#when they become the bob couple???

[specific-dreamer]

what if i said cherrybomb wasn’t a nicknamey couple, like they didn’t go around calling each other baby and honey and wtv, but sometimes in softer moments or moments of pure exasperation cherry called him her angel.

she never says this part out loud but specifically her fallen angel. because there’s good in him. he can be good and pure, he was good and pure once upon a time, but he’s constantly being led astray/straying on his own and he keeps falling. she’d never call him a demon, she doesn’t think he’s that awful (yet), but for now he’s her fallen angel

[chaepink]

can u make headcannons on sub!yan’s tendencies in the relationship?

also can i be 🉑 or 🌝 anon?

dating sub!yandere boys hcs ♡

sub!yandere boys when they date you.

wc: 1.1k+ words | masterlist

dom!fem!reader, unhealthy relationship, mention of killing/murder, both sfw and nsfw!, mention of feminization, bondage

note: yes you can be 🌝 anon!

— your yandere would be possessive of you, even more compared to when you two were just friends

— well, you thought you two were just friends. he already assumed you two were together sometime earlier during his friendship with you

— he would do anything for you in order to make sure you're happy and safe

— a friend of yours is getting too touchy with you? well the next day that friend is ignoring you and when you confront them, they look at you scared and quickly scurry away from you. did your yandere do something to them? surely not

— a weird guy keeps following you around your neighborhood? well a couple of days later you see on the news that his body has been found near a river and weirdly enough, you havent seen your yandere on the days before the guy's death

— you complain to your yandere about how a teacher gave you a bad grade on something you worked so hard on? suddenly your grade changes to a A and that same exact teacher suddenly resigns from the school

— he'll try his best to know where you are most of the time and try to follow you back home to make sure you're safe (though its really obvious, you don't acknowledge him so he thinks he's actually doing something)

— but no matter how scary and possessive they are of you, they just want to be good for you, really

— its almost as if they're a puppy for you, always there for your beck and call

— give them a simple command and they'll do it immediately, no questions asked

— ask them to buy you a snack from the nearest store? he'll return back with a bagful of others that he thought you would like

— they're super clingy and always want to be near you

— somehow they manage to have the same exact classes that you have and at the same time. maybe you guys are just lucky? little do you know that your yandere hacked into the principal's computer to change his schedule to fit with yours

— if you're sick, they would immediately fetch you some medicine and make so many bowls of your favorite soup that you're not sure you could finish them all

— they would be so sad when you're sick cause that means they can't be as close as they usually are with you :(

— in bed, nothing changes at all. rather, he becomes even more infatuated with you

— they're still so good and obedient for you, always following your commands. its cute

— like what i said with him doing it with no hesitation, your yandere is eager to do what you say

— tell him to get on his knees? say less as he's already doing so, staring up at you with such innocent eyes

— tell him to open his mouth for you to stick your fingers inside? he opens wide and sticks out his tongue in such a sinful manner, hazy eyes absolutely begging you to make him choke on your fingers as drool drips down his chin

— order him to suck your strap and get it all wet? he's quick to get in between your legs and get his hands on the fake dick, his mouth going straight to bobbing it up and down and gagging as it hits the back of his throat. he'll try to subtly grind his hard on against your foot without you noticing but you do anyways but he's being a good boy so you allow it

— and oh my god is he so shameless in public

— no hesitation in telling you what he wants you to do to him when there are people around

— you'll be at brunch with some of your friends and suddenly you'll feel a hot breath on your ear, such sinful words coming soon after

"im wearing lingerie under my clothes, your favorite set too. wouldn't you like to just ruin me right here and now? make me cry and look so pretty while you show everyone im yours?"

— safe to say that you immediately dragged him to the family bathroom and fingered him until he was gripping onto you for dear life, begging and crying out for you to stop and take pity on him (he's lying about wanting you to stop)

— when you're out with errands or just at work, he'll take such sinful pictures of himself to send to you randomly

— the pictures would include his legs spread out, a obvious bulge in his underwear, and something adorning his body whether its lingerie, a maid outfit, or rope that's tied so tightly on him

— if he's feeling like teasing you even more, he'll send whimpering audios that beg you to come home and fuck him and if you listen close enough, you'll hear some wet noises that let you know that he's masturbating

"f-fuck, [name] come back s-soon, please? i-i miss you so much! i- ah! i-im wearing your favorite outfit right now! i'll be a g-good ngh boy waiting for you ♡"

— itll end up with you rushing home after you're finished to fuck him dumb in that outfit, making it stained with his tears and cum

— he knows you can't really get him pregnant but your yandere just loves those straps with cum in them that you can just shoot inside him whenever you're fucking him fast and rough

— that'll make his eyes roll back and head throw backwards as he lets out such a loud mewl at the feeling of your fake cum filling him up

— and afterwards he'll tease you by using his fingers to push the cum thats gushing out of his hole back in before licking his fingers

— although your yandere is a good boy for you most of the time, theres times where he's a brat

— he'll talk back to you whenever you command him to do something or cum without permission

— but just some long edging or overstimulation will break him and turn him into a sobbing mess

— tying his hands to the headboard and keeping his legs spread apart whilst a vibrator is inside him on the highest setting is his favorite punishment

— your yandere thinks you don't know that since you do it all the time but you actually do know it, you just love the way his face is stained with his drool and tears while his chest and the sheets underneath him is covered in his cum afterwards

— such a slut but we love him for it

ty for reading to the end! ❤ - chaepink

╰┈➤ masterlist | rules

[comatosebunny09]

carpe noctem [ climax 2.0 ] | sylus

— summary: he takes you to a safe house. reasoned it was the safest option while his men tied up whatever loose ends remained from your mission. you get the feeling there’s more to his words than what floats at surface level. — cw: reader is not mc, reader implied to be femme, assassin!reader, profanity, sexual tension, minor character deaths, mentions of blood & violence, terms of endearment, self-deprecating thoughts, a sprinkle of romance, self-indulgent, unhinged moment, mdni — notes: special thanks to @alfredosaws for helping me write this. thank you so much for reading! — now playing: i follow rivers - lykke li

Silly woman. Getting your hopes up for nothing. Still...

He’s yet to set you down—Sylus. Your enigma of a boss, cradling you in his arms like an offering to be bestowed on an altar. Long fingers crooked under your knees, a possessive arm swept under your back.

You’re not hurt—he saw to that when he safely lured you to the ground with his Evol. So why does he insist on carrying you like you are?

You try not to get caught up in how he smells—petrichor during the spring. The leftover carbon of spent bullets. Suede and the freshly-broken skin of a clementine. 

How he feels—strong yet firm, honed from years of boxing and a past you know little of. Tender despite the violence he’s capable of. Big and comforting, like a blanket fresh out of the dryer on the coldest days of the season. 

How he breathes—even, as his heart thrums a steady tempo against your chest. Soothing like ocean waves rolling over your feet, lulling you into tranquility. 

Tch. Since when did you become so poetic?

You’ve long since traded the cacophony of bullets ricocheting off his Evol—of Nikolai’s men shouting obscenities, bleeding malice and vitriol as they spit orders—for the serenity of the night.

Passersby mill about on the moon-laden streets. Couples laugh, bundling together to ward off the night’s chill. An occasional drunkard stumbles down the sidewalk. Sylus effortlessly sidesteps them, refusing to let you walk on your own despite the perturbed looks he garners. You try not to dig too deep into things. And yet…

He’s carried you like this for at least a mile through the city’s heart. Past historic buildings jaded by time, under twinkling string lights, hung over shopping centers and outdoor cafes bordering the street. 

It’s something of a dream. Something like a romantic film, but you don’t feel like you deserve to be its star.

He’s made no move to set you down. You’ve also made no effort to untwine your arms from around his neck. Instead, you study the flexing tendons in his throat. The bob of his Adam’s apple when he chuckles something murky and guttural after he catches you staring. You look away with bashfulness creeping beneath your skin, only to repeat the ritual all over again. 

It feels like old times—a memory far off when he carried you like this once before after you led him on a hunt through the docks. After you took down one of the most prominent human trafficking rings in the underworld, and after he thought he would lose you forever. 

You’re sure you were heavy then—he spent most of the night searching for you, reducing anyone who got in his way to ash and bone. He was exhausted, violet bags hanging beneath his eyes, blood speckling his collar. Yet he still held you so tenderly. Walked you towards the horizon, clutching you like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. 

You’re sure you’re heavy now.

And he shouldn’t be holding you like this. Despite how delightful it feels, a voice admonishes you from the deepest regions of your mind for getting too comfortable. 

He’s not yours. This isn’t right. 

She might be gone, swept up in the mountains playing escort, but you can’t help feeling like you’re betraying the hunter. You’ve already crossed her so many times in your mind before. 

You squirm a bit. His gaze slides to you. Scarlet eyes gleam beneath the tawny lights like multifaceted rubies. His brows lift slightly, and the beginnings of a smile prod his lips. 

You clear the phlegm from your throat, tamping down the hot flush rising from your chest to stain your neck and cheeks. He’s effortlessly beautiful, like something spawned from a Rembrandt painting. 

“You can put me down now,” you urge, your voice uncharacteristically soft. “I’m perfectly capable of walking by myself.”

He looks forward, wearing a full-bodied smile. “I know.” He continues walking like you didn’t speak, making no effort to let you go. 

You give him a deadpan look. Try again, a little more insistent this time. “Sylus.”

“Yes?” he returns, humored, patient. 

“I said you can put me down.”

“I know.”

You sigh, exasperated after a few moments spent glaring at his side profile. His devastatingly attractive profile. That sloped nose. Those heart-shaped lips. Those pretty, grey-fringed lashes. 

“Aren’t you afraid of someone seeing us like this?” You gesture to your conjoined bodies with a nod. “People might get the wrong idea.” 

You might get the wrong idea.

He huffs a laugh like you’ve said the most absurd thing. “When have I ever been concerned with how others perceive me?” Those softened eyes flick back to you, something cold prickling low in your belly at the weight they carry. At how his voice dips like he’s drawing you into a secret. “Since when have you?”

Your lips twitch. He poses a fair argument. You’ve never cared much about how people view you, save for Sylus and the twins. More recently, Ms. Hunter. 

Guilt twists in your throat. Burns like ash. “Sylus…”

“Am I making you uncomfortable? Because if I am, I’d be happy to set you down.” There’s a beguiled edge to his voice. A challenge. A plea. Almost like he wants you to say, ‘No.’

Surely, you’re being delusional.

Regardless, you blanch. And it’s comical how quickly you shake your head, eliciting a thick, low purl of laughter from your savior. Your argument dies in the back of your throat. The drape of your arms around his shoulders slackens. But you still don’t let go. You don’t want to let go. 

You decide she’ll have to be upset with you—Ms. Hunter. Decide to be a little selfish, but only for a little while. You’re growing too comfortable with the sharp click of his heels against the cobblestone. With how he lightly jostles you in his arms after each measured step. You could fall asleep like this, ushered to dreamland by the source of your fantasies and suffering. 

After some time spent wordless, Sylus slows to a stop. When you glance at him, he nods at something ahead, finally setting you down. You’re bereft of the warmth and safety his body provides as he helps steady you. Smoothing out your dress, you take in your new surroundings. 

A structure stretches before you, much like the ones you passed before, only the upkeep is better. Three stories of dark, historic brick and an awning dotted with sepia-toned lights loom overhead. The building's name scrolls on a marquee sign in its center, blaring through the frosty haze of the night. It reminds you of an old movie theater, repurposed for something more upscale. 

You turn quizzical eyes to Sylus. “A restaurant?” Come to think of it, you are a little famished. Murder always manages to stir your appetite. 

Sylus pushes back the tails of his suit jacket, shoving his hands into his pockets. Exhales slow. The spotlights highlight his smile as he looks between you and the entrance. “Not hungry?”

“Yeah, but…it’s a little short notice, isn’t it? Don’t you normally need a reservation to get into places like this? Will they even let us in?”

With a huff caught in his throat, Sylus brushes past you, bounding up the few steps to tug the door open. A swell of noise spills outside, the soft stroke of piano keys, the clatter of cutlery against plates. The savory scent of cooked meat and sautéed vegetables assaults your senses. Your stomach growls. You pat it placatingly, casting Sylus a wary look.

“They should,” he says with a shrug, patiently waiting for you to enter. “I own the place.” His eyes shine with playfulness, posture lax.

You scoff. Of course. He owns half the city. It makes him more attractive, knowing he can buy anything at the drop of a hat. 

“Wow. That’s awfully Bruce Wayne of you, don’t you think?” you mock, stepping up into the restaurant, guided by your fingers wrapped around his forearm.

“Wait,” you start, inadvertently tucking into his side. “Why are you hungry? I’m the one who did all the heavy lifting.”

Sylus shrugs again, feigning innocence as you clear the restaurant's entryway. “Watching you work always makes me peckish.”

You whack his broad chest, rolling your eyes. Can’t help smiling. Giggling. Letting your defenses waver.

The air between you feels lighter, reminiscent of times spent carelessly flirting when the line between employer and subordinate blurred beyond recognition.

—

It’s lively inside, but not overwhelmingly so. 

Colorful conversation brightens the atmosphere around you. Patrons of new and old money, dressed in designer clothing, sip expensive wine. Prattle on about their reckless ventures, about fickle things you can’t be bothered to entertain. 

It’s a high-brow restaurant, with the gentle croon of live music and light fixtures dangling overhead to simulate candlelight. The interior is Art Deco inspired. Jaw-droppingly beautiful. You’ve found yourself eyeing the bar more than once, impressed by the expansive shelves housing vintage wine and spirits, stretching towards a yawning, stained-glass ceiling. 

Had you not known better, you would’ve thought you were on a date and not lying low while ornery men tore the city apart looking for you. But that’s not the case. 

At least, you don’t think it is. 

You bite down on your fork, bleeding warmth, ignoring the scarlet eyes boring into your face for the umpteenth time.

You’re tucked away in one of the restaurant's corners with your boss, seated at a booth, shying away from the spotlight. Away from the prying eyes of the other patrons, though that doesn’t stop the occasional gaze from wandering over you. Curious clients raise their wine glasses at you with tense smiles, scrutinizing the pair of you as if you’re celebrities. 

You do stand out, still donned in your attire from the banquet. And Sylus commands attention wherever he goes, standing a good foot over most of the populous, his hair a riotous shock of white. 

Also more perplexing is that he hasn’t booked the place out. He prefers solitude, the comfortable quiet. And yet, he’s brought you here, surrounded by people, treating you like something to be shown off, and you're lightheaded from the whiplash he’s giving you.

He’s been nothing short of a gentleman. Pulled your chair out for you, ordered on your behalf, ensnared you in idle conversation. Kept your champagne glass full when your waiter was out of earshot, even lauded you for another successful kill. It’s all so uncharacteristic of him, and you can’t help feeling like he’s building up to something big. 

It’s grown quiet between you since your meals arrived, and your thoughts have crept in, robbing you of any bliss you began to experience. 

You’ve caught your boss watching you several times. And he’s never appeared guilty, shamelessly peering into your eyes, smiling, slowly ticking away at your resolve. 

Your skin prickles with warmth as you push around the vegetables on your plate. The meal is lovely. Savory, but your appetite’s abandoned you. Something’s off. You’ve sensed it for the better part of the night. Sylus is being more attentive than usual, and it’s unsettling. 

What’s his angle? Have you offended him? Is he keeping an eye on you, afraid you’ll run away? Will tonight be the night he lays you off?

You decide to confront him, having had enough of this ambiguity. This farce he’s put up. You clear your throat, smoothing out the napkin on your lap. Set your fork down, gaze hesitantly sliding to him across the table as you attempt to make light of your situation.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that? Is there something on my face?”

Sylus’ eyes crinkle with a quiet mirth. A soft youthfulness as he props his elbows on the table, twining his long fingers together. A grin blooms behind his fists. You hold your breath.

“Has anyone ever told you how adorable you are while you eat?”

You choke on your spittle. Violently pat your chest to dislodge it, reaching for your flute of champagne to wet your throat as tears form. Adorable isn’t something you’d use to describe yourself. And adorable isn’t something you’d ever imagine Sylus classifying you as, either.   

“Maybe you should lay off the champagne,” you cough, the burn in your esophagus subsiding. 

He isn’t much of a drinker, so you suspect he’s spewing nonsense because he’s tipsy. You set your glass down, snatching the bottle of bubbly from the table’s center. It’ll be safer on your side, out of reach, where your boss can’t use it as an excuse to utter more absurd things. 

Sylus’ brows knit, mock hurt descending onto his face. “What? Am I not allowed to compliment you?”

You cough again, bringing the bottle to your lips. Drink straight from the source, crisp liquid drizzling down the sides of your mouth. How ladylike.

