#whatever he is has to spin something on its head

[birdmenanime]

taking my transgenderification beam and aiming it directly at the bird club

[suguann]

Being a camgirl comes with its fair share of ups and downs, but you never expected one of the downs to be one of your unboxings from a fan going horribly wrong during a live stream—the proof of it still buzzing between your thighs beyond your finger's reach. 

A rush of embarrassment comes with knocking on your roommate’s bedroom door and asking him for help because you’re nearing the brink of overstimulation and can’t think straight enough to get the words out. It’s worse when he stands there and says nothing—all imposing with two tattooed arms crossed over his chest—while you try to get through a sentence without moaning. 

Simon looks at you with a cocked brow and something akin to amusement as he watches you squirm in his doorway. 

Then he finally says, “Get on the bed,” in a steady and low voice, opening his bedroom door wider.

You fidget under his scrutinizing gaze as you settle back against his pillows, biting back whimpers with a too-hot face and sweat dripping down your back. 

Him settling a knee on the bed makes you jump, “Let’s take a look, love.” 

Simon crawls up the bed, forcing your knees open, and you’re suddenly very aware of how broad and big he looks, towering over you—every part of you laid bare for him to see. A large hand presses right below your belly button, jostling the toy inside you, and this time, you can’t hold back the squeal that rips from your chest. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs, voice imperceptibly deeper, his lips twitching like he’s trying to hold back a smile. “Okay, you’re going to feel a slight stretch.”

You bite your lip. “A-alright—”

Slight doesn’t even come close to the fingers sliding into you, spearing your sensitive walls open and pressing into a spot where you’ve never been able to reach with startling precision. You remind yourself that he has to do this, that he’s just being…friendly, or whatever makes the lines less blurred. 

None of this stops the fact your lower stomach burns with the promise of another orgasm when his fingers brush against the egg vibrator before accidentally pressing it deeper inside.

“Ah, there it is.”

At the sight of your scrunched nose, he asks if it hurts. You shake your head; eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to hold back the stinging pleasure racing up your spine. “N-no,” you whimper.

“Relax, okay?”

Simon doesn’t comment on how you’re implying that it feels good. So good, you think, his thumb just barely touching your clit as he twists his hand to try a different angle. Then he pushes down on your belly again, and his long fingers finally grip the vibrator.

“Oh!” you moan at the feel of it dragging down your front wall, your fingers gripping the sheets. 

He has to tell you to relax again, his voice cracking, but you hardly hear it over your heart beating loudly in your ears. His fingers drag the toy out slowly, almost too slow that you can feel it bumping against every slippery ridge inside you.

“Ah, sorry,” he says when you twitch—unapologetic—using his thumb to rub soothing circles into your stomach. “You’re so wet. I need to make sure I don’t lose it again.”

You nod, cunt clenching down at his words.

And then Simon’s fingers curl up: your thighs start quivering, breath caught in your throat, and your jaw locks up until your orgasm ripples through you. It’s unending, the strongest one yet, and just when you think it’s over, you feel the press of his palm against your clit.

“W-wait! Simon,” you moan, pushing at his hand. “No more, I‘m sensitive!”

He gets you to fall over the edge one more time before finally slipping the vibrator out of you, letting it hum softly on the bed, and your exhausted body sinks into the mattress once again. Simon gathers you into his lap, rocking you back and forth.

You swallow lungfuls of air against his chest, head still spinning and walls spasming from the aftershocks. 

He murmurs in your ear about how good you are, kisses your temple, and rubs your sides, and it’s… enlightening. Moments pass before you finally return to yourself, and when he pulls back, his brows furrow at your pout.

“All good?”

You shake your head and go with honesty. “I didn’t think you’d cuddle me afterward.”

He smiles, thumb flicking your bottom lip. “You wanted me to fuck you?” 

Your mouth falls open. “N-no—”

Then he leans down, lips brushing against your ear: “Don’t worry, love. Good girls get fucked hard.”

[ddejavvu]

Could you do a criminal minds x reader where reader is viewed as super sweet and dresses brighter and stuff like Penelope but one day they have to come in like super late/by surprise so everyone is in their normal clothes and the bau sees that reader has a big ass, super cool tattoo? And they’re all surprised and stuff

You're looking less-than professional in your backless halter top when you take your seat at the round table, but no one bats an eye until you stand from the chair to leave. Hotch's call of 'Wheels up in 20' means that the room clears as everyone hunts for their gobags, and the second you turn your back to your coworkers a litany of reactions fill the space.

Of course, the most dramatic is from Garcia, but you hear enough to count all of your coworkers, except one. Hotch's brows are raised when you turn back to see them, though - apparently he's not above being startled.

"Woah, hot stuff," Prentiss calls, a grin spreading over her face, "You've got some nice ink back there!"

"I didn't know you had tattoos," JJ muses, staring at you with curious amusement like she's recalculating your image in her mind, "That's really intricate. I like it."

"Oh, it's-" You reach a hand up to stroke awkwardly over the inked skin, "I kind of forgot you'd never seen it before."

"Turn around again!" Garcia gushes, "I wanna look at it."

You spin on command, and Hotch and Rossi are kind enough not to gawp with the others, passing you on their way to the door.

"You've got guts, kid," Rossi grimaces, "I've been in a lot of pain before, but I don't know if I'd willingly sit there for all of that."

"I wouldn't," Hotch shakes his head with a good-natured smile, "Haley and I got small, matching ones in college, and I had a hard time with that one."

"Is that based off of Norse mythology?" Spencer pokes his head around your shoulder to stare bright-eyed at you, "Some of the symbols remind me of-"

"It's just a sick-ass tattoo, Reid." Morgan shoves at his shoulder. peering avidly at the art, "Don't ruin this for everyone."

Reid takes the shove like a champion, smiling kindly, albeit awkwardly at you as he moves for the door himself, "I like it."

"Thanks, Reid," You call, flinching slightly as a hand traces one of the symbols on your back.

"Ooh! Sorry, pumpkin," Garcia calls, the hand drawn away in a flash, "I got too grabby. I just think it's really cool," she takes your hand, leading you towards the door while the others follow to continue staring at your tattoo, "I'd show you my own body art, but it's not really in a spot that I can display in the workplace."

"Well this I've gotta see," Morgan teases, "Let's all huddle in the bathroom on the jet, babygirl, and see what you're hiding."

"It is not for your eyes, Derek Morgan," She huffs, though she's grinning at his attempt. The look in her eyes suggests that the tattoo is not for his eyes because it's something to do with him, and you're eager to giggle over whatever part of her body she's tatted 'babygirl' over later.

For now, though, you rifle through your gobag and shrug on a cardigan, effectively covering your back and its ink.

"It is a crying shame to cover up that artwork," Prentiss laments, "I bet it looks awesome peeking over tank tops."

"You'll see it again at the hotel," You laugh, "I have plans to use the jacuzzi before we leave."

"A jacuzzi sounds fantastic," JJ sighs, "But let's all of us agree that Morgan isn't invited - I wanna see Garcia's tattoo."

[i-yap]

Jason todd x reader - clingy thoughts

(guys i have no motivation to start writing most days so like whenever I get comments or requests in my inbox I get rlly excited and actually feel like writing)

if jason could, he would melt his skin so it could stick to yours . He is so touch starved but more than that he is just ...starved. like he hasn't ever had anything properly good in his life. and then you're just there and he doesn't think something better could exist

he wants to look at you, he stares a lot. even when he is cuddling you, he's looking at your hands, your hair, whatever he can see in the position

he likes casual intimacy more than fancy intimacy. like linking pinkies when walking, resting your head on his shoulder on the bus, your legs being pressed against each other when you're sitting on a rooftop. something you'd do without thinking but he is constantly thinking about it.

he isn't the lift and spin sort of guy ( like after a mission or something) he is a holds you and falls to the ground from the pain of being separated from you for too long. he is the don't to dare pull away, tears in his eyes, body shaking sort of guy.

he hates being away from you, even across the table is too far. wants to sit next to you or hold your hand if you're sitting across. make sure the table isn't too big. the distance hurts him, its like he has an internal radar that if you cross , his head goes red .

give him any sign that you are just as clingy or even that you don't hate his guts and he will just freeze. he doesn't know how to reciprocate touch, feelings, words, everything but he really really wants to. so just because he stiffens up when you hug him doesn't mean he is gonna let you leave the hug .

his sweetest words come out at like 4am , when you're in the bathtub, sitting on a roof, eating snacks on the floor of your room or lying in bed . you cant be facing him cause he will forget whaT he wanted to say once he sees your face. he is super tired from crime fighting or after s'x or after a nightmare. don't make a big deal out of it cause he wont take it well and will get embarrassed.

he is just so protective, you rlly cant blame him.

[monstersholygrail]

Dragon hybrid meets fairy reader and tries to eat her by grilling her with his fire but sees that she’s actually fire proof? Obviously dragon falls in love instantly and eats her in another way ✨

How cool!! That’s a super fascinating combination and possible power dynamic between the two monsters.

Consider, the big bad Dragon of the mountain and one of the last of his kind, comes down to the forest below in order to hunt. His large stature doesn’t allow for very sneaky attacks but what does he need for stealth when he can breathe fire??

He thinks it’s his lucky day when he sees a clueless Fairy all lost in their own world, not paying attention to their surroundings. Fruit ripe for the picking, he thinks. He unhinges his jaw, fire building up in his throat and giving him that warm spark throughout his body. Just as he’s about to cook his meal, he sees the Fairy turn around and meet his eye. But instead of fear and panic crossing her face, she merely smirks.

The confrontation startles the dragon and the fire that bursts forth from his throat is weak and flimsy. Still, for any normal creature it would’ve made them a nice medium rare. Not his first choice but he wouldn’t complain. But when he looks at the Fairy she’s left standing, her curious yet alluring body still perfectly in tact. Not even a scorch mark on her skin!

Her clothes though… the Dragon supposes whatever magic this creature possesses doesn’t include her clothing as the Fairy is left standing completely naked before him.

Of course, the mighty Dragon has to inspect and investigate how such a small creature compared to him was able to thwart his fire attack. The Fairy, feeling very smug about having outsmarted the Dragon that towers over her, agrees to be played with. She was certain he would never guess.

The Dragon inspects her body, sniffing and searching for the warmth he senses within her. That warmth most evident between her fleshy thighs. The Fairy is surprised when the Dragon brings her to the ground, his tongue dipping into her cunt in search of the heat. The Fairy moans and her heat grows, making the Dragon all the more curious.

His giant tongue laps at the Fairy’s pretty cunt. He watches it as it grows slick, puffy, and hotter by the minute. He growls, wanting answers and his pace quickens, tongue swirling through her folds, trying to get to where she runs hottest.

Realizing it’s inside her the Dragon leans back, making the Fairy whine in protest. The Dragon releases another tunnel of fire from its jaws, though this one purposefully remaining gentle as it curls and travels inside the Fairy’s cunt. The Fairy gasps, her body shaking with pleasure as the Dragon fucks her with his fire. Thrusting in and out of her pussy as it longs for the mysterious heat inside her.

With the heat licking along her walls in a way that has her head spinning and her body tingling, it doesn’t take long for the Fairy to cum all over the length of the fire inside her. The Dragon can taste it as it travels through the tunnel and he growls, breathing more fire, forcing it to burrow deeper inside her. The Fairy moans, her body limp and allowing the Dragon in even deeper.

