#whoever can make better gifs of this please do

[scatter-the-stars]

Theo + self-soothing

[cocastyle]

I See You

Pairing — Bob Reynolds x reader

Word Count — 4k

Warning — SPOILER WARNING FOR THE THUNDERBOLTS* MOVIE I REPEAT SPOILER WARNING FOR THE THUNDERBOLTS* MOVIE!!

A/N — breaking my two years of not posting in honor of this amazing movie and character. the Thunderbolts* has reawakened my fire to write and I couldn’t ignore it. so here you go! this will be a bit of a short series. i kind of envision around three parts or so? anyways, i really hope you enjoy this and know this is your last warning before you continue on!! so if you haven’t seen the Thunderbolts* please save this for later <3

also, did you all notice the easter eggs i included ?? 👀

Part One Part Two Part Three

SPOILER WARNING FOR THE THUNDERBOLTS* MOVIE! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

Bob Reynolds wasn't quite sure how any of this had happened. One minute he was pretty sure he had been dying and the next he was trapped in a series of never ending nightmares. Except it wasn't just his nightmares, there were other people's too.

He knew he had been having these moments where he didn't remember things, knew that there was something going on at a deeper level than he wanted to admit. He thought with Valentina explaining this power he had been given that it would explain everything he had been feeling, that the darkness wasn't truly his but something brought on by this experiment.

But he knew the truth and walking through these endless nightmares only proved that. The darkness was his. It was a culmination of everything he was feeling, everything that had been consuming him, and it had only taken more of a physical form thanks to the Sentry project.

Bob had no way of fighting this thing, no way of taking back control of his body. And at this point he wasn't even sure if he wanted control. After all, he was just Bob. He was useless. He was nothing. Everyone would be better off without him.

So now he was trapped with no where else to go but to walk through the thousands of rooms of everyone's deepest regrets and shames.

It had been an accident at first, but sometime after his own meth chicken nightmare was when he first started stumbling into the other rooms. He saw so many things, felt the guilt and weight that everyone else felt. One in particular had stuck with him when he had ended up watching the loop of a blind lawyer watching his friend die over and over. Bob couldn't watch that for very long before he was hurriedly trying to get to any other room but that one, the blind man's cries still rattling his bones.

Bob didn't know how long he walked for or how many rooms he went through until he got to one that made him pause as he came face to face with Tony Stark. It had been a while since the hero's death, but still seeing the face of the man that had helped bring everyone back from the Blip made Bob falter slightly.

Someone's biggest trauma was Tony Stark?

Bob took a couple steps back, his eyes scanning over the room as he tried to ground himself in what was going on. He seemed to be in someone's apartment. The place would've been nice if it weren't for the fact that whoever was living here clearly hadn't been picking up after themselves in quite some time. And by the look Tony Stark was making as he glanced at the dirty dishes in the sink, it seemed he was thinking the same.

Bob knew the signs before he even saw her. It wasn't just the state of the apartment, but it was the feeling in the air. That feeling of despair, sadness, and nothingness. That feeling of knowing you were alone and there was nothing you could do about it. It clung to everything in the apartment and Bob's heart ached slightly at the sight. After all, he knew what this was like. He knew it too well.

"I can feel you judging me," a voice said, instantly pulling Bob's attention to the couch where a girl was sitting with a blanket wrapped around her and a bottle of vodka in hand. She wouldn't meet Tony Stark's eyes as she stared at the bottle, her fingers numbly fiddling with the label. "I didn't ask for you to come over and judge how I'm living. Hell, I didn't even ask you to come over, so you might as well go."

Tony let out a soft sigh, "Kid, you were ignoring my calls. Of course I was going to come check on you."

"Ever think I ignored them for a reason?"

Tony huffed and grabbed a chair from the kitchen table before dragging it over in front of the couch. He sat down in front of the girl, tilting his head slightly as he watched her before saying, "You can't keep living like this."

"You think I don't know that?" she asked, her voice bitter. “Why are you here, Tony?”

Tony just watched her in silence before saying, "Listen, Steve and Natasha came to see me yesterday and—"

The girl slammed the bottle down on the table so hard Bob thought it would break. Her eyes were red rimmed as she glared at the man and muttered, "No. We're not doing this. You're not going to sit there and try to rope me into some crazy plot to try and bring everyone back. It's been five years and I'm done, okay? I have nothing left in me anymore and I don't give a shit, so just leave."

"Kid—"

"I said leave!" she exclaimed, her eyes beginning to glow white with a power that Bob could almost feel beneath his own skin. "I'm not some sob story for you to try to fix, okay? I messed up and didn't kill Thanos in time and half of the universe had to pay for it. I'm done trying to help. All I ever do is hurt people."

She looked away, her voice rough when she whispered, "You're all better off without me anyways."

Bob sucked in a breath at that, understanding washing over him as he watched the broken girl do everything she could not to cry.

"Y/N," Tony began but the girl simply shook her head.

"No, Tony. I'm done. Just leave and go ahead and do yourself a favor and never come back. It's not worth your time or energy and I sure as hell don't want you here," she said, her head still turned.

Tony stilled slightly at her words. "You don't mean that," he told her, but before he could even blink, Y/N had used her telekinesis to pick up the bottle of vodka and send it hurtling in his direction. The man barely had time to duck out of the way before it flew right past where his head had been and shattered against the wall. Tony turned to her in surprise but the girl was already getting up and walking to the door of what had to be her bedroom.

"I miss him too you know," Tony called after her causing the girl to still.

"Stop," Y/N warned him, but Tony ignored her and instead stood up, his eyes not leaving her as he clearly made no move to leave.

"Y/N, he wouldn't want this for you. That kid loved you so much. He would be devastated by—"

"I said stop!" Y/N yelled and before anyone knew what was happening, a force was suddenly throwing Tony across the room. The man thought fast and his nano suit had wrapped around him before he could even hit the wall and Bob watched as the color drained from Y/N's face at what she had done.

She was shaking as she stared at Tony, but by the time he was looking back up at her, the Iron Man mask sliding away from his face, she was cold once again. "Get the hell out of my apartment," was all she said before turning and walking into her room, slamming the door behind her. Bob watched her go, frowning slightly as the scene began to play again.

"That was before they won against Thanos," a voice said causing Bob to flinch in surprise. He quickly turned around to find Y/N a little ways behind him, sitting down at a chair in the corner of the room. Her eyes continued to watch the scene playing out in front of her and Bob was almost beginning to question if she had spoke in the first place when she muttered, "That was the last time I saw him before he died."

Her eyes met his then and Bob stilled under her gaze. She was a couple of years older than the version of her from the memory, a little more put together but in the kind of way that screamed help more than her younger self's look had. She had learned to mask it more, that much was clear. Or maybe it was just that Bob knew where to look, that he saw himself when he looked at her and knew in more ways than one just how tired she was.

"Who was he talking about?" Bob asked, silently cursing himself for that being the first thing he said but knowing he now had to just go with it. "The guy?"

Y/N hesitated, her eyes glazing over as she got lost in thought. There was a tiny moment of utter sadness that flashed across her face but it was gone so quickly as she muttered, "I don't know." She let out a sad laugh. "Isn't that sad? It's like there's blanks in my memory. All I know is that there is this immense feeling of loss not just once, but twice. Every time I try to think of him it's like the image of him only gets fuzzier."

Bob was silent for a moment. "I have trouble remembering things too," he admitted. "There are these moments where it's like I'll wake up from a dream I don't remember having and that time is just gone."

Y/N's eyes flickered his way, her gaze shifting over him in a way that made him stand up a little straighter. "I walked through a lot of rooms before ending up here," she told him, her eyes still studying him as though she were trying to piece him together. "This was the only one I couldn't leave."

"Why?" Bob questioned.

"Why did you stop in this one?" she retorted and Bob blinked in surprise. Her head tilted slightly as she stared blankly at the boy. It was a moment before she looked away and back at Tony who was watching her past self slam the door shut behind her as the memory started back up again. "I just wanted to see him again, I guess," she whispered. "I always hated this moment, hated that I pushed him away like that and left him to fight Thanos without me. Sometimes I wonder..."

She trailed off before shrugging slightly and looking back at Bob. "Guess I was as shocked by seeing Tony's face as you were when you walked in," Y/N said. Bob barely even thought his question before she placed a finger against her temple and let out a small sigh of exhaustion. "Telekinesis," she stated. "Just a fraction of the power I was born with, but it comes in handy from time to time. I knew who you were the second you walked into this memory. Your mind is very loud, but not in the way you'd expect it to be."

Bob wanted to ask her more, but it was clear she didn't want to expand on that comment. Instead she merely tapped her fingers against the arm of the chair she sat in and said, "So you're the one doing this."

It wasn't a question. She said it as though it were fact. Not that she was wrong, but something about the way she said it still made Bob's throat constrict.

"It's not. . .it's not me. It's—" Bob broke off and he could see the way she stared at him, knew that she was reading his mind. She blinked and quickly looked away. "Sorry," she whispered. "I can't help it sometimes. You lock yourself away long enough and you'll find it harder to control what once was so easy. But I get a sense that you know that."

Bob let out a small sigh, his eyes flickering over the past Y/N who sat on the couch with a haunted look in her eyes and a tight grip on the bottle in her hand.

"We've all done some bad things," Y/N told him, answering the questions flying through his mind. "I had the unfortunate experience of being the reason half the universe died. I was there that day that Thanos went to Wakanda to take the Mind Stone from Vision. I was the last one there before he snapped. I could've stopped it, but I let his words get to me and . . . well, you know the rest."

“The Blip,” Bob muttered and Y/N nodded solemnly. He could see her trying to keep it all together, but the tension was practically radiating off of her as she avoided his gaze.

“Go ahead and say it,” Y/N told him, her gaze locked on her past self who was busy hurling the bottle at Tony’s head. “You probably lost someone in the Blip, right? Had to suffer five years without them? Who was it? Family? Friends?”

Y/N didn’t even give him time to respond as she let out a sigh as if everything were pointless, “It doesn’t matter. Everyone still thinks the same thing, but I don’t blame them.”

“It’s my fault,” she admitted. “I caused everyone so much pain and suffering and then, when I had the chance to make things right, I pushed everyone away and locked myself in my room. Then Natasha died. Then Tony. And eventually Steve followed. And where was I? Drowning my sorrows in a bottle like the asshole that I am.” Y/N scoffed slightly at herself, the fury in her eyes something most people would probably flinch at but all Bob could do was soften at the sight. “So go ahead and say what you want. Call me names. Shout at me. Tell me how much of a monster I am. I deserve it. I’ll always deserve it.”

Bob didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what he could say. Not because it was all too much to process, but because he understood it. He understood what she was feeling. The pain and the anger. The guilt and regret. The shame. He understood it in ways he couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

But the silence was loud and Y/N wouldn’t meet his eyes. She just stared at the scene in front of her as her past self’s voice filled the silence between them, her voice rough as she whispered, "You're all better off without me anyways."

Y/N flinched at those words, her face crumbling slightly as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Bob felt his heart ache at the sight and for a moment, he saw himself sitting there in that chair. But more importantly, he saw her. He saw Y/N for who she truly was. He didn’t know what to say to her to make her better, so instead he just thought it.

I see you.

Y/N's eyes snapped up to him and Bob knew he hadn't had to say that out loud. She had heard him loud and clear.

She stood without another word, her eyes never leaving his as she walked towards him. She was quiet as she stopped in front of him, her gaze turning questioning as she studied him.

You do see me, don't you?

Bob let out a small gasp as her voice echoed in his head. He stared at her with wide eyes, but didn't flinch away not even when she took a step closer so that they were only a breath apart.

I can feel it, you know? That darkness. It calls to me.

"You know where he is?" Bob asked and Y/N quickly shook her head.

"I'm not talking about the Void," she whispered. She gently lifted her hand and placed it on his chest, right above his heart. "Here."

Bob's breath stuttered and he tried to keep his heart from racing as he whispered, "W-what does it say?"

"That it understands," Y/N replied. "That it sees what’s inside my own heart.” She hesitated before giving him a sad smile. “Like calls to like after all."

Bob stared at her, his eyes flickering over her face. He had thought she was pretty before, but up close she was even more beautiful than he could’ve imagined. Her eyebrow quirked slightly as if she had heard that thought and maybe she had, but Y/N was already moving on which he was silently thankful about.

“You feel it too,” she said and Bob didn’t need to say it out loud to confirm her thoughts. After all, he knew what she was talking about and she was right. Ever since he had emerged into this room, he had felt a sort of tug. It was the reason he had stayed. He thought it was because of seeing Tony Stark, but it was because he had felt her from the moment he had stepped foot into that room.

It was because he had seen her before ever laying eyes on her and it seemed she had done the same.

“I don’t know what to do,” Bob admitted, his words strained. “Every time I think I’m getting better, that I’ve finally pulled myself out of that darkness, I just. . .”

“Get pulled back under again?”

Bob was quiet for a moment, his gaze dropping to the floor as that same feeling of shame that always crept up when he thought about his problems beginning to rise in the form of a blush on his neck, “Yeah.”

There was a gentle touch against his chin before Y/N lifted his head so that his gaze met hers once more. Her touched lingered for just a moment, but then her hand was dropping back down to her side. Not once did she move the one that was still resting on his chest and above his heart, the only source of comfort either of them seemed to need.

She gave him a sad smile, her eyes getting a sort of far off look as she whispered, “Sometimes the hardest battle you’ll ever face is with yourself.”

Bob felt tears prick his eyes at those words and for a moment, he even felt a sense of comfort. Someone knew what he was going through. Someone understood.