Maybe you should stop drinking. You’re starting to hear things, your daydreams coming to fruition. This isn’t happening. Your boss isn’t pouting at you like a child, calling you cute, and making you feel things that should be buried beneath the Earth’s crust. He’s typically stingy with his compliments unless given to a specific person. So why suddenly aim them at you? 

The bubbly’s got your head a little fuzzy. That, coupled with the adrenaline slowly seeping into your veins, emboldens you to get to the heart of his strangeness. You decide to poke the proverbial bear. 

“What’s your problem?” you prod, setting the bottle down with a definitive thunk. You fix him with a look, one of tight lips and furrowed brows. 

Sylus chuckles, seemingly in disbelief at your brazenness. He’s fucking with you. He has to be. Maybe he’s trying to get a rise out of you, sensing how vulnerable you’ve felt throughout the night. How vulnerable you’ve been the past few months. 

“Whatever do you mean, sweetheart?”

You ignore how the term of endearment tingles in your skin. It feels more weighted than usual tonight. Everything’s heavier tonight. 

You sigh, looking at your lap with a forlorn smile. Toy with a loose thread on your napkin, steeling yourself for this unavoidable conversation.

The champagne’s got your tongue a little loose, and the people surrounding you give you a boost of courage—witnesses in case Sylus decides to kill you. 

“You’ve been really nice to me all night.” You sound mousy, contrasting the crass asshole you were moments ago. “It’s kind of…weird.”

A silver brow lifts. Sylus adjusts in his chair, leaning closer to hear you better, the faint note of his cologne wafting off his skin. Threatening to derail you. To change your mind.

“Have I not been kind to you before?” He momentarily scrutinizes the lacquered wood of the tabletop, seemingly lost in thought. Gazes back at you, inspecting your face.

You swallow against the sandy grit of your throat, powering past your nerves, an anxious titter on your tongue. You toy with your necklace, dizzy. “No. No, you have. Just…not like this.”

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. Sylus wordlessly encourages you to continue, watching your mouth, your eyes.

“I mean, the gala. Rescuing me from Nikolai’s goons. Carrying me. Dinner. The compliments. I don’t get you, Sylus. One minute, you’re pushing me away. You’re ignoring me, and then the next, you’re…confusing the hell out of me.”

The words are out before you can contain them. Silence stretches between you, stiff like a bowstring drawn back. You can’t look at him now, feeling so small and stupid beneath the blistering weight of his stare. 

You’re disbelieving that he could be so kind. Romantic. Considerate, treating you like something closer than a subordinate. Like he doesn’t have someone else occupying his mind, and you’re wondering if he’s playing some twisted game with your emotions tonight, using you to fill the gap the hunter left while out saving the world. 

“Am I truly that difficult to understand?” he replies, his voice gritty yet soft. 

Something pinches in your chest at the fragility of his tone. You want nothing more than for the world to open up and swallow you whole. 

You flinch when the flat sides of his nails graze your temple. He briefly stops before tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. Then, his fingertips blister down your cheek. He tilts your head back, cupping your chin, coaxing you to look at him. And you do, reluctantly, a warm film of something wet washing over your sight. 

He studies you with a reverence you don’t deserve. A look you haven’t been subjected to in a very long time, yet it still manages to constrict your heart. Still makes your stomach jump like you’re descending downhill, and your lips part slightly, quivering. 

Time slows to a crawl around you, the world seemingly carving out a pocket of space for only the two of you to exist. The sights and sounds of the restaurant fade into obscurity. You’re focused solely on the scarlet wash of his eyes, how they shift back and forth, studying your features, searching. Seeking answers your mouth refuses to utter. 

“If I’ve made myself anything less than transparent, I apologize.” The sincerity there, the quiet vulnerability, it makes you sick because you’re undeserving of it. You feel like you’re taking part in a naughty secret. Witnessing a side of him usually reserved for the hunter. “But I assure you, I’m not as mysterious as you think.”

You snort despite the moment. Despite your pulse thudding in your eardrums, a trickle of optimism seeping through you like molten liquid. You don that arrogant, playful front as if rolling over and showing him your belly will be viewed as a sign of weakness. He could still very well be screwing with you. Getting your hopes up to shatter them like waves breaking against the rocks.

“Yeah, right. And I’m the Queen of England,” you retort, rolling your eyes.

Sylus shrugs, resigned. Still, he doesn’t relinquish your gaze, the soft curl of his fingers around your face. Instead, he grows more tender, his irises twinkling a youthful shade beneath the ambient lighting as he leans closer. His voice is wispy like he’s murmuring something confidential. 

“You don’t have to believe me. But I am no liar, sweetheart. You know that.”

With that, he releases your chin, fingers slowly dragging over your face, leaving a searing path in their wake. You breathe again, unaware you weren’t, as if released from a spell. You watch him take up his champagne flute, slender fingers curling around its stem, and he stirs its fizzy contents. 

You’re jealous of that damn glass, still feeling those ruinous digits burning themselves into your skin.

He decides to shift gears. You’re thankful because you need time to process things. To get your heart rate down from the sky. 

“Besides, you looked like you could use a break. I figured tonight would be a good time for some morale boosting.”

You snort again, sipping from your own flute to assuage a flare of anger. “Me? A break? Morale boost? Yeah, sure.” 

Taking a breather with your boss, playing around on a date like you didn’t just murder someone? Was he serious? And is that all this was? A figurative pizza party to say, ‘Thank you’ for being an obedient little pet? 

You knew you were an idiot, getting your hopes up for nothing. 

“You know, contrary to popular belief, I’m not as much of a slave driver as you think,” he says, parting the tumultuous sea of your thoughts.

“Really? Luke and Kieran might say otherwise.” There’s more vitriol in your voice than you intend to let out. But you’re deflecting, protecting yourself. 

Your chest tightens when Sylus looks down, idly twisting the glass stem between his fingers. His gaze softens, and something in his voice shifts. “Can’t I just spend some time alone with you? Show you how much I appreciate you for being loyal to me all these years?” 

You stiffen, feeling like someone’s thrust a knife into your gut and twisted it. You must not have heard him right. For a moment, he sounded exposed. Wounded. And for a moment, you feel bad for doubting his intentions. 

You’re about to pursue it when your waiter reappears. He’s all smiles and professionalism as he sets two martini glasses on your table, crystalline liquid swirling ominously inside.

You look up at him with quirked brows. He stands in good form, folding his hands together behind his back. 

“Courtesy of the couple over there,” says your waiter, gesturing over his shoulder with a nod. 

You peer behind him. A middle-aged man and a younger-looking woman dressed in eccentric textures smile and wave enthusiastically at you. You lift your glass to them in a quiet toast, pasting on a smile. The gesture is sweet, but what’s the occasion?

“They said, drinks for the lovely couple, and congratulations on celebrating your anniversary.”

You sputter, sending drops of your martini flying every which way. 

Sylus laughs at your plight, taking up a glass for himself and lifting it in appreciation towards the couple. You glare at him as he sips. 

“Happy Anniversary, darling,” Sylus teases. Winks for added effect. He laughs a wealthy man’s laugh while you choke. 

You contemplate correcting the generous couple, but the martini is delicious. And Sylus doesn’t seem affected by it. 

And maybe it feels good pretending that, just for a moment, he’s yours and yours alone.

—

Someone had a sweet tooth following dinner.

That someone, of course, being you. 

The dessert menu at the restaurant looked appetizing. But you had a craving for something cold. Soft-serve. Besides, you were growing uncomfortable the more that couple ordered you drinks. At one point, they’d been so bold as to stop by your table on their way out. 

They kept ogling you. Winking, laughing drunkenly, spewing out their hotel room number upstairs. When they left, you leaned over the table, cupping your hand around your mouth.

“I think they’re swingers,” you whispered to Sylus. 

He laughed, sitting back. Raised his glass to you, a brow tilting up to match the cant of his lips. “Wanna go find out?”

“Hell no! I’m a one-partner kinda gal.”

You didn’t miss how his gaze shifted. Darkened into something you couldn’t quite place. 

You find yourselves in a 1950s-inspired diner— a modest hole-in-the-wall joint with retro decor and bright lights. Only a couple of other diners inhabit the restaurant. You’re nursing a milkshake, courtesy of your boss, buzzing like a child who’s gotten everything they wanted. 

He teased you about your cravings—only you’d want ice cream when it’s cold out. But he didn’t put up much of a fight, humoring you after you wore him down with those puppy eyes and your fingers buried in his sleeves.

He entertained you further by playing the claw machine in the corner at your behest. Watching a man so big, feared, and elusive fiddle with such a garish machine—you felt honored.

You cheered him on, the sleeves of his jacket draped over your shoulders, puddling around your elbows. After several attempts, he was successful, sheepishly shoving a purple koala bear into your hands. Your face burned hot, and your cheeks ached from smiling and laughing. 

It feels like a dream. The ideal date. And for a moment, you forget that Sylus is your boss. That he could never be yours and that you’re anything but a killer. 

You fiddle with the jukebox, earning curious glances from the diner’s other customers. They’re whispering things, eyeing you warily. You ignore them, queuing up a song. And you’re dancing, silly at first, but muscle memory kicks in. Soon, you’re moving your hips, smoothing over the contours of your body, spurred by Sylus observing you from his place atop a stool. 

You wish he would smile more—an authentic smile, unhindered by sarcasm or smugness. He’s much more handsome like this. 

You think about all the times he’s smiled this way for the hunter, and you stumble in your steps. You flash him a smile when it looks like he’ll get up to help you. Carry on dancing, doing one of the things you do best.

You pretend you’re at Lux, and he makes you feel like you’re on a stage just for him, your nerves flaring at his attention. There’s a gleam in his eyes as he leans back on the countertop on his elbow, watching you with muted appreciation. How long has it been since you’ve danced for him?

So swept up by the music, you hardly register the diner slowly emptying. Not even the servers seem to be bustling about anymore. You get an ominous prickling sensation on the back of your neck, the fine hairs there standing stiff. You stop. 

You exchange a look with Sylus. He raises a brow, tapping his temple. “Keep going,” he rasps, doting, coaxing. Entranced.

He has whatever’s about to transpire under control. You trust him fully. The Bonnie to his Clyde. 

The wispy tendrils of his Evol materialize around the diner’s interior to form a barrier, tossing the restaurant into a misty haze of red and black. It’s reminiscent of hellfire, and you feel like Lilith taking part in a sacrilegious waltz. 

He doesn’t take his eyes off you, attentive as you continue to dance. And you smile, putting on a damn good show as Nikolai’s men funnel in, their cries of agony tempered by the music spilling from the jukebox and your laughter coloring the air as Sylus rends flesh from bone with his Evol. 

—

He takes you to a safe house as the night reaches its peak. 

He reasoned it was the safest option while his men tied up whatever loose ends remained from your mission. Like dining and holding hands out in public didn’t warrant an ambush. 

Someone snitched. Saw that familiar riot of white, those brawny shoulders. Heard that gritty voice mixed with your distinct laughter and sent Nikolai’s men to finish you off. Sylus picked them off while you danced unhindered, but there was no telling how many stragglers were left, ducking into the shadows, creeping along the historic brick walls. 

Again, he insists on carrying you as you break through the door of a quaint, quiet home perched on a hilltop. Secured by his biometrics. Bordered by evergreens and the calming symphony of the forest. Isolated, like him. Hidden from invasive questions, from prying eyes. 

You’re tired. The night’s adrenaline sloughed off, leaving you tenuous and agreeable, which is why you don’t put up much of a fight as Sylus walks you through the foyer, smiling down at you like you’re his precious bounty. It’s infectious. Your lips tug, too, though a little less enthused. You blink slowly. Breathe evenly, lulled by the mollifying thump of his heart against your cheek. 

He drops your stilettos on the hardwood floor halfway to the living room. Deposits you on a dark leather settee, fixing your dress over your legs and his jacket around your shoulders. Draws back. Your chest tightens. You don’t know what hits you when your fingers close around the pleated sleeve of his button-up, eyes beseeching when he looks at you from over his shoulder. 

You don’t say anything. Don’t have to.

Don’t leave. Stay.

You don’t want the dream to end. Not yet.

He chuckles low, all smooth like whisky poured into a glass. Softened, scarlet eyes pan in through the low light, his silhouette haloed by amber. He lifts your legs to settle onto the upholstery beside you. Pulls your feet onto his lap. They’re irritated. Rubbed raw from being strapped to too-tall heels all night, running and gunning like you had no limitations.

He sensed your discomfort. Always such a gentleman.

Large, sweltering hands close around your feet, kneading through pressure and knots of tension. Knuckles at the balls of your feet. You exhale slowly, pleased. Thankful. The attention’s nice. There’s a small voice wading through the murky sea of your mind, telling you this is wrong. That you don’t deserve it, his tenderness. 

You’re getting pretty fucking sick of your conscience. It’s just a foot rub. It’s not like you’re kissing him. 

“You��re good at this,” you note offhandedly. 

“My hands are more useful than you think.”

Something dark threads through his voice. Something cheeky. You ignore how your stomach flips, your mind sparkling with impure ideas. 

Drowsiness sweeps in around the corners, bordering your vision like a vignette. He’s masterful with his hands. You wouldn’t expect anything less from the king of the underworld. You doze off, shepherded through the inkiness by the faraway tick of a clock. By trees rustling beyond the massive window, the moon dragging itself to the center of the sky, cloth moving as Sylus rubs over your calves. 

You stir when he shifts. When he moves to get up and lay your legs on the couch. That feeling returns. That ache. The call of loneliness. Your sleepiness abandons you, making way for cold fright. You stumble from the settee. Rush to stand at full height, gripping his shirt at the crooks of his elbows, halting him.

Your mouth opens. Heart thundering. You don’t know what to say—what you were thinking. His gaze is unyielding, studying your face like the slow flicker of a flame. Silver brows knot. Peach lips fall slightly open. He’s waiting for something. Asking for something. 

You’re on autopilot when you cautiously angle yourself closer. Your gaze falls to his mouth, and he mirrors you, cradling your elbows as if he’s afraid to break you. You’ll blame it on the bubbly you consumed later. On the spell he somehow cast over the night, enthralling you with his chivalry. 

You tug, and he meets you halfway. Not like you have to put in much effort. He’s already leaning down. Eyes already half-moons, breath already shaky. 

He tenses when your lips meet. Shoulders drop once the initial shock peters, and then he’s kissing you with those full, molten lips. He draws you closer, hands splayed possessively at the small of your back. Thumbs cruising over the meat of your hips. Up and down your sides. Wherever he touches, you burn.

You exhale through your nose, and your arms snake around his neck. Fingers sift through the fine hairs at his nape.

He teases your mouth open with his tongue. Sighs something anguished when you grant him entry, licking into your mouth. Pulls you impossibly closer. He’s rigid and warm against you. Gathers your cheek in his palm, angling your head back. He kisses greedy. Selfish. Plunders your mouth, milking the sweetest little sounds from your body. Sounds you didn’t think yourself capable of making.

You kiss and kiss until your lips are chaffed. And even then, you don’t stop. He’s ravenous, moving against you like he’s waited eons to do this. Like he’s fought a war with himself and lost. You’re his Gettysburg. His Kryptonite.

You’ll feel sorry for yourself tomorrow. Blame it on the air, charged with something heady, your inhibitions and common sense thrown to the wolves.

It’s just a kiss. He’s your boss. And tonight, he’s been something of a friend. A dream. Friends kiss all the time, right?

So why do you feel so guilty?

— tags: @emneedshelp, @reiofsuns2001, @crazy-ink-artist, @vonev, @subliminalwish, @ikiru-wa, @inkonparchment, @regandoesthings, @szired, @alyyylog, @leekingsman, @beewilko, @an-ever-angry-bi, @abbylee0710, @sunnyf4lls, @himiko-omikami, @midiplier, @ari-shipping-stuff, @karespocketboyfriends, @glamouroki, @babygirl-panda19, @im-in-different-universe, @sillyfreakfanparty, @lunebulous, @vilehrs-blog (sorry if i missed anyone.)

climax | masterlist | falling action

[lemonlover1110]

𝐀 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃

Toji Fushiguro

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Summary: You feel something while sitting on your boyfriend's lap, and you have the perfect idea on how to help him.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, virgin!reader, oral sex (m. receiving), spitting, praising, reader gives her first blowjob, not mentioned but implied age gap

10k Event Masterlist

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

The fact that you were inexperienced wasn’t an issue for Toji, in fact, he likes the fact that you didn’t really have many boyfriends. He likes to teach you how to do certain things– But he does hate certain things. He hates the fact that you would tease him without knowing so. 

Just randomly sitting on his lap, and kissing the most random spots makes Toji think the wildest possible thoughts. And he swears that sometimes you wear skimpy clothes just to tease him. But he knows you can be naïve, or maybe you’re just a little demon that loves to make Toji’s life impossible. Regardless, Toji doesn’t rush you to do anything that you don’t want to do.

