#yet if somebody cared to look better at him that eye would always have a little tinge of sadness to it. but almost nobody does

[ccaptain]

answer some questions and i'll assign you a tarot card.

strength.

how wonderful it is to be so strong. your body and mind are a machine that work in tandem. with calloused hands and shining eyes, your place in the world around you is ever changing. but you take the challenge with grace and ease. as long as you allow yourself growth, and change, you cannot be limited. it does not come from a place of naiveté– no, far from it. the source of your strength is kindness.

NUMBER: 8 UPRIGHT: strength, courage, persuasion, influence, compassion REVERSED: inner strength, self-doubt, low energy, raw emotion

tagged by: @huijarii <3 <3 tagging: @predvestnik, @akakunai (for rappa c:), @remembranced, @acr3ss-the-cosmos (for CHENNIE), @curiouskinetic

[cuteandhughesy]

Is It New Years Yet? | Quinn Hughes

summary: friends with benefits is great in theory but when the holiday season approaches, you begin to believe that may no longer be the case.

[word count] 3.9k

warnings: SFW! friends with benefits | friends to lovers | jealousy | angst | kissing | suggestive scenes but no actual smut | read at your own discretion

a/n: based off this request! here it is, the last fic of cuteandhughesy’s christmas special! thank you all so much for the love and support you’ve given me through this special…I can’t thank you enough! stay tuned for my 2025 planner, which I plan to publish within the next few days :)

🎵 is it new years yet? by sabrina carpenter

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

the gold sequins covering your top are extremely irritating, rubbing your underarms raw with their sharp, shiny edges. in an attempt to not freak out and just walk right out the door, you take a long and exaggerated sip from your — 5th? maybe 6th? — glass of bubbly champagne.

beside you, bella gives you a concerned look— taking a much more delicate sip out of her own glass. she's been giving you the same glances for the past hour, and at this point you've completely pretended you weren't aware of them. because you're honestly embarrassed of your own actions— anytime the door of the miller's home squeaked open, your eyes would shoot over at an alarming rate, trying to see who was walking in...trying to see if it was him.

"he's probably on his way." bella's voice is soft—comforting, placing her tiny fingers on your wrist to grab your attention.

you decide to play dumb—nonchalant—though when you've had as many drinks as you've had, is practically impossible. "who?"

this time it's brock who gives you a look behind bella, but unlike the sympathetic look you've been getting from his girlfriend, brock's eyes glaze with vexation. he doesn't save you with sugary words or a reassuring smile, just a deadpan expression. "you know who, y/n/n. quinn."

you laugh through a raspberry, borderline snorting at his words.

brock sighs knowingly, very much used to the whole....thing you’ve got going on with quinn— and your denial that comes along with it.

"why would I care if quinn is coming?"

brock's brows raise. "nobody asked you that."

your face falls, your skin heating up with a mixture of embarrassment and the alcohol running ramped through your bloodstream. "well, I know what you were insinuating."

"wasn't insinuating anything-"

"alright," bella cuts of gently, squeezing brock's bicep in an almost warning manner—she knows better than to not argue with you when it comes to the topic of quinn hughes. "what brock is trying to say is that it's okay that you're looking for quinn, y/n/n. he said he'd be here by now."

you wave your hand, dismissing your friend nonchalantly. "I know. i'm not worried."

bella hums. "okay. but's it's fine if you are."

"i'm not. we're just friends."

anytime somebody would ask about your and quinn's seemingly suggestive relationship, they'd always look at you with disbelief when you'd tell them you're just friends. well, friends that suggestively cuddle, kiss and have sex...but friends nonetheless.

you met quinn in 2018 at a barbecue brock was hosting. you'd been friends with brock since you met at the coffee shop you'd worked at the year before—when you'd spilled his coffee all over the pick up counter right in front of him. oddly enough, he found you charming and the two of you became fast friends.

he quickly brought you into his hockey world, where you met many different people and athletes that soon became your extended friends. when brock introduced you to quinn right infront of the grill at said barbecue lunch, you'd just about died.

quinn was cute in a dorky way, shying away from your strong eye-contact and smiley face. with his quick wit, nerdy tendencies and independence, quinn hughes was exactly your type, and it wasn't long until you two grew close.

your strong friendship eventually shifted into a more sensual relationship, and you found yourselves in a little dance that others know as friends with benefits.