As the flames course through her body and intertwine with her very essence, the Dragon finally understands. Her heart beating with the strength of a Dragon and a Fairy. A half-breed. His flames leave her and he moves to rest beside her weak form, his tail curling around her form protectively.

Originally having been looking for a meal, the lonely Dragon found something much more special instead.

[onyourowndaisymae]

under where?

content + warnings: nsfw, x fem!reader, flashing, discussions of oral

prompt: "Imagine sitting across from the brothers and nonchalantly spreading your legs to reveal no underwear under your skirt. Just IMAGINE their reactions…" (via: @shyvien-obeyme)

there's a tension in the air, a mixture of seven different reactions to the same action. seven demons who knew their master had such a commanding presence, had fallen victim to "stay" time and time again-- yet here you are, bringing all of them to their knees without uttering a single word.

lucifer pales when your legs spread. a low, possessive growl threatens to rock his chest, but he swallows hard and averts his gaze. you can see his cheeks flush a little. he meets your gaze-- he's very determined to show you he doesn't see you as a piece of meat-- and opens his mouth to scold you for such vulgar behavior. but there's this heat in your gaze, almost inviting as your eyes smolder with want. his mouth closes. he takes another look between your spread legs. fuck. you're so wet it's obscene. were you really that needy, working yourself up like that over there? he can only imagine what's running through your head, what depraved thoughts linger beneath that cheshire smile. no matter. just say the word and he's whisk you away to his room, alone, ready to please his master until dawn breaks through the darkened skies.

mammon whines, the sound loud and uninhibited, his cheeks engulfing in flames-- yet he can't bring himself to be ashamed. it takes everything in him not to pounce on you. he wants to yell, too. why? why're you so comfortable spreading your legs like that in front of all his brothers, huh?! don't you know the kind of filthy thoughts running through their heads?! the conflicting feelings make his stomach flutter. he wants to close your legs, guarding your entrance like a dragon to its hoard, greedy to keep its greatest treasure private. but he also wants to fall to his knees in front of you. to wait for your permission before burying his face in your cunt, fucking you on his tongue in front of everyone. he's getting impatient now that the thought's entered his mind-- so can you please stop looking at him like that and let him touch you already, before he loses whatever mind he has left?

leviathan can feel his shame rush to his face, burning heat pooling at the back of his neck. it's embarassing how quickly his pants grow tight and cumbersome. this-- this is too much for him. he needs to hide away, now, burrowing into a fort of blankets in his bathtub until a century or two passes and he's sure everyone's forgotten about this moment in time. but he can't. because you're staring at him. your eyes crawl up his body, lingering on his shifty feet, his quivering hands, his tented pants-- your gaze makes his head spin. he's going to pass out if you keep watching him like that. you wet your lips briefly, eyes darting to meet his before your gaze falls between his legs again, and he swears to every authority in every realm that he can feel his cock throb in need. please say something, do something. either let him retreat to lick his wounds or ride him until he's a puddle of drool and slick underneath you.

satan's cheeks flush, but he keeps his gaze steady as he thoroughly observes your sopping wet cunt. he wants to think of something clever or witty to say, but his mouth is so dry and his brain is so fuzzy-- do you know what you do to him? he's aware that you're teasing him. it's frustrating. all these eyes on you, and yet you're only looking at him. like a cat that got the cream, you're smirking, lounging in your chair like he can't see the slick gathering around your entrance. it would be so easy for his finger to slip inside you, finger fucking you senseless until you're so sensitive you writhe and dig your nails into the arms of that chair. but that would be too easy, wouldn't it? no, you're teasing the avatar of wrath. while patience is not his favorite virtue, it will be the one he has tonight-- because the moment you're finally underneath him, he's going to toy with you as much as he wants, prowl around your exposed body until he decides to pounce. after all, you're the one who wanted to play cat and mouse.

asmodeus can feel his lips curl into a grin. oh, you naughty little thing! a giggle escapes his lips as he watches you with rapt attention. oh, that slippery little cunt of yours is so cute! would you mind if he got a closer look? he wants to bask in this moment. you're biting your bottom lip and grinning right back at him, and it takes everything in him not to break the tension by letting honey filth spew from his lustful lips. sure, there's a lot he could say, but don't actions speak louder than words? in that case, he wouldn't mind running his tongue along that pretty clit of yours to taste your slick himself. he can't think of a better way to express his love for you than to ravish you as thoroughly as the tried and true avatar of lust can. the room is delightfully hot and intense, making his head spin as surges of lust bounce off the walls. oh, darling, the anticipation is killing him-- won't you just share all the dirty thoughts caught in that pretty little head of yours?

beelzebub suddenly feels like he shouldn't be here. he notices the change in the air before he notices your legs spread, ever perceptive to the emotions of his loved ones. and all of those feelings lead him to you-- specifically, that wet spot between your legs that's got everyone so riled all of a sudden. it makes him nervous. at first, he worries you've exposed yourself on accident. he looks away as his cheeks turn pink, ashamed of how quickly his mind begins to wander. but then he hears you shuffling-- so naturally, he looks back at you-- to find you pulling your skirt up further, bunching it around your thighs to give everyone a clearer view. he realizes now that you want everyone to see your cunt. now he doesn't feel so bad about staring, about the groan sitting in the back of his throat. he'll never push, never question your motives or try to touch you without explicit permission, but he can't help the way his mouth waters and his erection stirs in his pants. and judging by the way you're staring at him like a five course meal, it seems you don't mind much either.

belphegor's eyes widen in shock, before a predatory grin engulfs his face. oh. you're in for it now. you've given the game away by exposing yourself as a needy whore, and it's clear from your haughty smirk that you think you've won this game. that's cute. but you're playing with demons-- manipulative, scheming, needy demons that'd do anything to bury themselves deep inside of the very hole you're so determined to tease them with. or maybe you're just teasing one particular demon. because your eyes linger on his just a bit too long to be coincidental, flitting away to the ground or a nearby wall before meeting his again. are you feeling nervous now? you should be. make no mistake-- he sees what you're doing here, and he's already thinking of ways to handle it. you're clearly getting aroused by all the attention. he wants to help, but he's just feeling so tired. you're already so prepped and eager-- maybe he should let you sink onto his cock in this very room? he's curious to see how well you can perform with an audience.

[novemberheart]

{overview} Kyle wakes up

{warnings} fem reader, a/b/o dynamics, poly 141, short chapter, ghostsoap

Chapter 28 <- Chapter 29 -> Chapter 30

John had rubbed your back till you fell asleep again.

Not that you stayed asleep. Your eyes fluttered open, raw and sore. You peered over at Kyle. You feel like his anesthesia should've worn off by now. Has anyone even come to check on him?

“Gazza,” you mumbled softly. You pressed your lips against the bruise forming under his cheek. He didn't even twitch. You rubbed your eyes, carefully pulling yourself out of bed. You grabbed your phone, your hand resting against Johnny’s shoulder from where he slept on the floor.

“Yes, Bonnie?” he gasped awake, his hands held onto your thighs. He thought you were upset. You were, but that wasn't why you had woken him.

“I’m going to the bathroom. I want to find a nurse or doctor or something too,” you explained, your fingers straightening the sloppy bits of his mohawk. He yawned, nodding his head in agreement. He placed a kiss against your stomach before moving to get up. His back snapped as he stretched.

“Alright, peaches,” he sighed. “Thank you for waking me,” he added, giving your bottom a slight pat. “We’ll be back,” he said over his shoulder to the alpha who was just starting the sit up himself. Your eyes burned at the light from the hall, Johnny's hand resting above your brow to block it.

“Mac, this is the mens room,” you mumbled. Even through your squinting, you could see that.

“Aye, I have to go too. Don't worry I won’t let anything happen,” he affirmed. You shrugged, glad it was empty. You came out of the stall, trying your hardest not to look over at Johnny as you washed your hands.

A man entered. A big one. You could see his shadow moving behind you and you quickly kept your eyes trained on your hands. He took a few steps towards you and your head snapped over to Johnny wondering why he hadn't said anything.

You saw Simon’s reflection in the mirror. You squealed, not bothering to dry your hands, spinning on your heels. He grunted as you threw yourself at him, his hands gripping your sides as he hoisted you up.

“You lost, pup?” he grunted, letting you lift his mask and kiss at whatever skin you could reach. Johnny chuckled, pushing the two of you out of the way so he could wash his hands.

“That’s new,” you murmured against his jaw. He had a large, angry bruise where his jaw and neck met. You could feel him shiver. He hummed in agreement, pressing a firm kiss against your chin.

“Just a scratch,” he grumbled, nipping at your cheek. “Got a fever, pup,” he tsked, almost disapprovingly. His arm extended out, his hand resting against Johnny’s shoulder pulling the man towards him. Your mouth fell open as theirs collided. It was rough and needy and you forgot how to breathe just watching them. It was short, a string of saliva connecting them as they pulled away. Johnny swiped it away with his tongue. They turned to you, evil smirks on both their lips. They kissed your cheek softly, a mean comparison to how they were just acting. Simon didn't bother to set you down, carrying you back down the hall.

“Makin’ your beta better?” Simon asked, jostling you a bit. Your eyes grew wet suddenly, making him sigh. “S’alright, pup. The doctor says he’ll be fine. You're just here to speed up the process a bit so he doesn't hurt as long,” he soothed. You felt heavier in his arms, the weight of the pack on your shoulders. That wasn't for you to carry. It was his and John’s responsibility.

The room wasn't as dark before, John had turned on a soft lamp he had found somewhere. The machine was beeping faster than before. You tried to wiggle out of Simon's grasp and he let you.

“His heart rate picked up,” John spoke, his hand resting over his face. “I called a nurse. Should be here soon.”

Kyle's fever was back. His skin had lost its warm glow, and it would've looked cold to the touch of it were it not for the sheen of sweat covering his skin. You gained some hope when he started to twitch. It started with his good foot, then his fingers, the muscles on his face quickly following.

He didn't wake up.

Your hand reached out, your fingers tangling with his as you knelt on the bed. You swore you could hear him gasp, his body relaxing almost instantly.

“Kyky?” you questioned softly. You looked behind you at John, whose eyes were wavering back and forth between the two of you.

“Where’s the bloody nurse,” he growled, making his way out of the room.

“Stop holdin’ back,” Simon instructed, nodding his head downwards. You did as you were told, your cheek resting against Kyle’s shoulder. You breathed in his scent, a high whine leaving your throat. You couldn’t stop yourself this time. Your arms wrapping around his chest as you buried your face into the crook of his neck. Your legs tangled around his good one as you sobbed quietly against him. “That’s what he needs,” Simon grunted. Simon’s large hand rested against the back of your neck, giving you an encouraging squeeze. “Needs a push to wake up,” Simon continued.

Simon had been in Kyle's shoes before. Granted, at the time you hadn't known him yet, but he remembers what it was like to be trapped inside his body without being able to escape. He could hear everything, smell everything yet he had no way to express it. Kyle was trying. Trying to show that he was there and would be fine. All Kyle needed was a little push from you to gain the energy to come out of it.

It was what had woken Simon up that first day. The smell of you had infiltrated his brain, turning it into mush besides one lingering thought.

Wake up.

“His heart rate is goin’ down,” Johnny breathed a slight tremor in his own body. Simon shushed you gently, you growing restless from not receiving any comfort from Kyle. “Johnny get in next to her,” he commanded, his hand gripping his shoulder. Johnny obeyed, gladly cuddling up behind you. You sniffled harshly, your eyes peering at his over Kyle’s shoulder. He winced, his heart twisting painfully in his chest.