Toji really does love you, if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have stuck in a sexless relationship. Sex isn’t a necessity but it is nice. He’d never make a comment about it to you though since he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable or put any unnecessary pressure on you. He wants you to be as comfortable as possible with him. But sometimes that comes at a great cost to him.

You sit on his lap, moving around to make yourself comfortable, and Toji bites down on his lip. You catch a glimpse of him, and he looks… Awkward. His elbow is on the end table that’s next to the couch, his chin resting on his hand while he looks away.

“Are you okay, baby?” You ask him, and Toji hums in response. You shift on his lap and you feel it, making your face grow hot. You take a moment to think of how to react, before wrapping your arms around his neck. “I want to help you.”

“Huh?” Toji raises his brow and asks, a bit taken back by what you just said. You stand up from his lap, grabbing his hand before attempting to pull him up from the couch. He stands up, asking, “What do you want to do?”

“I want to help you with your little problem.” You repeat, trying to lead him to his bedroom, and Toji hesitantly follows. 

“Are you sure… I mean… This isn’t what I had in mind for you.” Toji says, and he almost wants to slap himself for even thinking of turning you down. He’s suddenly become the most moral man on Earth, which he thought was impossible a couple of years ago.

“I’m sure.” You answer, forcing your boyfriend to sit down on the edge of his bed. You peck his lips and then his cheeks. Your lips go up to his ear, “It’s about time I give you a blowjob.”

“Just a blowjob, right?” Toji asks as you begin to pull down his sweatpants. It’s no surprise to you when you find him not wearing any underwear. Your eyes widen at the size of him though, and you’re wondering just how he’ll fit in your mouth.

“Yeah… Just a blowjob.” You answer as you get on your knees, your hand wrapping at the base of his cock. Toji watches you as you bite down your lip, unsure of how you want to start off. You've surely watched some videos, just to do this for him but your mind goes blank when you're in the moment.

“Spit on it, baby.” Toji tells you, making you roll your eyes as you bring your lips together. You do as he says, before your hand begins to stroke his cock. Your tongue licks the tip of his cock before it begins to circle around it. Toji really thought he would have to guide you through it, but it seems like you know what to do. At least for now.

Your mouth wraps around his cock, hollowing your cheeks before you begin to bob your head up and down on his cock. You take in as much as you can take, which isn’t a lot– It disappoints you, but Toji is over the moon. At least that’s what it seems when your eyes look up to find his head thrown back. Toji isn’t the type to really make any noise but he wants to know that you’re making him feel so good, “Your mouth feels so fucking good–”

Your jaw begins to get tired, so you lift your head, your tongue focusing on circling on the tip of his cock again. Toji looks down at you, and he swears he’s died and gone to heaven. He’s pictured this same exact scene so many different times, and he thought he’d never see the day.

“Your cock’s so big, baby.” You tell him, stroking his length. He grabs your head, and you slightly stand up for a moment to make it easier for him to kiss you. His tongue presses against yours, and when he pulls away, a string of saliva connects your lips, “I want to hear you moan for me, Toji.”

“Fuck, you’re so hot.” Toji says, as you settle on your knees again. Your tongue licks from the base of his cock to the tip of his cock. Your mouth wraps around him again, while your hand begins to play with his balls. Your other hand strokes the part of his cock that your mouth isn’t wrapped around. 

“Ngh– Fucking love your mouth.” Toji begins to moan your name, doing just as you want him to. He wants to keep you happy so this happens again. He’s thinking of you in a different position though… It’s too selfish to voice. He doesn’t want to rush you in any way but he’s only imagining how nice and tight your pussy feels. “You’re doing such a good job. Shit.”

Toji gets louder by the second, biting down his lip to suppress his moans, his breathing slowly getting heavier. His hand grips the bed until his cock twitches in your mouth, his salty cum hitting the back of your throat. Most of it drips down your mouth and goes down to your chin.

You lift your head, and Toji’s thumb runs up your chin, gathering his cum before he swipes it on your bottom lip. He praises you, “You did such a good job, baby…”

He bends down to kiss your lips, getting some of his own cum on his mouth. It’s not the first time it happens. He smirks down at you before he tells you, “But you’re gonna have to learn to swallow.”

[lylianrae]

A list of all the things I have manifested ⋆˚⟡˖ ࣪

We manifest everything in our lives btw - the good and the bad which is why I will be including both to prove that the law does not discriminate. If you can successfully become poor, you can most definately become rich with the same ease because everything is just a state.

Long hair

AHH this is one of my favourite manifestations. Ever since I was young I had a weird bob with a fringe (often crooked) and I wanted long hair like all the other girls (lmaoo) but my mum was strict so she didn't let me grow it out. Although I didn't know about manifestation back then, every new year and birthday I would wish for long hair and I would pretend I was a princess with butt long hair. Guess what, somewhere along the line, my mum let me grow it out and now I have butt length hair (don't really know what to do with it tho </3).

As all kids do, I went through an emo phase where I chopped off like half of my hair like 4 years ago. I literally grew back 7-8" of hair within a month because my parents got too mad. I knew about manifestation here so I just assumed my hair always grows unaturally fast. Same with when I cut bangs, they grew past my chin within a couple of weeks.

Manifesting my way into a private school

Honestly this just shows that you dont need 2430430 hours of working on your self concept to manifest. Literally so many celebs, including Marylin Monroe (the queen), manifested their fame with awful self concept. Likewise, here I was possibly going through the worst time of my life back then. I would wake up at 8 am and start studying and end at 11 pm despite being only 10 at the time. I was so freaking stressed and envious of all the other children and went into a depressive spiral where my two options were pass or die. I didn't even have enough practice and I cried my self to sleep on most nights. Anyways, when i did the exam I was deathly calm and even after the exam I was apparently so chill so my parents thought I failed.

I literally left 9 questions on one paper but throughout the summer, everytime I found a dandelion I would make a wish and imagine digging a tunnel to the examiners room where I secretly change my answers into the right ones (lmfao my tiny 10 yr old brain - idek how it worked). Anyways my results were sent back to me a month later on a random October evening and I got a really high mark. Even after 7 years of going to this school I havn't met anyone who has gotten a mark higher than mine.

Curly hair / straight hair

Sigh. We always want things we don't have. When I was younger I had really straight hair like 1A asian hair but when I was like 10, I really wanted curly hair and I would try to curl it often. After a few months, I manifested a curling iron and my hair literally became naturally curly like right after a wash it would curly af when before it was dead straight. Naturally I grew bored of it and I wanted my straight hair back and for ages I began overcomplicating the law and struggled to manifest it. It was only recently when I actually let go of the 3D that I manifested the silky, shiny straight hair.

Social life?

This is also a funny one, just shows how easily you can manifest. So back in 2021 after lockdown I felt so lonely and felt so left out of my friendship group so after a few months I began stressing myself out and spiraling for like 30 minutes, sobbing to myself about how I was so lonely and how nobody loved me (💀). Anyways it became reality, I found myself uncomfortable in many social situations and found myself becoming forgotten far more easily. I don't really remember the details but it was so bad that I think I accidently manifested social anxiety (oh well we still up tho).

However I am a loa girly so I found myself listening to popularity subliminals and slowly (but surely) my mindset change from having no friends to being the most popular girl in the year. Like no joke I became friends with like 3 people from different social circles so at lunchtime we had to join up like 3 different tables so we can all sit together. Overall I got myself 20+ close friends and even my ex friends began to admire me although it had ended badly. Even now, when someone says something thats untrue - for example saying that they are dumb when they are not, they would be like "ahaha so its like when Rae (me) says she has no friends, the whole school knows who Rae is".

Clear skin

This was sort of in the beginning of my loa (law of attraction back then) journey, I just randomly found out what subliminals were and was still quite new to everything. Now I don't even understand how it happened but I had busted some capillaries under my skin and it looked like small red viens under my skin and bro I was freaking out at the time. One night I was like just, I had enough, I'm going to get myself better skin and so I listened to a sub once for 3-4 days and on like the 4th day, my cheeks began to heat up which was odd and the next day it was 90% gone. Just like magikkkk.

Desired university?

Guys. Feeling is the secret. Don't you ever forgot that - not feeling as in emotions but rather the feeling of knowing. I had 2 entrance exams to do to apply for my universities and it was a stressful time where I wasn't getting enough sleep and wasn't eating enough simply because I didn't have the time. Like I come home from school and would have 3-4 hours of homework, then I need to revise for tests and then the remaining time would be spent on the entrance exams. Each past paper took 2 hours and I have around 13s per questions and I was already struggling on time. Anyways, I began to hate them and I would often complain to my mum saying things like "My score got even lower!!" or "I hate it so much" or "My head hurts / eyes hurt".

Guess what? Not only did I see my score decrease over time but I also made such a silly mistake on the most important entrance exam which I needed for 4/5 of my universities. I left a question and completely forgot to mark on the answer so when I finished the section I realised I had one more space on the sheet with like 10s to spare. I didn't have enough time to go back and fix it and lemme say that I did so badly in the test. Even while waiting for results I was just like "ah it would be a miracle if I scored above this bla bla".

I got the score back and it was so freaking bad like I did not stand a chance at my university at all. However, I started to affirm for a place and to my utter shock and surprise my desired university reached out and offered me an interview. I knew people who had like scores which were 50% better than mine and they still got rejected pre-interview. Anyways I began stressing about the interview and the results of the whole thing and boom. I got rejected 3 days after my birthday lmaoo. But its okay because I'm reapplying and I learnt so much more. I'm redoing the entrance exam and my score is a loooot better than it ever was last year.

A key take away would be thoughts are the result of the state you are in. Your dwelling state manifests and I was focusing on the unrealness and the difficultly of getting into this uni and thats what manifested. At the time I was heartbroken and literally went through the 7 stages of grief and spent so many months trying to revise it only for me to focus on the 3D. Just know that everything is done in imagination and it appears in the 3D as a result.

Photographic memory

So this is also something I had manifested before I actually knew about loa but the takeaway here is that manifestation is always instant. I was around 11 reading a random book on my tiny kindle and the book was on how to develop a good memory and I was like ah that'll be useful. Anyways later in the car, I asked my dad about photographic memory and he sort of explained it to me. I just assumed that I have that and I told him I do. He just laughed at me and said thats something that you have to train for and I was not impressed lmao. Inside my tiny brain, I was just like nope, I already have photographic memory and I dropped that thought. Let me tell you, my memory is actually photographic and has helped me out on so many occasions like my brain just takes pictures of things.

Learning fast

This is also something I did before I knew loa, I was just always wondering why the other kids couldn't grasp concepts as easily as I did. Literally in every lesson I would be like ah I learn so fast and now I am actually blessed with the ability to grasp complex subjects so fast. A favourite example of mine would be when I was obsessed with music but to take it to a higher level you need to be able to play an instrument. I couldn't at the time and my teacher told me the requirements a week before the actual deadline. I have never actually played piano with both hands but one day I sat down and worked through the entire song (fur elise by Beethoven) which is a grade 5 (I think) and it normally takes people months / weeks to learn. I learnt the whole thing in 3 days and from then on, I could play piano like I had been doing for ages. Again the memory thing was so helpful because I never actually used any sheet music, I learnt it off a youtube video and I remembered every single note I needed to play.

Hourglass body + 22" waist

This was a couple of years ago when I actually didn't understand loa. Anyways long story short, I would do a 3 minute workout and then flex infront of the mirror all day (💀) and be like omg I have abs. Overtime, I actually got so skinny everyone around me kept pointing it out to me and my mum got so concerned that she took me to the doctor like 4 times. It was so funny, I would loose like 2-3kg overnight and my parents would have to buy better fitting uniform.

Bigger boobs

This was also back in the day (2021?) when I didn't understand how to manifest things easily af. I had an A cup but I wanted better boobies and I listened to like 2 subs for a week and I went to a B cup. But I just assumed I have a bigger cup size recently and I just skipped C and went to D+ (haven't measured in a long time).

I'm not done but I'm tired now bye bye

[mandalhoerian]

(1) 🦭 signed, sealed, delivery pending...

Ferrying passengers and cargo between the mainland and the outlying islands is your family's livelihood. Life at sea holds its surprises, yet the routines remain reassuring — docking and departing, tourist antics, more docking and departing...

And there's the seal of course — the local celebrity trailing the ferry each day as though he's on the payroll. You think it might have been brought about by giving into his every whim and accidentally becoming his favorite person to be around in the process. But who would’ve guessed the truth, that he's actually a selkie who's spent years shadowing you, believing himself to be escorting his chosen bride all along?

genre: fluff, comedy | wc: 4K | read on ao3

next >

note: this is inspired by the giggly leg-kick inducing selkie raf fanart here by @/beechu-beechu!!!! i adore this raf to the moon and back, and all the seal videos i've watched (crybaby learns to swim) has prepared me for this moment. i hope you'll stick around for this very un-edited mini-series!

Your chest tightens pleasantly as you breathe in deep draughts of briny air, mist clinging to your tongue and lips, sharp and salty, anticipation of yet another day with your marine friend nudging your footsteps faster over slick cobblestones that echo softly against the buildings that line the street. Dawn hasn’t quite shaken off the night, draping everything in gauzy shadows, stretching slender fingers of soft gold across the rooftops, making you feel the gentle bite of the morning chill grazing your skin in a tingle of needles against your cheeks.

Ahead, the harbor emerges from the last traces of darkness, boats bobbing lazily against moorings that creak and groan like old friends in conversation as dockworkers shuffle around, silhouettes bent under cargo, and in comfortable and hushed chatting somehow overtaken by the screams of seagulls. Among them, your family's ferry waits patiently at its berth, outline illuminated by the muted brilliance of the rising sun — a scene so delicately composed you think it might’ve been painted by Edward Hopper himself each and every time you witness it.

“Hey hey, Elias!” you call, raising a hand to greet the old fisherman, his weather-creased face somehow aging a couple more years while he picks through a tangle of nets with focus.

He lifts his head, eyes crinkling fondly beneath his salt-stained cap. “Ah, mornin’, lass!"

"Brought something with me today. I want to see if it helps with the bait bucket problem."

"Boy is addicted to easy pickings, I doubt that. Wee nyaff owes me half a season’s catch by now.” Elias's rumbling chuckles have warmth rumbling through your chest. “Can’t fault him for his good taste in company when he has treats delivered to his doorstep, though.”

“Nice try,” you say, your tone mock-stern, a smile tugging insistently at the corner of your mouth. “But flattery’s not buying you extra coffee today.”

His laughter echoes briefly before it’s swallowed by the soft slosh of water beneath the docks, and he peers out across the idly rolling tide, affection blending with mild irritation as his fingers start working faster.

"That's fine," he says. "Having you back is enough. My poor boat needed a break from all that terrorizing."

You laugh at that with an embarrassed, heavy heart.

Six months have melted away since you traded your graduation cap for the familiar sight of gulls wheeling above the docks. You’d returned home carrying equal parts eagerness and obligation, drawn back into your father’s orbit, hoping, perhaps, to ease some of the burdens he’d never openly admit were weighing him down.

Leaving for university felt like stepping aboard a departing train, thrilling and dizzying as it rattled toward a glittering unknown named the future. City life was a constant hum you were ill-prepared for — nights brimming with noise, friendships blazing bright but fleeting as sparks — but somewhere along the way, that excitement quietly dimmed, and in its absence grew a tender longing, whisper-soft, for a simpler past, back when your world was defined by the comforting cadence of the ferry schedule and the friendly bustle of seasonal visitors.

So, under the spotlight of shame, coming home felt oddly disjointed at first, as though stepping back into a photograph that had stubbornly refused to fade, preserved, untouched by time — the docks still busy at dawn, fishermen hauling in their catches, schoolkids racing, backpacks swinging wildly, the scent of fresh bread spilling from the bakery door at exactly eight sharp every morning. Life moved here in steady, predictable rhythms, each beat familiar enough to lull you into comfort, yet somehow magnifying a subtle, restless niggling deep within your chest.

Because beneath the comforting yet burdensome familiarity that's a bed of nails at night, you can't shake the quiet sensation that returning was more retreat than progress.

You feel it most keenly when whispers trail in your wake, pointed glances exchanged between curious neighbors whose mouths curve around your name like a secret. They wonder aloud — in voices just low enough to feign politeness — about how university might have shaped you, or perhaps, more poignantly, left you unchanged.

You can feel their quiet amusement, the delight in the idea of the girl who once dreamed beyond the island now anchored firmly back in place, tethered once more to the ferry ropes and her father’s stubborn pride.

Not that Dad would ever breathe a word of needing assistance. Pride is his quiet strength and silent curse, a barrier more solid than the island's rocky coastline. You'd notice him sometimes, catching fleeting moments when he believes no one was watching — rubbing the weariness from his shoulders after hefting crates heavier than he’d admit, wincing just a little as his knees protest bending to secure the moorings, lips pressing into a thin, shaky line. It makes your heart twist like a wet rag, knowing his stubbornness masked vulnerability, and you'd resolved, quietly yet firmly, that your presence would stay constant until further notice.

