, true.”

“What’s going on?” you asked bluntly, patting the empty space on the bed beside you. Pietro eyed it for a second, as though hesitating, before getting up and taking a seat beside you, his knees resting against yours, shoulders pressed against one another. You lifted your hand, running it through his hair. “What’s goin’ on in that brain of yours?”

“Just...” Pietro paused. “Don’t you ever... aren’t you ever upset that I can’t... that I can’t really do stuff for you?”

You furrowed your brows, unsure what he meant.

“Like this watch,” Pietro ran his thumb over the face of the shiny gold watch on his wrist, the band glinting under the soft lights of his bedroom. “It’s... it’s great. I love it. But I can’t buy you stuff like this. I can’t... I don’t have...”

“That never upsets me,” you told him honestly. “I don’t even think about that kind of stuff.”

“You could have a guy who can buy you things,” Pietro went on. “A real rich one, you know, take you shopping and whatnot.”

“I can take myself shopping,” you joked, bumping your shoulder with his. He gave a small smile. “And I don’t need that, nor do I want that. I want you, and whatever you come with is perfect.”

“Are you sure?” Pietro scrunched up his face, his pale eyes glazed over. You ran your hand through the icy tips of his hair, and he leaned into your touch like a puppy being scratched behind the ear. “Sometimes I worry that you’ll leave.”

“Leave?”

“For someone with more money,” Pietro mumbled.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you kissed his cheek. “I don’t want to leave, and I’m not going to anytime soon.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you kissed his temple. “I am.”

Pietro said nothing, his brows furrowed and his nose slightly scrunched. You put your hand under his chin, turning his face so the two of you were eye to eye.

"You are perfectly perfect, Piet,” you told him firmly. You felt his face turn hot underneath your hand. “I’ve never wished for anything more or less from you. It’s like I’m Goldilocks and you’re the porridge that’s just right."

“Mm,” was all he said for a moment, leaning into you. After a pregnant pause of silence, he said, “I don’t know what that means.”

“Yeah, I figured,” you wrapped your arms around him, hugging his side. He pressed into you, hugging you back, the warmth from his arms engulfing you. “My next gift for you will be an American nursery rhyme book. How’s that?”

He let out a laugh, holding you tighter. “Anything from you is perfect.”

---

translations:

"Multumesc, dragă." - Thank you, darling.

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