“It's alright,” was all Johnny could manage, his thumb brushing under your eye. Johnny didn't stay there for long, the nurse came back into the room.

“He’s responding?” she asked. You refused to pull your face away.

“When she leaves. Started twitchin’,” Simon explained.

“He was mumblin’ something too. Couldn't make it out though. Sounded a bit like your name though sweetheart,” John added. You gasped your head snapping over to meet his.

“Really?” you begged. John nodded his head, an affirming lift in his cheeks.

“That’s fairly common,” the nurse spoke. “He could tell you were gone and was trying to figure out where you were,” she explained. You tried not to feel any less special, curling your head under his chin. “Everything seems to be back to normal. Next time you plan on leaving let me know,” she sighed, patting the edge of the bed.

You couldn't go back to sleep. You requested Johnny curl up in bed with you. It hadn't helped.

“I need you to wake up,” you whispered. Your fingers danced over Kyle’s cheek, the skin twitching under the feathery touches. “I know you hear me. You'd probably smirk if you could,” you huffed. Despite that, you pressed a kiss against his cheek, which was probably feeling a bit raw with how little your lips had left it. When you pulled away you noticed the soft curve of his lips. “I knew it,” you grumbled with a relieved smile on your face.

His eyes fluttered open.

You wanted to squeal but you kept your mouth shut. You wanted a few moments with him alone.

“I missed you,” you murmured. Another soft smile graced his face. He leaned his forehead closer to yours, urging you to come closer. You rested your head between his and the pillow. “Are you hurt? Do you want me to go get a nurse?” you questioned, already beginning to pull away. He made a noise that sounded a bit like a strangled whine.

“Just you,” he croaked. Your body felt warm as you cuddled back up against him. “Price?” He groaned.

“He’s on the floor sleeping,” you explained softly. You felt his body relax. “Mac is here too,” you spoke, lifting the hand that was splayed across Kyle’s chest. “And Simon is hunting down breakfast somewhere,” you finished. You purred softly, breathing him in. His chest rumbled for a moment before he stopped himself, a small wince on his face.

“You were saying how much you missed me?” Kyle urged, making you roll your eyes.

“Would you like me to keep going?” You hummed. He hummed in agreement, a soothing warmth spreading through his chest.

You babbled on for a few moments. Taking a bit of pride when his heart rate picked up from your words.

“Food,” Simon grunted, entering the room again. His eyes softened when they met Kyle’s. “I’ll go get a nurse,” he murmured, his knuckles brushing over Kyle’s forehead. Your heart warmed at the interaction. As Simon left he patted John awake.

“You alright?” He asked instantly, his hands gripping onto the railing of the bed.

“Never better,” Kyle croaked, making you giggle. John rolled his eyes, his lips resting against Kyle’s hairline.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his jaw clenching. You bit your lip, adjusting yourself slowly so you were facing Johnny in an attempt to give them some privacy.

“Not your fault,” Kyle said slowly, his voice cracking. “Things happen,” he finished with a clear of his throat.

“Just came out of nowhere,” John sighed. “I-I,” he started. He couldn’t find the words. The feeling you get from watching a vehicle in front of you flip three times, knowing one of your greatest loves was in there without so much as a seatbelt was hard to put in words. “We’ll take care of you now,” John promised. “That situation has already been handled.” That sent a shiver up your spine. You knew first hand what John's idea of “handling” was. Yet if it was aimed at someone who deliberately hurt Kyle- you wouldn’t oppose it.

“I trust you,” Kyle groaned softly. You felt lips skim the back of your neck and you turned back over so you were cheek to cheek with Kyle. A happy rumble echoed through him before he cut himself off.

Simon reemerged with a nurse.

Hi everyone! Hope you enjoyed this short chapter! See you in four days for chapter 30!!!! Ahhhh! 🧡

[feyascorner]

at the end of the day

summary. you and astarion have your first genuine fight and the other companions try to patch things between the two of you.

warnings. comfort/fluff

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

a/n. have not written an actual one-shot in a while omg,...

Breakfast is eaten in silence. One that's been extending far past its welcome date now.

Shadowheart grips her fork, feeling the flitting glances exchanged amongst the others around the table while she maintains focus on the two individuals sitting on opposite sides of the table. Your eyes remain trained on the bread sitting on your plate and Astarion swirls his chalice aimlessly in his hand, neither of you even acknowledging the presence of the other. The cleric grimaces as you stand suddenly, your chair scraping against the floor as you do so.

"Thanks for the food, Gale," is all you mutter before leaving the room with your plate in hand. Astarion rises from his own chair in an instant, huffing.

"I must take my leave as well."

When both parties have left the room, all five other companions stare at one another in a knowing silence. Lae'zel is the only one who doesn't seem the slightest bothered. Wyll is the one to break the uncomfortable tension in the air, clearing his throat after Lae'zel nearly bites her fork off. "I see they're still amidst their lovers' quarrel."

"What are they even fighting about?" Karlach groans, slumping into her chair with an exasperated groan.

"It was nice the first few days to have a good night's sleep without their incessant noises," Shadowheart grumbles, shoving an egg into her mouth. "But now, this is arguable worse."

"Should we...aid them somehow?" Gale blinks.

Lae'zel snorts. "They're adults, we don't need to coddle them, wizard."

Despite her words, they do find themselves a few hours later in unanimous agreement to do something to ease the unfamiliar dryness of the camp dynamic. It comes in multiple attempts. And to say few---if not all--were unsuccessful, is an understatement.

First, when out in the woods, Gale makes an effort to spark a conversation that would prompt both you and Astarion to join in. You nod occasionally, though lost in thought, while Astarion promptly ignores whatever he's talking about. It's a pathetic attempt that has nobody but himself babbling away, which earns a grunt from Shadowheart. It's enough to shut him up, thankfully.

Second, Karlach uses her uncanny ability to lift someone's spirits. Jokes, dancing, all that jazz. Even booze. She urges you to let loose, but all you do in response is smile at her apologetically while Astarion just glares off into space. Another failed attempt. Lae'zel pats Karlach on the shoulder.

Wyll tells stories of his monster hunting days which you usually take an interest in. Astarion naturally listens to what a monster hunter does when he's not hunting monsters, but that's all it is. You and Astarion only listen. There are quips and lingering questions, but neither of you ever direct it at one another, or bother to add into the conversation either. The sheer amount of teasing questions has Wyll's head spinning by the end of it. Lae'zel rolls her eyes.

Just when things couldn't possibly get any worse, you're ambushed. It's a small horde of goblins---nothing beyond your capabilities, but your companions do take some small scratches here and there. Somehow, though he rarely does, as he prefers staying behind you or Karlach, Astarion does too. And despite his efforts to hide it behind his back, you also didn't miss the cut lining Astarion's arm to his elbow. It's not deep by any means, and if it were your own injury, you'd likely just brush it off.

But it's on his skin, and he'd gotten it when taking a hit from an arrow that should've cut your arm.

Blasted hells, you think, as he shrugs it off. Even when you can clearly see him clenching his jaw to bite away the pain.

If battle won't be the end of you, you're sure your idiot of a boyfriend might be instead.

"Come here, you fool," you mutter, holding out your hand. He doesn't even consider the fact that you're mad at one another and immediately extends his arm to you. Habits, you suppose.

You mumble out a weak scolding as he watches you wrap the wound through his lashes. He shivers as you lather a cool ointment on the cut, hoping it's enough to soothe the pain before Shadowheart's recovered enough to properly heal him. He lifts a pale hand to your face, and for a moment, you think he might pinch you. Instead, he runs a thumb across your cheek, spreading the ointment on a scratch you hadn't even realized was there in the first place.

You meet his eyes, your own softening as he cups his fingertips around your cheek. The way he looks at you is overwhelming sometimes---like you're the only thing he gives a damn about in this world---but it's a welcome feeling when he hasn't even looked you in the eye this way in days now. For a moment, you realize you don't even remember why the two of you were mad at one another in the first place.

A laugh threatens to escape your throat. How childish, truly.

And then he flicks your forehead, unable to help the grin etching onto his lips when you blink in surprise.

"That was for making me sleep by myself for three nights."

You swat at his arm while he dodges each of your lazy attempts to get back at him. And though the two of you continue bickering, unbeknownst to you, you have an audience a good bit away, watching you return to your old ways after making them worry for so long.

"What a sight it is--to see young people in love again," Wyll smiles.

Shadowheart deadpans. "Isn't Astarion nearing 240?"

"Who cares?" Karlach shrugs, slinging her arms on either side of her companions with a toothy beam. "What matters is that they made up...and we didn't even have to help them."

[skellseerwriting]

Drunken Confessions Pt.1

March x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Drunk March, March has tsundere thoughts, mentions of alcohol, love confession, kissing, March is clingy

Summary: March is extremely drunk, so you help him get home. What you didn’t expect however, were some of the things he would start saying to you.

It was Friday night at the Sleeping Dragon, and as usual, March was drunk.

It wasn’t the usual happy drunk you were accustomed to. That had come and passed. Now, it was the inebriating drunkenness that increased his negative emotions and made his head hurt; and would leave his skull splitting when he woke up.

You were busy laughing and playing at a table with several of the other villagers, completely oblivious to the shameless staring you were receiving.

March was leaning forward on the side of the bar, resting his head on his crossed arms, a grumpy pout and furious blush present. He thought it was so unfair; how much everyone loved you the minute you showed up a couple seasons ago. The hearts of every single person in this place were stolen.

March wasn’t so stupid. He let you steal his after knowing your true character, which, yeah, was what it appeared to be, but that’s not the point!

The point is: He’s hopelessly in love with you, but he’d never admit it. It took a long time before he even stopped denying his own feelings, so why would he ever tell you?

Sighing, he closed his eyes in an attempt to make the room stop spinning.

As you wrapped up your game for next week, you glanced over at the now unconscious redhead.

Even in his sleep he still looked cross about something.

You allowed yourself a little smile as you made your way over to him. There was something peaceful about seeing him this way. For once, you were near him without his annoyed expression being directed at you. 

You ruffled his hair a little, hoping it to be soft. It was rather dirty, actually, but that made sense since he was a blacksmith. He was constantly sweating every day.

“March.” You said softly, tousling his hair again in an attempt to wake him gently. Everyone else was leaving the inn. “March it’s time to go home.”

“Mmrbhm…” he grumbled, stirring slightly.

“March, it’s late. Can I help you get home?”

At that his eyes slowly opened, looking up at you hazily. The blush adorning his face still blazed, and he gave a little hic.

“Wha…?” He slurred, not able to think straight with you next to him. Or maybe it was because of the alcohol.

“Can I help you get home?” You asked again tenderly. March inhaled deeply with a nod, just wanting to go with what you said because it was you who had said it.

After slinging his limp left arm over your shoulder, you steadily made your way out the door.

The night was cold, but the alcohol kept you warm. Still, a chilly breeze made its way through the town, and March turned his face into your neck.

“‘s cold.” He mumbled, desperate for heat from your bare skin.

“Marchhh,” You grumbled, “you’re slowing us downnn.”

Indeed, it was hard to walk and half drag someone when said person was near hugging you.

“But it’s so cold outsideee.” He groaned, clutching you tighter. “‘n you’re so warm…”

You tried not to let that last comment turn you pink. Huffing, you told him “If you’d just work with me a second, we can get home faster.”