Besides, the arrangement came with undeniable perks — a roof overhead without rent’s shadow hanging over your head, meals rich with nostalgia’s comforting flavor, and the cradle-like sway and creak of deck boards beneath your feet. It's more than enough compensation, more than fair payment, for the small surrender of uncertain ambitions to the nonjudgmental embrace of home.

By nonjudgmental you mean the weight of being allowed to take time in figuring your stuff out inbetween all the nausea-inducing sessions of admitting to yourself you're absolutely lost and don't have the slightest idea what you're going to do next.

So, yeah. Things are going great.

Still, despite everything, there’s at least one soul whose very presence smooths away any lingering doubts you had about returning home.

Well — perhaps not exactly a person.

There he is, your seal companion of years, lounging right there on the loading ramp as though he's claimed ownership of the whole harbor, proudly blocking Dad’s path as usual.

Today, Raf’s gray coat catches the clementine of the morning sun like liquid bronze, sleek fur glistening wetly, shimmering with subtle gold beneath droplets of seawater, and tiny flecks of fish scales cling stubbornly to his whiskers, the glittering remnants of his breakfast. You try your hardest to summon a stern mask of reprimand to your face — someone needs to teach this cheeky little shit some manners before either you or Dad dive headfirst into the sea because of Raf's sunbathing spot choices — but one glance into his wide, guileless eyes instantly dissolves your resolve into warm-hearted resignation.

With a mock-exasperated sigh, you lean down, scratching softly beneath his chin and tracing scratching circles in the thick fur around his neck, and Raf immediately responds, rolling onto his side and enthusiastically clapping his flippers together like an actor performing a rehearsed trick. You feel like he's Pavlov-ed you into yielding to his desires by rewarding you with cuteness, and burst into laughter, the sound rippling sweetly across the bay.

"Hi, hi, hi, my cutie pie," you coo softly in a sing-song voice that's the usual ritualistic greeting you have for him, smile brightening as you reveal a small stash of dried salmon you'd slipped into your bag. "I didn't forget my promise."

Raf perks up immediately, twisting himself with a delighted wriggle that ends with his tail thumping happily against the ramp, peering upward, eyes large and pleading, more expressive than any puppy’s. A heartbeat later, he's flopped dramatically onto his side, one flipper thrust skyward in hopeful invitation, and your cheeks ache from the persistent grin stretching across your face, but that hardly matters.

For a few joyful minutes, you're lost in a game of enthusiastic 'handshakes,' finishing with good, thorough tummy scritches before starting to feed him.

"Keep spoiling the damn thing, and he'll forget how to fish altogether," Dad grumbles affectionately as he passes by, hoisting another heavy crate bound for one of the smaller islands. You resist the urge to tease him about who’s really spoiling whom around here — considering how easily he gives in to your own puppy eyes — and instead settle for an innocent shrug, shaking the salmon bag, unaware of Raf following the notion with his neck elongating impossibly due to his unbelievable flexibility.

"Aww, come on. Look at that irresistible face! You can't help but want to give him whatever he wants!"

"Mm'begh, egg, ggeaaaghh," snorts Raf, wiggling under your pets, and even Dad is amused enough to pause and raise his eyebrows at the silly seal before moving along.

After a minute of playful petting, you pull yourself upright and stretch, wondering how many fish in the ocean smell this fresh and clean. The scent alone reminds you of childhood summer vacations splashing around, blissfully ignorant of any underlying responsibilities or cares.

"Get your fat cat off the ramp before he trips one of us up."

On cue, Raf slaps a fin theatrically against his rounded belly, releasing a snuffling grunt that sounds suspiciously like a tiny piglet rather than a seal: "Mmpppshh."

"Don't listen to him," you reassure Raf solemnly, as though comforting a wounded toddler. "You’re not fat. You're just… well-built. Big bones."

Your half-serious tone earns you several enthusiastic thwaps of Raf’s wet flippers against your calves, making you laugh despite your best efforts to feign sternness. "UUUUAAAAAAGH!!!"

With an exaggerated sigh, you give in, bending down for another pat. "Alright, easy there, handsome. Time to get to work."

Yet Raf, predictably, sees this only as an invitation for more attention, rolling onto his back once again, flippers splayed wide, belly fully exposed in expectation of being cradled like a newborn. Maybe he just wants another belly rub. Or maybe he senses how much you cherish these little interactions, savoring the warmth of mutual affection like it's as essential as breathing. It certainly seems to keep him lively and robust — after all, you’re with him far more than anyone else. There are countless days spent sharing scraps from lunch, swimming side-by-side from island to island, or teaching him new tricks as thinly-veiled excuses for play. Even Dad has remarked (with a teasing grin that you pointedly ignore) that Raf seems more like your best friend than anyone else in town.

And really, what's the harm? Spoiling a seal who clearly enjoys your company hardly counts as indulgent. It's simply mutual happiness, a comforting addiction you've willingly embraced: the velvety smoothness of dark-gray fur beneath your fingers, the hidden strength of his sleek body, the endearing little huff he gives when your windbreaker tickles his sensitive whiskers. All of it — absolutely addictive.

"You know exactly how unfair this is," you finally giggle softly, deciding to have mercy on your heart (and Raf’s belly) for now. "Come on, buddy."

"Ppppfffrrrshh."

With a playful little bounce, Raf balances briefly on his foreflippers, wobbling theatrically before launching himself gracefully off the ramp into the calm water below, sending a silvery plume everywhere, and he surfaces once, twice, three times — each pretty leap arching through the dawn-tinted waves, always teasing, never coming nearer than a safe distance of about ten feet from where you stand as he glides easily in lazy circles around the ferry’s bow, waiting patiently for you to climb aboard.

Slowly, the bleary-eyed commuters begin filing onto the ferry, faces etched with lingering dreams and shoulders hunched beneath the invisible weight of daily responsibilities, and you greet each with energetic warmth to start off the day, offering an amiable nod and a reassuring smile as they pass.

"Coffee’s fresh if you need it, other beverage options and food are available as well in the passenger cabin's buffet," you inform, trying to be a comforting balm to their early-morning weariness. Relief flashes briefly across some tired eyes as you watch people go in and out with hands that tighten gratefully around steaming cups, savoring the warmth like precious embers that ward off the chill.

The tourists follow closely behind after your usuals, pouring aboard in a cheerful wave of bright-eyed excitement as they clutch tightly to their guidebooks, maps, and expensive cameras, animated chatter in various foreign languages floods the deck and shoos away the remnants of the sleepy calm, their infectious enthusiasm cascading over you, a vibrant hum that makes even the most mundane tasks feel fresh and lively.

A woman leans eagerly across the railing, eyes searching for something in the water, but doesn't break any safety rules. She must be a seasoned traveler. "Will we see the famous seal today?"

You cast her a self-satisfied glance, nodding knowingly toward the shimmering expanse of the harbor. "I'd say the odds are pretty high, given he's basically imprinted on this ferry," you promise, and as though summoned by your certainty, Raf’s sleek form breaches the gentle swell, fur catching the sunlight in an iridescent cascade. "Right on cue — there's our local star."

A wave of delighted murmurs and gasps ripples across the deck, the enthusiastic click of cameras rising like an orchestra chef's signal as Raf begins his performance, slicing effortlessly between waves and drawing dramatic curves through the water, slowing his movements deliberately to let the ferry glide past before starting his 'warm-up laps' again. Tourists are absolutely losing it over getting to see something like this up close, every splash and proud bob of his glossy head eliciting cheers and applause that would scare every single sea animal around the perimeter. But not Raf. He's used to it by now.

"So, everyone — meet Raf!" you call out above the enthusiastic chatter, pointing with a flourish toward the glossy head bobbing in the waves. "He's friendly enough, so don't panic if he hops aboard for a visit. But keep your distance — not because he'll bite, mind you, but because he'll bruise your ego when he pretends you don't exist. He enjoys your admiration strictly from afar. He's a star like that."

A cheerful chorus of laughter, aww-ing and agreement rings out in response.

Taking advantage of the good mood, you repeat the safery regulations and warnings before you busy yourself assisting passengers, guiding them to their seats and helping stow bags in the compartments tucked beneath. You have to announce the route the ferry will take and how long the stops will be, and then, the ferry is pulling smoothly away from the docks, leaving the harbor behind and setting course over waters shimmering brilliantly beneath the sun.

Several adventurous tourists stake out prime spots along the ferry's edge, though many soon retreat inward, driven away by sharp gusts whipping their hair into tangles and peppering their faces with chilly, sharp salt spray. You stroll leisurely between the seats, pausing here and there for pleasant banter about the scenery, local delicacies, or family holidays gone awry, keeping the conversations is easy and light, and you're met with appreciative nods and smiles.

Out across the waves, sunlight dances like scattered jewels, creating diamond-dust illusions whenever a gust scatters spray towards the sky. Every now and then, Raf's sleek form slices effortlessly through the glittering waves, drawing joyful gasps and delighted pointing from your captivated audience.

To anyone coming aboard for the first time, Raf gives every impression of being charming, approachable — even sociable. A casual observer might assume he’s perfectly at ease with human company, considering how effortlessly he weaves himself into the daily bustle around the ferry, acting every bit the seasoned local soaking up attention. At first, you’d happily fallen for the same illusion, even rejoicing a bit at the idea that he was genuinely warming up to people when he started making regular appearances.

Reality, however, quickly proved less rosy. That endearing exterior was, and still is, hiding a nasty streak you could swear was deliberate, because Raf seems to delight in luring people in, coaxing them into thinking they've made a furry new friend — only to abruptly turn aloof, snubbing them with the ease of a ghoster. It’s as if he takes twisted pleasure in watching visitors wilt in disappointment, and so you've learned to offer friendly yet firm warnings upfront: admire him, laugh at his antics, but don't get too cozy or you’re bound to wind up nursing a heartbreak.

Suddenly, there are gasps among the crowd.

Well, mostly screams at first, before turning into delighted giggles.

"Look, over there!" A child shrieks with uncontainable excitement, sprinting eagerly toward the railing at the ferry’s side deck.

Your head snaps up immediately, and a laugh escapes you before you can suppress it. You didn't think your overly confident companion could still manage to surprise you after so many months spent sharing the sea.

Raf has flopped his way onto the ferry once again. Like he belongs, the cocky little shit. Raf glides gracelessly across the deck, flippers waving with dramatic flair — almost comically bird-like — until gravity decisively interrupts his attempted elegance. His slick body careens straight into a pole, skidding downward with a recoiling thud and ending the journey facedown right beside your boots.

"Oh, so gracious of you to rejoin us, Your Majesty," you tease affectionately, nudging him with your toe. "Seems like you get lazier with every trip. Keep hitching rides like this and we'll have to start charging you."

A squeaky little noise slips from Raf's throat, quickly followed by a sneeze-snort that's frankly too adorable to handle. You can't help yourself — you adore every silly, ridiculous part of this creature with those impossibly round, innocent eyes.

A couple kids swarm over as soon as they gather confidence to approach him. "Can we pet him?"

Look at that. Like clockwork.

With a gentle hand, you stroke his back, fingers gliding down his sleek, slippery fur from head to tail, quietly rewarding him for tolerating the children's excitement. "Alright, Raf is a little jumpy sometimes, so we can only pet him one at a time, okay guys? Remember, slow and gentle. Don't spook him."

One boy bravely kneels, gingerly scratching beneath Raf’s chin, giggling when Raf playfully nudges him with an almost haughty flick of his nose. Another child, more timid, holds out her palm for Raf to sniff and squeals when Raf leans forward to bump her inconspicuously enough to topple her onto her backside. The first wave of curious kids gets the others clustering around when they see there's nothing to be afraid of, and soon enough, squeals are louder than the ferry itself as parents linger close by, protective yet smiling fondly at the playful interactions between their children and the beloved seal.

You know Raf better than anyone, how he's around people — the cautious way he approaches, simultaneously wary and irresistibly curious, how those large, ink-dark eyes study every new movement with intent fascination, watchful yet hesitant as hands reach toward his glossy fur. It speaks volumes about his trust in you that he tolerates curious bombardments of attention every day, only flinching or skittering backward when a visitor's gesture becomes too swift or unpredictable for comfort, just as he's doing right now with these children (whom he's generally more tolerating towards.)

Occasionally though, someone ends up with an accidental nip — never serious enough to break skin, usually just leaving behind a faint pinkish mark and perhaps a startled expression. But thankfully, these incidents are rare, mostly limited to times when you're not around to ease his nerves and mediate with the person who just wants to pet him and most likely (always) in the wrong about boundaries of a wild animal.

And right now, some time after with the fawning of children and parents taking photos in an unofficial queue, you recognize his signals immediately — the way he blows raspberries and starts shifting restlessly — clear indications he's becoming overwhelmed. As soon as you see him squirming to indicate he'll start galumphing away from the eager crowd any second now, you swiftly intervene, encouraging nearby parents to corral their energetic kids and give him some breathing room.

"Alright, that's enough excitement for this morning!" you call cheerfully, ushering everyone back to their seats. "We'll be reaching our destination soon — please find your places and settle in."

As the passengers reluctantly scatter back to their seats and Raf bounces away to get back into the safety and comfort of the sea without even a glance back at you like he's blaming you for his peril, one woman remains beside you, her eyes lingering appreciatively on Raf as he glides effortlessly back into the waves. "You’ve trained him remarkably well."

That comment leaves an acidic residue in your stomach. You've never thought of Raf as an animal you had to tame into shape, or that he needed to be disciplined like a dog. It isn't about interfering with wildlife and never treating him as a pet either (though you also were very well aware). He simply is a companion you were grateful to have in your life that terms like training have always been demeaning to hear pertaining to him.

"Honestly, Raf is the cleverest sea critter I've ever known," you reply with genuine affection, quickly adding, "Though I wouldn't exactly call it 'training.'"

Her eyebrows lift with mild intrigue. "Oh, really?"

"Yeah, nothing formal or complicated. Mostly just treats and encouragement, getting him comfortable around us, making sure human attention is positive for him. Simple stuff," you explain, resting casually against the railing. "He took to accepting snacks from my hand on his own — didn't even have to teach him. He just picked it up naturally, even posing nicely when tourists want photos. Mind you, he used to drive fishermen mad. My friend Elias still swears Raf sabotaged his fishing line out of spite."

Her grin broadens, matching yours, and a strong gust ruffles her blonde pixie cut like fluff from a dandelion caught in the wind. "He sounds ready for the big top. You might just have yourself a circus performer," she jokes lightly. "He seems to put on a real show whenever you're around."

Your smile dims a bit — remembering those early days weren't always so playful. The faint scars on your arm still ache whenever it rains. "I wish," you admit, wrists flexing. "But Raf gets nervous fast and ultimately does his own thing. If he listens to me at all, it’s only because he's comfortable. We grew up together, more or less. Maybe he sees this place as a secondary rookery, I don't know."

She tilts her head in subtle amazement before nodding. "You must really care for him. I’ve never seen someone handle a wild animal so naturally."

"Having his trust is special," you reply earnestly, gaze drifting toward Raf as he circles alongside the ferry, rolling with the waves as though he were just another seabird drifting with the wind. "It's rare to earn that kind of bond with a creature as smart and free-spirited as him. I’m incredibly lucky."

"He really does make one want to believe in selkies," she adds, leaning back against the rail as though preparing for a lengthy conversation.

"Selkies?"

An amused little chuckle answers before words do. "Surely you've heard of them — magical beings said to be able to shapeshift between a seal and human form." Her mouth curves into an odd smile. "It's very sad actually, the stories of the female selkies. They can shed their sealskins at will and take on a human form, but if they lose their coats, they have no choice but to stay ashore forever." She lowers her eyelashes, softening her features. "And even worse — according to lore, some men claim the skins and force the poor women who already have their mates into marriage."

"That's horrible," you reply, swallowing hard. Just thinking of Raf being bound to anyone in such a violent way makes your fists clench instinctively. You may not believe in supernatural fairy tales, but the thought of him being trapped sickens you, even for pretend. "Those men ought to be taken out to sea and keelhauled till their flesh is bloody fish bait."

The image that phrase conjures definitely has her smiling ear-to-ear.

"What about the male selkies? Is the tale genderbent in their case?"

"Well... Selkie men are seducers."

"What?" you almost scream. "That's radically different than—"

"I know," she cuts you off with a reassuring tone. "True to how the society was like back then, they had a lot more freedom. Nothing about coat-stealing or anything. Just women who are unsatisfied in their lives and relationships, also lonely fishermen wives, who summon a selkie lover by shedding seven tears into the sea at high tide on a full moon. And interestingly, those selkie men truly love their human lovers and their offspring. If their genre is romance, the stories of female selkies getting forcefully married are just horror."