He had never had that before.

“How do we beat it?” Bob’s voice was barely above a whisper.

Y/N seemed to come back to herself at those words, her eyes locking with his once more and her hand tightened on his shirt. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I’d like to figure that out. Together.”

Bob swore he stopped breathing at those words.

“Together,” he repeated, tears filling his eyes slightly out of disbelief.

Y/N merely nodded and she gently reached up, her thumb quickly swiping under his eye to brush away a stray tear that had fallen. Her own eyes were lined with tears as she whispered through a soft laugh, “Yeah, together. As long as you’re okay with being friends with the girl who does nothing but screw everything up.”

Bob couldn’t stop the small grin that began to peak out, the corners of his lips twitching up slightly as he opened his mouth to respond.

It was then that the doors to the room flew open, darkness flooding in and covering the walls and floors with black tendrils as it raced towards the two. The two stumbled back and away from each other as they tried to avoid the darkness creeping in and Y/N let out a small shout when her past self and Tony dissolved into nothing but shadows.

“Bob,” Y/N called out, but the boy was already reaching for her. He had ahold of her arm within a second and he pulled her to the one corner of the room not covered in darkness just yet.

His eyes were wide as he scanned what was left of the room, his grip tightening on Y/N’s arm in slight panic and confusion as he tried to process what was happening.

The darkness had never come after Bob before.

Not like this.

Something had signaled the Void. Something had scared him.

Bob’s eyes flickered to Y/N who was leaning into his touch, the tips of her fingers already beginning to glow white as she clearly analyzed the situation. His fingers felt warm against her forearm and for a moment he let himself remember the feel of her hand on his chest, the way her breath had fanned his face, and the way her words had wrapped around his heart like a hug he hadn't know he had needed.

And he knew.

The Void fed off of his sadness and loneliness and whatever Y/N had been making him feel was the opposite. The Void would do whatever he needed to crush this feeling, to stay in control. Even if it meant there were casualties along the way.

Bob’s heart ached at that thought and he quickly turned to Y/N who was backing closer to him as they were pushed further into the corner of the room and her memory. She moved her arm out of his grasp in order to hold her hands up, a white light emitting out against the darkness as she tried to hold it at bay.

"Bob, what's going on?" she asked. "What do we do?"

"I—" Bob was panicking now, the thought of Y/N getting hurt making him feel so many emotions that he hadn't felt in a long time. It scared him how much he felt towards the girl within just one conversation. He already knew he would do whatever needed to be done to save her and that thought alone scared him in more ways than one. Even more than the plan that was beginning to develop in his head, the plan that would save Y/N but would mean leaving her at the same time.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Y/N's head whipped in his direction. "Bob, no. You can't run. You have to fight this thing. If you don't, the darkness will only continue to consume you," she said.

"Cause you know what that's like?" Bob retorted, his panic and fear making him sound bitter. "We just watched the same memory over and over of you letting the darkness take over. If you can't fight it, what makes you think I can?"

Y/N's eyes softened slightly. "Bob," she started, but the darkness pushed closer towards them and she let out a strangled sound as she strained to keep her powers in check.

Bob watched her for a second, his eyes flickering over her one last time before he leaned forward. His lips brushed gently against her ear and he felt her shiver slightly under his touch. His breath came out shaky as he whispered, "I would've liked to be your friend."

Then, before she could do or say anything else, Bob had pulled back and thrown himself against the wall of the memory. His body broke through the barrier and into the next room, the darkness leaving Y/N behind in favor of chasing the boy.

"Bob!" Y/N cried out as she attempted to lunge after him, but the darkness threw her back and by the time she was up on her feet again, the memory had sealed itself around her, forcing her to relive the same moment with Tony while Bob got away.

- - -

Bob didn’t know how long he ran for. All he knew was that it took forever for him to get back to his own rooms. He almost cried when the meth chicken scene appeared before him, but he didn’t stop there. He continued his trek even after the darkness eventually faded away, now satisfied that Bob was back where he belonged.

Everything was just too loud, the memories too much for Bob to withstand while that feeling of utter loneliness crept up on him once more. It was foolish of him to think he could ever have someone understand him, that he could ever have someone in his life without hurting them in the end. He had done this to himself.

He deserved to be alone.

At some point Bob eventually managed to find the attic of one of his memories, the only quiet place in this miserable void, and he was quick to tuck himself away in there, away from all the noise and the darkness that he could feel feeding off of everyone's chaos.

It was only then that he sat down and curled in on himself, his breathing shaky as he tried to push every last thought of Y/N out of his head.

"She's better off without me," Bob whispered to himself like a mantra, his head tucked close to his knees as he let the stillness envelope him in a hug much different than the one Y/N’s words had given him. “She’s better off without me.”

“Everyone is.”

[gyaruhana]

hiiii!

if it is not too much to ask, could you please do player 120 (cho hyun-ju) sfw and nsfw headcanons for fem reader, plsss??(ofc, only if u are comfortable, no pressure🫶🏻🫶🏻)

Ty, and wish u a good day/night 💞

Cho Hyun-Ju/Player 120 - Headcannons

Synopsis: Hyun-Ju sfw and nsfw headcannons !!

A/N: tried my best to write for this absolute girlboss who highkey carried the series

Warnings: nsfw content, fingering, pussy eating, pretty vanilla actually

SFW:

➠ Honestly best gf one could ask for

➠ She’s so caring and ridiculously patient

➠ Showers you in compliments !! always calling you pretty and complimenting what you wear/how you look

➠ If you’re ever insecure she’s so reassuring and knows just how to make you feel better

➠ Not a lot of PDA other than some basic hand holding but she doesn’t shy away from being open about your relationship

➠ Cute dates like picnics because she’s honestly a romantic..

➠ You could honestly just sit in silence and stare at each other for ages and you do, in fact, stare at each other

➠ She’s always open to trying new things with you like ice skating because quality time with the person who cares about her and accepts her for who she is will always be a must for her

➠ Super protective of you !!

➠ She keeps all the creeps away from you 

➠ She actually doesn’t get jealous.. Just concerned when someone flirts with you because she hates when you’re uncomfortable

➠ Very easily slips in and openly tells whoevers flirting that you’re taken by her

➠ If they don't get the message, she'll just walk away but if they try to get physical she WILL put them in their place

➠ Overall, perfect girlfriend. I will never change my mind !!

NSFW:

➠ Prefers to take care of you so she’s actually quite gentle in bed

➠ You are her number one priority so expect her to literally always bring you to the best releases !!

➠ Honestly enjoys fingering you so she can watch your expressions

➠ Don’t be afraid to get loud. She wants you to say what you’re feeling all the time !!

➠ She, herself, isn’t very loud but she does make some comments praising you for taking her fingers so well.

➠ Gentle kisses all the way ! No matter where she’s leaving them, it’s so gentle. Your lips, your neck, your thighs- every kiss she leaves is so full with love 

➠ When she eats you out, still gentle and not messy. She’s polite with it😭

➠ Rubs soft circles on your clit when you’re close to make your orgasm that much better

➠ I feel like she’d prefer to dom but if you want to be dom, she’d let you

➠ Overall, sex with her is more gentle and loving because she wants you to know how important you are to her

"Just breathe. I'll make you feel good, baby," she says as she thrusts two of her fingers in and out of you. Her fingers reach all the right places and, just when you thought it couldn't get any better, she begins to rub your clit in a soft, circular motion with her thumb. The action forces a moan from your throat as you feel yourself draw closer to a release. She smiles as she looks at you and gently squeezes your thigh with her other hand. "There you go, don't hold back. Just cum on my fingers, yeah?"

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Home Time | Bucky Barnes x Reader | Drabble - 469 words

Spoilers for the ending of Thunderbolts* , not super plot spoilers, but still spoilers. This is you warned.

Seriously.

No other warnings apply (just swears ☺️) just couldn't contain my excitement at home much I loved it! Had to let it out via fanfic!

When the fight is over, how's everyone going to get home?

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

Bucky rubbed dirt from his forehead with the back of his hand and looked around at the assembled group.

Bob was chatting to Yelena while she picked rubble from her suit. Alexei was picking cement from Yelena's hair too and the blonde looked thoroughly overwhelmed.

Walker waved to the cameras while trying to suruptitiously bend his shield back.

Ava looked bored as she scanned the crowd. "Uh, what now? I'd like to go home now, maybe brush my hair."

"Ah, do not worry, I have my —ah — no. It is in the dessert " Alexei looked disappointed.

"I can get you guys to an airport or something," Bucky tapped his phone, "but you have to behave."

He looked around the assembled …mob.

"I am always on best behaviour, Red Guardian was role model—"

"Please shut up." Yelena snapped.

"Whoever your connection is, Bucky, we can behave okay just let's go home." Walker said waving his hand.

"It's not so much a connection…"

A black SUV pulled up among the rubble, tinted windows hiding the interior. It came to a slow stop and the drivers door opened.

"James, what the fuck?"

"James?" Bob whispered.

Bucky's face changed, the scowl gone, eyes wide, hands up in surrendor. "Doll, listen I —"

"Don't you 'doll' me Mr!" You put your hands on your hips. "Just the afternoon, be back soon, see you after the hearing." You raised an eyebrow. "Bullshit, you're in big trouble."

"And we had to behave." Bob whispered, perhaps a touch too loud.

Your head whipped to him, scowling, before returning to Bucky.

"I'm sorry, okay." He approached slowly, then cupped your cheeks in his dusty hands, "I promise it was for a really good reason."

You narrowed your eyes, "promise?"

"Of course, forgive me?"

Yelena thought she was going mad, was Bucky giving you puppy dog eyes?

Was it working?

"I've got a few new friends, couldn't give them a lift somewhere could you?" He gave you a charming smile, wrapping his arms around your waist and swaying you slowly.

You peeked around his back and scanned over Alexei, Bob, Yelena and Ava before narrowing your eyes at Walker.

"That guy?"

"I know, I promise I'll tell you everything later." Bucky kissed you gently.

"Later?"

"Hmm…" Bucky kissed you again, every reason for fighting through wrapped in his arms, safe, warm. He closed his eyes and soaked you in.

"James," you rubbed your hands down his chest, firm and real and back with you, "if your friends make a mess of my new car, you'll have worse things to worry about. Okay?"

You tapped his chest and he laughed, tucking you under his arm and turning to — he refused to say it, better to say friends than any stupid superhero name.

"You heard Mrs Barnes, don't make a fucking mess."

[seresinhangmanjake]

What He Has To

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Reader

Summary: Despite being betrothed to Rabban, you've been having an affair with Feyd for months. The two of you agreed to stop once you're married, but Feyd decides that doesn't work for him.

Notes/Warnings: Sort of smut, i guess (so 18+). Arranged marriage. There was a request for a fic with Rabban, and though there were a lot of other details included in that request that did not make it here, this was what the request inspired. It kind of took on a life of its own. Sorry.

Words: 3300

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Feyd POV

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything. He only intended to take something valuable from Rabban. But in the process of the theft, Feyd tasted the thing that rightfully belonged to his brother, and once he tasted you, he couldn’t stop. He hasn’t stopped. 

He’s enjoyed having you too much. He likes that your eyes always search for his if the two of you are in the same room. He likes that you spend more time in his bed than in the one in your guest quarters. He likes that all of your touches belong to him, and only him. He likes that you don’t speak his brother’s name.

When Feyd convinced you one night to fall into his bed, he imagined the look on Rabban’s face upon learning that his most desired object had been defiled by another. He planned to call Rabban to his room the following morning and show his brother exactly what he’d done, presenting you with his bedsheets pooled around your hips, displaying your bare back as you slept on your stomach. The thought alone was enough to keep him up the whole night in anticipation. 

But once the time came, he couldn’t do it. Where Feyd’s rage rests at a sizzling, low boil, bursting when necessary, Rabban’s is a constant overflowing wave. He would’ve killed you on the spot. Shoved a blade into your spine before your eyes had opened for the day. Your blood would’ve seeped into Feyd’s mattress before he’d gotten an opportunity to kiss you one final time. So, instead, he proposed that what had formed between you remain a secret, and to his satisfaction, you were willing and wanting the same.

“Just until the wedding,” you told him as you rocked back and forth on his cock for the second time. Between kisses and moans, you said, “We can’t continue this once I’m married. I can’t risk anyone suspecting that his heir might belong to someone else.”

In a lust-addled haze, Feyd agreed. But ever since, his clear mind has heavily protested. 

Would you pretend to enjoy being with his brother? Would you moan for him? Whimper? Bite your tongue when Feyd’s name threatens to tumble from your mouth? Or worse, would you like it, and bask in the attention enough to find pleasure. Is it possible that your eyes could squeeze shut and lips could part with shallow breaths without the memories of Feyd rolling around in your mind? Could his brother really learn your body better than he has?

Thoughts of you in Rabban’s arms, Rabban’s lips attached to yours, Rabban’s fingers grazing over your skin, turn Feyd’s stomach each time they slither into his head, so aggressively he nearly loses whatever meal most recently consumed.

If he could change the rules of his world, if the future Baron of Giedi Prime was decided based on skill and intelligence, not age, then he would have you. You would have him and the title of Baroness. Agreements between Houses would be kept, and all involved, with the exception of his incompetent brother, would be pleased. But altering a hierarchy is not easily done, if possible at all.

—

Reader POV

It’s the last night. Tomorrow, you will be married, and what you and Feyd have will cease to exist, leaving you only with captured memories of how he feels, of how he makes you feel. 