and that worked for you both. not only did you get the fun, relaxed and sweet side of a best friend, but you also got that dirty, dominant and sexy side of a boyfriend. you both basked in the comfortability your arrangement brought, as well as the intimacy shared between you.

but then something shifted. you noticed that you started to really care about how you looked around quinn, and how you acted. you begin to care about how quinn perceived you and what he thought of you. you'd get nervous when he'd lean in for a kiss after a hard game, and when his touches would linger you'd get filled with butterflies. you liked him — you still do.

it's just that…you know you shouldn't feel this way, especially for a friend, regardless of the sexual relationship between you. so you pretend and suppress your feelings in fear of loosing quinn completely—-because you've become completely reliant upon the connection between you, and the thought of losing that is heartbreaking.

bella sighs gently, but knowingly, raising her glass back towards her painted lips. "for sure."

a chorus of cheers sounds all around you, and the sudden shift in energy has you looking back towards the door. you try and peer through the mini crowd, moving through the space around large bodies of athletes to see who's captured the rooms attention.

you catch sight of familiar floppy brown hair, followed by quinn's unmistakable smile. instantly you feel lighter, and the grin that makes its way onto your face is probably embarrassing.

there's a petite blonde girl next to him—with perfect skin and a blinding smile. she daintily wraps her hands around quinn's bicep, eyes wide as she introduces herself to jt miller and his wife.

and just as quickly your smile fades, eyes darting away from the unfolding scene in front of you. bella says your name gently—sympathetically—reaching towards you as she grazes your arm.

you gently shake her off, plastering on a fake smile. "I'm going to get a refill." you shake your half full champagne glass in the general direction of the kitchen, a wordless action that speaks a million words.

it's not that you're upset that quinn's seemingly brought a girl with him to this new year's party. you're upset that it's making you feel so distraught and heartbroken. you shuffle through the room, slinking through warm bodies and smiling faces until you're walking into the kitchen.

you try and keep your unshed tears at bay, breathing deeply as you top up your flute of alcohol. "fucks sake." you mumble to yourself, taking a hearty sip of your drink.

"you good?" the deep voice of elias pettersson has you jumping. the swede is leaning against the counter casually, sipping what looks like glass of white wine, eyeing you amusingly.

"I didn't know you were in here." you say, turning towards the blonde slowly.

he hums, swallowing the mouthful of wine. "quinn here?"

"yup." you nod, popping the p.

"ah yes." elias sighs, looking behind you as he peers into the crowded space. he finds quinn quickly, the captain ever so lively around his friends— he also sees the girl next to him. "he's brought a friend."

you snort. "yeah I know all about being his friend."

the assistant caption eyes you gently, a small sympathetic pull at his mouth. "sorry y/n/n."

you've always liked elias. he's similar to brock in the way they both speak their mind and never feel the need to sugar coat the truth, but elias is often more laid back and less judgmental than brock can be. a lot of the time you think if you weren't in love with quinn, you'd be with elias.

an idea pops into your head, turning your rather solemn expression into a scheming one. you look at elias with a smile, to which he raises his brows questionably. "actually, do you mind helping me with something?"

he squints curiously. "what?"

you walk up to him slowly, your grin unwavering. as you reach elias, you gently trail your fingers down his exposed arm, tracing your nails over one of his bulging veins. "just follow my lead."

—

quinn has looked at you twice in the past 40 minutes...twice. the first time was when you walked out of the kitchen, clutching elias's arm as you leaned into him. quinn's brows pulled together questionably, eyeing you and his teammates close proximity, but you didn't give him the satisfaction of your attention, directing you both towards the heart of the home where the mingling was happening.

the second time was only 10 minutes ago. you'd been watching your friend from a distance, a scowl on your face as you watch that blonde girl whisper in quinn's ear, raised on her toes with a small hand cupped around his ear. quinn had caught your jealous gaze, sending you an irritated look.

you scoffed, quickly turning your attention back to bella and brock, standing only with them while elias was getting you another drink.

you've been pulling out all the stops in an attempt to gets quinn's attention. if you weren't laughing loudly at everything elias said, you were touching him seductively or dancing against him — all things to try and spark jealousy in quinn.

but if anything, it was making you feel even worse about the situation. the weird and heartbroken emotions running through you—combined with the alcohol you'd been continuously drinking throughout the night— has you needing a breather.