"Realism, I guess," you say, trying to wrap your mind around the details.

You briefly picture Raf as one of those legendary beings. Knowing he wouldn't touch any human being with a five foot pole, you imagine it would be nothing short of wishing for a genie in a bottle but summoning a trickster spirit instead.

[januaryembrs]

ahhh can I ask for a drabble for sunshine reader x Spence when they're out with the team at a bar or something and reader is obviously a clingy and giggly drunk?

MY BABY'S SWEET AS CAN BE | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

description: Spencer's girlfriend loves karaoke when she's drunk, but she loves him even more

length: 1k

warnings: literally just fluff

He smiled at her unabashedly as she flitted through the crowd, the top of her head bobbing in between other patrons as she shoved through the sea of bodies, and he heard the odd “Excuse me, oh I’m so sorry, excuse me, Sorry-scuse me,” which let him know the mop of hair with two little bows in it was exactly who he thought it was. 

Not that he’d need to try hard to find her, his eyes hadn’t left her all evening. She had a tendency to get upset if they got parted when she’d had a couple to drink, and he hated the look she got on her face when she welled up and felt sorry for herself. 

She burst out the throng, her eyes quickly scanning across the group, and Emily barely had time to hand her a Frozen Daiquiri before she’d launched herself where Spencer leaned against the bar.

“Honey! Oh, I missed you so much,” She said, immediately homing into his waist, her ear pressing against his chest where his heart beat particularly loudly, because whatever affectionate streak she carried on a day to day basis was dialled to one million when she got like this. 

“Baby, I saw you five minutes ago,” He chuckled, wrapping an arm around her nevertheless and running his large, warm hand down her spine where her backless dress gave him free rein to feel everything. 

She looked up at him with an aghast stare, “You didn’t miss me, too?” 

“Oh, I never said that, now did I?” Spencer asked, his words sweetened with his smile, and adoration stained every single syllable like coffee over clean breath, “Did you have fun?” 

She giggled, leaning to steal a quick kiss, and her hand brushed over his stomach to pinch the soft pouch of fat gently, “I did! Did you see me, I totally outsang Luke,” 

“For the last time; karaoke is not a contest, we’re supposed to be singing together,” Luke said, his forehead sweaty where he’d pushed through the crowd himself trying to keep up with her as she’d bolted off the stage to get back to her spot tucked under Spencer’s arm. 

She stuck her tongue out at him, rolling her eyes when he gave her a more obscene gesture, and turned back to where Spencer had yet to rip his eyes off her, his pupils dopey and wide and full of puppy love as she looked at him. 

“He’s just mad becaus he wanted to sing Beyonce’s part, and I made him be Shakira,” She said on chuckled breath, “But I think our cover of Beautiful Liar could top charts, like, nationally,”

“Ofcourse, I reckon you could go global if we got you a good agent,” He humoured her, and her eyes lit up with glee, bouncing on the balls of her feet to the point he almost spilled his beer. But he didn’t care, he just loved seeing her so happy. 

“Really! Really, really?” She asked, quickly stealing another adoring kiss from his lips like she could only go so long before she needed another one to fuel her words, like she didn’t even realise she was doing it as there was little to no pause in her end of the conversation. 

“Well, sure,” He said, his mouth interrupted when she pecked him again, and he wondered if she genuinely understood they couldn't kiss and talk at the same time with the way she was going, “But, if my sweet girlfriend becomes a popstar sensation overnight, who’s going to be there when I want to do this?” He said, wrapping an arm around her waist, his fingertips caressing the dip of her back, already knowing which moles sat beneath his touch and where, as he gave her a real kiss, one that made her squeak a little and the sound of it forced an even bigger smile out of him. 

He parted from her reluctantly, and he didn’t even care that he usually didn’t like PDA all too much if it meant she would look so content and glowing, her eyes creasing as she sighed with a besotted expression. Spencer never thought he would get so lucky to have anyone look at him like that, never mind someone who he loved with his whole entire being, and everything else left of him. 

“You raise a good point, my genius love,” She said, pressing her burning face into his sternum, her hands still never leaving where they’d buried into his waist, “I guess I’ll put my debut album on hold and stay to kiss you some more,” 

“Will you guys stop being so disgustingly sweet, it’s making my punch taste sour,” Penelope said, even though the team didn’t seem to mind their soppy exchanges. Spencer sometimes seemed like his old self again when he was with her, something boyish and teasing and loving returning back to his rough hands and exhausted expression, and for that the two of them could rip each other's clothes off for all they cared. 

Because they were one of those couples that made everyone else feel lucky to just see that kind of love so close, not envious or repellent, like finding a fawn sleeping on your doorstep. It was rare and pure and warmed everyone right through to their marrow. 

The two of them smiled at one another, and she leaned in to steal a few more kisses from his lips that tasted faintly of beer, only for another song to start playing and she gasped, her mouth dropping in excitement. 

“I love ABBA, we have to sing this song together!” She said, lacing her fingers with his and tugging his stubborn, lithe figure over to the stage, “Please, Spencer, please, please, please,” 

And he gave her exactly what she wanted, because when could he ever say no to a face like that. 

[lanabuckybarnes]

Princess Treatment

18+ MINORS DNI

It’s been a few days since Princess had her first punishment from Bucky. She tried to avoid him like the plague whenever she could, but not for the reason he assumed.

Pairing: Bodyguard! Bucky x Brat! (Not so) Reader (Princess)

Warnings: Brat Taming, Masturbation (F), Whipped Princess, Crying, Soft Dom! Buck this time, Fingering, Oral (F), Praise Kink, Slight Overstim, A Lil Angsty, Princess is insecure, AFTERCARE (because it’s important)

Word Count: 1.8k

He scowled as once again, as soon as the doors to her penthouse opened she slinked off to her bedroom, not even bothering to pull off her heels. He’d thought a lot about the other day; he was probably too harsh on her, he should’ve eased her into it but she royally pissed him off with her defiant attitude as he pulled her from the sweaty crowd of drunken adults, she’d even spat in his face, the nail in the coffin.

But he hated the fact she didn’t want to be around him.

He sipped on the amber bourbon, hissing slightly at the expensive burn it caused down his throat before he tucked his lips into his mouth, deep in thought about how to best approach the situation he found himself in.

On the other side of the house, Princess whimpered into a clammy hand as her other ventured under her slicked panties. She’d been so good for him, curling into bed with throbbing want after he pushed her away - she’d tried the morning after to get herself off but there was a heavy weight of guilt that laid on her shoulders, causing her to slip her finger away from herself and finish up in the shower, unsatisfied again.

She was convinced he’d give her what she wanted after the second day. She’d been so sweet to him, making him tea in the morning, ordering him breakfast and even having his suit ironed by her personal maid but by dinner time her hope was wearing thin. Her book lay open on her lap but she’d be lucky to have read even the first paragraph, her eyes too busy gazing at each miniature movement Bucky made, a spike of excitement shooting up her spine each time his pink tongue ran over his plush lower lip, settling into the side of his mouth before slipping back into its place behind his teeth; each bob of his Adam’s apple as his favourite alcohol slipped down his throat.

But he stood with a groan, eyes glancing over at her nonchalantly and a gruff ‘goodnight’ falling from his mouth had that burning fire in her stomach quelled quick. She was becoming increasingly frustrated by the lack of attention he was giving her and began to shut herself away for her own good. Being around him too much was not good for her sanity.

Which led to now.

She’d been out at an event, her daddy couldn’t make it and tasked her with showing her pretty face instead, it was simple work she’d done before, give a couple charming smiles, kiss a couple of cheeks and drink a couple glasses of champagne - that was before the addition of Bucky into her life.

She knew it was for her own safety when he manoeuvred her away from the only set of windows that she could’ve easily been shot at from, but his warm hand scalded her hip as he did it, the fingers squeezing in innocent reassurance but finally being touched by Bucky had her mind going dumb already. He’d continued to move her around with unassuming hands on her body the entire night until she was so sure she wouldn’t make it home in one piece. Thankfully she didn’t lose her marbles until her back connected with the soft sheets of her bed, her dress discarded on the floor and her hand cupping her heated core.

“F-fuck” Her breath hitched as her middle finger swirled slowly around her hard little pearl; its lack of action recently made it much more sensitive to her gentle touch. Her ring finger joined as she spread her legs wider; a guttural moan almost falling unchecked from her mouth but thankfully being suppressed by the soft feathers of her pillow.

She thought of his fingers instead; how rough would he be? Would he circle her clit delicately or would he maintain that rough dominant attitude from a few nights prior and leave her sopping pussy sore with hard spanks. No doubt he’d punish her, fuck her throat again and release all over her face before shoving her away and disappearing into his room, after all, that’s all he wanted, a stupid little girl who’d be at his beck and call, who’d open wide and gag around his length until he was satisfied.

Her free hand hooked around the waistband of her undies, pulling him unceremoniously until they stretched around her thighs before slipping off easily past her knees. She kept up her ministrations, hips bucking up to meet every flick of her fingers, soft moans and pleads of something she knew was unattainable escaping her mouth, her eyes rolling back into her head.

She didn’t even hear the door click open.

Bucky watched the sight in front of him, his princess getting herself off while she chanted his name. He expected himself to be upset at the sight but he felt guilty more than anything; he knew he’d gone too long and it caused her to break his rule. He sat down on the edge of the bed, only after feeling the sinking of the mattress did her eyes shoot open, a frightened gasp ripping from her throat and her hand flying from its spot.

“Oh my - I’m so sorry…I-I tried my best but you weren’t…I waited so long I c-couldn’t hold back” he frowned at just how frantically she apologised, her legs slapping shut, tears welling in her eyes at the thought of her impending punishment. She froze when instead of harsh words his big hand cupped the side of her face, thumb swiping up and escaping tears.

“Shhh it’s ok princess I know, I know, you did so well” he praised, mouth quirking up into a soft, gentle smile.

“Y-you’re not mad?” She stuttered in response.

“Uh-uh angel it’s my fault, was just tryna see how long I could push you but I pushed you too far, I’m sorry baby” She didn’t know how to feel about this Bucky; she enjoyed the soft touches and sweet words but it was such a far cry from the hard dom she’d dealt with before.

“Lemme help you ok princess, you deserve it for lasting so long, you want my help?” His words wobbled slightly at the end, slight hints of insecurity bubbling as he spoke, he wanted so badly to help her but he knew she had every right to tell him to fuck off - but she nodded, wide eyes unblinking and legs falling open.

“My rules are still in place sweet thing” he reminded, hand running soothingly up and down her thigh.

“I want your help Buck please” she gasped when his thick fingers resumed her circling, pressing firmer than she had. She watched him through lidded eyes; the way he took his time unravelling each part of her, his eyes moving from between her legs, up over her tummy to her soft breasts. He cupped one in his hand, thumb circling over the nipple softly eliciting soft whines from her.

“That feel good baby?” He mouthed along from her knee to her mid-thigh, sucking softly before kissing the bruising skin.

“Mhmm…want your fingers in me Buck” she hesitated for a beat, silently hoping it wasn’t too demanding but when his fingers sunk to his knuckles she thanked the heavens for his leniency. He thrust in and curled out, the pads of his fingers hitting that sweet spot every time, juices pooling out around his digits and down the crevice of her cheeks until settling on her sheets. She was dangerously close; his hot breath fanning over her folds not helping at all.

“Want you to tell me when you’re gonna come ok, you gotta ask permission, princess?” His dark eyes flicked up to hers, a chuckle forming on her lips as she nodded her head instead of using her words - she was lucky he was feeling so bad.

An almost pornographic sob left her when his tongue flattened over her hardened nub, vibrating with a growl he let out at her taste.

“Mmm tastes so good angel” he groaned against her, suckling up any sweetness decorating her lips. She was a mess, pussy clenching frantically on his quickening fingers, drool gathering and wetting the pillowcase beneath her head as she ground her body against his face, an image of her sweaty body crawling up the tallest mountain in the world, hands bleeding as she gripped at rocks, feet slipping but she kept going until she finally reached that summit, but something in her brain stopped her from jumping off just yet.

“Mm ohhh Buck I’m close, please gotta come…can I Bucky? Can I come?” She cried, eyes cracking open to look at him pleadingly.

“Come princess, let it go, let it all go for your Bucky” he rambled against her heat, moaning unabashedly as more of her slick sweetness slipped from her clenching hole, being sucked up by his tongue.

She had no idea how long she lay there writhing, orgasm seemingly never-ending. She came to from the feeling of Bucky’s fingers still thrusting weekly into her, helping her through her pleasure.

“Ah s-stop too much” She pushed against his bicep and he relented, pulling his sopping fingers from her winking cavern and cleaning them off in his mouth.

“You did so well for me princess, so fucking good” he lauded, kissing up her neck and jaw before planting his lips on her bitten ones.

“I’m sorry” she sobbed, emotions on full blast because of the assault her shuddering orgasm had on her nerves. He shushed her softly, whispering sweet nothings into her ear, assuring her she had nothing to be sorry for. He pulled her up into his arms, lifting her frame off the bed and carrying her into the en-suite adjoined to her room. He placed her aching body delicately into the warm sudded water he’d prepared in mere minutes.

She’d quietened after he scrubbed her expensive body wash over her body, paying close attention to any stiff knots he felt along the way. She turned to him with something intelligible swirling in her eyes.

“Are you proud of me?” Her voice was weak, raspy from overuse. He almost cooed out loud at the adorable little expression adorning her features, but he could sense something deeper crawling around there too.

“Of course princess, even when you act like a spoiled brat I’m proud of you…you take your punishments so well and you’re always so sweet after” he leaned forward and snatched her lips in his again.

The answer seemed to satisfy her for the time being but he knew it wouldn’t be the end of questions like that. Suddenly that simple bodyguard role for the world's brattiest women was starting to feel more like protecting the most misunderstood woman he’d ever met, and it boiled the pot of possessiveness that had sat cold in Bucky for a long time.

-

I had something else planned to post today but I'm not happy with it so you can have some Princess and Bucky because you have been denied. This was written a while ago and dedicated to the anon in my asks who asked for Princess and Bucky filth months ago 💚

I hope you enjoyed, any likes, reblogs and comments are well appreciated and I’d love any asks telling me your thoughts about these two or anything else that comes to mind. I'm a certified yapaholic.

[magnetothemagnificent]

Can you explain the Jewish sidekicks post?

So. We all know (I hope) that Jews invented the superhero comic book medium. One of the most famous sidekick-hero duo, Batman and Robin, was created by Jews (Bill Finger and Bob Kane), as was Captain America and Bucky (Jack Kirby and Joe Simon). Sidekicks have become a staple of the superhero genre (although unfortunately in modern comics they've been in decline).

In Jewish storytelling and theology, the idea of the lone hero is a foreign one. All of the most notable Jewish heroes in Tanakh did not act alone- Avraham had Eliezer. Moshe had his brother Aharon to act as his interpretor, Yehoshua to act as his right-hand man and apprentice, Aharon and Chur to hold his hands up in the battle with Amalek, and when leading the Jewish people alone became too taxing for Moshe, he set up a system of delegates to ease his load on his father-in-law Yitro's advice. Eliyahu had Elisha. Devorah had Barak. While the relationship types between these people varied from siblings to master-and-apprentice to a married couple, the running theme is that all these great leaders had assistance.

In fact, for Noach, while he was considered a righteous man in his time, one of his main criticisms is that he acted alone, that he didn't make enough of an effort to reach out to others. In the very beginning of the Torah, G-d says "It is not good for Man (humans) to be alone, I will make him a counterpart" (Bereishit 2:18).

The idea of a lone hero getting all the credit and responsibility is present in various European mythologies, and subsequently Christian theology with Jesus as the singular Messiah and saviour. In contrast, while the idea of Mashiach is bit more fluid in Jewish theology, even Mashiach is thought to not act alone, with two counterparts to Mashiach, a Mashiach ben David and a Mashiach ben Yosef being recognized, as well as Eliyahu HaNavi to usher in Mashiach. This also intersects with Jewish ideals of masculinity contrasting with Western ideals. The ideal Jewish man is not characterized by brute strength and the lone wolf persona, but rather by a gentle, intellectual man with close bonds and loyalty to his family and community. (I highly recommend reading the essay by Jonathan Sexton in Chapter 5 of 'Jews in Popular Science Fiction' for more about superheroes and Jewish masculinity, especially with regards to Batman).

Sadly, there has been a noted decline in the popularity of and depiction of sidekicks in superhero media, which coincides with the increasing erasure of Judaism and Jewish influence in the field. Sidekicks are integral to the superhero medium, and it's a shame more people don't recognize their significance.