You pray those memories can sustain you through a lifetime wedded to his brother. You beg whoever is willing to listen that time does not shrivel those memories to scraps. You can’t allow every bit of him to be taken from you. If you can’t be with him, then you deserve the remnants of what you’ve shared to remain fully intact and accessible whenever you need them. 

Turning your head, cheek meeting pillow, you watch him sleep. He’s unnaturally peaceful, and the sight of it tightens the organ in your chest. So handsome, beautiful lines and edges that make up the features of his face. Not like Rabban, whose features seem to bulge off of his rounded head. 

It is those differences that will make it impossible to sneak around with Feyd behind Rabban’s back once you are married. Should you fall pregnant with Feyd’s child instead of your husband’s, upon birth, it will be much too obvious. You will undoubtedly be put to death, your baby discarded, and Feyd likely shamed in front of all of Giedi Prime for disrespecting his uncle’s strategic arrangement between House Harkonnen and yours.

You twist onto your side, placing your palm on Feyd’s cheek and stroking his sharp cheekbone with your thumb. His skin is smooth, soft, and you always find it fascinating. While most people learn to harden their outer coating to protect their squishy insides, Feyd’s hardened insides are protected by a supple shell—one more difference between him and his brother that you cherish. 

You lean in closer and press your lips to his. One second, two seconds, three, then he’s replying to your kiss, groaning, tangling his fingers into your hair, and flipping you onto your back. 

He slides into you. Rests his forehead on yours. Your eyes stay locked together, exhales playing and curling around one another. 

It’s on the tip of your tongue—the declaration. Just a few words that sum up what you know you’ve been feeling for a while. But you can’t give it to him. To do so will only make it harder to cleave the two of you apart when morning comes. It will make him all the more unwilling to let you go. And should he repeat those words back to you, all hope, minuscule as it is, that you might one day find peace without him will vanish. 

Feyd thrusts deep. Your walls pulsate. You feel him fill you. 

He stays there for a moment as he rests his comfortable weight on top of you, lips hovering a half-inch above yours. 

“Don’t drink it,” he whispers.

You blink. Your brow pinches. Your body squirms the slightest under his. He’s never asked that of you. “I have to.”

Finding purchase on his muscles, you push him off of you, and despite despising the emptiness now between your legs, it doesn’t stop you from sitting up and reaching for the tonic on the bedside table that ensures no child will plant within you. 

Feyd sighs and falls onto his back, forcefully dropping his head into the pillow. He stares at the ceiling as the rim of the bottle touches your lips.

You pause to look at him, and for a moment slip back into the recurring dream of what might come of you putting the bottle down, leaving your tongue untouched by the liquid. Something lovely could grow inside of you. Menacing, but lovely. And were it truly a choice, you would make it, pray for that outcome. But it isn’t a choice. You both know it.

You take a deep breath, then swallow the bitterness in the bottle. 

Feyd turns over. His back faces you.

—

Feyd would have kissed you once it was announced in front of the Great Houses that you were officially man and wife. Rabban doesn’t, and you are thankful for that. 

You don’t want his mouth near yours. Nowhere near your body. Earlier, when his lips brushed the shell of your ear as he whispered what he intends to do with you once you’re alone, you flinched and clasped your fingers together to keep their trembling unnoticed. 

This morning you believed it would be fine, that you could settle into the role of the agreeable, dutiful wife. Despite knowing you will always love another, your priorities remained set on fulfilling your purpose for being sent to Giedi Prime in the first place. But that was before you were married. Now, you’re not convinced you can play the part required of you without great difficulty. Peace between Houses no longer feels as vital to you as it once did. However, you’re not so selfish as to neglect that the opposite is true. 

From across the room, Feyd is leaning against the wall, his arms crossed and eyes fixed on you. You’ve seen him angered before, you’ve seen him indignant; you know what that looks like on his face. But the downward curve of his lips and the divet between his brows display those emotions more clearly than ever. 

Internally, you will him to stop. Should anyone notice him staring at you for too long, they will catch on. You’ve been on Giedi Prime for months—everyone is aware of it—and, as rumor has it, you wouldn’t be the first child of a Lord to stray from their betrothed before the day of their wedding. Months are enough time to partake in a premature affair, enough time to develop an obsession. And obsession, possessiveness, is written all over Feyd’s hard-set features; it bleeds from the tension in his body. Anyone with half a brain could guess what is going on, and no one in attendance tonight is a fool.

Should your affair be discovered, or even suspected, there will be harsh punishment awaiting you, and you can’t begin to imagine what horrors a Harkonnen could inflict. But when Feyd gives you a final steely look before disappearing from the party, you, too, slip away.

You’re just going to talk to him, set him straight, tell him to get it together if he cares for your life. When you find him, though, he appears too erratic to listen to anything you might say. Back and forth he paces, mumbling and shaking his head as long, aggressive strides carry him up and down the hallway. 

And then he notices you, and he stops short. His chest is rapidly filling and deflating. You open your mouth, but before you can utter a word, he is stomping toward you, grabbing your face in his hands, and slamming his lips onto yours. 

He swallows your noise of surprise as each of his steps forward pushes you back until your spine hits the wall. The impact shoves the air out of your lungs and you break the kiss to release it. 

Your heart is throbbing, beating so violently you think it may burst and coat your ribcage. It nearly does when he leans in to kiss you again, but you turn your head away before lips can connect.

“Don’t,” he says.

“We discussed this. We agreed.”

He holds your head firmly in place, forcing you to look at him. The sheer determination in his glare is overpowering. You couldn’t break your locked gazes if you tried. “I don’t care.” 

“It doesn’t matter if you care,” you retort, grasping his wrists and ripping his touch from your face, only for his hands to plant firmly on the wall on either side of your head.

The stare between you is dense, thick, but then it begins to shake, shake more recklessly with each second until it shatters, and you have to look away once more. If you don’t, you’ll give in completely. And you can’t give in. 

To solidify your decision to have last night be the last time you’ll ever have him, you drew a line between you. And that line is the sole method you have to ensure mistakes will not be made. If you cross it, you know you’ll forget the existence of the line altogether. One mistake will become two, two will become three, and it will only be a matter of time before those mistakes are uncovered. 

With your eyes to the ground, you swallow hard enough to strain your throat. “I’m not doing this,” you tell him. Then you duck under his arm, intent on heading back into the party.

Before you can get three steps in the right direction, his fingers wrap around your bicep. You’re jerked backward. Chest flush with his, your mouths meet, and this time, as you feared, you’re made a fickle fool of. Your body gains a mind of its own. It conquers and rebels against your brain, making you rise on your toes, link your arms around his neck, and kiss him with as much fervor as he is giving, as if to negate the idiotic things that left your mouth moments ago. 

Your back hits the wall again. Hands graze down your waist to the swell of your hips. Fingers fist the fabric of your gown and pull the material up your legs. Cold air touches your thighs, partially shielded by the warmth of one of his palms on your skin. As that warmth inches toward your center, you hear the unfastening of his pants. It’s that sound that shocks you out of your drunken state. 

You tear yourself apart from him and shove at his chest until he stumbles out of your space. Your dress falls back down your body.

“I can’t,” you mutter, unable to look at any part of him other than his boots, and even that proves to be a challenge. Seeing where he stands just four feet from you, you could grab him and pull him close, kiss him some more. But you don’t. 

He doesn’t make another move toward you, so you command your legs to stop their wobbling before heading back down the hall and reentering the reception.

—

As you wait to be escorted to your husband, you run over the list you’ve compiled, the options you have laid out to aid you in getting through the night. Alcohol consumption being one. Feigning illness, another, though you’re not sure how effective that would be.

You decide that you’ll think of Feyd. You’ll shut your eyelids and imagine it’s him. His mouth, his grunts, his fingertips digging into your waist as Rabban holds you and thrusts over and over. You’ll do that every day for the rest of your life if you have to, praying that Rabban never does anything to dispel the trick you intend to play on your mind. You hope he doesn’t speak, his voice not quite the same octave as Feyd’s. You hope he doesn’t kiss you, his lips not close to the fullness of Feyd’s. And as horrified as you are to think it, you hope his cock is similar to Feyd’s. If too large or small, too thick or thin, it will be a struggle for you to mentally replace him with the man you love.

A knock breaks through your racing thoughts. You stop picking at your cuticles and make your way over to the door. When you open it, a Harkonnen guard is on the other side.

This is it: your final moments of knowing only Feyd’s touch and taste. Your nose stings as you tamp down the budding tears. The guard doesn’t notice the glassiness of your eyes as he turns his back to you and starts down the hall. Or maybe he does notice and simply doesn’t care.

Following like an obedient child trailing after its mother, you walk from the guest rooms to the adjoining section of the fortress that holds the rooms of the Lords. Your gut somersaults when you pass Feyd’s room. That’s where you should be going. That’s where you belong. 

You wonder if he has locked himself in there for the night, if he’s drinking himself stupid to forget the reality of your fate, as you would be doing had he married another woman. You picture him throwing things, fragile items flying across the room, glass shattering. You picture his fists bloodied and bruised from slamming into walls. You continue to picture him as Rabban’s room comes into view.

With a straightened spine, you prepare yourself for what’s to come, but when the guard does not stop, confusion creases the space between your brows. “We’ve passed it,” you tell him.

“Baron’s orders,” is all he says, and you trek onward.

Minutes of being led through the fortress finally come to a halt outside the council room. Important things happen in there. Decisions are made. Discussions are held that you would not normally be privy to. Married to a Harkonnen or not, you’re still a foreigner, and foreigners' opinions hold little weight with any matter concerning Giedi Prime. Everyone, including the guard in front of you, knows you have no purpose here. So why are you here?

The guard pushes through the door. He enters first, his broad back blocking your sight as you step in behind him. 

“Ah, and here she is,” the Baron says in his gritty voice. The guard moves aside, allowing you to take in the space: the Baron seated on a throne placed at the top of a short set of stairs; Feyd standing at the base of those stairs, facing his uncle. “Come closer, girl.”

You feel your blood rushing, fuzzing in your ears, but you do as you’re told, your legs carrying you to Feyd’s side. You both keep your eyes forward. Your head briefly dips in the Baron’s presence. “My Lord.”

A grumbling sound acknowledges the gesture of respect, then he wastes no time getting started. “I have some troubling news,” he says, weaving his fingers together and resting them on his swollen stomach. “We have been informed of an unexpected...tragedy.”

Your heart stops. He knows. He must know. You and Feyd stand before him at this unusual hour, and for what other reason would there be than to face punishment for your lewd acts of defiance and disrespect? Tragedy is the foolishness, the idiocy of brazen behavior that will snuff out the rest of your life. Any moment, guards will take you by the arms and drag you to a cell to await public execution. 

Death is a fate you once thought preferable to marriage with another man. However, much worse is knowing you will never look upon Feyd’s face again, you will never be in his presence, and that is a thought so unbearable you realize you would rather survive, even if survival means a miserable existence without him in your arms. 

Your shoulders tense as you listen for Baron’s final judgement. But it doesn’t come. Instead, he crooks his finger at the servant to his left, ordering her to bring him his pipe. As he shoos her away, his lips wrap around the tube, sucking in deeply, then heavily releasing a plum of smoke.

“My nephew, it seems, has met his unfortunate end,” he says.

Bits of shock trickle through and taint your composed expression—brows raising, jaw slacking and lips parting. Surely that does not mean what you think it means. Your head snaps to Feyd, but he still doesn’t look at you, so you refocus your attention on the Baron.  

“I don’t understa–” you start.

“A poisonous substance was consumed,” the Baron says, taking a long draw from the pipe and holding it in his lungs. “And death is the consequence of ignorance and weakness; that is all you need to understand.” He coughs, clears his throat. “Fortunate are we to have a competent spare.”

“A spare?”

“You will wed Feyd-Rautha,” he tells you. “Our arrangement with your House will remain intact.” Your muscles go rigid. Suffocation follows the collapse of your chest. You’re not sure you’ve heard him correctly, but then he says, “The ceremony will take place in a week’s time,” and your knees just about buckle under your weight. 

You get yourself together enough to dip your head once more in agreement. To your right, Feyd does the same, and for the first time, you notice the calmness radiating from his body. Not once did you hear a shift in his breath; his fists did not clench at the discussion of his brother’s untimely death. He had done nothing but stand there in silence.

“What did you do?” you whisper.

A beat goes by before he answers.

“What I had to,” he says.

[mytheoristavenue]

Premature Ejaculation with your Favs!

Summary: You pity your incel classmate and pay his dorm a visit. Little do you know is all it takes is few French kisses to finish him off.

Warnings: college!au, modern!au, incel!character, virgin!character, misogyny, premature ejaculation, degredation, dom!reader, fem dom, sub!character, male sub

"O-Oh, fuck, please no, fuck-!" He hisses, shifting away from you, stiff as a board. "Oh my fucking god, shit, I'm so fucking sorry!"

All you can do is giggle at the wet spot on the front of his sweats and the humiliated crack in his voice. "Did you seriously jizz your pants?" You snort cruelly. "We were barely even making out!"

"D-Don't laugh! Fuck!" He scolds, covering himself as he awkwardly maneuvers off the bed. "Fuck's sake, cut me some slack, I've never done this before!"

"Awe, don't get all pissy!" You snicker, watching him waddle to the bathroom. "It's fine that you're a no pump chump, really! It's cute, actually!"

"I'm so glad you find this amusing," He grumbles, cleaning himself and dropping his sweats, walking out in just boxers and an old t-shirt. "'Cause I sure as hell don't." He ranted while tossing through a hamper to find a clean-ish pair of pants, having to do the sniff test on nearly everything.