“‘We’?” he questioned with a slow voice, pulling away to look at you with half-lidded eyes. “You’re coming home with me?”

Feeling your face burn even more in the cold, you pulled him forcefully towards his house.

“Of course not, March.” You let out a nervous little laugh. “I’m heading to my home after dropping you off.”

“Oh.” He said dejectedly, looking down, like a dog who’s tail stopped wagging.

There’s no way he’s sad about that, was he? Did he actually like the idea of you going home with him for whatever reason? Not that you would mind- but that’s not the point! The point is: you were hopelessly in love with him, and he was currently drunk out of his mind. He wasn’t thinking clearly. But it’s when he wasn’t thinking clearly that you got to see him treat you this way.

He would be kind to you. He would be happy to see you and talk to you. He would almost act as if-

“Do I have to go inside?” March whined, gripping your arm and shoulder. You made it to the door.

“I thought you were cold?” You asked, trying not to let his current state of a lack of better judgment to let you make any decisions out of poor judgment; as tantalizing as it was. His pouted lips were so captivating right then as he kept invading your face’s personal space.

“I am.” He told you, breath hitting your already warm cheeks. He sounded so tired. Then, he moved closer; voice tickling your ear. “But I want to stay here with you.” He said sweetly, energy completely drained.

Oh how temping that was.

“March,” you sighed, reaching for the handle. “You need to go to bed.”

“Will you give me a goodnight kiss?” He asked instantly without a shred of shame. You froze. Was he trying to make your life impossible? A small part of you told you to say no (you didn’t want to take advantage of him), but the majority of you didn’t care.

“Okay.” You whispered, leaning forward. Treating him like glass, you gave him the most gentle kiss you could press to his cheek, lingering only a moment before pulling away.

March turned into a tomato, and before you could ask him if that was okay, he spluttered out in a blurt: “Would you give me another one?”

Another one? Well, who were you to deny such a request?

Figuring you would go for the other side, you tried to do just that. To your complete surprise and amazement, March jerked his head forwards before you could do so, pushing his lips against yours.

Gasping from shock, you were immobilized. He proceeded to kiss you a few more times, his hand moving from your shoulder to the corner of your jaw. He was warm and soft; butterflies bursted in your stomach at each little touch.

With both hands now on your face, he began to grow slower as the exhaustion seeped in. You allowed yourself to return one kiss as he pulled away with a sickeningly sweet look on his face. He said your name.

“Hmm?” You responded, head hazy.

“I love you.”

You did not expect that.

“March, you’re drunk, you can’t possibly-“

“But I do!” He blubbered. “Everyday I think about you. I think about your smile that never fails to captivate me. That look of determination you get when I need help but won’t admit it. And when you look at me- gosh when you look at me, my head shoots straight into the clouds. I am hopelessly in love with you. And I can only dream that you feel a fraction of the same.”

Well so much for alcohol.

“March,” you rasped, not even sure where to begin. “I-“

“Oh! Thank you so much for bringing March home! I was starting to get worried!”

Your mouth clamped shut. Olric had opened the door and was now proceeding to take an almost-unconscious March from your arms.

“It’s no problem.” You told him, trying to ignore what had just happened between you and March and hoping Olric hadn’t noticed. If he saw the extreme blush you had he didn’t comment on it.

“Really?” He said with a grin. “Believe me, I’ve had to haul this guy back enough times to know he can be a pain in the forge. Let me repay you.” he rummaged around in his pocket before handing you some tesserae.

You didn’t want to accept (you thought March had already rewarded you enough), but you did admit you could use the money.

“Thanks.” You pocketed it before turning to leave.

“One more thing.”

“Yes?” You said too quickly, trying to just go home at that point.

“I’m sure you noticed, but when March is drunk, he’s the opposite of what he usually acts like. So no matter what he says or does under the influence, just remember it’s not deceptive; it’s always the truth.”

Huh. You smiled a little.

“Thanks Olric.”

“Don’t mention it.”

As you finally made your way back to your farm, you thought heavily on that. Most of all, you thought about March’s kisses and drunken confessions. The way he held you and the way he spoke to you, but most of all the look in his eyes as he said those three words.

You were definitely going to talk to him in the morning; when he was a little more awake and a little less drunk.

Part 2

[jiveyuncle]

Keith cringes at the hiss of the bedroom door sliding open and the unforgiving hall light racing in to fill the darkness. Still, Lance doesn't stir from where he lays sprawled out across the mattress, hair mussed in the pillow and foot hanging off the edge. Keith feels a twinge of guilt at encroaching on his space as he slides his jacket off to hang on the coat rack next to Lance's.

It's not that Keith isn't welcome here - he knows he is. This little back and forth pattern of theirs has been going on long enough that these motions should be as easy as sliding into his own bed, but it's not. Instead, it makes his heart ache just that little bit more, makes the pit of his stomach open up to swallow his insides and leave him feeling empty even as Lance pushes into his space each time to fill it. Because the problem is Lance is comfortable with Keith. He's comfortable with Keith because he is comfortable with everyone. It's who Lance is. Inviting. Open. Caring. He gives himself freely. And after the first few times of bumping into each other wandering the ship in the middle of the night in hopes of exhausting themselves into sleep, then actually falling asleep on the common room couch next to each other only to wake up with achy necks, Lance started boldly dragging Keith to bed and holding him in place to prevent him from wandering until morning.

“There's no way I'm letting you in bed with your shoes on.” Lance mumbles. A precautionary hand appears from under the sheets and flops down over the blanket to ward off any attempts to climb under them.

Keith lets out a huff of air that's just light enough to be considered a laugh. “I was going to kick them off.”

“No, no. We're civilized. Put them away.” The hand guarding the covers lifts and shoos him towards the wardrobe before dropping lazily.

“I wake up before you. You won't even see them.” Keith argues even as he crosses the room to oblige. The cabinet to the wardrobe cries out in protest as he opens it, and Keith winces, yet again, at any sound that disturbs the peaceful quiet. He makes a mental note to bug Hunk for some oil to grease the noisy hinges. If he's going to start putting his shoes in here, it's going to need to be quieter.

“I tripped over them when I got up to piss last time.”

Keith smiles to himself as he slinks back over, Lance already peeling the sheets back to invite him in. Keith slides down into the space to lie on his back and has to fight the urge to swallow hard when Lance's arm lowers down with the covers over his chest and never draws back away. “You're awake?” he says instead.

Lance hums quietly. “Brain won't shut off. The usual stuff. I was actually thinking about heading your way before you showed up.” Lance peeks an eye open, squinting through the exhaustion in the dim light. “You came in day clothes.”

“Walked a couple laps around the ship first. Didn’t know I was coming over.”

Lance lifts his chin in the hint of a nod before letting his eye fall back shut. “Glad I waited, then.” His fingers tug lightly near the collar of Keith's shirt, fiddling with the fabric in the mindless way he does with anything he can get his hands on - sometimes it's a leaf plucked from foliage as they trek through forested pathways, sometimes it's a pen spinning endlessly between his fingers during long diplomatic negotiations, sometimes it's a spoon that never settles back on his plate even an hour after he's taken his last bite and the conversation is flowing, and other times it's Keith’s shirt or hair or fingers at 3am when neither of them can sleep and whatever tension that is sustained in the daylight slips away.

And, as always, it sends a mixture of unwanted hope and desire through Keith's veins that quickly burns away to leave guilt in its destructive wake.

This habit. This closeness.

It means something different to each of them, and it's getting harder and harder for Keith's heart to remember that.

Keith reaches up to still the moving fingers on his chest, but Lance's unquestioning thumb seamlessly, innocently, agonizingly slips up along the side of his hand to trace over his knuckles instead.

Keith controls his next exhale and tries to ignore the gentle movement, but his mind can’t help supplying a word with each tender pass of a thumb: maybe.

Maybe.

Maybe there’s a chance. Maybe these things don't mean something quite so different to Lance. Maybe, if Keith offers a hand, then warm fingers will be there to take it.

Maybe.

He doesn't move again until Lance's breaths deepen and the soft brushes eventually slow to a stop.

When Keith rises in the morning, he bypasses the squeaky wardrobe, tugs on his jacket, and slides out into the hallway with only his socks to fight off the chill of the castleship floors from seeping into his feet. The warmth of a decision burns in his ribs as Keith settles into his lion 20 minutes later to start the early journey out to pick up a member of the Blade. Red senses the change, and a growl of approval rumbles through their bond, deep and affectionate and proud.

Keith’s mouth twitches up at the corner. He sends back his appreciation.

Dead Keith/Red Paladin Lance AU (Part 4/?)

Too bad he came to that decision a little late. Now, he’s kinda stuck not wanting to initiate something that he can no longer start.

Excited for y’all to spot where little nods to this snippet pop up in future chapters.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

You can now read this on AO3 as:

Empty Spaces You Left Behind

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x Dc AU: Danny's final Interview with Tim Drake for the Wayne Enterprise's Space Program Operation Janus Crew... Demon Twin AU.

Danny had been waiting for his offer letter from WE to be officially part of the Janus Crew. He'd done all the standard rigorous testing and passed with flying colors. He'd talked to every single head engineer and interviewed at all levels to prove that he was the man for this mission. It was as good as gold, so Danny was surprised when he got a call from the PA to Tim Drake, the CEO himself, to come in for a final interview. Just a formality and mostly just to meet the man who was going to be the poster boy for their program. Makes sense, but is unnerving, nonetheless.

The second he walks into the office space, Tam Fox seemingly does a double take, blinking a few times when he explains that he's there for a final interview. She nods and he proceeds as if nothing about that was weird.

Tim Drake has four laptops in front of him and a scattering of papers, but looking up to see Danny, he closes them all and the image of a scattered young man trying to run a Fortune 500 company is replaced with some one of deadly capability.

"Danny Fenton. Great to meet you, I appreciate you coming by today." Tim says, but Danny can see the sharks fin in the water.

"Of course, I'm excited to be part of the Crew." Danny throws back, making it clear right away that Tim needs to cut to the chase if Danny's not going to be an astronaut with WE. NASA will take him back in a heartbeat if WE is going to try and play games.

"We're excited to have you, everyone speaks of you like the next Armstrong or Aldrin. I just had a few questions, as an informality, that I wanted answered."

"I feel like I've answered every question there could be about me, but go ahead. I'm an open book."

"Great. I suppose I'll start with asking about your adoptive family, the Fentons. Were they good to you when you transitioned to their home?"

"...It's not common knowledge that I'm adopted. Mom and Dad are fine. We have a strained relationship now because of my teenage rebellion but I still go home for most holidays." Danny is on edge, but also a bit excited? How did Tim find this out?

"I see. I'm an adopted child myself, you can understand maybe why I asked. Do you have any relationship with your birth family?" Tim asks, but its clear he's asking something else. Danny calls it how he sees it.

"What are you trying to find out? I mean really, you're very polite but this doesn't have to do with my job."

"I'll cut to the chase then. Do you hold any allegiance to Ra's al Ghul or the League of Assassins?"

"Woah." Danny blinks.

"Woah as in you're surprised I found out, or Woah in surprise that you've been found out?"

"Woah as in, what the fuck, I haven't thought of his name in decades. I escaped pretty young after being abused from birth."

"That's what I needed to know. You have a sister through the Fentons, and a cousin that I suspect is a clone, any other siblings?" Tim asks, his to the point question making Danny's head spin. How the fuck did this guy know about Dani?