[hazelfoureyes]

Have you ever thought about the idea of a Clueless ace reader x ace alastor trying to figure out what all the fuss is about? Couple different ways it could go obviously but I feel like it would be a perfect comedy smut

Thank you for this meal. Okay I know this is LOOSELY based on your prompt, please forgive me. Can I add in that they be a little tipsy?

Part 2 After a few drinks, you and Alastor do your usual teasing and mimicking of the others dramatic displays of physical affection. But, unusually, Alastor seems to be really invested in the joke tonight…

Warnings/promises: light smut (fingering), wrong kind of haha, sconces, bad Angel accent, Under 1500 words

maybe the tag list? Works list: @ xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx

Alastor list: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

.

Fuck Joke Around and Find Out

The evening started with drinks among the group gathered at the bar. Everyone talking, sipping, leaning into each other to be heard better. Vaggie’s fingers playing with Charlie’s, Angel inching closer and closer to Husk until he was quite literally on top of him, to Husk’s obvious embarrassment. At some point, Angel took Husker’s hand, the two slinking down the hallway. Soon after, Vaggie not-so-discreetly followed a bouncing Charlie to their top floor home.

After realizing the couples snuck off, you turned to Alastor and asked, already smiling, “Oh I guess it’s our turn?”

Your giggling slipped into mutual cackles, his brows rose and he asked, “Your room or mine?”

You threw your leg over Alastor’s lap and straddled him, mustering your best Angel Dust accent, “Pssst rooms are for squares, baby.”

Normally, especially when having a little to drink, the physical barrier between each other was thin and easily toppled. An unspoken understanding had formed some time ago, allowing you both to relax a little more than usual when in close proximity. He still attempted his touchy intrusions to fluster and bother people, but he knew that didn’t work quite as effectively on you.

“Squares? Oh, not us.” A smirk, his head somewhat dramatically shaking a reinforced ‘no’, making his bobbed hair sway left and right.

When you start a pitifully-motivated grinding against him, losing balance and tipping backward, Alastor’s large hands come to the dip of your hips and still you. A laughed, accent-less, “Thanks, trying to do it like he did,” fell sloppily from your mouth, your hands going to his shoulders for extra security. Your head bent down, stifling another nervous giggle from spilling out. “I think this is exactly how Angel had Husk pinned. Not a convincin’ portrayal, pookie?” Your accent was shit, but he smiled all the same. His ears were pressed down and to the side, resting a little more against his skull than usual, something that seemed to happen often when he had a couple glasses. It looked more relaxed than his normal way of wearing them, but you never asked him about it.

Alastor’s finger tipped your chin upward, pulling you in for a kiss against his grin. When you huffed, fighting the awkward laugh, he swiped his tongue over your lips and slid into your mouth. A hum, as you relaxed into it. What a long joke this is, you think somewhere a little up and to the left of your liquor softened mind.

When alone together, you’d occasionally play around. Just mimicking what ridiculous things the other sinners had done recently, laughing and moving on to general gossip and conversation. Maybe the alcohol was dragging out the bit.

His hands pulled you forward, your little hip movements actually making contact with his crotch now. You hear yourself moan into his mouth before you even realize you’d made the noise.

Thinking becoming a little fuzzy, you pull back from him, “Oops. Sorry. Got carried away.”

“No need to apologize. What’s a little joking around between pals?”

You nod before a surprised shriek is forced out of you, Alastor pulling your hips down and starting to sincerely grind against you.

“I didn’t expect you to remember all the moves, Alastor.” Your hand came to your mouth trying to still the tremble of your lips as you spoke. Other hand now gripping his shoulder to stay upright. You’d never have played around with any one else but him like this. Too much confusion to deal with after. But, Alastor’s “playing” was so convincing. You weren’t minding it, to your surprise, but you weren’t sure you understood the source material as well he did.

His head fell back with a roar, “Being an infrequent lover doesn’t mean I am a bad one.”

Oh. Was the blush on your face noticeable in the dingy light of the parlor? You had never heard him say that word before. His hips were still moving, but the laughing stopped. It wasn’t unpleasant, in fact you found yourself sinking a little more, letting your weight settle fully. It earned you a sloppy half-smile from him. “That would make them experts, compared to us,” You motioned your head in the general direction of the stairs.

“You think so?”, he leaned up to kiss you, you leaned back a little, causing his lips to miss yours. A quick annoyed glare passed over his face before slipping back into a neutral stare, “Are you in the mood for a good joke tonight, dear? I wouldn’t be opposed to making you”, he grazed his nose against yours, “laugh.”

You let him capture your mouth with his, a surprisingly more intense kiss, before pulling away again when you caught another moan rising up, “I don’t mind a good laugh, now and then.” Did you-you say that or Angel-you?

The sofa cushions were pressing into your back before you could process what had happened. Alastor’s body was resting between your legs, which were spread open around him. His lips didn’t leave yours, one of his hands cradling your neck to trap you between him and his hungry mouth. The other was undoing the button of your pants and sliding under the band of your underwear.

His back was arched, his considerable height forcing him to bend over you if he wanted to continue the kiss, which he apparently did. Now on your back, you wiggled under him, awkward and uncertain what role you played anymore.

When his fingers slipped past your bottom lips and the mound of his hand ground into your clit, you pulled away from him and both hands shot to your mouth. You were aware you were in a public space but you couldn’t see anything past the sofa. Everything beyond him and the tattered chaise lounge was shadowy and lacking contrast. Even then, your heart was pounding.

When did the playing around shift? Was this—- did he think this was funny? His smile was strong against your neck still, but maybe not?

You splayed your fingers out to better hide yourself, embarrassed at how your hips rolled into his palm. Looking past your hands, you could see him staring down at you now, wide shoulders hiding you from the light of the sconces above. He had the same look as always in his eyes, nothing out of place. Cooly, he asked without actually wanting an answer, “Do you think this is what they’re doing now? Or is everyone already…”

A finger slipped down and into you, your legs clenching around his hips. You heard him sigh, before a second finger began to push in. Your hips lifted off the sofa and angled into his hand, welcoming the way he was pressing down and into you.

Oh, yeah, no.

A pent up moan tumbled past your lips when his fingers crooked up and pressed into the soft bundle of nerves just inside your entrance.

“What a curious laugh you have, my dear. Are my jokes that good?” He buried his face into the crook of your neck again when a voice stopped him from leaving the little marks he had been set on.

“I thought jokes were supposed to be funny. When is the funny part going to happen?”

Alastor’s ears were pin-straight into the air, hair stiff and sharp, as his face slowly turned to the side to see Niffty sitting at the bar.

”Oh, was I suppose to leave when everyone else did?” His hand slipped out of you and then in turn, your pants.

“No, Niffty, dear. That’s quite alright.”, Ears faced back and down, eyes half lidded and smile clearly forced, “We were just— playing around.”

“Really? Cuz it kinda looked like you guys were gonna fuck.” She hopped off the bar stool and scurried down the hall, “Please don’t dirty the sofa, sir.” echoing behind her.

You patted his shoulder, lifting yourself up on your elbows, “Can I be Husk next?”

I wrote this while washing dishes— the dishes aren’t very clean but neither am I

༻Masterlist༺

[year2000electronics]

HERE THEY ARE! here's what everyone would be in my own take on monster falls!! you can agree or disagree, it's just me having fun with it :]

my general lore for the au itself would be that the town of gravity falls is cursed, and if you stay there long enough, you get turned into a monster. most people have some reason not to leave before it's too late and the curse becomes permanent, other just give up and let it happen

monsters under the cut!

dipper: deertaur (unchanged from popular fan choice)

mabel: unicorn (unchanged from sorta-popular fan choice)

stan: gargoyle (unchanged from popular fan choice)

ford: mothman (chosen for being a cryptid, ford has mentioned moths multiple times, mothman being a "shadowy figure", stan being able to pass himself off as ford when you see them both in the dark

soos: fairy (chosen for the irony- he has canonically killed a fairy! and also that he calls everyone "dude" when fae usually take names, fae are usually tricksters but he winds up being very helpful around the shack)

wendy: ghost (chosen because she's related to archibald corduroy, the northwest mansion ghost, also that she's "non-commital" to her job and constantly vanishes from it, also ALSO that her first big episode was themed around ghosts!)

gideon: haunted doll/puppet (chosen because he has creepy doll vibes, and puppets are often associated with performance- think puppet shows, pinocchio, ventriloquist dummy- haunted dolls and living puppets also have a common theme of something childish getting a mean streak.) (also, bud would be a fox in this au as a reference to honest john)

pacifica: dragon (chosen for the northwests' miserly behavior, hoarding of treasure, and pacifica's fiery tongue)

mcgucket: robot (chosen for mcgucket's affinity for robotics, and also for the idea that once he starts using the memory gun, he starts corrupting/mass erasing his own technology and has to repair himself using junkyard scraps)

robbie: cherub (he dyes his wings black to seem like some sort of dark angel. chosen for his last name, his hoodie, and his parents' chipper demeanor. they're a family of morticians who choose to spread the love by burying couples next to each other)

"billy-bob cipher": a vessel bill specifically crafted to hunt the monsters in gravity falls. he went with the idea of a greasy redneck hunter, because that would be the form people would be least willing to argue with about carrying a bunch of guns and traps around.

[coolyiooo]

Overstimulating BSD Men

Pairings: Dazai, Ranpo, Fyodor, Atsushi, Chuuya, Sigma, and Tecchou

❗WARNINGS: SMUT, MDNI, overstimulation, begging, praise, degrading, pulling, scratching, gagging, breeding kink, moaning, groaning, whimpering, and etc❗

This was the first BSD smut I wrote but I edited it a bit to make it better. it's a bit short (I feel like it is) but hope you enjoy it :)

🖤DAZAI🖤

You just wanted to punish Dazai for teasing you so much today. So you decided to just drive him over the edge with just your hand. Your hand was moving up and down on his throbbing cock. Your hand and his dick were wet and slimy from his previous orgasms. He couldn't stop moaning and whimpering. He kept on twitching while a small amount of drool dripped from the corners of his lips. Some of his own cum was on his stomach. His hands were clenched so tightly that his fingernails were digging into his skin.

You kept kissing his cheeks, neck, and temple as you kept massaging his cock. He was a sight to behold that's for sure. You kept giving him so many praises but also small degrading comments, only fueling to his euphoric release.

"Mnn~ ah- your hand feels so mph!- amazing, bella~" Dazai moans while his cock throbbed.

You kissed his neck, making him shiver slightly "you look so beautiful like this dazai~ but you also look pathetic being covered in your own cum" you taunted with a slight smirk

"P-please.. b-bella mmmn~ I can't handle more of this ah!-" he groaned.

The overwhelming amount of pleasure was becoming unbearable. His body was becoming hot. His heart rate was racing, yet he felt nothing but pleasure and it was only getting better and better.

"Why should I when the most beautiful sight is you cumming just by my hand? Plus you can't stop throbbing and moaning like a little man whore, it's really music to my ears" you degraded him

His cock only throbbed more when you degraded him. Something about you making him so submissive like this was so arousing for him. He can only moan louder. You then started to move your hand faster. Making his head fall back with his mouth open while moaning loudly .His cock throbbing aggressively. The sight could almost make you cum. Your underwear was drenched from your wet cunt.

"AH~! fuck! So f-fucking good~! Don't stop mmn~ I'm gonna cum again ah~ please don't s-stop!" He whimpered.

You smirked slightly "Oh, alright..since you asked so nicely"

You bent over to his sensitive cock and started to suck him off like your life depended on it. Your warm, sticky tongue wrapped around him perfectly.

He eyes shot wide open as he moaned loudly "B-BELLA! Y-yes! AHHH~!"

In a couple seconds, he thrusted upwards into your mouth to release his cum. Eyes and mouth wide open. His Back slightly arched. He was gasping for air. He felt like he was ascending to heaven, but it felt too sinful to be heaven, but if hell was like this, he wouldn't mind going.

He was panting and sweating while his body was hot and trembling aggressively. His eyes were now closed as his body was started to relax and calm down. You swallowed his cum before kissing his cheek with a small smile. He opened his eyes tiredly to see your beautiful face. All he could do was chuckle softly and say "that was...just...wow.."

💚RANPO💚

You wouldn't stop bobbing your head up and down Ranpo's cock even after he came a few times already. He just tastes so good and looks so irresistible when overstimulated, and his whimpers only made you keep going. His hand was behind your head as he caressed your hair and head.

"Mmn~! Ah~! You really can't have enough of me, huh, sugar~?" He whimpered

You lift your head off his dick with a pop, using your hands to rub him instead. You smirked slightly while looking at him. His cheeks were flushed while his eyebrows were slightly furrowed. It was evident that he was feeling amazing and loving the feeling of your mouth and skillful tongue.

"You taste so sweet ranpo~ I guess you are what you eat right?" You then started to bob your head up and down on his needy cock again.

He moaned out loud. His hands were squeezing the couch cushions. He was looking away with a blush face and a overwhelmed expression, eyes squeezed shut. He went back to whimpering loudly. His whole body was trembling with pleasure.

You lifted off his cock for a quick second "Your whimpers make me so wet ranpo~ your being such a good boy~" you said before sucking his cock again.

His cock twitched at the praise and he started to thrust into your mouth, making you start to gag on his cock, but it only made him feel even better. He looked down at you to get a better view of you. You looked up at him with what looked almost like an innocent face, but your action was far from it. The way you moved your head up and down just to make him cum again aroused him so much. He moaned and whimpered, feeling his release start to approach. His head tilted back while he arched his back slightly. His was exposing more of his neck while he did this.

"Mmhp! I'm going to- ah~ cum! gonna cum~! P-please let me~!" He whimpered

You only left the tip of his cock in your mouth, sucking and slurping it beautifully while your hand rubbed the rest of his shaft, making him not able to last anymore. After a few seconds, he came on to your tongue, earning a loud, desperate moan. You could taste how sweet he was but you didn't swallow yet. You took him out of your mouth to open your mouth wide open for him to see how much he came into it. He blushed and started to become hard again at the sight, slightly whimpering again.

You swallow his cum and kissed his cock "such a good boy".

💜FYODOR💜

Fyodor is a very prideful man, so he would try his best to not fully express how he's feeling, but you know he's trying to hide it. Fyodor let you top him because you insisted you could make him feel just as good as he makes you, so here you are, jumping on his cock even after he came a couple times. His cum making it easier for you to move. Fyodor kept his moaning to a minimum but every once in awhile he'd let out short gasps or small moans. He is still human after all and it's a normal body function when your being overstimulated.

"Why are you hiding your voice Fedya? Mmn~ I want to know how good I'm making you feel" you moaned slightly while smirking

"Mnn~ well maybe you have to try a bit harder, darling~" he said while smirking as well

You pouted a bit but you knew he was trying his best to keep calm. You could feel how much his cock was throbbing inside of you, clearly Loving how your walls clench around him. You grabbed his hand and pressed it against ur stomach. "Can you feel how deep you are inside of me? Ah~ How your cock aches and twitches inside me~ you feel so fucking good mmn!- your the only one who can make me feel this good~"

He whimpered quietly from the feeling. He turned his head away from you. Eyes closed with a slight smile on his face. "Ah- hmm~ feeling is mutual...so please keep doing what your doing" he said trying not to sound to desperate.

"Mmnph! But it'd be amazing if you let me hear your voice..please Fedya~"

He looked at your eyes as if he was contemplating, but he decided to give into your desire and he laid his head on the pillow, eyes closed and moaning deeply. He truly was gorgeous. It made you squeeze him tighter and made you go rougher, making him moan more.

"Ahh~! Fedya do you want to come? Your close aren't you?" You clenched his hair, making him throb more.

"Mnn- yes, moya lyubov mph~ since you want it so bad" he still tried not to sound desperate

"But do you want to cum? Mmn~ it doesn't sound like you want to" you looked at him with pleading eyes

"Hmm~ of course, lyubov mmn- there's nothing more I want than to fill you up" his small smile never going away

"Then let me hear how much you want to cum..p-please~!"

He seemed pleased by how much you've been begging to hear him moan, so he will at least grant you this small wish. He knew it would make you go over the edge anyway. He started to moan loudly, but not too loud. He told you small praises just to throw you over the edge a little more and before you knew it you came before him. His voice is just so heavenly.

"Hm~? And I thought you were the one supposed to please me" his smirk was wider

You still kept going. Didn't stop a single moment even though you were now the one being overstimulated, But the sight you left before Fyodor was definitely the cherry on top for him. Seeing you become a mess just for him was enough to make him loose control. The way you bounced on him while your body seemed it's about to give up. How you couldn't even form sentences anymore and only moans.

He then came inside you with a loud groan. His cock twitching inside you as it filled you up with his hot cum. You came again with a loud moan. Both of you were out of breath and still feeling just pure euphoria throughout your bodies. You both panted and breath heavily from your climaxes. He smiled slightly when your body laid limp on his chest. He caressed and kissed your head as you tried to calm down from your high. He was really desperate to come inside you once again, but not before making you into a mess.