"You really should clean your room, ya know? Maybe you'd actually get girls that way." You joke, lounging on his bed. "Girls don't like nasty rooms, dude."

He rolled his eyes, cheeks still pink. "Are you saying I don't get bitches?" He asked, stepping into a pair of pajama pants.

"More or less," You smirk at the irritated scowl he presented. "Also, don't call women bitches if you ever plan on changing that."

"All women are bitches," He says, turning back to you with a cocky grin. "And if I don't get any, why are you in my bed?"

"I felt bad for you, you're like a wet cat." You deadpan, hiding the fact that his last words dripped with more sex appeal than even he intended. "And I like messing with virgins."

"Shut up," He grumbled, the wind taken from his sails. "I don't need your pity, I could pull if I wanted to. Just got better shit to do."

"You mean like edging to hentai while all your friends go out to party?" You sneer, eyes flickering to his computer, pump bottle of lotion sitting beside the monitor so obviously.

"Oh my god, I hate you, is there a point to all this torment?" He finally asks, pacing the room, ready to throw you out.

You smile sweetly, catching his eye. You look so inviting as you lean back in his bed on your palms. "Hey, creep?" You coo and he gulps. He used to hate when you called him that, but now it melts him. He's already crawling over you nervously, shaking like a leaf.

"Y-Yeah?" He asks through quivering lips, hard on painfully obvious. You smirk at his short refractory period.

"Let's try again, yeah? I won't tell anyone you're a minute man if you try and hold out as long as you for me can this time m'kay?"

"O-Okay!"

Mezo Shoji, Katsuki Bakugo, Shihai Kuroiro, Neito Monoma, Mashirao Ojiro, Kosei Tsuburaba, Togaru Kamakiri, Shoto Todoroki, Shota Aizawa, Toya Todoroki, Enji Todoroki, Denki Kaminari, Sanemi Shinazegaua, Obanai Iguro, Giyuu Tomioka, Guytaro Shabana, Inosuke Hashibira, Zenitsu Agatsuma, and whoever else you like!

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being an Avenger with a low social battery

Avengers x reader

warnings:

a/n:

prompt: anonymous: “Can I have the avengers with a reader who has a really bad social battery. Like they can be out in public and then they just disappear and are like “nah I’m done with these mofo’s””

the avengers are quite the rowdy bunch

but you’re not always as excitable as them

these guys were often in the public eye, always being asked all sorts of questions

but you just couldnt handle it a lot of the time

"y/n, can i get a picture with you? you're my hero!" -fan

"uh...yeah, sure. big smile!" -you, completely exhausted

you tried to be nice and not obvious that you were drained but boy was it hard

especially when tony threw his parties

you'd typically sit in the corner with a drink and try to make it through the night

but there were always some guests who were just dying to come talk to you

"hey! why are you hiding over here, there's a party going on! come, have some fun!" -clueless party guest

"oh, i'm okay over here, thank you" -you

"i'll keep you some company, then. why don't you tell me a story of one of your avenger missions"

some people just could not take the hint

but the avengers usually knew when you'd had enough

"wanna get out of here?" -nat

"please." -you

you'd recharge alone whenever you escaped the madness

dont even get me started on the news

they would do anything to get an interview with you

"y/n! could you comment on the recent events in [country] that you accompanied the avengers in?" -reporter

"we were there, we saved the day" -you, obviously exhausted

"is that all you have to say?" -reporter

"hey! don't you want to hear what i have to say? huh?" -tony

"thanks, tony" -you

"no problem, kiddo" -tony

wanda got it

you liked spending time with her because she liked to be calm and alone sometimes too

you'd read or watch tv or listen to music together in silence for hours

it was nice

it was funny because sometimes the team would all be socializing and then bam

"hey, where's y/n?" -steve

"i think they tapped out" -clint

"oh. i'll go check on them" -steve

"no, just leave them alone, they'll be back" -tony

after a lot of missions you'd just wait for the avengers on the quinjet while they spoke to authorities or SHIELD or whoever

"just forward me the mission report, i'll fill it out" -you

everyone just kinda let you do your thing

which worked out just fine for you

it drove fury crazy back in the day

"just why are we giving y/n special treatment? what? they're tired?" -fury

"i didn't say that, i said they were over your shit" -tony

"you better not have said that, i'll give you one last chance" -fury

and that is just another reason you were depleted

some days were better than others, and sometimes you could keep up! but once your battery died, that was it

"'social battery,' you say? any way i could be of assistance? maybe a small jolt from mjolnir to charge it back up?" -thor

"oh, no, just a figure of speech, no need for...that" -you

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @johnmurphyisqueer // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @canarypoint // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @petersgroupie // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @bad4amficideas // @sheridans-dynamos // @simsrecs // @prettysbliss // @skdkdkckfk // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @evilcr0ne // @v0idl1nq // @ruvaakke // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @amirahiddleston // @beth-gallagher22 // @brutal-out-here // @rqmanoff // @elenavampire21 // @mymelodymia // @pheonixfire777 // @deanzboyfriend //

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

i’m obsessed with your declan fics! can we get one where the reader has to calm him down? it would be even more fun if they were mad/annoyed at each other but he can’t help but seek her out when he needs comfort 👀

Paradoxical.

you currently can’t stand the sight of each other. and yet, in this moment… yours is the only face he wants to see.

declan o’hara x female reader (nickname - lucky.)

warnings - smut. cursing. angst. unspecified age gap. yeeeeeearning.

word count - 4.6k

authors note - she’s back 💋. loooved this request, so thank you so much to whoever sent it!! i’m still on my rivals shit, so please join me in this never ending journey. never getting over this man <3

masterlist. inbox.

“How are you doing?”

You snuggle further into the pillows on the bed, popping another strawberry in your mouth to avoid the question.

“Lucky.”

“Hmm?”

“I asked how you are.”

“M’fine,” you answer as you chew, praying the subject gets changed. She clearly doesn’t believe you, so you sigh and look at her pointedly. “I’m being serious. I’m fine.”

“Liar.”

“Taggie.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

“What? No! I’d never think that.”

“Then why are you treating me like I’m oblivious? I can see that you’re not fine, but you keep lying to my face.”

Taking a deep breath, you exhale in resignation.

“I don’t want you to feel like you’re caught in the middle of all of this, Tag.”

“I’m not-”

“You are. He’s your dad, I’m your friend. You are quite literally the middle man here.”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” she counters, perching on the edge of her bed. “If I have to be the peacekeeper, I will be.”

“You shouldn’t have to be.”

“I know, but these things happen. I just… if I knew what had happened, I could try and fix it.”

“You can’t fix this, Tag. I promise you, you can’t.”

She’s quiet for a moment, tracing the patterns on your socks as she thinks.

“What happened, Lucky? I swear that whatever it is, I won’t judge you. I just want to know how it all went so… wrong. One minute the two of you were the best of friends, and the next minute you’re packing up your office and leaving without so much as an explanation.”

“It’s complicated,” you murmur.

“So complicated that you had to quit your job?”

“Yes.”

“He’s never going to find a better assistant than you, you know. Never. He doesn’t even want to look for one, says he’d rather do all the work himself.”

“Well that’s stupid of him. He can’t do all that stuff himself.”

“Exactly. He’s willing to put himself through all of that stress so as not to replace you.”

“That’s his foolish choice, Tag.”

She sighs in frustration, leaning back against the footboard of the bed.

“Did he upset you? Did he say something stupid? You know what he’s like, he often doesn’t think before he speaks. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation here.”

“It wasn’t him, it was me. I quit by my own volition. He didn’t upset me, he didn’t offend me… I just had to do the right thing, which was to leave. I know you’re trying to help, Tag, but you can’t. Not with this.”

Taggie finally realises that she’s fighting a losing battle, choosing instead to shuffle over so she’s all cosy in the pillows next to you.

“I won’t tell him you were here,” she whispers, bumping your shoulder with hers.

“Thank you. I’m sorry you’re caught up in the middle of all of this.”

“I don’t mind, honestly. I just wish there was something I could do.”

“Give it some time. It’s meant to heal all wounds, after all.”

She chuckles, resting her head against yours affectionately.

“Will you help me make some raspberry tarts? I need at least forty of them, and I could do with an extra pair of hands.”

“Of course I will. But if your dad comes home, I’m sprinting out the back door.”

“Alright,” she laughs, shaking her head. “I’ll help with your escape, if need be.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You’re tempted to smash your head into the bar top.

You’ve been debating the pros and cons of it for the last forty five minutes, actually.

The gala is bustling, bodies packed into the beautiful ballroom with barely an inch between them. Everyone has a drink in hand, the light from the chandelier glinting off of the champagne and whiskey poured into crystal glasses.

You’d said yes to the event when you were still Declan’s assistant - assuming that you’d go together, just like always. And now, here you are, standing on opposite ends of the room and avoiding each other like your lives depend on it.

A cool hand finds your waist, spiced aftershave hitting your senses and letting you know who it is before they even have to speak.

“Hello, darling.”

“Hi, Rupert.”

He spins you around gracefully, smiling at you with a twinkle in his eye.

“You look ravishing, as always.”

“You don’t look half bad yourself, you know. You scrub up quite nicely.”

“Oh stop, I’ll start blushing.”

You can’t help but laugh, accepting his arm as he offers it out to you.

“Come on darling, let’s socialise a bit. You can’t stand in the corner forever.”

“I can.”

“Not on my watch.”

He’s dragging you across the floor before you can process what’s happening, people passing by you in blurs of colour and sparkles.

“Dance with me.”

“Is this fun for you? Torturing me?”

“Oh, immensely,” he grins, hands finding your hips.

You reluctantly wrap your arms around his neck, looking at him with a quirked brow.

“Don’t you have a thousand other women you could be dancing with, Rupert?”

He spins you playfully, laughing as you shriek.

“I do, but none of them are nearly as beautiful as you.”

“Oh god,” you groan, rolling your eyes. “Does that line usually work?”

“Never on women as smart as you,” he chuckles, swaying you gently.

You stare at him carefully for a moment, realising you know him too well when you instantly see through his carefree facade.

“Ask it, then.”

“Hmm?”

“I know that’s what this is. You’re going to get me all soft and relaxed and tipsy, and then you’ll ask me about Declan. You might as well just cut to the chase, Rupert.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re much too intelligent to think that I believe that.”

His eyes don’t leave yours as he tilts his head, getting a good look at you and your unwavering expression.

“Fine, you stubborn woman. Fine. I wanted to ask you about Declan at some point tonight. But only from a place of care and concern, not because I’m going to try to wrangle the two of you back together or anything.”

“Subtlety has never been your strong suit.”

“Forgive me for being confused, alright? You were joined at the hip, and all of a sudden you can’t stand the sight of each other. It’s just so unlike the two of you.”

You sigh deeply, dropping your head forward so it rests on his chest. Rupert’s arms tighten around you, silently letting you know he’s got your back.

“It’s complicated,” you explain, muffled by the material of the man’s shirt. “Stupidly complicated.”

“So complicated that it can never, ever be repaired? I don’t think so.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“Blimey,” he half gasps, the sound vibrating through the both of you. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Even a broken clock is right twice a day, you bastard.”

Rupert laughs so loudly that people turn their heads to see why, the cadence of it completely infectious. Declan watches from across the room, unable to help himself from at least glancing at the two of you together so cosily.

“He’s currently watching you like some sort of bird of prey,” he informs, tilting your chin up so you’re looking into his eyes. “Whatever it was that happened, it hasn’t erased the fact that he cares about you. A lot. And I know for a fact you care about him.”

“Of course I do.”

“There we go then. Surely it’s nothing that can’t be solved with a bit of good old fashioned communication.”

“You’re a terrible communicator,” you argue.

“Do as I say, not as I do.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh, shaking your head as you both sway to the music once again.

“If I had a pound for every time that applied to you, Rupert, I’d be a fucking millionaire.”

He twirls you outwards quickly, watching as the skirt of your dress billows with the breeze of the action.

“And if I had a pound for every time Declan has pretended to stare interestedly around the room this evening just so he has an excuse to look at you, I’d be a millionaire too.”

You ignore the way your heartbeat picks up at his words, choosing instead to focus on the steady rhythm of the music from the piano that fills the space.

“Maybe he’s looking at you.”

“No, Lucky. He’s always looking at you.”

You sigh in resignation, fingers fiddling with Rupert’s collar as you straighten out his tie.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to respond to that.”

“You’re practically his right arm. This separation, whatever its cause, is doing both of you more harm than good. I don’t want to push you darling, because that isn’t fair - but just think about everything I’ve said, alright?”

He stares at you expectantly, brows raised in questioning.

“Alright.”

The grin on his face is almost blinding, beaming out in all directions.

“Now, you look too beautiful to stand on the fringes. I will dance with you all night if I have to, if it means showing off this stunning dress of yours.”

“So charming,” you smile, shaking your head. “That’s an offer I can’t refuse, isn’t it?”

“You’d be stupid to,” he winks, still grinning like the devil.

You let him lead you further into the middle of the dance floor, chuckling as he spins you as you go. Your hand has just slipped into Rupert’s once more when you’re both startled by a crash coming from the other side of the room.

The two of you whip your heads around towards the source of the commotion, to see two men in undoubtedly expensive suits brawling with each other. One of them is throwing punches while the other can do nothing but take them, merciless at his opponents hands. Some people are shouting and screaming, trying to physically separate them, while others turn a complete blind eye to the ruckus.

“Fuck,” Rupert mutters, grabbing your hand and dragging you towards the scene.