"How do you-"

"Any other siblings, Danny?" Tim repeats, cutting him off.

"...Yeah. I should have a twin running around out there. But if this has to do with whatever crazy bullshit he might be up to, I swear i'm not in contact with him or his family. I haven't been since I freed myself."

Tim looks like he's contemplating something, his eyes are still evaluating Danny as though he were a frog in freshman year Bio.

"I have a little brother, Danny, and it's interesting. He's not particularly fascinated by space but he likes to keep up with all the astronauts. I took it upon myself to research you once you came on the roster two years ago for this position. I know you're capable and I had no doubt that you'd be the man for the job. Then I saw your picture."

"You... saw my picture?"

"My brother watches out for Astronauts because he holds onto the hope that someone from his past might be one some day. That it might lead to their reconciliation." Tim clarifies.

Danny can't do anything but stare. No. No way.

"I told Damian not to look into the astronauts for the Janus Crew. Want to guess why?" For the first time, Tim's eyes look soft around the edges. Danny stays silent for a while, head reeling from this information.

"...Is he. Is he free?" Danny finally asks.

"He's left the league and burned all allegiance he held for them, if that's what you're asking. Came to join his dad, my adoptive father, when he was about ten. So just a few years after you made your own way out without him."

"That's... That's good. I'm glad. He's healthy?" Danny can't help himself but inquire. He'd loved his brother until it literally broke him.

"Most days. He runs an animal sanctuary, has a girlfriend and a best friend, gets along with our large family."

"Woah." Danny's near speechless again.

"I'm telling you this because... He's going to find out Friday with the press release of you being our Crew Leader. He'll see you and no doubt try to contact you. I want you to have the choice of reaching out to him before that, or at least make your peace with what you have to say to him if you don't want a relationship."

"Why?"

"Because I don't care to see my siblings hurt. Here, it's my personal line, below it is Damian's. Reach out to me if you'd like for me to plan a meeting spot, reach out to him if you'd prefer I stay out of it. I understand completely if my questions have led you to not trust me." Tim offers him a piece of paper with two phone numbers on it, Danny takes it with shaking hands.

"I... See. Okay." and then after a moment, Danny added numbly "Thanks."

Tim stands and Danny follows, they're both walking towards the door and Danny can't help but feel like he's waiting for another shoe to drop. Tim has a look in his eye like Jazz might on his birthday.

"One last thing before you go and you're officially listed as our star Astronaut: I took care of those pesky case files and lab reports for you. The white ones. It is quite literally impossible for that heinous shit to every bother you again."

"Wait, What? Why would you do that for me? You couldn't have known-"

"It's what family is for. Have a good day, Janus Crew Lead Danny."

[wheeboo]

all yours | yoon jeonghan

SYNOPSIS. in which you get a bit too drunk on your special day. PAIRING. yoon jeonghan x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, established relationship WARNINGS. mentions of drinking alcohol and throwing up, reader has long enough hair to be pulled back, cursing, terms of endearment WORD COUNT. 1.4k

requested from anon: Hi hope all is well, just wanted to say Congrats on the milestone! You deserve it! And if it’s okay I would like to request #29 and #52 from prompt list 1 with Jeonghan thank you in advance if you do it. Congrats again to 2k you honestly deserve it :) - #29: "I do love you, you know. Even if I'm shit at showing it." - #52: "Shut up, you love me. Why else would you be here, taking care of me while I hurl into a toilet?"

notes: thank u sm anon 😭🫶 ur so so sweet ily AAAA sending consensual smooches ur way 😚😚 also genuinely did not know what to title this lmfao

join the 2k celebration!

Okay, maybe you've had a bit too much to drink tonight.

It's your birthday anyway, so surely you have the right to go a little bit overboard on your special day... right?

"Ugh, I feel like shit," You mumble groggily, your body drifting and hitting the bathtub right next to you with a thud as the sounds of the toilet flushing bounce off the walls of the bathroom.

Jeonghan just crosses his arms together, leaning against the doorway with a sly smirk to his face. His eyes peer over your flushed face, slightly tousled hair and overall cute, disheveled appearance. You huff a breath as your gaze meets his, and a small, almost dreamy smile of your own forms on your face despite knowing how absurd you look right now.

"How do I look?" You ask, drawing your words out drunkenly.

"Honestly?" Jeonghan starts, and you lift a brow in anticipation. "You look ravishingly awful."

The words that leave his mouth has your face twisting in confusion, your brain hardly processing whatever the hell he just said (you'll take it as a compliment nonetheless, thanks to your cloudy mind).

However, Jeonghan just chuckles, fully stepping his way into the bathroom and towards where you are plopped down on the tile floor. He carefully sits himself down on the rim of the bathtub, expression softening right away with concern as he reaches out to gently brush a stray strand of hair from your face, feeling the warmth on your face from the alcohol to his fingers.

You lean into his touch instinctively, closing your eyes for a few seconds. "My body is going to hate me in the morning."

Jeonghan retracts his hand slightly, but not before his fingertips lingers your cheek, sending a jolt through your already-buzzing body and causing your eyes to flutter open. You can feel the heat creeping back up your neck, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze.

"Hmm, not if I take care of you real well, yeah?" he muses teasingly, and you could only groan in response, feeling the alcohol earlier make your head spin once more. But a tiny, sober part of you registers the warmth in his gaze.

That is, until you can start to feel something bubble up your throat, and before you can react, your stomach lurches, and you're scrambling for the toilet just in time to expel the contents of your stomach. You heave and retch, feeling utterly miserable as Jeonghan helps by pulling back your hair and rubbing your back soothingly.

As the wave of nausea passes, your hand releases its hold on the cold porcelain of the toilet seat. You lean back once more, nearly toppling over before Jeonghan's hands catch you by the shoulders, helping to straighten up your posture. You let out a sluggish sigh.

"Well, maybe you're not wrong about your body hating you," he says jokingly, then squeezes your shoulders right after as if reassure you. "I would not want to be the receiving end of all... that."

You roll your eyes in playful annoyance and yank his grip off you, his laughter ringing in your ears. "I... Shut up, you love me. Why else would you be here, taking care of me while I hurl into a toilet?"

A feigned gasp leaves Jeonghan as he dramatically clutches his chest. But the inebriated glare you throw his way doesn't seem to faze him in the slightest. You catch the way his face quickly dissolves into his horribly distinguishable shit-eating grin.

"Ah, you figured out my secret, my dearest," he responds with an exaggerated flair, cupping your face gently with his hand. "You getting wasted made you more perceptive than I thought."

You swat at him weakly, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "You're impossible."

"Only for you." He cheesily presses a kiss to the top of your head. "How are you feeling? Can you stand up?"

"Mmmh... help me?" You laggardly open your arms up to him, a pout forming at your mouth.

Your eyes are too heavy to catch the way Jeonghan is gazing at you so adoringly right now. He takes your outstretched arms and helps to hoist you up to your feet. For a moment, you're eye-to-eye, your head spinning slightly from the sudden movement and the world tilting a little as you stand.

Jeonghan secures a hand at your lower back as he carefully leads you out of the bathroom and back into your bedroom, catching a glimpse to the remains of the party from earlier scattered about the room. Balloons hang lazily at the ceiling, confetti laying across the floor𑁋you can deal with it in the morning.

"You're a hot mess," he comments teasingly, though there's a fondness in his tone as he guides you to the bed.

You flop down onto the mattress with a groan, the softness of the pillows cushioning against your throbbing head. Jeonghan disappears for a minute to retrieve a bottle of pills from the bathroom and a glass of water from the kitchen, placing it on your bedside table before sitting down beside you, his hand reaching out to brush hair away from your forehead.

You crack open an eye to look at him, feeling yourself trying so hard to not fall asleep on the spot.

"Do... you think they know?"

Jeonghan looks back down at you. "Who?"

"Every... Everyone who came today, uh..." You mutter, motioning the air with your hand. "I didn't... do anything weird out there, right? We haven't really told anyone about us yet..."

Jeonghan purses his lips together, eyelids fluttering as if he's trying to remember the events of the party. He crosses his arms together, and you should probably know from the smirk appearing at his face that𑁋

"Hm, like, weird as in when you tried to kiss me earlier after you sang karaoke? Or𑁋"

"Are you being serious right now?!" There's a long, drawn out unintelligible sound that you whine as you bury your face into the pillow, the cool fabric soothing against your flushed cheeks. "Oh my god, I'm so stupid..."

"My love, I still don't entirely understand why we have to hide it," Jeonghan says gently, his fingers trailing lightly along your arm. "Your affection is pretty obvious, you know."

You snort at that, but you can't really deny it anyway since yeah, you are pretty affectionate with him. And it isn't that you don't want people to know. The thought of people knowing is completely fine, but it's really just that your friends can be absolute nutcases sometimes, and you really don't want to be at the teasing end of the stick right now when all you want is a bit of privacy, at least in the beginning.

"I just... I want you all to myself, you know?" You ramble drowsily, words still slightly slurred. "Just wanna... um, keep this between us for now. N-Not that I'm ashamed or anything, I just... want this to be ours."

Jeonghan lets his eyes take you in for a few moments, a soft look gracing over his features. He glances down at the way his hand seems to seems to instinctively find yours, your fingers intertwining loosely. Frankly, he’s already yours𑁋been yours from the moment the thought of you started to become a frequent visitor to his head.

"Of course," he assures lightly, not taking his eyes off you even while adjusting the pillows so you're in a more comfortable position. "Get some sleep now, okay?"

"M'kay," You utter out, feeling the weight of the bed lift when Jeonghan stands up. Yet as a thought crosses your mind, you call out to him, "Jeonghan?"

He pauses, turning back to look at you with gentle eyes.

"I... I do love you, you know," You confess slowly, almost hesitantly, like that small flicker of sobriety had finally peeked through the haze of alcohol. "Even if I'm shit at showing it."

Jeonghan feels his heart racing in his chest, and the heat flaring at the tips of his ears. On the surface, it's normally hard to detect such reactions to whatever loving, cheesy, romantic stuff you've said to him (since usually, he'd rather tease you into the grave instead). But on the inside, his heart is practically doing cartwheels, somersaults, and backflips all at once𑁋he would quite literally do anything for you.

"Are you going to remember any of this in the morning?" he remarks playfully.

You only shrug loosely, eyelids drooping from exhaustion. "I might... maybe. But, uh, at least you know, right?"

His lips just curl up lovingly. Even if you don’t remember it, those three words would be the first things he would say every morning anyway.

"I love you too, angel," he says against the skin of your temple. "Happy birthday."

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @phenomenalgirl9 @roziesmei @mirxzii @bookyeom @parkjennykim @melodicrabbit @bewoyewo @honglynights @bananabubble @treehouse-mouse @tanya596carat @starshuas @totomoshi

[slayfics]

could you do a husband pro-hero dynamight x fem reader? 😭🩷

Katsuki prepares to propose.

1,000 words~

Eijiro took another sip of his drink, his thoughts now starting to become clouded. It all started with Katsuki abruptly instructing him to tell Mina he'd be home late tonight.

"Tell Racoon Eyes we're going out for drinks tonight and not to wait up," he said in passing. Eijiro obliged wondering what Katsuki wanted to talk about. It wasn't often his best friend wanted to drink so Eijiro took the hint that something big must be on his mind.