💙ATSUSHI💙

You were bouncing on Atsushi's cock. He's been cumming so many times inside of you, but his body seems to still not have enough of you. He was a whimpering mess. Atsushi's hands were gripping on ur hips so tightly that it'll for sure be leaving marks. He's been telling you sweet nothing's, which only made you feel electricity throughout your body. Even during this lustful and sinful act you two were doing, His words were nothing but pure and beautiful. He always had a way with words that would touch your soul.

"Mmph~! Y-your so ah! Beautif-ful aggh~! You make me f-feel so g-good~!" He moans while caressing your cheek. His eyes were full of awe

"Atsushi~ mmn~ your literally breath taking agh~! I've never felt this good~" you whimpered

His cock twitches everytime you give him praise. He loves to know that he's satisfying you in any way, especially when your being intimate. "F-Fuck~ I love y-you s-so much- AH~!" He whimpers as he rests his forehead against yours.

"I-love you too~ your literally Mph!~ perfect" you clench his hair gently.

The way you clenched his hair and say something like that, he couldn't handle it. He throws his head all the way back as he arches his back. Your becoming too much for him and he couldn't hold back anymore.

he gasps slightly "I-im g-gonna MMN! i-im gonna cum! P-please don't s-stop nngh! y-you feel so fucking good ah ah~ c-cumming.. cumming!"

He thrusts up into you, making sure his cum is shot deep inside of you. He moans so loud that you had to kiss his lips to muffle out his moan. You still feel him pumping his cum deep inside you, almost like he's never gonna stop. You give him a kiss on the cheek after he calms down from his high. His eyes looking like he's seeing heaven as he panted heavily.

"You've been such a good boy for me" you smile softly

He looked at you with those same soft eyes "and your such a beautiful woman, y/n"

🧡CHUUYA🧡

Your tongue wrapped around Chuuya's dick was enough to make him moan so much. Even after cumming many times, your mouth never left his pretty cock. You loved the way his body twitched aggressively when he came inside you as he moans, it was so addictive. The feeling was mutual for him too. The feeling of your mouth sucking him off was definitely addicting for him and he could never get tired of the pleasurable sensation your tongue brought to him.

"F-fucking hell doll~ ah~! You can't get enough of me or what? MMN!~ not like I'm complaining " he groans with a slight smirk as he looks down at you.

You never left his cock out of your mouth even if he was taking to you. Your mind was just focused on making him feel good. He loved seeing how desperate you were for his cum.

"S-shit! Nnngh~! Feels so f-fucking good! Please don't stop~" he moaned

You went at a faster pace and made sure his tip was reaching the back of your throat, even if you were gagging, you were just desperate to make him cum again. He put his hand behind your head to make your movement faster. The action made you gag more but you honestly didn't mind, It only made you more wet.He arched his back and tilted his head back

he groaned "AH~ F-FUCK~! y-yes, doll~ gonna cum~ g-gonna cum so good down your pretty little throat~ MMN~!"

A few more thrusts and he whimpered loudly when he came deep down your throat. You felt his legs tremble and stomach twitching. His eyes shut tight with clenched teeth. You took every drop of his cum as he filled your throat with it. It was honestly so stimulating. Before you could do anything, he caressed your cheek as he panted

"I want to see....you swallow, doll...if that's not too much to ask"

You blushed as you looked at him with enticing eyes. His cock still inside your mouth. You swallowed his cum in one gulp. He smirked slightly before pulling his cock out of your mouth. You coughed a bit, but he then kissed your forehead lovingly "damn your good, dollface" He says that you can't get enough of him but he also can't get enough of you.

💛SIGMA💛

You were jumping on Sigma's cock quickly. His cock was covered by his previous orgasms and your cunt was filled. His cum made you able to jump faster of his dick and more pleasurable for him. Even though he was out of breath and looked pathetic, he looked so elegant and precious. He truly was a gorgeous man, even if he came from unnatural origins, his body sure acted like a real man. His grip on your hips were tight as he whimpered and moaned loudly from overstimulation.

He shut his eyes tight "Mmn~! Too- ah~! Much, y/n~!" He whimpered

You kissed his cheek and smirked "mmmn~ Your cock is throbbing aggressively. It's feel so good~ you want to cum more, don't you?"

He twitched from the praise "Ngh~! There's no more~ ah~!" His grip became tighter

You cupped his cheek to make him look at you in the eyes "That's ridiculous, love~ mmn~ let me prove it you" you smiled

Your pace became more rough and fast. His head fell back with his mouth agape from moaning loudly. His dick only getting bigger the more he rubbed against your tight walls. His cock pulsating even more as he felt another orgasm coming

"AH~! S-Shit~! Ngh~! too good! I'm gonna~!" He whimpered before shooting his load inside you once again, filling you up as if he's trying to impregnate you. He moaned loudly from his climax

He breathed heavily as he tried to calm down from his high. You kissed his lips before looking into his eyes "You look pretty when you cum, Sigma. It's addicting~"

His eyes were soft and gentle as he still pants "I'm glad the feeling is mutual"

You smirk as you lean into his ear "no matter how many times you cum, your body still wants more~" you said as you touched his already hard cock.

he whimpered and shivered the second he felt your hand on his sensitive dick. You smirked wider before saying "maybe one more round will do"

❤️TECCHOU❤️

The man is the strongest hunting dog. The man has a LOT of stamina. It would a lot to get him overstimulated and tired, but you've managed to do so. You just feel too good and he was getting overwhelmed by the pleasure.You lost count after a couple of rounds, but you've been jumping on his cock for a long time. His eyes were closed while his body was trembling a little. His face was overwhelmed by the pleasure, but even though he was in ecstacy, he would not make a loud sound. His hands were gripping tightly onto your hips

"How are you feeling, love?" You caress his cheek gently

He gulped and leaned into your touch "You feel like..heaven, dear" he catched his breath mid sentence.

You jumped a little rougher which made him clench his teeth and arch his back slightly. His eyes open slightly and he stared at where you two were connected. You clenched his hair gently, making him gasp softly

"Come one ah~ let me hear your voice~" you pleaded softly

He looked down for a second. He seemed embarrassed to let you hear his moans and whimpers, but if that's what you want from him then he will deliver it just for you, but he still needed more encouragement. He was still clenching his teeth as he blushed slightly.

You caressed his muscles gently "Please~? Your moans turn me on~" you whispered in his ear

He trembled more when you caressed his muscles. He laid his head back and let out a deep long moan. Hearing his moan turned you on and encouraged you to jump faster. You were both moaning slightly loud and twitching from the pleasure.

"I- oh God~ ngh~! D-dont stop~" Tecchou moaned with his cheeks sightly blushed

Hearing his words made you jump at a desperate and quick pace. He arched his back while moaning. His mind was blank. He only thought of the pleasure and you. He was unconsciously thrusting upwards. He couldn't handle it anymore.

His dug his nails into your hips "Ngh~! I can't anymore i- "

He quickly pulled himself out of you and then groaned loud while he shot his load on your stomach and chest. You came after him with a loud moan from the beautiful moans and sight he presented you with. He was out of breath and sweating

You giggle softly and kiss his cheek while you were out of breath "You did well, love"

You saw a small smile on his lips as he panted "so did you"

Please check out my Wattpad book! Wattpad deleted my book for breaking their policies so I have to start off from scratch. I'd appreciate it greatly if you check it out ❤️🙏. My Wattpad account is @Coolyiooo

[majestyeverlasting]

𝐚𝐢𝐧'𝐭 𝐧𝐨 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 | 𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

summary joel comes to pick you up from work, and after soaking up the night's energy for a short while, you finally let him take you home [fluff, kissing, 1.1k]

.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・．

There’s something different about the way he walks into a room these days. A gentleness as his eyes comb through the space to familiarize himself, not size up those in it. Tonight, Maverick’s buzzes with people desperate to forget the work week that now lies behind them. They laugh and drink and embrace the live music as it flows from the stage to wash their worries away. 

Joel expertly navigates through the crowd with a gruff string of excuse me’s and thank you’s. He'll never know whether they make way because of his manners or the broadness of his frame. From behind the bar, you watch him cross through a frenetic sea of patrons that part with every few steps he takes. The surrendered look on his face suggests that if he were twenty years younger, he’d allot time to work the room instead of having a one-track mind with a pin set on you.  

It’s not lost on him that your smile grows wider as he sits on the barstool before you. The chair creaks under his weight, but it’s a slight sound you have to strain to hear. He’s more interested in how the overhead lights bathe your skin in their warm glow.

There’s a quiet knowing between you, a familiarity that doesn’t need words to prove itself true. The moment he places his interlocked hands on the counter in front of himself, you brush your fingers over his knuckles before turning away. Upon your return, you place a bottle of Lone Star in front of him, condensation rolling down the sides. You twist the cap off for him.  

Joel nods curtly. “Thank you.” 

“No, thank you.” There’s a sparkle in your eyes. 

Joel raises the beer to his lips to quell his smile. You admire how his large hand nearly consumes the bottle. How Adam’s apple bobs with each steady sip. When he sets it back down, you tilt your head in a way that makes his smile bloom anyway. He gives up on trying to hide it, and you’re glad it’s a short-lived fight. The lines on his face become more pronounced, but he looks years younger. 

You cross your arms over your chest. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Joel commits the lilt of your voice to memory like he has countless times since meeting you a couple months ago. Each time, the note is different. A little kinder, a little fonder.

“Should be criminal hiding a smile like that.” 

“Thought you said you got off at six,” he changes the subject. “That was ten minutes ago.”

“I did,” you say.

Joel tracks you as you saunter from behind the bar to join him on the opposite side. 

“Figured if I lingered, it’d coax you out the parking lot.” You fix a rouge strand of his silver-streaked hair as an excuse to trace the shell of his ear and make him shiver.

“This seat taken?” You climb onto the stool beside him before he can answer. 

“Was sitting out there wasting my gas ‘cause of you.” He’s willing to waste way more than that.

“My sincerest apologies.” You give his thigh an affectionate squeeze. 

A month ago, Joel would’ve graciously pushed your hand away because of the thought of too many eyes. Too many trains of thought that could derail full steam ahead in the wrong direction. He learned from his father to keep his cards close to his chest—good hand or bad. In the end, all that mattered was how he deciphered their potential and chose to play them. But letting the world in was inevitable, and inevitability wasn’t always so bad.  

Joel takes another sip of his beer, this time to distract from the absentminded way you run your hand along his thigh, back and forth over his denim jeans. He wishes your touch was against his skin. You’ve always been so gentle that he’s begun to consider the possibility he could break after all. 

You briefly perk up in interest when the band starts playing a new song.

“We gonna sit here all night, or can I go ahead and take you home?” 

“What’s the rush?” 

“There ain’t one.” Life and patience are one and the same. “It’s just loud. A lot going on.” The type of scene that fueled him once upon a time.  

“We seem to be hearing each other just fine,” you say lightly. “One more song, okay?” 

Joel hums low in agreement. 

Thankfully, you hold fast to your promise. As the closing chord hums throughout the room, you stand and lead Joel out of the bar with one of his large hands at the small of your back. A few other patrons file out alongside you while others file in. 

Outside, as the Maverick’s sign glows bright, fluorescent red, the warm air is a welcome surprise. It’d been cooler the last few nights, and now there’s no need to hug your arms and walk swifter. Even though there are plenty of open spaces, you spot his charcoal f-150 parked further away than most cars. 

“How’d you know I needed to get more steps in?” You playfully peek back at him as he walks a few paces behind. 

When you’re seconds away from opening the passenger door, Joel rests a steady hand on your hip and uses it as leverage to turn you around. No sooner does his large frame crowd into your space until your back meets the metal of his truck. Every move is careful and intentional. Not a single second passes where he isn’t gauging your reaction. Ready to course correct on a dime. 

When a surprised smile curls at your lips, he dips his head down to kiss it away with a tenderness that aches. Joel’s beard is a welcomed brush against your skin. A pleasant weight settles low in your gut like a small stone finding its home at the bottom of a riverbed. 

He cups your cheek with a calloused palm as his lips move against yours. He takes his time. Let’s himself enjoy the softness of your lips, the privilege of your proximity. It’s the most spontaneous he’s been in a while, but the moment washes over him so seamlessly he can pretend he’s this brave every night. Pretend that his inhibitions don’t take the reigns more often than not. 

When he pulls away, his breaths fan over your lips as he looks down at you. There’s a palpable fondness in his gaze that makes you wish you could get lost in his dark eyes forever. He’s the constant you’ve been needing as life attempts to pull you every which way. Wise, strong, dependable.  

“Let’s get you home,” he murmurs gruffly, thumbing gently along your lower lip. 

The distant sound of rowdy laughter tethers you back to earth.

- 

Thank you so much for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. I promise I see them all! 

JOEL MASTERLIST 

ALL MASTERLISTS

[itsriabby]

Mona Lisa - S.H. (Part 2)

“Bob Ross over here”

actor!steve x makeupartist!reader

Plot: When Steve meets his beloved makeup artist’s replacement, he swears it’s hate at first sight. But… is there truly such a thing?

Trope: enemies x lovers

Warnings: Mention of family trauma.

Helloooo! Thank you so much for the love on part one! Since you asked to make this a series, your wishes are my command. ;) Hope you like it!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

————————————————————————

“You’re a magician babe, I look bad as fuck!” Eddie exclaims excitedly, checking himself out in the mirror while posing. They were filming very action-filled scenes this week, so you had to do a couple bruises and cuts on Eddie’s face. Let’s say he liked the results.

“Right? You’re looking too hot Eds, you should get beaten up more often.” You nod to him, jokingly fanning your face.

“Gladly, if you do the honors.” He raises his eyebrows flirtatiously.

“I don’t know.” You shrug “I can’t fathom harming your beautiful face.” You smile at him, giggling a little.

“Oh babe, I would so enjoy it if it came from you.” He switched to a seductive voice, holding in his laughter.

“I’m gonna throw up.” Steve mutters, sitting on his phone in the corner of the room.

It’s been a couple weeks since filming began, and if one thing’s for certain, it’s the fact that Steve and you hate each other.

After that amazing first impression, you tried to be the better person and let it go. But Steve didn’t do the same. He started doing little things to piss you off; things like talking on the phone the whole time and moving excessively, pointing out non-existent errors (“you missed a spot here”,”you made me look too pale”,”actually, I liked it better before, change it”…) and being extremely late on purpose so you’d have to rush and do it in 10 minutes. It was making you go crazy.

So, you decided to inconvenience him just as much. You took the cushion off his chair, made sure to poke him in the eye a couple times, blended his makeup excessively hard, turned the air conditioner too cold, dropped his phone and belongings off your desk “by accident” because they’re in the way… It was a full on war now.

The quips and rude talking continued, not even trying to conceal it in front of other castmates. It was a known fact: Filming starts at 9 am, you come with your lines learned, Steve and you can’t stand each other.

Eddie was a pleasant surprise. He had joined the cast as a new character, and you immediately hit it off. He loves joking around and play flirting with you, and to be honest, you’re thankful for the lightness and fun he brings to the trailer.

“If I see vomit on the floor, you’re cleaning the whole thing with a toothbrush.” You harden your voice, making sure he hears it.

“Sure, why don’t you lend me yours?” He smiles sarcastically.

“Oh, you don’t own one? My bad, I assumed you did basic hygiene.” You return the same fake smile.

He rolls his eyes, falling back on the chair “You know I do, I see you getting unnecessarily close to me. You have a smell kink or something?”

You narrow your eyes “Nah, I’ve become accustomed to your odor, I can even stand it now.” You put your hands on your hips, like you’re proud of yourself.

“Haha.” he singsongs, visibly upset by you saying that, as if his bathroom isn’t filled with multiple scented products, 10-steps-routines, and a vast collection of colognes (he’s still trying to find his signature fragrance, ok?) “Her obsession is becoming a problem Munson, she’s just so in love with me.” He smirks, raising his eyebrows cockily.

Eddie puts his hands up in surrender and looks away, as if not wanting to take part in this whole situation.

You frown, offended “I wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole, Steven.”

“How many times do I have to say my name’s not fucking Steven!” He throws his hands in the air.

“You know, I’d love to keep watching you guys fight, but Frankie has to do my hair, so I’ll leave you to it.” Eddie stands up from his chair and does a soldier salute.

“C’mon man, do I seriously have to be alone with her?” Steve pleads to him.

“Yup, I’ll give you that privilege.” Eddie winks at you and turns around to leave.

“Lucky me.” You mutter under your breath.

“I heard that!”

“That was the point.” You roll your eyes.

The trailer is filled with tense silence as soon as Eddie leaves. It’s been two weeks now filled with conversations like these. Most times you enjoy making him mad, it’s fun, and you have to admit it makes you feel alive. But it’s in times like these that you realize how little you know about each other, and how unbearable it feels to sit in quiet resentment, wondering what the next issue will be.