You’re about to ask what the hell he’s doing when you’re pushed forwards and given a clearer view of what’s in front of you, understanding Rupert’s panic immediately.

Ginger is on the floor. Declan is standing above him with bloody knuckles.

“Fuck,” you repeat.

You want to run in the other direction, desperate to not be involved with the drama. And then you look at Declan - the way he’s falling apart at the seams, nerves ruined and adrenaline rushing through his veins, clearly on the edge of something awful… and all of a sudden you’re walking towards the brawl, logic be damned.

There’s so much noise surrounding you that you can’t hear yourself think. All you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears and your heart pounding against your ribcage in your sudden determination to get to the Irishman.

You’re yelling his name without even realising you’re doing it, shouting at the top of your lungs to fight over the commotion.

“Declan! Oh for fuck sake… Declan!”

Your voice somehow breaks through the noise like a sirens call, the familiar melody of it finding his ears like his favourite song. His eyes finally meet yours, and the rest of the room melts away.

You have a conversation without saying anything, so many words exchanged in such a short amount of time. The two of you have always been good at this - communicating in your own language, silently and easily.

You grab his injured hand and intertwine your fingers with his, pulling him away from the scene of the crime with determination. You cast a look back to Ginger, who remains on the floor with blood dripping from his nose, before dragging Declan through the crowd and towards the front door of the huge Manor House. You can hear Rupert trying to mitigate the situation as you leave, using his charm as he does best.

You make your way outside, yanking the man behind you in your path without so much of a glance backwards. You trudge through the gardens in your heels, ignoring the way the dewy grass brushes across the tops of your feet occasionally. Finally, after walking for what feels like hours but was actually mere minutes, you come across a bench, sheltered by an old stone wall and neatly trimmed hedges.

You shove him to sit down, still refusing to look him in the eye. Neither of you say anything, the evening breeze and two sets of lungs heaving all that can be heard.

“What happened?” you whisper eventually, reluctant to disturb the peace. “Who started it?”

Declan looks surprised that you’re speaking to him, failing to hide the shock on his face.

“Will ya sit down? You’re making me nervous.”

“You’re not the boss of me anymore, remember?” you half joke, sitting down anyway.

“Funny,” he says, completely deadpan. He looks at you carefully for a long moment, before continuing. “It was Ginger, obviously. I wouldn’t waste my time with him otherwise.”

“What did he say?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Matters to me.”

“Well it shouldn’t.”

“Right.”

You stare at your shoes, wondering why you even bothered to rescue him back in the ballroom.

“Fuck this, then,” you mutter as you stand up to leave.

A hand wraps around your wrist as quick as a flash, pulling you back to sit down where you were.

“No. You don’t get to just walk away from me, not again.”

“Tell me what Ginger said.”

“Tell me why you quit workin’ for me.”

“I already did.”

“Liar. You gave me a poor excuse that’s absolute bollocks. I don’t believe it for a second.”

“That’s your problem, then.”

“Yes, it is.”

You stare at him, completely exasperated by the events of the last hour.

“You can’t just punch people at galas, Declan. It’s a bad look for you, for Venturer, and for every member of staff that relies on you.”

“I know.”

“Then why’d you do it?”

He scrubs his hand over his face, clearly frustrated with both you and the situation at hand.

“He made some horrible comment about you. I fell right into his trap too, like a bull and a fuckin’ red scarf.”

“What did he say?”

He hesitates for a moment.

“Just… something crude about you sleepin’ with me to get to where you are. Called me a cradle snatcher, too.”

“You can’t be a cradle snatcher if I’m a grown woman.”

“Exactly. And it’s not true, anyway. We all know that.”

“So why did you hit him, then? If we all know it’s not true?”

Declan sighs, fatigue painting the sound.

“Because no one gets to speak about you like that with no consequence. And because I was angry.”

“At me.”

“At you. Yes.”

You fiddle with your fingers, entirely unprepared for the fact that you’re about to have the one conversation you’ve been completely avoiding.

“I never meant for any of this to happen,” you begin. “I’m sorry that it’s come to this.”

“Then what did you mean to happen, Lucky? Did you think that you could just up and quit with absolutely no warning, without a problem? That I’d just let you walk out? Did ya think I’d help you pack your things?”

“Obviously not,” you whisper. “I’m not stupid.”

“No, you’re not. Which is why I know that you thought about that decision long and hard. And that’s what I can’t seem to wrap my head around.”

“It wasn’t easy.”

He looks at you with pleading eyes, clearly desperate to resolve the issues between you.

“Please, Lucky.”

His voice is cracking just like his heart, breaking down the middle to allow all of his emotions to spill out onto the grass. You’ve never heard him sound like this. You hate it.

“I had to, Declan. For both of our sakes.”

“For fuck sake, can you cut it out?” he snaps, volume raising.

“Cut what out?”

“Speaking in these fucking riddles! I can’t even pretend that I have any idea what you’re talkin’ about. Please, whatever it is, however terrible you think it is… I just need you to say it. We’ll deal with the consequences. But I can’t keep goin’ around in circles, dancing around the subject constantly.”

You take a deep breath, bottom lip wobbling as you will yourself not to cry. You’re well and truly at the end of your tether, unsure of how much more you can take - or how much you want to. Deciding to throw caution into the wind, you exhale carefully before turning to face the man next to you.

“You’ll hate me. When I tell you.”

“I could never hate you. Never, Lucky.”

You get lost in your own head for a moment, staring off into space as you debate the best way to go about this. A large hand finds its way into your knee, comforting and grounding. His thumb rubs patterns into your skin where the slit of your dress is, warming you up from the outside in.

“I thought about it for a long time,” you begin. “A long time. Because being your assistant is the best job I have ever had, or will ever have. It was a dream, Declan. Even when we had a tough day, or week, or month, I always knew we’d be okay.”

He nods, his full attention on you.

“We were comfortable, me and you. Maybe a little too comfortable for a boss and his assistant, but in a good way, I think. I was settled, with you.”

He squeezes your thigh, urging you to continue.

“But then, I think we got too settled. People started to notice - which doesn’t matter, but they did nonetheless. I was sleeping over at your house, staying awake with you until the early hours, attending galas and events as your date. And I wasn’t sure what it was - the thing that was bothering me - until one day, it clicked.”

“Lucky…” he whispers, desperate for you to spit it out.

“I’m in love with you.”

The two of you sit the silence for a moment, listening to the breeze softly whip around you.

“That’s what clicked. And that’s why I quit. Because it felt like a conflict of interest, like a… betrayal.”

“A betrayal?”

“Yes. Like I was taking advantage, or something. And I didn’t think it was fair, for you, having me pining over you at work. I didn’t want you to feel pity for me, if you noticed eventually - I hated the idea of being treated differently by you, all through fault of my own. So I quit to get ahead of it.”

“Are ya done?”

“I, uh… yes?”

“Great.”

Declan surges forward, smashing his lips to yours with the most passion than you’ve ever experienced in your life. One of his hands tangles in your hair as the other cradles your face, pulling you as close as he physically can. His tongue slips into your mouth cheekily, allowing you to taste whiskey, cigarettes and the cool night air. Eventually, when you both need to breathe, he pulls away reluctantly, resting his forehead on yours.

“Did you do that to make me shut up?” you murmur, fighting to keep the smile off your face.

“Yes and no.”

He’s grinning like the devil, chuckling as the palms of his hands find your cheeks.

“Yes and no?”

“Yes and no. I took the action needed to stop you rambling. But I’ve been thinking about doing that for a long time.”

“… What?”

“Why do you think we got so comfortable, Lucky? It works two ways. You were just the only one brave enough to make a change - even if it was the completely wrong thing to do.”

“So you don’t hate me?”

“The opposite,” he laughs. “I can’t remember when it happened. I woke up one day and I just knew. And I knew that you’d never feel the same way, but I love being around you so much that I was willing to make that sacrifice. So I was a coward, and I stayed silent.”

“We’ve made this complicated. Too complicated.”

“Much too complicated.”

“But… it is. You were my boss, and you’re older than me, and I’m good friends with Taggie now, and-”

Declan kisses you again, sweeter this time.

“We can figure it out, Lucky. You know we can.”

“Maybe,” you whisper.

“And I want you to come back to work.”

“Declan-”

“I’m serious. I cannot cope without you. I will never find an assistant as good as you, and quite frankly, I don’t want to. I want you. No one else.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s a conflict of interest, like I said earlier.”

“But it isn’t. Not anymore. Before all of this, we were two people in love working together. And when you come back, we’ll be two people in love working together.”

You can’t find it in you to argue, realising that he’s actually making a good point. If anything, it should be easier now that you’ve both communicated your feelings - no more skeletons in the closet.

“Tell me you don’t miss it,” he provokes. “Tell me you’re not even remotely tempted to come back.”

“I can’t.”

“Exactly.”

You take a deep breath, moving the hair away from his eyes tenderly.

“I’ll think about it, alright? I’ll have a think when I go home.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

He smiles like the cat that’s got the cream, entirely too satisfied with the outcome of this conversation.

“I know we’re in uncharted territory here, Lucky. But we can figure it out. You know we can.”

“I know. It’ll be hard, but… I know.”

You lean up to kiss him softly, sighing as your eyes drift closed. He winds a hand around the back of your neck, deepening the kiss as he pulls you closer, trying to plaster every inch of his body to yours.

You lose yourself in everything Declan - the way he tastes, the way he smells, the way he feels underneath your fingertips. You want to strip him bare right here and memorise every curve of his muscles, every line in his skin, every mark on his face.

His hand slips further and further up the slit of your dress, gripping at your thigh as if he’s worried you’ll slip away. You’re half in his lap, draped over him on the bench as he still pulls you impossibly closer.

“I’ve dreamt of this,” he whispers against your throat. “Every. Single. Night.”

He kisses his way along your neck, revelling in the way you squirm at the feeling of his moustache on your skin. You grab fistfuls of his white shirt, crumpling it in your hands to try and give yourself some sort of anchor.

When Declan’s fingertips slip into your underwear, all you can do is sigh, resigned to the fact that you’d let him do absolutely anything he wanted in this current moment.

“We’re in public,” you protest weakly, both of you knowing you don’t want him to stop.

“We’re at the bottom of the garden, surrounded by three hedges and a wall. If anyone sees, that’s their fault.”

You drop your head forward onto his shoulder, parting your legs to give him a better angle. He sucks in a sharp breath when he feels just how aroused you are, practically vibrating with want.

“Are ya this wet f’me?”

You nod against his shirt, not trusting your voice.

“Oh, sweetheart. Well I can’t leave you like this, can I? That’d be cruel.”

He pulls your underwear to the side fully so he can slip a finger into you with ease, both of you groaning at the sensation. Sliding a second one in, you hold onto him for dear life, panting like you’ve run a marathon.

“Please,” you whisper. “Declan, please.”

“I’ll do anything to hear you say my name like that again, Lucky. Anything in the world.”

“Declan.”

He sets a steady pace, crooking his fingers as he goes to make sure you see stars. Your eyes are rolling back, lip caught between your teeth to stifle any sounds that threaten to escape.

“God, I wish I could hear how pretty you sound,” he groans, looking at you intently. “You can make as much noise as you want when I take you home. Promise.”

You whimper softly, bucking your hips up to meet his rhythm. The bench is cold underneath you, the air turning chilly, but neither of you pay any mind to it. You’re too far gone to care.

You grab Declan’s other hand and stick two of his fingers in your mouth, laving your tongue around them to keep you quiet. He moans at the sight, all deep and rumbled, the sound reverberating through both of you.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

All you can do is look at him with big, bright eyes, pleading with him silently to finish the job at hand.

“You want me to make you come, sweetheart? That it?”

When you nod, he picks up the pace of his fingers, thumb pressing circles into your clit.

“Have ya thought about this? In bed, alone, getting yourself off in the dark?”

You whine at his words, nodding your head in answer.

“That’s a good girl. Come for me, sweetheart. Come for me and I’ll take you home and fuck you properly, yeah?”

You see stars as you climax, gripping onto his shirt and his hand for dear life. He works you through it, murmuring filthy promises into your ear as he does it.

Lifting his fingers from between your thighs, he pops them straight into his mouth, both of you groaning in unison.

“Fuck, you taste good,” he murmurs against your lips, leaning in to kiss you softly. “Perfect girl.”

You shuffle sideways so you’re pressed into Declan’s side, two strong arms encircling you immediately.

“Thank you.��

“For the orgasm?”

“Yes and no,” you laugh. “For listening to me. I’ve been going insane trying to think about what I’d say to you if I got the chance to explain myself, but no words seemed to suffice.”

“I just wish you’d talked to me sooner, sweetheart. I’ve been going insane trying to get through life without you. Not to mention that office is chaos.”

You laugh gently, cuddling into him and his warmth.

“I’ll fix it on Monday.”

“Yeah? For definite?” he asks, hope colouring his voice.

“Yeah. Like I said - best job I’ve ever had.”

“You’ve just made me the happiest man alive, sweetheart.”

You grin as you lean in to press a kiss to his lips, all soft and sugary sweet.

“Besides. Someone’s going to have to sort out the inevitable mess that’ll follow you hitting Ginger at a charity gala.”

“Ah, I forgot about that,” he laughs, planting a kiss into your hair. “What would I do without ya, hmm?”

“You’ll never have to find out,” you smile, resting your head onto his shoulder. “Never again.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

You sit on the bench for a little while longer, both of you looking up at the stars that paint the sky in a canopy above your heads. You’re quite convinced you could stay like this forever, just the two of you in your own little universe.