It wasn't till 10 minutes into their drive that Katsuki dropped the bomb that they were actually going ring shopping.

Katsuki stormed into the jeweler demanding the biggest ring they had because he's "the best at everything". It didn't take long for Katsuki to find a ring that was entirely too huge and decide without a doubt that was the one.

Now the ring sat in the middle of the table between the two boys as Eijiro took sips of his drink and Katsuki uncharacteristically threw back drink after drink.

"I don't know how I'm gonna do it Eij," Katsuki said nervously, shaking his leg, hands interlaced under his chin as he eyed the ring.

"Do whatever feels natural," Eijiro encouraged.

"Tch- it's gotta be perfect," Katsuki said.

"Hasn't she given you any hints on how she wants to be asked?" Eijiro asked.

"HAH? No!" Katsuki exclaimed, finishing off the rest of his drink and signaling the waiter for two more.

Katsuki turned his attention back to Eijiro. "Racoon Eyes has given you hints?" he asked.

Eijiro gave a silent nod of thanks to the waiter that dropped off two more drinks. Although internally his stomach turned and the thought of finishing another. "Yeah, I mean we've talked about getting married before and what it might look like ya know?"

"No," Katsuki exclaimed in a huff.

"You two haven't talked about it before?" Eijiro clarified.

"NO. Fuck- should we have?!" Katsuki asked panic setting into his eyes. "Fuck- am I making a mistake?!"

"Relax man! Its ok! Every couple is different," Eijiro said trying to calm his friend. But it was too late, Katsuki saw the shock in his eyes that he never once talked with you about the future of your relationship.

Katsuki threw back more of his drink, "What if she says no?!" he asked rubbing a hand over his distressed face.

Even though Eijiro was one of the few people Katsuki would be vulnerable in front of, it still took him off guard every time Katsuki opened up to him.

"Relax man, after everything you two have been through- no way she says no," Eijiro said calming his friend and taking another small sip of his drink. His already spinning.

Katsuki let out a grunt in acknowledgment as he continued to drink. The rest of the night continued in a similar fashion. Katsuki found something else to be anxious about regarding the proposal and Eijiro did his best to calm his nerves.

Meanwhile you and Mina sat I her living room. The two of you decided to have a girl's night since the boys went out.

"I'm telling you Mina something is up. Katsuki has been super on edge recently and I don't know why," You spoke opening up to your friend about your recent concerns.

"Maybe it's just stress from the agency?" Mina suggested shrugging her shoulders.

"Yeah maybe... Hopefully some time with Eijiro will help... He always knows how to get to him," you replied, as Mina's phone lit up with a call from Eijiro.

"Hey babe," she greeted. "Wait what?!... Both of you??" She exclaimed her eyes wide with surprise. "No no! Of course it's not a problem, we will be right there. Ok see you soon," she said and hung up the call.

"What happened?!" You asked eagerly.

"Eijiro said they both got carried away with drinks and need to be picked up," Mina said.

Your mouth hung slightly agape. "Katsuki is drunk?!" You exclaimed in disbelief.

"That's what Eijiro said." Mina confirmed.

"See I told you something is up! Katsuki never gets drunk," you said as you both headed for the door to pick up the boys.

"I'm sure everything is fine. Sounds like he at least had a good time tonight," Mina said attempting to comfort you, but you still had your suspicions.

When the two of you entered the restaurant Katsuki spotted you right away.

"There she is!" He exclaimed excitedly gesturing at you. "Damn she's hot as fuck," he practically yelled. Heads turned in the restaurant to eye the noisy blond.

Your face flushed at his words, and you turned to Mina. Your eyes wide as if to say, 'What the hell is going on?'

Happy about the distraction, Eijiro quickly grabbed the ring off the table and hid it in his pocket. Barley remembering it was on the table in full view.

Another restaurant goer laughed, "I'd be excited too if my girl looked like that," he stated.

"HAH! You wish you damn extra!" Katsuki barked back. "Babe- come here. Sit in my lap," he said tapping his lap.

"What?" You asked in bewilderment as you made your way to their table.

"The hell you mean what?!" he asked as he guided you to sit in his lap. "You always do this," he said his bottom lip puffed out in a pout from your hesitation.

His puffed-out lip quickly changed back to a grin as your ran your fingers through his hair, "Yes- but I'm here to take you home," You reminded him.

"Hell yeah you are!" He said with a laugh. "Take me home and have your way with me," he said, squeezing your waist and pulling you further into him as he placed a drunken kiss on your cheek.

You couldn't help but giggle and look over at Mina and Eijiro who looked just as shocked as you felt at Katsuki's affection.

"Come on let's get you home then," You laughed standing up and pulling Katsuki with you. Katsuki followed your commands, taking your hand as you lead him out of the restaurant. His eyes hungrily sweeping over his soon to be fiancé.

I’m sorry if this wasn’t what you really had in mind. I have just had this scene playing out in my head for awhile now. I hope you enjoy it! Thank you for the request!

Tags: @queenpiranhadon @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @fiannee @i-heart-carlisle @derangedmango @matchat3a @bakugouswaif

[senualothbrok]

Hello my friend!! Regarding your amazing “Tight Fit” fic from @daisyofwaterdeep’s 10/10 scenario, I’m obsessed with how Gale would act around Tav after the whole debacle:

Just adorably a mess. Shy, flustered. Stumbling over words.

Trying not to mention it in conversation. Trying to act normal. Occasionally failing on both counts with verbal flubs: “I wholeheartedly support whatever Tav decides. Our leader knows breast—BEST! I mean best!” etc. etc.

Praying Tav doesn’t hate him. Trying not to get aroused every time Tav smiles at him.

Going out of his way to be extra kind to Tav while simultaneously trying to avoid her.

Forcing himself not to daydream about it during the day, thinking about it literally every night. Reimagining every detail while in his bedroll. Instantly so hard he has to finish himself off or he won’t be able to sleep.

Climaxing so hard he’s legitimately concerned about his orb.

Berating himself internally, reminding himself he needs to learn some damned self-control…but then recalling Tav’s breath on his neck, the feeling of her fingers eagerly stroking him, and any hope of self-control is instantly lost

Would love to hear your and/or @daisyofwaterdeep’s thoughts 💖

Hello my dear friend! I 1000% agree with your thoughts on this and I have written something to describe how I think it might go. Hopefully this is enjoyable!

A Generous Portion

Summary: Gale is a flustered mess after you are locked in a room together. Sequel to A Tight Fit.

Set in early Act 1. Featuring matchmakers Karlach and Astarion, gentleman hero Wyll, I've-had-it-up-to-here Shadowheart, and oblivious Lae'zel.

Word count: 1.7k

AO3 link

Disclaimers: Non-18+. Blushy, flustered, awkward Gale. Sexual tension.

****

“Gale.” Wyll's voice is warm with delight. “You've outdone yourself.”

Gale beams as he passes a steaming plate to Wyll. The stew Gale ladles out is thick and rich, and your stomach rumbles at its buttery fragrance. He grins as he hands out generous portions to a nodding Shadowheart, a grunting Lae'zel. 

“It’s not every day that we cross paths with a butcher.” He bobs his head. “A good cook makes the most of every opportunity.”

You see none of the uneasy stiffness of the past few days, none of the squirming mania that has possessed Gale whenever your eyes have met. Karlach claps before she takes her plate from him, and he gives a playful half bow that makes you smile.

“Besides, a hearty meal is the best cure for a weary body and mind. And as far as hearty meals go–”

Since the last time you were alone, Gale has been avoiding you. He has fled from every look and conversation, as though it were a matter of survival. And yet, you have often felt his attention on you, stripping you bare. You feel it now, as his focus flits over your outstretched hand, as he serves you.

“–There’s nothing like some good Waterdhavian sausage.”

His eyes meet yours. Panic flares in his face. He jerks his head, a grimace clenching his features as he flinches away. You settle back in your seat next to Astarion, feeling strangely guilty. Astarion's smirk does not escape you. Nor does the bright flash of Karlach's eyes.

For an eternity, there is only the scraping of plates, the soft stirring of bodies. The sizzle and hiss of the campfire, punctuated by little hums of satisfied chewing. The stew is exquisite, and you almost forget the crackling tension around you as you devour it. It spills from your lips, trickling down your chin in your haste. You wipe it away with your fingers, sucking them clean, wasting nothing. 

When you look up, Gale is staring at you. He spins away, clearing his throat as he examines his stew with obsessive intensity. The flush of his cheeks makes your core swell with memory. The ghost of his hardness twitches against your fingers. You shift awkwardly.

When Wyll breaks the silence, you look at him with a newfound appreciation. 

“This is delicious, Gale,” Wyll says politely. “Truly delicious.” 

Relief surges in Gale’s frame. “It's my pleasure.” 

“We're spoiled to have you cooking for us.” 

You have never been so grateful for Wyll's courtly upbringing, his natural tact. You send out a missive of frantic admiration with your eyes. Wyll’s gaze flickers to yours for the briefest instant before returning to Gale.

Gale is chewing his lip, composing himself. His furrowed brow eases. He waves his hand in an approximation of dismissal.  

“I try my breast.”

You drop your spoon. Astarion bursts into laughter. Shadowheart buries her face in her hands.

“Best!” Gale is fully crimson now, his pitch higher than you have ever heard it. “I try my best!”

“I can't watch anymore,” Shadowheart murmurs under her breath. Karlach jostles her quiet. There is an excruciating pause. You glance at Wyll, pleading.

Wyll's jaw feathers as he leans forward, his smile tight and wide. 

“And tell us, Gale, where did you learn to cook?”

Gale combs frenzied fingers through his hair. His gaze darts around like a fish evading a net. 

“I learned from the best.” His words are slow and strained at first, snowballing as he recovers. “My formidable mother. A master cook, who could work miracles with modest and extravagant ingredients alike. She taught me everything I know.”

Wyll hums approvingly, patiently. You are beyond thankful to see Gale’s breaths levelling, his voice lowering to its usual timbre.

“In fact,” he draws himself up, “the last time I made her a meal, she said my food might even match hers.” 

Wyll lets out a courteous titter. “Well-deserved praise.”

“Your food is pleasant even to a Githyanki palate,” Lae’zel remarks matter of factly. She seems oblivious to tonight’s disasters - or perhaps indifferent to them.

“Awesome grub, mate.” Karlach gives an enthusiastic thumbs up. “Can't get enough.”

With each affirmation, Gale’s body uncoils a little. The alarming scarlet of his skin is fading to its usual golden bronze. You are desperate to give him relief. You nod furiously. 

“I love your food. I’d eat anything of yours.”

All heads turn to you – vistas of disbelief, delight, despair. Karlach lets out a guffaw as Astarion snickers. Shadowheart and Wyll press their hands to their temples. Lae'zel stares at Gale with disdain as he begins to cough, clutching his chest. He hacks and heaves, until you are genuinely concerned that he is choking.

“Are you alright, Gale?” 

“Fine!” he gasps, his hands whipping around him in frenetic arcs. “Absolutely fine!”

Anxiety seizes you as a flash of lavender peeks through the opening above his chest. Hurriedly, you pour him a glass of wine, moving forward to kneel beside him. 

“Well.” Astarion springs up, gesturing to Karlach pointedly. “This is as good a time as any for that thing you mentioned, Karlach.”

For a second, Karlach looks just as confused as you feel, her brow scrunched as she considers. The recognition that blooms on her face is like victory. She leaps up to join him.