You’re putting concealer on his dark under eyes when he starts to scoff.

“What?” You spit.

He shrugs “That’s not how Angela did it.”

You step back and look at him with desdain “Well that’s too bad, cause she’s not your makeup artist, I am.”

“Trust me I know, I pray for you to get fired everyday..” he clenched his jaw, still not looking at you.

“What a coincidence! I pray for your character to get killed off, so we’re even.” You keep tapping the brush aggressively on his face.

He looks up at you, frowning, and grabs your wrist, taking your brush off of him “What is your problem?”

“My problem?” You raise your eyebrows incredulously “What’s YOUR problem? You started this with your “oh my dear Angela got sent home and they brought this ugly skank in her place” shit.”.

“Ok, first, I never said you were ugly, second, I said I was sorry for insinuating you slept your way here. Get over it.” He stated, signaling the one and two with his fingers.

He’s so fucking smug. You roll your eyes.

You were about to make another remark when you step back a second, remembering what he said. A slow smirk takes ahold of your face, and you point an accusatory finger at him “You think I’m pretty?”

He looks taken aback by your reaction, letting his hands fall to his thighs “That’s what you take from what I said?”

He looks annoyed, looking at you like you’re something he’d rather get rid off quickly. He raised a hand to point at your brush, and before you can say anything, he beats you to it “Whatever, just finish already so I can be gone.”

You poke your tongue into your cheek, a little butthurt that he didn’t play along with the rouse, and a little insecure that he didn’t answer your question “Yeah, ok.” You mutter.

The hateful banter bubble has popped, and now you stay quiet, the air feeling uncomfortable. You keep your eyes focused on your brush strokes, and Steve subtly looks at your face, trying to read you. He starts moving his leg up and down, and his hands grip the arms of the chair. He’s thinking of speaking when your phone goes off.

You frown, like you shouldn’t be getting that call, and quickly drop the brush on the table, muttering a soft “sorry” and beelining for your purse.

Steve can see your face dropping when you see who’s calling you, then you make a gesture to him as if asking him to wait one minute. He nods. “Mum? What’s wrong?” You whisper into the phone, trying to keep your voice low. “It’s- mum, no just- just lay down. I’ll be there before you know it.” You rub your forehead in a stressed manner, clenching and unclenching your first. It’s something Steve used to do when he talked to his parents too, one thing you seem to have in common. “Mom I’m at work I have to- I- yeah… I know mom.” Your shoulders drop “I’m hanging up ok? I’ll talk to you later.” He can still hear the faint muffled talking when you cut the line.

You go back to work, while Steve looks at you worriedly. The fight, passion and sass you usually sport has been drained out of you, and he doesn’t get why it bothers him so much.

He lightly taps your arm, trying to make you feel better in a way but not knowing how, since you both don’t really do this kinda stuff “Um, are you… are you ok?”

Your stare falls to his eyes, taking in his troubled expression. You shake off your uneasiness and try to put on a normal face “I’m good.”

“You sure?”

You hum your affirmation, still not looking at him.

He gets a little closer to inspect your face, and after a couple seconds he leans back and takes your hands, lowering them and holding them gently in his “Hey it’s still early, maybe you could… I don’t mind if you take a break, you know?” He looks briefly at the clock in the wall and looks back at you empathetically, giving you a tight smile.

You scowl at him, taking your hands away and letting his fall on his lap “Don’t pity me.”

You hate when this happens, he doesn’t even know the situation and he already feels bad for you. You’re supposed to be professional, you’re young for this job as it is, you don’t want to seen like a little kid that has to take “breaks” in between her already short work hours. You need to be taken seriously, you need to be looked at as an adult competent enough to do this job.

“Woah- I don’t-“ he holds his hands up in surrender, trying to explain but you cut him off.

“I am perfectly capable of doing this in the scheduled time.” You glower, rushing to pick up more product to work on him.

“I never said you weren’t.”

“But you implied it.” You raise your eyebrows, finishing with the base and getting the eyeshadow palette to make his skin look a little dirtier.

“No I didn’t! I just- geez I just wanted to be nice for a second, It won’t happen again… God.” He mutters the last part, exhaling loudly.

You clench your jaw and stay quiet for a second. He has a point.

You speak under your breath, not wanting to say he was right “Maybe I overreacted a little.”

“You think?” He breaks into a small smile, and neither of you speak after that, letting you get your work done.

After 5 more minutes of him looking at you or resting his eyes while you put his makeup on, you speak softly “That’s all.”

You step back, letting him look at himself in the mirror, checking out the results. He nods and gives you a polite smile “Thanks.”

You return it “Don’t thank me, I get paid for this.”

He scoffs at your joke, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’ve been told.”

He stands up, dusting his jeans off the specks of setting powder that might’ve fallen before “Well… I’ll see you tomorrow.”.

You nod “See you tomorrow.” He does an awkward wave goodbye and turns to leave “Oh, and Steven?”

“My name’s not-“ Sigh “What?”

You try to stifle your smile “Your fly is open.”

His eyes go big and he panic checks himself, quickly reaching for the zipper of his jeans. His face turns into a scowl when he sees you were taking a piss out of him “You think you’re so funny…”

“I know I am.” You giggle “Goodbye Steven.” You usher him out.

He rolls his eyes but lets a tiny smile slip out “Sure, whatever.”

He’s gone before you know it. A genuine smile comes to your face, and you hate the fact that you can’t hold it in.

This doesn’t mean you like him, it doesn’t even mean you tolerate him, not in the slightest. But… maybe he’s not that bad.

Like a Peace treaty… for now at least.

———————————————————————

The Peace treaty is out the fucking window.

“Give. It. Back.”

“No.”

“I swear to God, If that thing is not on my palm in the next three seconds…” You hold your hand out, pinching between your eyes in exasperation.

“It won’t be until you admit that I’m a good actor!” Steve holds your phone above both of you, his arm straight so there’s no way you can reach it.

Steve and you getting along barely lasted a day. Before you knew it, you both found new ways to bring chaos into the trailer again. You guess that’s just how it’s always gonna be with both of you.

“I mean, you’re here aren’t you?” You wave around to signal the set they’re in.

“That’s not- that doesn’t mean anything!”

“I don’t know Steve, maybe you’re blowing this out of proportion.” Robin shrugs, happily eating your bag of salted almonds.

You’ve become pretty good friends with Robin. She’s alone most of the time she has to be here, so one day you saw her eating alone and invited her to eat with you. She hasn’t left your side since.

When Steve said you can’t get rid of her, he really meant it. She follows you everywhere when Steve’s away, and even when he is, she usually takes your side, which makes you like her even more than you already do. She gets your humor, and she also gets the way young women are treated in here, so it’s not a surprise that you bonded over bad-mouthing certain creepy producers. It’s nice to have a girl friend here. You didn’t know you needed one so much.

“What?” His eyebrows scrunch and he looks at Robin like she betrayed him “Robs! Bob Ross over here said I was a telenovela actor, I’m not a telenovela actor!”

“Alright, alright… Calm your tits Steven it was just a joke.” You try to take the phone out of his hand while he’s not looking, but still, no luck.

“It’s not a joke, it’s an insult to my work.” His shoulders slump while he still keeps your phone high up. You can hear a sad tone on his voice.

Robin looks pitiful now, stopping her chomp on your food to give you a “fix it” look.

Ok, maybe it was a sensitive subject.

You cross your arms taking a deep breath “You’re a good actor.” You mutter in one tone, giving in. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’ll be upset by my comment”.

He raises an eyebrow.

“I mean, I knew you’d be upset, but I was hoping towards a passive aggressive talk back, not for you to go all sad puppy.” You look around, trying to avoid his gaze.

He smiles a little connivingly and drops his hands down, handing you your phone “See? It wasn’t that hard, was it?”

“Don’t push it” you give him a pointed look, and he nods with a tight-lipped smile.

——————

You’re packing up your things a couple days later when you hear knocks on the trailer’s door.

“Cleaning lady!”

You smile recognizing the voice, even in its high-pitched form “Come in Eddie.”

He opens the door, walking in that laid back attitude he always has. Robin walks behind, rushing around him to sit next to you. A couple meters away, Steve slowly steps into the room.

“So,” Eddie claps his hands together, looking at you with an all-knowing smirk “We have a proposition.”

You raise your eyebrows skeptically “I love you Eds, but if this is you asking me to have an orgy with you guys, I’m gonna have to pass.”

He cackles at your response, shaking his head no “Damn babe, you really know how to let me down… But no, it’s not that. I got tickets to a very limited, very exclusive party in the valley tomorrow night, and you’re coming with us.” He makes a little dance, grinning from ear to ear.

Robin nods enthusiastically beside you.

You give them a fake smile “I don’t know guys, I’d love to but I’m not sure I’ll have the time.” Truly you did have the time, but you were worried about leaving your mom home alone. Your depressed, alcohol-dependent, messed-up mom.

It’s not something you talk about a lot, plus you hadn’t really made any friends in the city until now, so it hadn’t been an issue until today.

But you need to keep these friends, and telling them the extent of your family trauma is not really the best way to make them think you’re cool.

“Bffff, of course you do!” Eddie pushes your shoulder softly “C’mon, you just have to get all dolled up for me, and I’ll pick you up from wherever.”

You silently think about it, maybe one night away won’t make much of a difference.

“Pleaseeeeeee, you can’t leave me alone with these pigs.” Robin jokes about Eddie and Steve, the last one looking at you, also waiting on your answer.

He’s got his hands in his pockets. It’s like he’s trying to make it seem like he couldn’t care less, but you can see the way he’s staring. Does he want you to say yes?

Do you want him to want you to say yes?

You do. Why?

You surprise yourself with the answer “Sure, alright I’ll go.”

Eddie picks you up in a bear hug, and Robin takes you from him to hold you too, jumping around and babbling excitedly non-stop about how fun you’re gonna have and how long it’s been since she’s gone to a party like this.

Lifting your stare from Robin’s shoulder, you meet Steve’s eyes. He notices and nods at you, smiling genuinely.

You return it, and nod slightly to Robin, making a face as if saying “She’s a little crazy.”

He chuckles softly and shrugs his shoulders, raising his eyebrows as if saying “What can we do?”

And it’s in this moment, you think Steve Harrington is rubbing off on you. He’s still insufferable, don’t get me wrong, but… maybe, just maybe, you could get used to it.

At the same time, Steve stares at you thinking the same thing, wondering if maybe the warm feeling inside him is a signal of a blooming friendship.

Well, he’ll see just what that feeling is the following night, in that extravagant party, where he can’t seem to take his eyes off of you, you and the guy shamelessly flirting with you.

————————————————————————

Hiiii! Did you like iiit? Someone said to make a taglist, so I added the people who commented and reposted. If you want to be on it tell me and you’re in! :)

@chelseypprimrose @stilesbilinskixx @campcampie @boomitsallie1 @spelliwasunder @wishing-on-a-staranise @stranger-things-mania @irrelevantbutembarrassing @thepassionatereader @cosmicspacewitch @seatnights @talkativecarnation @littlemisslovestoread @skipper2505 @aphetropy

[bkgml]

please we need more ex!Bakugo it’s just too good

also i’m obsessed with the way you write😫

ily for suggesting this I LOVEEEEE a good ex boyfie bkg

thinking this is kinda sad 😝

“sero?” you ask, you were washing your dishes when you got the call.

“yn, hey! have you seen bakugou? we all went out drinking and he wandered off.”

your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“uh no i haven’t. why do you ask?” you ask.

you hear a couple laughs from the squad in the background.

“he was just talking about you before he left. had a little too much to drink.” he explains while trying not to giggle.

‘katsuki hates being drunk’ the voice in your head reminds you.

you sigh, drying your hands and grabbing your car keys from the counter.

“sero, i’m gonna look around for him, okay? you guys are too drunk.” you reason, twisting the handle on your front door.

“mkay, thanks ynnn.” sero says and you can hear his grin.

you’re about to hang up when you open your door.

katsuki’s sitting against the hallway of your building, knees to his chest with a defeated look on his face.

“sero? i found him.” you whisper and katsukis eyes shift to your face.

“no way! thanks yn.” he cheers from the other end.

“i’ll get him home, see you soon.” you say and end the call, sliding your phone into your back pocket.

“can’t go home.” katsuki whispers softly.

your brows furrow.

“what do you mean bakugou?” he winces at the name.

he doesn’t respond, just keeps looking at you.

“okay, come on.” you say, helping him up.

he grabs onto your hands until he’s upright and feels your hands slip from his grip.

he sighs with a slight whine in his tone.

you don’t pay attention.

“yn.” he calls, first name.

“let’s get you on the couch.” you mumble, pushing him gently to lay back.

he lays on his back and you can see on his face he’s itching to touch you. you know that look.

but he’s just drunk.

you turn to the kitchen, grabbing a glass from the cupboard and watch the water flow into the glass.

you don’t hear him come up behind you, but you feel his warmth before you feel his touch.

“bakugou..” you frown, feeling his chin on your shoulder.

“not my name.” he whispers, turning his face to push it into your neck.

you grip the glass and forcefully shut off the water, attempting to calm your breathing.

he’s drunk. he’s not trying to make you irritated. he doesn’t know what he’s doing. he doesn’t want you.

those words repeat in your mind like a chant. hopefully they’ll stop you from doing something you’ll regret, kissing him, holding him, telling him you still love him.

he’s sliding his hands up and down your sides and you want to melt into him, but you can’t.

“drink this.” you say sternly, turning in his grip.

he frowns at you, removing his hands from your waist and drinking.

you cross your arms over your chest when the glass is removed from your grip. watching his adam’s apple bob up and down as he drinks, you sigh in hopes it’ll help sober him up.

when he finishes the glass you grab it from him and refill it once more.

he doesn’t touch you.

you don’t know if you’re happy or sad about that but it becomes an afterthought as the glass fills.

shutting off the water you turn and walk into the living room, setting the full glass on your coffee table.

“katsuki come on.” you call to him.

he walks in shyly and moves to stand in front of you.

“you can sleep on the couch. i’m too tired to drive you home tonight.” you say and he nods.

he sits on the arm rest and starts sipping from the cup while you turn and walk in the opposite direction.

he catches your wrist.

“where are you going?” he asks with his eyes soft.

you smile fondly.

“to get you blankets and pillows.” you say, turning to walk to the cupboard as your hand falls from his grip.

you grab as many extra sheets as you can plus two pillows and hand them to katsuki.

he takes them, fingers lingering on your hands before pulling them out of your grip.

“goodnight, bakugou.” you say and he frowns.

you laugh, turning on your heels to head in the direction of your bedroom.

as you get ready for bed your frown grows deeper and deeper while you reminisce on your relationship with katsuki.

the commission ruined your relationship. giving him mission on top of mission with the promise of being the number one hero.

your fists clench as you think about how hard he worked, how hard he still works, yet they still haven’t given him the spot he deserves.

shutting your water off with a huff, you slam your toothbrush back into its holder and turn on your heels.

climbing into bed you try and keep your brows furrowed and your fists clenched because you know if you lose the anger simmering in your blood, you’re going to break down.

katsuki’s body is so so tired, but his brain just wants to cuddle up beside you. it’s hard enough to fall asleep without you but now your only separation are the thin walls of your apartment.

he frowns, he’s still a little drunk, but at least he has a sense of himself now.

“fucking… tape face..” he groans, throwing the sheets off and stumbling to your bedroom.

“..making me- fuck. making me drink.” he opens your door as slowly as he can and his eyes settle on your sleeping body.

his face turns soft and he shuffles closer to your bed, looking at your sleeping face. your pouted lips, your soft breaths, your feathered eyelashes.

he drags his hand down your face softly and you sigh, inching closer to his warmth.

“hi baby.” he whispers, lifting the covers and climbing in.

you let out a small whine at the chill let into your blankets.

“i know, ‘m sorry.” he says, kissing your forehead.

“kats.” you whisper, eyes fluttering.

“i know, i shouldn’t be here.” he says sadly.

your eyes open and you’re looking at your ex boyfriend.

“i want you.” you whimper, tears welling up in your eyes.

he nods, opening his arms and you fall into them.

you rub your nose into his chest, running it up to his neck and placing sweet kisses there.

“stay with me.”

he looks down at you, your words stunning him.

“but the commission- i thought you said-” he stammers.

“i don’t care about the commission katsuki. i care about you. i want you.” you hope he understands.

he nods, blinking harshly to clear the tears out of his eyes.

he cups your cheek with a shaky hand, brushing his thumb over your nose.

you laugh, leaning your forehead against his.

“baby can i?” he whispers fast.

you answer with the press of your lips against his, sighing against him.

he melts, pulling you closer and threading his fingers through your hair.

“you should listen to sero more often.” you pant.

“shut up.” he grumbles, kissing you hard.