There’s paperwork to be done, meetings to be had, deals to be made. But all of that can wait.

Right now, it’s just you and Declan.

The way it should be.

reblogs are gold dust, lovers!! reblog and circulate your favourite fics, and your writers will create more. simple. <3

[babyangelsky]

BL Boys I Wanted Carnally in 2024 💖✨

Welcome to Babyangelsky's 2024 Wrap Up! To commemorate my second year of watching QL dramas, and my first year of actually talking on my blog, I've compiled a series of lists to celebrate all the QL things I loved this year!

Please feel free to take my categories and make lists of your own and tag me in them if you do!

💜 All the lists can be found here! 💜

Remember this game? I'm bringing it back!

MERRY CHRISTMAS LET'S LOOK AT BEAUTIFUL MEN

♡ Fort Thitipong as Mahasamut (Love Sea)

I wrote a whole post about how badly I wanted to eat this man with a spoon and how stupidly fucking attractive he is because I could not keep it to myself. I WANT TO EAT EVERY LAST BEEFY GOLDEN INCH OF HIM AND THEN I WANNA DO IT AGAIN!

♡ Furuya Robin as Takashi (Love is Better the Second Time Around)

I see Hiro. I understand Hiro. If this man made this face at me, I would also go have a really good shower.

♡ Ngern Anupart as Arthit (Fourever You)

THEY MADE HIM A FOOTBALL PLAYER AND COVERED HIM IN TATTOOS I NEED PART 2 LIKE I NEED AIR *SCREAMS INTO A PILLOW*

♡ Great Sapol as Yoryak (Wandee Goodday)

He's my blog header and blog title for a reason. Putting this beautiful giant ass man in bunny ears and a tail was a gift *specifically* for me. A gift for which I am eternally grateful, bless you thank you P'Golf.

♡ Mark Sorntast as Pie (Battle of the Writers)

I would like to once again thank the cameraman for this very slow pan up Mark's body and I would also like to thank whoever decided that Pie should strip for Ozone because they really blessed us all.

♡ Top Piyawat as Namping/Sian (Every You, Every Me)

I want them both in very different ways which, once again, all the credit in the world to Top both for Looking Like That and for having the skill to portray these two characters so differently.

♡ Pond Ponlawit as Hill (Fourever You)

I don't ever not want Pond carnally when he is on my screen. He was also great and attractive as Third in Century of Love but he didn't get enough screen time and also they didn't show him to us like this:

♡ Joong Archen as Fadel (The Heart Killers)

Style's just like me fr because I would absolutely RUIN my life for this man. I would ruin several lives for this man. I'd beg, borrow, and steal for this man.

♡ Frank Thanatsaran as Atom (The Rebound)

Atom is too sweet and too good and too damn fine not to have gotten his happy ending. I would do so right by him. He'd get a happy ending and then some.

♡ Nagumo Shoma as Arashi (Love in the Air Koi)

No one has ever been more perfectly cast in anything ever than this man. Shoma was made to be the Japanese version of Payu. The daddy dom energy just drips off of him. AND THAT SHOT OF HIS BACK? STILL NOT OVER IT.

♡ Big Thanakorn as God (Monster Next Door)

He's just so unfair. The sweetest, greenest flag of a man ever and built like a goddamn tree it's NOT FAIR!

♡ Lin Chia Yo as Johnathan (See Your Love)

Peace and love to Xin Jia he's just a baby gangster trying his best but I would NEVER let Johnathan leave that bed whether I remembered how we got there or not. NEVER.

♡ Sailub Hemmawich as Oab (This Love Doesn't Have Long Beans)

The long pretty eyelashes and the fuck me eyes and that body I just--ONE CHANCE JUST GIVE ME ONE CHANCE OAB PLEASE

♡ Yin Anan as Jack (Jack & Joker)

HE HAS A NECKLACE OF MOLES AROUND HIS NECK! HE HAS A MOLE JUST BENEATH HIS SHOULDER BLADE! DO YOU GET IT DO YOU UNDERSTAND?

♡ Jaonine Jiraphat as Latte (Knock Knock Boys)

Of course he's on this list. Do you know how many of his gym thirst traps I've posted on this blog since this show aired? I would like to personally and very sincerely thank whoever styled Jaonine in this show.

♡ Max Kornthas as Tai (Two Worlds)

I'd get distracted too if he was looking at me like this while I drew him. Doesn't matter which version of him it was, I would let him do anything to me and if it was the scarface version, I could fix him.

♡ Poom Phuripan as Joe (My Stand-In)

The way I would give Joe anything he wanted just to see that beautiful face smiling up at me. Congrats to Ming for being rich and everything but he could never treat Joe as right as I could. I would babygirlify that man to within an inch of his life just like he deserves.

♡ Honorable Mentions ♡

I am going to break my own rules a little bit because this is my list and I can so I'm going to include:

Kevin Chang as Ever4 (Eternal Butler)

Like I know the show just started and thus doesn't meet my criteria but I can't NOT include our new favorite daddy dom robot butler because...

...reasons. If I do a list like this for next year, best believe he's gonna be on it again.

Nike Nitidon as In (180 Degree Longitude Passes Through Us)

This breaks my rules even more but I watched this show for the first time like a week ago and it immediately landed itself on my list of favorite BLs ever because everything about it is like heroin to me and I NEED this man to be in another BL so desperately like you don't understand giVE HIM BACK TO ME.

[dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling]

Hm, if it isn't too much of an issue can I request the Smiling Dead with a robot reader? They can't die since they aren't alive at all, if they get damaged they just replace their parts so you've got a bot with a Lil bit of everything

So, the reader is a bit like Mangle from FNAF? Just a lot of different parts put together.

If you like my work, please consider commissioning me or leaving a tip on Ko-fi (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

Mel and Ken & robot Reader

Melancholy

★ Mel has a morbid fascination with how often you replace things. There's always some piece breaking off from you. So why not add three more? just to be safe. She’s constantly poking at your various parts, asking questions like, “What does this do?” or “Can I swap this out for something better?”

★ She also encourages you to do stupid, dangerous, reckless shit. "What's the worst that could happen?" She says, while you inch closer to the edge of a half-dilapidated building. Fully prepared to climb down the side like a spider.

★ If somebody sticks their hand somewhere it doesn't belong, like a more delectate part of your wiring, she's getting into a fight. Or at the very least slashing their tires. Either way, whoever touched you is going to regret it.

Ken

★ He sees you as a valuable asset to the team. Not giving a single fuck about how you look and treating you just like anybody else. “As long as you function, I don’t care whatcha look like.” Can you work? Yes? Good, then he has a job for you.

★ Ken holds you to the same standards as everyone else. “You’re capable, so act like it,” he says, pushing you to do your best without coddling. If you mess up, he calls you out on it. Making it clear he expects you to learn from your mistakes.

★ You're perfect for getting them into secured buildings. All you need to do is use your lack of joints to get in the vents. Shifting and twisting into an unnatural position. Allowing you to unlock a door for everyone. This means Ken has one less thing to be worried about.

★ If you get damaged, he’ll grumble about the cost of repairs, but still makes sure you’re taken care of. “You’re costing me a fortune” he mumbles, inspecting the broken parts. At least he knows a guy who can get him what you need. And for a friendly price.

[valentine-cafe]

Can I please get a macchiato? [amab reader]

thinking about buying alessio a cute pair of lace lingere and him getting all shy while getting fucked in it...mmm...

˖⁺. “ dolled-up, filled-up ! ” : 

﹙ top male reader x bttm mercenary antihero bf ﹚.𖹭 ݁

. . . alessio 781 x male reader !! 🍓 : ﹙ mercenary ˖ antihero ˖ bad boy esque ˖ enigma  character ﹚

he's always been so cocky and yet now that you have him all dolled up and pretty - he's getting shy. 

﹙ cws ﹚: explicit content ˖ lingerie ˖ edging ˖ penetrative sex ˖ nipple play ˖ rough sex ˖ hand job ˖ creampie ˖ multiple orgasms ˖ mirror sex | wc : 2k 

﹙ receipts ﹚: whoever requested this I am giving you my first born child !! top that top! DOM THAT DOM!

꒰  other treats : guidelines ˖ m.list ˖ characters ˖ our lore  ꒱

Leather is his signature, and yet lace makes him a masterpiece.

Your hands trail over the canvas. Eager to touch. Grip. Feel him. Dig you nails in and create beautiful red lines over his fair, olive skin.

“Such a pretty boy. . .” your croon to his ear is met with a low grunt. Nothing of contempt. The pink on his helix told you all that you needed to know. The shivers that vibrated against your palms too. And those emerald eyes staring back at you from the mirror he faces? Oh, they spoke thousands.

The black lace feels perfect against his skin. Looks even better on him. Both in reality and reflection. You run your fingers over his hips and trace them to his thighs. Trailing them into the slip of the garter you simply had to buy with. You stretch it away from his skin - before allowing it to smack back into his muscular thigh.

You nurse the noise that he makes. Your hand quickly slips between his legs and palms at his leaking cock. Slow. Purposeful. Easing that perfect sound into a long-winded whimper.

“Querido. . .”

“I know baby. I know.”

Your free hand finds his jaw. Tightens and yanks so that he stares at the beautiful piece of art your eyes hungrily rove over. “Look at yourself. Watch as I do this to you, Alessio.”

His name on your lips always has him elated, but this made him dizzy. Makes him weakly buck up into your hand that devilishly strokes along his pulsing nerves. You make sure to shove the soft fabric off so that you an see the way his tip throbs. Pink and begging for your thumb to swirl around mercilessly.

You wet your lips at the curve that his back takes. Your hips keenly following by grinding your wet dick up against his ass. Wanting another go at fucking him raw.

“Need this baby?” Your hiss elicits a whine. With a rough shake of your hand on his jaw - you shove your thumb past his lips and roughly pad down on his tongue.

“Said fucking watch yourself.”

His eyes flutter at the rough treatment. If only to cross when you slip back in. Your groan mixes with his series of moans and you buck your hips up to sink further into his tight rim. It mattered not how much he took your cock. He always clamps like a needy little slut.

Instead of the harsh skin-slapping that filled the room prior, you bite on your tongue and force your thrusts to slow. Ease your dick into his gummy walls. Retreat. Fill again. Till your balls tap at his ass gently and he’s whining about you being deep.

Or going slow. You’re not sure yet.

“That feel good baby? Yeah?” Huffs meet his ear. You stutter your hips against the plush of his ass and grin at the moans that fall from him. His large hands grip at the edges of the mirror and he bends slightly. Steering his hips back into your cock and giving you the perfect angle to bury your hand into his messy black hair.

You so desperately want to fuck him until he’s drooling again. Have him bounce on your cock so you paint his insides and thighs white. But this time you want to adore the lace on him. Trail your fingers over the black fabric and feel the way it frames his body so perfectly. Enhancing some of the beauty spots along his sides. Riding up his waist with each thrust back into you. An invite to grip and yank him back against you, if you do say so yourself.

“So gorgeous. God. Do you have any idea?”

He whines at you. You just so manage to hear the low mutter. The soft shut up. So you curl your fingers into his tousled strands and jerk his face to the mirror properly again. Resuming your harsh treatment with hard. Yet slow thrusts. So that at the very least his plush flesh claps with each smack of your hips. Tempered. Punishing.

“Oh no. You’re not getting away from this.” You grunt through clenched teeth. Just like he’s clenching around your dick. Begging to be filled again most probably. As though your slick isn’t still staining his thighs from earlier. “You’re gonna watch. Gonna see what a pretty lil’ toy you are for me.”

The restraint bubbles away. You start fucking him a bit faster. The wet squelching fills the room quicker. So do his moans that catch in his throat or whine out when his mouth falls open and his face scrunches up.

“A-Am - Am - hhh - or fuck -!”

“Say it. Fucking say it.”

The growl comes from deep with you. Rough like the way you start humping his ass. The way you start slamming at an angle - against that one bundle. So that Alessio can’t even buck back into you properly. All he can do is take it. Like he’s good for; in that pretty lingerie of his.

Your mouth finds his ear. Clamping teeth as you speed your thrusts. Cramming your hips into his and using another hand to shove his legs together. So that he’s squished, pressured — all the more to add to the intensity. “Want you to say you’re a pretty little toy. Pretty little whore.”

“I-I - I-hhh - m- ah! Fuck - po-por f-ffff-fuck please-”

The whining caught in his throat is so endearing. You bark a breathless laugh into his ear and yank him back. Stumbling through your bedroom floor and shoving the mercenary onto the bed. Hands gripping at his forearms as you squish him onto his stomach. Rail him from behind until tears squeeze out of his emerald eyes and his moans turn into drooling words.

You know how stubborn he is. Know that you have to force compliments down his throat. The same way your forcing your dick into his thigh ass. Mercilessly slapping. Addicted to the lewd sounds of his ever-taking hole. The slop of your cum all over his thighs. His own on his abdomen. The sheets.

It’s such a mess. And still - he’s the most beautiful thing that you’ve seen. Something you are ready to drill into his head. Even if it takes all night of you pulling and twisting him. Fucking him full so that he’s crying. He’ll repeat your words. Even if he has to sob it while you are pounding him ball-deep.

“A-Am- Amoor-ciiitttooo -! No - N-No puedo -” ( “I can’t-” )

Liar. He always could. He proves it with the way that his little hole spasms around you when you shove him onto his back and bully your way back into him. Fucking every inch in until he’s stuffed full and arching because of it.

“Yes you - hah - yes you can baby. You can. Look at me.”