“Right! That thing! That I wanted to show you. And Shadowheart. And Wyll. And Lae'zel. Right now! Somewhere else!”

She pulls them up in turn. You stare at each of them, bewildered, imploring. Gale wheezes beside you. 

“What are you–”

“Must dash!” Astarion calls out, grabbing and jostling at arms and elbows. “Places to go, people to be!”

You glare at your companions’ retreating backs. When Gale takes the glass from your hand, his fingers brush against yours. He looks away as he throws the wine down with a groan.

*****

“Are you sure you don't need anything?”

“Yes, I'm fine, thank you.”

“Because if you need anything, I can–”

“No, I'm quite alright, Tav. Thank you very much for your kindness.”

The politeness between you is painful. Gale’s hands jolt from his lap to his sides, his fingers rippling and fisting. You suddenly realise how close you are, your face an arm’s length from his knee, your eye line parallel to the crook of his…

You lurch back, perching on the log opposite him. Gale’s features writhe as he fumbles at his robe. He looks absolutely miserable. You cannot help but feel stung. Your friendship and affection for him had come so easily. You cannot say you do not miss it, and the promise of what it might become.

“Would you rather I left?” you ask finally. “If I'm bothering you, I can go.”

Is it shock in his widened eyes? Disbelief? You cannot tell. He shakes his head with surprising force. 

“No, Tav. You never bother me. You could never...”

He trails off, gaze fixed on the campfire with a fervour like fear. You sigh. You cannot skirt around the edges of it any longer.

“Gale, have I done something wrong?” 

He looks up then. His eyes quiver, sunlight on a brown sea. 

“Have I upset you in some way? Because if I have, I apologise. I never meant to cause you any distress, or any kind of offence–”

He winces, as though you have struck him. 

“Of course not,” he exclaims, a little too loudly. He bites his lip. A stray strand of silver falls over his eye. You ignore your urge to brush it away.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. You could never do anything to upset me. You're...”

Something in his tone simmers beneath your skin. It is breathy and hoarse, and you are reminded of the way he had moaned over your parted mouth as you grasped the bulge rising between you. Your skin throbs as your gaze drifts over the fullness of his cupid’s bow, the hard curves of his chest, the shadowed dip between his legs. You swallow.

He whirls away from you, as if he can read your thoughts. It is your turn to clear your throat now, to stare into the campfire as your face burns and you battle against the images that flood you. When, without warning, he jumps up and bounds away, you do not have words. Rudeness is a trait you did not think Gale possessed. You sit, stunned, wondering what to do with yourself.

You are taken aback when he returns from his tent. He stoops and stumbles slightly as he takes a seat beside you, close enough that his scent of sandalwood and sweat sends your head spinning. With gentle deliberation, he places a basket in your lap. You marvel at the peaches that fill it, sunset-blushed and plump, ripe to bursting. 

“Gale,” you breathe. “What is this?”

He rubs at the back of his neck. “Forgive me… but I couldn’t help but overhear you and Lae'zel the other day.” His throat bobs, his crow’s feet crinkling. “You were telling her about the food you love most, so when I saw these peaches at the market, I couldn’t help but…”

It takes all of your self control not to throw your arms around him. You press a peach to your nose and close your eyes, breathing deeply, savouring its fragrance, sweeter than the sweetest wine. The tickle of its down, the feel of its flesh, firm and soft at the same time. A little gasp of joy escapes you.

When you open your eyes, he is smiling - beaming - at you. He looks away quickly.

“Thank you, Gale,” you manage. “This is incredibly generous. How can I ever repay you?”

He dips his head. There is the hint of an arched eyebrow, a sideways curl of his lips, as his dark eyes flicker back to yours.

“Your pleasure… is all I desire.”

For a while, you simply look at him, speechless from relief, beauty, gratitude, yearning. The air around you is taut to snapping, the space between your bodies at once too much and too little. You open your mouth and sink your teeth into the peach in your hand. It bursts into a spurt of nectar, coating your lips and chin and fingers, sticky and smooth on your skin. You let out a small moan.

He trembles. A purple haze flares as your tongue follows the trail of juice winding down your fingers, catching the drips on your wrist. You lick your lips as he watches, still and rapt. Laid bare.

You hold the bitten peach out to him, an unspoken offering. He hesitates for an eternal moment before he leans forward, bathing you in his indigo glow. 

He holds your gaze as he bites down.

*****

Liked this fic? Check out my other work

[amymbona]

idk if this is gonna make sense but do yk the game twister? like with the colourful mat and you always end up tangled with each other?

so hear me out- you and art are playing together with patrick being the person that spins and tells you guys where to move.. but instead hes just trying to put you guys into sexual positions since he knows art has a fat crush on you😵‍💫

just ends in either you teasing art while playing or patrick getting you guys to fuck eventually (like making up his own rules - if you fall you take off a piece of clothing - etc.)

I RLLY HOPE THIS MAKES SENSE IM SORRY ITS KINDA LONG

FUUUUCK USER YOU'RE A GENIUS.

You're genuinely so into the game, and end up squatting with your arms crossed in front of you, while Art's face is like directly behind your ass. He can see the lace of your panties where your shirt rode up with the stretch of your back and he has to physically resist the urge to kiss the soft skin there.

Patrick, seeing it all, smirks and spins the wheel, but completely ignores whatever it lands on. "Right hand on green, Art."

"Oh, okay," Art gasps with almost child like innocence, searching for the right spot. And the only suitable one seems to be on the front of your own hand.

So he does the only possible thing, extending his right arm to place his palm on the green circle, completely enveloping you from the top. His chest presses into your back and you catch the tiniest hint of his boner pressing into your ass.

"Left foot on yellow, Y/N," Patrick commands, not even bothering to spin the wheel.

You try to do so, the top of your head bumping into Art's chin, and your back practically molds against his chest as you extend your left leg behind yourself. "Fuck, I'm gonna fall."

"Just hold it, Y/N, don't be a pussy," Patrick mutters with a roll of his eyes, loving the way you two are pressed together. "Ready for another round, Art?"

Eventually, the two of you end up tangled in a mess, limbs intertwined. At one point, your crotches rub together, like really really hard and Art thinks he might cum right there. Luckily for him, your legs give up under you and you fall straight on your bum, complaining about a lost game.

The boys know how much of a competitive girl you are, and evening something as simple as twisted is able to ignite the fire that burns on your heart. And the good friend Patrick is, he decides to give you another chance to prove yourself.

"How about a new rule, hm? If you fall, take something off," he offers, crossing one leg over the other were he's sitting. "We can continue until you're both naked."

He's an asshole, a proper fucking asshole. But Art makes sure to get on his knees and thank him next time when they're alone, because - fuck - the moment your bare boobs bounce in front of his face is like seeing a real angel descend from the sky. He's almost naked as well, just in his boxers now, his boner very much waving hello at you.

The positions you end in are even more awkward. At one point, Art end up on all fours, but in the other way, so his bum is just barely lifted off of the ground, with you hovering above him, legs spread on either side of his head. His cock is throbbing in his pants and his eyes are so wide at the sight of a wet pool of arousal soaking through the pink cotton of your panties.

"Art," Patrick hums, an amused expression on his face as he keeps studying the scene in front of him. "Mouth on pink."

Art's eyes snap towards his friend. "What?"

It's obvious what Patrick is referencing. And he's so fucking proud of himself for it. "You heard me, man."

"C'mon, Art," you almost whine impatiently, wiggling above him. Your full thighs jiggle and Art has a back time holding back a moan.

"Oh- okay," he swallows heavily, with a hesitant nod pressing his lips to the pink cotton of your panties. A breathy moan is heard above him, such a calm sound.

Art really can't help himself. He can't wait for any other instruction from his friend, he can't even hold himself back now that his face is smushed against your arousal. He licks a thick stripe and sucks in the sticky wetness that has soaked through the fabric, slowly losing himself in the sweet taste. Patrick chuckles at the eagerness and you do too, but with much less harshness. The sound is almost sweet, caressing Art's fluffy, fuzzy brain and encouraging him to keep going.

"Left foot on green."

Patrick announces and Art feels your thighs squeeze tighter around his head as you reposition yourself. His whole head is buried in your lap, the tip of his nose rubbing little circles over your clit as he breathes in the moisture. Little beads of sweat glisten on his pink cheeks, the feel of your plush skin against his ears making him feel like he's drowning. Like he can't breathe.

"Mhm, Art," you moan above him, grinding your pelvis down to meet him halfway. By now, his lips are fully latched onto your cunt, suctioning it into his mouth and sucking and sucking and sucking.

Locked in the awkward position, his hands and feet somehow remain within the colourful circles, and so do yours. It's almost admirable how you manage to stay unmoving, only the subtle grind of your hips and nodding friction of Art's head happening.

The smug bastard Patrick is, he's enjoying the whole thing, the sight something so beautiful and downright pornographic. He's almost tempted to whip out his phone and record the two of you, because he's sure there's not a single video like this on the hub. That could be a hit!

But he's not that much of a bitch. So all he does it palm his dick and dost it through his pants, the sight of his best friend's angel curls drowning between your plush thighs being just enough to get him hard.

[skzdarlings]

03. sharing a bed series ; skz ; changbin

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 3/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN. -

pairing: changbin/reader content info: explicitly plus size reader. sexual content. friends2lovers, sharing a bed trope. lingerie. teasing. reading and watching porn. a bit of spanking. not so much choking but throat-holding. penetrative sex.

;)

-

Oh god, you think, staring at your suitcase full of lingerie, what the fuck do I do?

You like beautiful things and you love lingerie.  Your suitcase is brimming with pretty nighties and delicate babydolls, a luxury indulged for your own sake but completely inappropriate given the circumstances. 

You thought you would have your own hotel room this holiday, but after a few friends dropped out of the trip, there was some last minute shuffling, and now—

“Yah! Where’s my toothbrush?”     

Changbin is your hotel roommate for the weekend.  Just you, him, and a single king-sized bed. 

Oh, and your suitcase full of lingerie. 

You slam the luggage shut, spinning around to look at him as he emerges from the bathroom in a frantic state of his own. 

It takes a second to register his question, your eyes wide as you look him over from head to toe.  His dark hair is damp from a shower and he is wearing nothing but a bath towel.  He holds it shut at his hip, a sturdy thigh flashing when the towel parts.  His body is one mouth-watering slab of big, broad bulk, and you find yourself clutching your own ample chest as if that will stop your heart from stampeding out. 

“Ah, there,” Changbin says, strutting past you.  Absent-mindedly, he says, “I’m almost done, then you can shower.” 

The few minutes it will take him to brush his teeth will not be enough for you.  Your efforts to find suitable sleepwear are completely futile.  In the end, you settle on the simplest nightie with the fullest body, even if it is a bit transparent. 

You take your turn in the bathroom after him.   When it comes time to change, you slip into the nightie and stare agape at your own reflection. 

Oh god, you think.  This is a disaster. 

This is your most conversative piece and it is still wildly sexy.  You love your bigger body and you love dressing to accentuate its features, and this piece is no exception.  Full thighs and fuller breasts and full curves spill up and over the tighter places.  The little panties are swallowed up by your plushy ass and no matter how much you adjust the neck of the nightie, it continues to fall in the most suggestive way possible. 

You look hot.  If anyone else was waiting for you in that hotel bed, you would be fine.   But it’s Changbin.  Your close friend Changbin.  Your close, hot, loud, insane, sexy, confident, drool-worthy, muscle pig friend Changbin. 