Your hand reaches down to caress his tear-stained face. You abruptly slam into him. Cram your hips against his and jostle him further up the sheets. Wrecking the bed like you’re wrecking his trembling body. This position allows you to see just how much he’s creamed himself all over. The sticky substance clings onto the material pooling around his waist.

The sight has you groaning. Your hips stutter to shallow. Fuck him full repeatedly while also grinding into that spot hat has his eyes threatening to roll back again.

Your hand takes a quick detour to roughly tug at the trap of the lingerie. Gentleness be damned. You’ll buy him a new one. Buy him five. Ten - as many as he wants. Anything if it meant getting him to squirm beneath you like this.

Skilled fingers brush the fabric away and you give one of your favourite parts of him some love. Tugging at his nipple piercings before hurling a small wad of spit. So that you can swirl your thumb around the sensitive bud and watch as he crumbles even more.

Your name on his lips is so broken. So pitiful. You simple have to dip your head down and suck on his nipples. All while your hips make bruises on his. Pounding his poor little ass into the sheets until he’s crying out all sorts of phrases in his mother-tongues you can’t eve decipher.

“N-No p-pueeedddoo! D-Dios - ah- Por dios - e-es t-aaan profundo -hngh!” ( “I can’t - oh god - it’s too deep.” )

As if you knew what he was saying, you try to bury yourself deeper. Grip at his thighs and fuck into him with your own desperation. A desperation to claim. To pleasure. To remind. You force yourself away from his nipples slathered in your saliva to instead crane your head over his. Shut your eyes, crease your brows and focus all your strength into fucking his poor hole raw.

“Goood baby I - hngh - fuuckk you’re too fuckin’ pretty -”

His moans sound odd suddenly. You let your gaze fall to investigate. If only to be met with the sight of his head flicked to the side. The back of his knuckles covering the lower half of his face. The mere gesture warms your hearts — to think. The cocky bastard. Your flirty charmer of a boyfriend. Shy over being called pretty and fucked in a lingerie.

It’s such a pitiful sight. Such an endearing one. Your hand returns to brush some of his messy strands back. Before clicking your tongue and drawing out your thrusts again. Slowing them so that you might piston him in that way that shakes his body and slams the headboard into the wall.

“Did I say you could do that?” You snatch his wrist and pin it firmly. Giving a harsh squeeze to remind it to stay there. Before you reach up to cup at Alessio’s reddened face. So that you might tilt it up and pour your loving gaze down into his teary ones.

“You still haven’t said it. Please. Baby please.”

Your pleading combined with your thrusts shallowing once more. Rolling and fucking him just right. There was no denying you this time. Not when you looked down at him as though he was every star in the fucking universe.

“I-I’m - I hah -”

“You can do it. Come on. Say you’re my pretty boy.”

To motivate, your slip a grip under his thigh so that you can toss his leg over your shoulder. Invade his space further. Bring your warm bodies together so that you can make him cum again. You’re not sure how long you might last either. But one thing’s for sure. You’re using his body through the night.

His teary eyes meet yours. His hand weakly reaches to cling onto your bicep - and at last, he rasps out in a trembling voice: “I’m . . . I-I’mmm - fuck -” he gasps at your little spank to his ass.

“I’m your pretty - your p-pretty boy youur prettyy boy - ah!”

You have to reward him by cramming your hips into his. Snatch at his cock and pump him until he’s creaming all over again. The sobs that leave his lips as he tosses his head back into the sheets makes all the strain in your muscles worth it.

No - the sight of him laying there. In that black lingerie that has nothing on his beauty - taking it like your good, pretty boy. That is what makes everything worth it.

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[slasherstories123]

Hello!! Can I please get some period comfort fluff with Jason, Thomas, RZ micheal and Art (whoever else you'd like to add) thank you xoxo

Slashers helping their S/O on their period

Pairing: Jason Voorhees, RZ! Michael Myers, Thomas Hewitt, and Art the Clown x GN! Reader

Tags list: @dootys @callmemeelah @fluffy-little-demon @mehidktbh @the-anxious-youth @beanbagbitch @mrs-heelshire @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better @oneofvincentscandles @sleepypersonblog @alexxavicry @vexeliers-breakroom @l0sercat @naxxsstuff @beel-mcburger @pink-apollo @charliedawn @emychan @slasherscrybaby @callsignwidow @endomishy

Jason Voorhees

Jason will do anything you ask just to help out, he hates seeing you in pain. Especially from cramps and will grab the biggest pain killer bottle he can find just to give to you.

He doesn’t understand the concept so it’s best to sit him down and talk about it just before the time comes just so he could help out.

Sadly. He isn’t a walking heating pad, if he were to place his hand on your stomach to try and soothe your cramps you’ll feel a cold sensation, ice cold to be exact.

He’ll put you in you a warm bath if he sees that your cramps are getting worse

He’s trying his best just to make sure you’re okay and will give you space if you need it.

He’ll cuddle you as long as you want if you want to given his cold body, if you don’t mind it, he’s never letting you go unless you say so just to be there as company and support.

RZ!Michael Myers

Michael doesn’t know much about periods, but he did have an older sister, even then, that wasn’t enough for him, all he knew was that it was a monthly thing women go through.

He knew you were going through it when he saw you curled up in a ball in bed from the excruciating cramps, he doesn’t know what to do until you tell him want your needs were.

He’s trying…for you at least, the best he can do is provide you medicine. All the while staring at your pained figure. If you want him to stay he will.

Michaels hands are warm, he always have something in his hands and will squeeze relentlessly. He’ll even let you place his hand on your stomach as your own heating pad just to help you (after your slight begging of course).

He’ll steal candy from the critters houses to give to you too, you’ll sometimes find them by your night stand or right by your pillow whenever you wake up from a nap.

Thomas Hewitt

He gets help from Luda Mae mostly. He’s clueless and ran straight to her when he saw you curled up in bed.

She’ll tell him everything you might need just so he can be a better help for you.

Thomas will find a way to cool you down since being hot AND on your period isn’t a good mix. He’ll do the smallest things, even if it’s a massage he’ll do it.

Even if you protest he’ll make you rest and will do any small tasks that were assigned for you.

In the night he’ll meekness you to take medicine before bed just so you won’t be in pain throughout the nights

Thomas skin is hot from the Texas heat. His hand makes the perfect heating pad for you too. Whatever cuddling position you’re in his hand will be on your stomach through the night.

Art the Clown

Art is definitely trying his best, and since his actions are different, he’ll go through extreme measures just to get the products you need for your period.

He’ll still pull rather weird tricks just to get a laugh out of you or to distract you from the pain in your stomach.

Most tricks involve weird tactics or disturbing ones, which are in his nature that you’ve gotten used to and you yourself even got to laugh at a few of them

Art is an affectionate guy who will squeeze you tight while cuddling if you ask him to. If it’s a small hug he’ll take it to the next level just to squeeze you in his arms like a stress toy.

Art will also govern you small twinkles he stole or found just to give to you to cheer you up if you’re having your period mood swings. Sometimes he’ll play along if you’re upset and cross his arms with a fake angry expression just to try and mock you.

It’s all harmless in the end.

[captainsophiestark]

Don't Believe Everything You Read

Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2024!

Fandom: Bridgerton

Day Three Prompt: "I know you better."

Summary: A wannabe Whistledown is posting some awful rumors, but luckily for Anthony, his wife knows him well enough that she doesn't believe them.

Word Count: 1,247

Category: Angst, Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I sighed, tightening my hands on the book I was reading and trying to refocus on the words. I'd been having a nice, peaceful morning in Bridgerton house (a truly rare feat) until Eloise and Benedict had started some commotion near the door to the sitting room.

I'd married Anthony almost a year ago now, but I still hadn't learned how to block out his siblings quite as well as he did.

I managed to finish another paragraph before the commotion at the door distracted me again. I glanced at the pair out of the corner of my eye, and found them having a whispered argument, both glancing in my direction every few moments. I sighed. The rest of my story would have to wait until later.

Slowly and quietly, so as not to draw too much attention from the Bridgertons by the door, I makred my page in my book and set it down on the couch. I stood, drifting over toward Eloise and Benedict. Eloise had something in her hand, and it seemed to be the genesis of hers and Benedict's hushed argument. I got a little closer and recognized the shape and style of a scandal sheet.

Eloise and Benedict had gotten steadily more heated in their argument, and when Eloise flailed the paper in my direction, I snatched it out of her hand.

She and Benedict both whirled in my direction, but I'd made it halfway across the room before either of them got a chance to take the paper back.

"Don't read that!" Benedict shouted, chasing after me.

"You have a right to read it, but you might want a bit of a heads up first-"

I cut Eloise off by darting well out of their reach and reading one of the headlines of the scandal sheet.

Viscount Bridgerton Stepping Out On His New Wife?

I snorted and rolled my eyes. I quickly scanned the rest of the article, which went on to talk sensationally about all these rumors surrounding Anthony and a mysterious new mistress. Not a word of it was believable, of course, and at least one of the reports of Anthony strolling at night with a strange woman was just me, wearing new clothes the rest of the Ton hadn't seen yet. I barely made it to the end of the article before I started laughing.

I looked up to find Eloise and Benedict looking at me warily. I just shook my head.

"This is certainly no Lady Whistledown, is it?" The pair raised their eyebrows at me, still tensed like they were worried the laughter would turn to tears. I rolled my eyes. "Oh please, both of you. I know Anthony, I know this is ridiculous. Clearly whoever's writing this nonsense has too much free time on their hands. Or maybe not enough, since they couldn't come up with anything more realistic than this."

"So... you're not upset?" asked Eloise.

"No, El, I'm not. I know the man I married. This," I waved the paper around in my hand, "is just funny."

She and Benedict let out massive sighs as one.

"Well, that's certainly a relief," said Benedict. "I suppose Eloise and I were getting worked up for nothing."

"And likewise, you interrupted my reading for nothing," I said. "You're welcome to stay if you're quiet, but otherwise, I appreciate the laugh, but would appreciate more the return of my peaceful reading space."

"You have chosen the sitting room as your peaceful space," Benedict said. "That might not offer you the highest chance of remaining undisturbed."

"You make a fair point, but you also seemed to want to keep this scandal sheet from me completely, so I think today I can kick you out."

"Fair enough. Eloise?"

"I was supposed to meet Penelope before I found the scandal sheet with the mail. I'm already a bit late," she said with a wave over her shoulder as she headed out of the room. Benedict gave me a teasing bow, then followed his sister out of the room.

I sighed, then settled back in to my original place on the couch. I made it through another few pages before the door of the sitting room went flying open, the door making a loud bang as it slammed into the wall. I jumped and whirled around to find Anthony, looking like an absolute mess as he crossed the room in just a few strides before sliding to his knees before me. His hair stuck up at all angles and his clothes looked disheveled. He took my hands in his and started speaking before I could get a word out.

"My love, it's not true. Not a word of it. I love you, you must know that. I would absolutely never, ever go behind your back, would never even dream of spending time with anyone else-"

"Anthony, my god! Take a breath, what are you talking about?"

"I saw Eloise. She told me you'd read the scandal sheet sent out this morning. But you must know, it was a lie."

"Did you happen to wait for Eloise to tell you my reaction before you raced in here?"

"No. I worried... I didn't want to waste a moment before speaking with you. I promise, I would never do that to you. There's no one else and there never will be-"

"I know! Anthony, believe me, I know." I slid to the ground along with him, chest to chest as I kept his hands held tight in mine. "You think I'd believe some ridiculous wannabe Whistledown telling me you're a cheater? I know you better. I know you best. I know you would never do that to me, that I can trust you, no matter what. Even if Whistledown herself had reported it, I wouldn't have believed a word."

"...Truly?"

"Absolutely! We're rock solid, Anthony. I honestly wouldn't have married you if I didn't trust you."

He sighed, all the tension easing from his body as he slumped forward, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his head on my shoulder.

"I cannot tell you how relieved I am to hear that."

"I'm glad we got your worry cleared up quickly," I said. "Although, if you had paused to talk to Eloise for another moment, she could've told you I started laughing the minute I read those ridiculous reports."

Anthony picked his head up to look at me, pulling me closer to him as he did.

"I'm much happier to have heard it from you directly. Especially since it means I can do this."

He leaned in, a grin on his face, and kissed me. I ran my hands up his back and into his hair, but pulled away after just a moment. Anthony moved to follow me, but I put a hand on his chest to stop him.

"Anthony, we are in the sitting room! Anyone could walk in on us at any moment."

"Good. Then they'll know the rumors are just that, and that nothing could ever come between the two of us."

"Anthony."

"Fine. This is an easy fix as well."

With that, he stood, picking me up and carrying me out of the room. I laughed, not even bothering to mention my book that now lay forgotten on the sofa. Anthony and I had other plans for the rest of our morning, it seemed, and I couldn't say I minded them. Anthony and I were happier than I ever thought we could be, and nothing was going to interfere with that, especially not some ridiculous gossip rag.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

Bridgerton Taglist: @cherrybb-ily

[iguana-braces]

That sub!Jayce post really popped off, huh?

Ehehe okay here's my rambly thoughts about it (I'm literally sitting at work clocked out writing this instead of going home because THOUGHTS)

Building my theory off of this post:

And this one with all the examples of how Jayce's love language is clearly physical touch

*Disclaimer: there's a lot about season 2 that irked me in terms of plot and characterization so this is me retconning a little bit and picking and choosing what examples make the most cohesive argument. Like, in season one they're like "Jayce has this brotherly relationship with Caitlyn and him and Mel have this deep, meaningful relationship" and then season two was like "No more relationship building, it's time for trauma now" but, I digress*

First things first, he's a people pleaser. He does what he's told, clearly (against better judgment but like). And he's clearly committed to the people he cares about. HE BROUGHT VIKTOR BACK FROM THE DEAD (AND THEN KILLED HIM) AND THEN DIED WITH HIM AGAIN. You can't tell me that wouldn't translate to an "I'll do anything for you" attitude in the bedroom too.