You sigh, resigned to your fate.  There is nothing more you can do. 

You pop open the bathroom door and stick your head around the corner.  Changbin is lounging in bed, dressed in a black t-shirt and grey sweatpants, an arm thrown over his head as he watches something on his phone.   His hair has dried fluffy and he is smiling at whatever he’s watching.

“Changbin,” you say.  “Close your eyes.” 

He does the opposite, like the stupid hot dummy he is, looking up at you.  You get a swoop in your gut just from his curious glance, his messy hair, the comfort he radiates laying in your shared bed.   It really is unfair how he is a hundred different styles of sexy at once.  This is the same guy who was working out shirtless on the beach lawn just an hour ago, the same guy who showed up to dinner in designer glasses and a form-fitting jumpsuit, the same guy who was cuddling you in a hammock wearing a big hoodie and board shorts.  Surely he could try and have the decency to look bad at least once.    

“I said close!” you repeat. 

“Ah! What!”  He does it, even if he is confused, lowering his arm and covering his eyes.  “There!  Stop yelling at me!”

“You’re yelling, not me!”

“I’m not yelling!”

You are both yelling.  But his eyes are closed so you make a mad dash for your luggage, tossing your day clothes haphazardly with a little wince for the mistreatment of your pretty things.  But you need to be fast, shoving your clothes in your suitcase so you can dive under the covers before Changbin inevitably gets bored and—

“What are you wearing?” Changbin says. 

“Changbiiiin!”  You turn around with a furious scowl, crossing your arms over your chest.  “I told you to close your eyes!”

“What, forever?  I thought we were done!”

“Well, we’re not!  Close them!”

“But I already—”

“Close!”

He grumbles a curse to himself but closes his eyes, laying back with his arms stubbornly crossed.  You turn away to zip your luggage, shaking your head.  You also fight down a giggle, one bubbling up from the tiniest bit of delight caused by Changbin’s dropped jaw and wide eyes as he thoroughly drank in the sight of you.   

You turn around to find him peeking, one eye open.  He is one second too late closing it again. 

“I saw that,” you say.

“Saw what?” he says.  “I missed it.  My eyes are closed.”

“Uh-huh.”  You walk up to the bed and fold back the covers, eyes on him the whole time.  You put your hands on your hips when he cracks open one eye again.   “Pervert,” you say, with a snort of amusement.

“Me?”  He opens both eyes and gestures wildly.  “Look what you’re wearing!  How am I the pervert?” 

“You’re in boy lingerie so be quiet.”

“What!”   

“The grey sweatpants with the dick print.”  You point to his lap.  “Boy lingerie.”   

“Ahhh! Ah! Hey!  Have some principles.  That’s reverse sexism.  You should be ashamed of yourself.”  He wags a scolding finger you at you.  Then, for good measure, he grabs a pillow and puts it in his lap.  “Stop objectifying me.”   

You laugh in spite of yourself, climbing onto the bed.   You put a comforting hand on his shoulder.   

“I thought I was sleeping alone,” you say.  “I’m sorry.  If you have a big shirt I can sleep in, I don’t mind changing.” 

“You wearing that,” Changbin says, giving you a very thoughtful once-over that makes your whole body tingle, “or you wearing my shirt.”  He lifts the pillow and looks under it.  “What do you think?” he says, as if consulting his dick. 

“You’re so stupid!”  You hate how much you are laughing at this goofball.  You roll your eyes even while giggling.  “I’m going to sleep.  Have a fun conversation with your little friend.”

“Ah! He’s not little,” Changbin says, as if very offended.  “He’s average height and girthy, like me.”

“Nice try but you’re not average height and ew, oh my god, don’t say girthy.” 

“Girthy.”      

“I can’t hear you,” you say, sliding under the covers.  You pull them up to your chin and lay on your side with your back to him.  “I’m already sleeping,” you say. 

“How am I supposed to sleep now!” he says.   

“That’s not my problem!”

He grumbles some more while you snicker.  Eventually he turns off the light and gets under the covers too.  You both go on your phones, the little white lights illuminating the bed.  You glance over your shoulder to see him laying with his back to you, watching videos on mute.  You turn back to your phone and open your reading app, deciding you can squeeze in a chapter or two of your current romance. 

You are reading about the latest duke’s pulsating member and his lady’s quivering thighs when Changbin turns over.  You are too slow hiding your phone.   

“Are you reading porn?” he asks, reaching out and snatching your phone. 

“It’s not porn!”  You sit up to grab it back but he holds it away.  “It’s literature!”

“It’s porn,” he says, bursting into peels of giggles that should be ridiculous coming out of that buff body, but they only make you laugh too.

“Changbiiiin,” you whine through your own laughter, rolling half on top of him to try and grab your phone.  “Give it baaaack.  It’s not porn.” 

“He throbbed as pleasure conquered his senses and ERUPTED LIKE A FORCE OF VOLCANIC NATURE—!”       

“Stooooop!”

“That sounds painful,” Changbin muses. 

You finally snatch your phone back and promptly toss it off the bed.  It lands with a little thump.  

Changbin is laying on his back and giggling like a child, poorly stifled teeheehees that do not relent even when you lean over him with your most intimidating face.   

“That’s not fair,” you say.  “You have to show me yours now.” 

That gets him to look at you with surprise, tilting his head.  You do not miss when his eyes go to your chest, especially because it lingers there for a very long moment.  He touches his bottom lip, flicking his tongue over his thumb absently before finally meeting your gaze. 

“What?” he says.  “Did you say something?” 

“Show me your porn,” you say. 

“My—what!  Get down.”  He bats you away and crosses his arms.  “I will remind you I am a man of principle.  I have convictions.  Unlike you, I don’t keep demeaning pornographic content on hand at all times.  I have too much respect for the human form and the sanctity of intimacy and lovemaking.”  

You blink at him.

“Fine,” he says, and picks up his phone.  “Don’t blame me for any volcanic eruptions.” 

Once he has his bookmarks open, you take his phone and roll over, ignoring his protests.  You hold the phone out and click a link at random, even with him pressed right up against your back as he tries to steal it back.  You wriggle in his lap, making him squeak, either because your ass is pushing at his junk, or because of the video that opens. 

“Oh my,” you say.  

It’s a point-of-view video, a man’s hand sliding down a very soft, curvy body.  Your own body perks with interest when his thumb glides down her wet pussy, teasing her lips apart before sliding inside.  Changbin makes a strangled noise that you hardly register, staring as the man in the video slowly fingerfucks the woman, a woman not unlike you in proportion and general appearance. 

“I can explain—ah, hey! Why are you skipping?”  Changbin’s somewhat embarrassed tone shifts midsentence to indignation as you tap to fast forward.   

“I wanna get to the good part!”

“The good—?  Yah! You’re so impatient!” 

You ignore him, fast forwarding until you see a dick then letting it play. 

Changbin has given up on trying to get his phone back.  He makes a sound of miserable defeat and thunks his forehead against the back of your head.  You bite your bottom lip, flushed from head to toe, your thighs especially squirmy as need gathers between them.   You watch the woman in the video turn over until she is on all fours.  The man pushes inside her and you watch the way her body moves when he thrusts deeply.  His hand comes down in a sharp slap, making you twitch with wanting.

“I like that,” you say, aware of Changbin growing hard against your backside.   You feel him twitch at your comment.   When you skip ahead in the video again, he doesn’t speak.  You stop when the man wraps his hand around the woman’s throat and you smile.  “Like that too.”  

He is rock hard against your ass.  Either he thinks staying still means you can’t feel it or he wants you to feel it.  Testing, you grind slowly against him. 

He grabs your hip through the blankets. 

“Ah, you.”  He squeezes your hip.  “No teasing.” 

“No?” you ask, wriggling just a little more.  “None at all?” 

There is a brief pause, then he slides his hand under the covers to hold your waist directly.  It is a slow, questioning motion, leaving you time to refuse.   When you don’t, he slides his hand down to stroke your thigh. 

You put his phone aside, the screen going dark, its contents forgotten as you turn your head.   He slips one arm under you, his hand cupping a breast at the same time his other hand goes between your legs.  When he kisses you, you open your mouth to immediately deepen it.  He does, licking at you and sucking your bottom lip, grinding in a slow circle against you.   It makes you ache, squirming in his strong embrace, his fingers only just hovering where you need him. 

“Shh, it’s okay,” he says when you start bucking and whining into his kiss.  He kisses you too deeply for you to protest his teasing, but then he finally hooks his fingers in your panties to draw them to the side. 

You get dizzy, either from kissing more than breathing or just his overwhelming presence.  When he touches you and feels how wet you already are, he makes a low sound and curses. 

“Ch—Changbin,” you say, breathy and a little senseless already.  “Please.” 

He moves swiftly, manhandling you with ease and care.  You turn over and he pushes the blankets away to get up behind you.  You whimper into the sheets when he tugs you into a better position, then he is drawing your panties to the side again and stroking your whole pussy from clit to entrance and back again.  His fingers are soaked by the time he puts them inside you, strong arm finding a steady rhythm quickly.  Combined with a couple sharp smacks to your ass, you come apart with a cry, whole body shaking as you grind back on his hand. 

You sink into the bedsheets, eyes closed, panting.  You feel his hand wet hand cup your thigh, then his fingers spreading your pussy open.  You clench around nothing and hear him curse. 

You look over your shoulder at him.  Even though you were the one who came, he looks completely wrecked, his fluffy black hair a dishevelled mess and his jaw clenched, shoulders tense.  You look a little lower, staring at the thick bulge in his sweats. 

It’s him who speaks first, his voice rough when he says, “You look… do you have any idea…” 

“You’re not wearing underwear, are you,” is what you end up saying, giggling.  “Boy lingerie.  Told you.” 

He snorts, grinning, looking more cocky than chagrined.  That expression morphs to curiosity and hope when you reach for a make-up bag sitting on the head-table. 

“Yes,” he says, when you pull a string of condoms out of it.  For some reason, it’s the funniest response he could have given, and you giggle a little more.  Those giggles come to a stop when he pulls your panties down, then rolls down the band of his sweatpants down too.  

Your mouth falls open.  “Wow,” you say.  “You are—”

“Girthy?”

“Don’t make me change my mind.” 

He mimes zipping his lips shut before taking the condom. 

You accidentally untuck the bedspread when he finally gets inside you.  One corner comes undone, and the second one follows when he starts fucking you in earnest.  It’s a good, full stretch, and you moan into the messy bedspread as he grabs your hips to pull you into every thrust.  You swear you see stars when he slides one hand up and around your neck, lifting your head and holding you by the throat as he fucks into you.  He slows down a bit to rub at your clit, making you come and spasm around him, before he drives himself quickly to completion. 

You end up sprawled facedown on the undone bed, your nightie in a state of disarray and your panties god knows where.  He flops down beside you, breathing hard, still pretty much dressed.  Once he’s caught his breath, he looks at you, smiling when he reaches out to brush some hair out of your face. 

You smile back, rolling into his open arms.  You rest your head on his chest and exhale.

Then, knowing it’ll get a reaction because he’s Changbin, you say, “That wasn’t bad.”

“Not bad!” he says, predictably loud.  “What do you mean not bad?  That was amazing.  Come here.”  He’s laughing now, pulling you close when you laugh and try to roll away.  “Get back here.  I’ll show you not bad.”