I already did the bed gif but I also have to draw attention to the following:

Okay but season two, post-horrors!

Mr. Dopey Heart-Eyes McGee is NOT the one calling the shots here.

Season one Jayce? That man is whipped. One glance from his partner and he's on his knees like it's a religion. Whoever you ship him with! Mel, Viktor, both, a secret fourth option--

He spent an indeterminate amount of time alone, in the bottom of a pit. He's touch-starved but also! Traumatized!

Imagine, if you will, that he survives the astral plane. Imagine he goes to find Mel, or Viktor also survives, or imagine your own y/n, OC insert scenario here. Whatever floats your boat.

In such scenario, and in the aftermath of his self-awareness epiphany where he realizes that yeah, he's kinda been used (by everyone really), I think that in regards to any potential sexual relationship, he would have to become more dominant, more in control of the situation. Especially if it's with Mel, since he does pointedly blame her, or even Viktor, who has literally shaped the course of Jayce's entire life since he was a child. The man needs to set some boundaries with people and good for him.

So I think dominant, scruffy Jayce does have a time and a place.

However, I don't think he'd stay that way forever. It's kinda like him trying to be a politician-- it's a different role that he can pull off, but it doesn't fully scratch his itch.

BONUS HEADCANON: Wouldn't it be just so interesting if he survived the astral plane and goes back to whoever, and while he's looking for comfort and reassurance and all that physical contact he's been deprived of, he realizes that he really doesn't like people touching his head.

I hypothesize that in regards to canon relationships, Mel and/or Viktor, once they regain his trust and show that they're not trying to use him again, he's 100% going to be simping for them even worse than before. Like, that relationship would've gone through the fire and only come out stronger on the other side. You might even say it's been vulcanized.... 🤭

From the on, he can go back to letting his walls down around them and letting them be the dominant one because he knows there's solid trust and respect there now.

Feel free to agree or disagree 🤷‍♀️ also please feel free to tell me all your thots about this too!!!

He's got all this beautiful hair that needs to be tenderly pushed away from his eyes by a loving hand, but he's a little fucked up from the times Mannequin/Mage Viktor did that little murder mind meld.

Like, he put his head in Mel's lap TWICE, you know it would kill the man if he couldn't do that anymore because having someone's hands near his forehead is too reminiscent of... well, basically his death.

[lesbikaiser]

Hi, it's my first request and I hope I do it right…. Can I request anything for the ultra sadistic Hiori?

I don't know about letter game , so any letter you're willing to write is great, or some short smut..

Have a nice day 🌸🌸

hii ^-^ sorry everyone for disappearing and sorry anon for taking sooo long </3 i don't really love how this one came out because i feel ive done better before, but for now it's all i can give y'all, so i really hope you like it at least a little.

please ignore any mistakes, i proofread but you never know.

cw: mutual masturbation, loses whoever cums first, the loser gotta help the winner cum by doing anything the latter asks, afab!reader but no pronouns were used, menace hiori :p

your fingers tremble against hiori's shoulders, nails nearly ripping his shirt as your try to concentrate on your current task – to make him cum before you do. your hand wrapped around his dick is now weakly pumping him, all sticky with his pre-cum and going up and down at a slow pace, thumb rubbing his tip so faintly he can barely feel it.

you're really trying your best, but it's just impossible to focus on jerking him off when his fingers keep hitting the same spot inside you over and over, making your eyes roll back and the most pornographic moans leave your lips, your head fallen forward and forehead resting on his neck as you try to keep your eyes open and focused on the sight below you – his delicious, leaking dick twitching in your hand.

but it's insane, how his wrist keeps stimulating your clit whenever he pushes his fingers deeper, his freezing skin rubbing against your sensitive nub and turning your brain into mush, a knot forming at the pit of your stomach and you know what is about to come – and so does he.

"mmh, i could do it for hours..." he teases, lips glued to your ear thanks to the miserable position you got yourself in, voice sweet like honey and hot breath fanning against your cheek, making the hair on your nape stand, your head spinning and mind going dizzy. "c'mon pretty, i can barely feel anything."

he's clearly mocking you, fingers curling and scissoring against your walls as he leans back to give you a look, a convinced smirk on his face because he knows he has won already. it's almost unbearable, how good he makes you feel so effortlessly and how hot he looks while doing so, his big blue eyes staring at your soul like he isn't absolutely wrecking your cunt, your slick all over his groin and the squelching noises filling the room.

it's unfair how he isn't even trying to get you off, barely touching your neglected clit yet you're already falling apart, gathering forces to compose yourself and masturbate him properly but it's no use when he plunges his fingers deeper, reaching spots your could never on your own.

"hio–ri!" you choke, trying to get his name out, squeaky syllables dying in your throat and you're seeing star behind your eyelids, lower lip caught in between your teeth. as some kind of retaliation, you tighten your grip on his cock, your boyfriend hissing at the stimulation before covering it up with a smirk.

"'s that all you got? give up already~" his melodic voice gets on your nerves, the way he speaks so condescending with that shit-eating grin on his face, pretty lips planting open-mouthed kisses all over the sensitive skin of your neck.

"ne–ver!" your scrunched face doesn't match the way you stutter so pathetically, furrowed eyebrows and trembling lips giving you such a pitiful appearance when you're trying to look serious, eyes locked with his as your thumb circles the slit on his tip, smearing pre-cum all over it, the boy under you trying to muffle a whimper coming from his lips with an annoying smirk.

his fingers falter inside you, the pleasure of your hand going up and down his shaft getting the best of him as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, giving you a second to bathe in the sight of his pretty face – flushed cheeks contrasting with the deep blue in his eyes, matching his silky hair, bitten lips looking so gorgeous and inviting, almost begging you for a kiss.

"aha, playing dirty now aren't we?" you watch the way his lips part to speak, too mesmerized by them to really make out whatever he's saying, your hand going up and down his shaft creating a slick slick! sound and demanding your entire attention.

not until you lean in towards him, a gasp leaving your mouth instantly, your boyfriend pulling his fingers entirely out of you and wrapping one of his arms around your waist, the soaked fingers of his free hand pinching your ass before diving back into your sopping core, slipping easily past your entrance and hitting a brand new spot due to the change of positions.

"w–wait!" you try in vain to protest, his pace completely different now, faster and harder than before, bullying your sensitive walls and stimulating every corner inside you at once, your hand previously wrapped around his dick now limp atop his thigh as you drool against his shirt, the lewd squelching noise coming from your soaked cunt filling your ears.

you can't help the moans overflowing your lips like a waterfall, hips moving on their own to ride hiori's fingers and get him to reach deeper, you can faintly hear him snickering as he watches the deplorable state you find yourself in, surrendered to the overwhelming feeling and long lost in your own lust to even bother on jerking him off.

"there, there... that's how i like it." he pats your butt with his free hand, a soothing move contrasting with the force he's using to finger your abused pussy, wrist still colliding with your skin as he literally fingerfucks you. you're hardly able to process anything aside from the immeasurable pleasure in your core at this point, your brain doing its best to gather the words needed to build a phrase in your head as your boyfriend keeps his assault on your oversensitive cunt, teeth slightly nibbling at your ear before he smirks against the shell of if when goosebumps appear on your neck. "just a dumb little thing at my disposal."

"no... not fair–" a squeal interrupts your slurred speech when hiori hits a specific spot inside you, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull and teeth sinking down his neck, earning a gasp from him.

"mmh, is it?" he snickers, moist lips kissing your flesh before his tongue darts out to lick at your burning skin, sucking bruises along the entirety of your throat only stopping at your earlobe, his whisper coming in an overly sweet, condescending tone. "just cum for me, love."

none of your efforts seem to be effective when he asks you with such a convincing voice, his hand – previously holding your waist – now sneaking up your back to grab your hair, pulling your body off him and forcing you to face the sadistic grin on his face, his fingers scissoring against your walls and opening you up.

he watches the way your mouth has fallen open into an 'o' shape, tongue hanging loose from it and your breasts jiggling due to the intensity of hiori's thrusts, you look so incredibly ethereal, it only incites him to give you more, to push you over the edge.

it's all too much for you, waves of pure pleasure electrifying your veins and making your sight go white, your mind too fogged up as your only thought is how bad you want to cum, the coil in your core about to snap at any time. your hands hold onto the boy's shoulders for dear life, one of them scratching the nape of his neck before diving into his hair, letting your fingers tangle with his blue, soft locks.

it's when you feel hiori's thumb pressing down your sore clit that all comes crashing down on you, your back arching in the air and head thrown back as a loud, satisfied moan leaves your lips freely, eyes shut tight and toes curling. your walls spasm and convulse uncontrollably around your lover's fingers when you cum, your cunt gushing all of your essence onto both yours and your boyfriend's thighs, a buzzing sound deafening your ears as you ride out your high, hiori still stimulating all the right spots inside you.

your body falls limp onto his chest, face hidden against his neck as you inhale deeply, trying to catch your breath, the afterglow of your orgasm hitting you like a train – you feel amazing. the boy under you slowly takes his fingers out, earning a whine from you due to the slight overstimulation, his hand on your back caressing your skin as he affectionately soothes you, deep blue eyes focused on how shiny your arousal made his fingers.

seeing it makes hiori impossibly hornier – like his dick throbbing and staining his shirt with pre-cum wasn't enough. it makes him harder, twitching furiously against his tummy, the tip a deep shade of red begging for some attention – and he knows you're gonna give it to him soon. he gently taps his pointer and middle finger against your back, free hand grabbing your ass firmly when he clicks his tongue, trying to get the attention of your tired, sleepy self.

his voice is low, just a soft whisper – but laced with lust and eagerness. so hypnotizing, floating directly to your ears and hitting rightly where he wants it to hit. you can hear the smirk on his lips when he speaks, the depths of your body shuddering in anticipation.

"now now, don't go sleeping on me yet, baby. i haven't come and you gotta give me my prize."

[parkjihoonswifey]

Hi can you please write something for Jun Tae (Weak Hero)? There is almost nothing with him on Tumblr. It can be anything just please I’M BEGGING for something

A/N: this felt like a very urgent request so I kinda just piled something up hope you enjoy!

Title: My Nerd

Pairings: Seo Jun-Tae x Fem!Reader

Warnings: absolutely adorable Jun-Tae

The click of buttons, the flicker of the screen, and the scent of buttery popcorn filled the room as you mashed your controller furiously. “You’re going down, Jun-Tae.”

“Keep dreaming,” he said with a smirk, tongue peeking out the corner of his mouth as he leaned forward, fingers moving rapidly. But then, as if something caught his eye, his gaze flickered to the side table. To the little black notebook he brought in with him.

You tilted your head. “You good?”

“Yeah. Just something I have to write down really fast,” he said, pausing the game and grabbing the notebook. He flipped to a page, scribbled something, and shut it again like it was a vault.

It wasn’t the first time tonight, either. Every few minutes, he’d glance at it, scribble a note, or just stare at it for a moment too long. Curiosity began to eat away at you.

Later, when he went to grab snacks from the kitchen, he left the book on the floor by his backpack.

You eyed it.

You waited.

You pounced.

Flipping it open, your eyes scanned the handwriting—rushed, messy, totally Jun-Tae. There were doodles, random thoughts, but what made your heart skip was a line near the center of the page:

“She smiled at me again today. I’m doomed. She’s too pretty when she wins. I can’t tell her, I’d ruin everything.”

Your heart thudded.

“I think I’m in love with her.”

You gasped—and then screamed as the door burst open.

“What are you doing?!—” Jun-Tae leaped over the couch. You squealed and took off, clutching the book as you scrambled around the living room, laughing and dodging his attempts to grab it.

“You read it! You weren't supposed to see that!”

“‘I think I’m in love with her,’ huh?” you teased, eyes wide, cheeks hot.

He tackled you onto the couch, one arm snaking under your back, the other reaching for the diary as you held it above your head. But then—he froze.

So did you.

He was close. Too close.

Breathing heavy. His hand still on your arm. Your chest rising and falling beneath him.

His eyes flickered to your lips.

And before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned up just slightly and kissed him.

He melted into it—gentle at first, then deeper, like he’d been waiting forever.

When you pulled back, you whispered, “I like you too, idiot. You should’ve told me.”

Jun-Tae blinked. “Seriously?”

You grinned. “Seriously.”

He smiled shyly at you, "I was just convinced you never felt the same, si-eun told me to just give up."

"well he's the wrong one here," you hugged him as he moved from above you.

The diary was forgotten on the floor as the two of you curled up under a blanket, the video game sound humming softly in the background. His arms around you, your head on his chest, fingers lightly laced.

It was perfect.

Until the front door opened.

“Jun-Tae,” your dad’s voice called, followed by footsteps. “Why are you still here? It’s midnight.”

Jun-Tae shot up like a startled cat, scrambling to grab his bag.

“Sorry, sir! I—uh—we—video games—leaving now!”

You tried to muffle your laugh as he stumbled out the door, blowing you a quick kiss before disappearing into the night.

You picked up the little black diary that still sat on the floor, hugging it to your chest.

Definitely your favorite sleepover ever.

A/N : I hope I made whoever requested this proud please also let me know what you think is good and anything I can do to make your reading experience on my account better.