you excuse yourself from elias with a mumble about the bathroom, and you don't really hear his gentle response as you stumble away, slinking though the crowded miller home towards the stair case.

thankfully the lighting in the house is dim, so nobody notices you climbing up towards the second floor, barley keeping yourself in a straight line— too caught up in your own thoughts and emotions to focus on anything but.

the spare bedroom is the first room you stumble upon, quickly slipping inside the beautifully decorated space and letting the door click shut behind you. now finally by yourself with nothing but the bass of the music downstairs tickling your feet, you let yourself fall apart.

the tears don't come immediately, but the sobbing noise that leaves your chest is instant and intense. you clutch the pendant of your necklace, grounding yourself as your emotions come bubbling to the surface.

not only are you feeling heartbroken and hurt by your own feelings for quinn, but you're now also feeling guilty for attaching yourself to his teammate all night in some sad attempt at trying to ignite jealousy. usually you'd be more mature about a situation like this, but once again the champagne in your system has other plans.

you wipe your face, praying that your makeup look doesn't go completely down the drain and you still look somewhat presentable. you think it must be nearing midnight, and you're sure bella and brock are wondering where you've slipped away too.

you sigh reluctantly, sniffling away any lingering emotion as you make your way back towards the door. just before you can reach for the handle, it turns before you, the door swinging open to reveal quinn.

his face changes at the sight of you. there's a flash of relief on his face, like he'd been looking for you and has finally found you. but that expression quickly changes as quinn pushes himself into the bedroom, closing the door quickly. he looks irritated—the kind of expression you'd see if he gets asked a stupid question by a reporter.

he looks you up and down quickly, assessing you with an unfamiliar pull at his lips. quinn meets your uncertain gaze. "you fucking elias now?"

you blink in shock, mouth falling open like you're a fish out of water. "what?" you're practically seething, looking at quinn with a distant glare.

he scoffs. "I think you heard me."

his condescending tone has you feeling angry and worse of all, judged—quinn is in no place to judge you after he's brought somebody with him tonight. "what if I am?" you question, irritation clear in your voice. you take a step towards him, anger radiating off of you. "why do you care?"

quinn makes a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat, wide eyed as he steps closer to you. "why do I care? are you being serious right now?"

"yes, quinn." you huff, crossing your arms roughly. "you can't storm in here and start grilling me about what i'm doing in my personal life, when you've brought someone with you tonight. or have you already forgotten about her as well?"

you're being petty, you're well aware of that—but the wrath and embarrassment running through your bloodstream has you not caring.

quinn eyes you again, stepping even closer to you—his movements laced with disbelief and annoyance. "if you're implying that i've forgotten about you…well that's just straight stupid."

you laugh in disbelief. "oh! so now i'm stupid?"

"no — what you're saying is stupid."

you scoff for what feels like the hundredth time this conversation. you don't even want to be arguing with quinn, especially when you're drunk and feeling heartbroken— the latter unbeknownst to him. you swallow gently, attempting to suppress the emotion creeping up your throat. "who is she?"

quinn shakes his head, his expression turning softer as he analyses you—sensing your shift in emotion and body language. "she's nobody."

"she's nobody but you brought her here? that doesn't make sense." your eyes flicker to the shaggy rug under your feet, blinking away unshed tears. you've passed the sheer anger you'd been feeling, left only with disappointment and sadness. "are you fucking her?"

quinn rubs his stubble roughly, and you can practically see the whirlwind of thoughts running through his head. his eyes find your yours, a hard expression in his face. "are you fucking elias? i'm still waiting for that answer. because you seemed pretty cozy with him since I got here."

"yeah," you nod roughly. "and that's no thanks to you, quinn. you haven't even come up to me tonight. god forbid you greet me—your friend—when there's a girl on your arm."

"were not just friends and you know it. so don't start that with me." quinn's tone is firm—warning—taking a step closer to your ridged body. he's now close enough to reach out and touch, and you so badly are craving that intimacy. but you hold back, keeping your expression as neutral as possible despite wanting to close the distance between you.

"oh, okay. what are we then quinn?" you question, your tone hard and determined. in a moment of vulnerability, your expression shifts, voice creaking with emotion. "because i'm so lost here."

quinn's eyes flicker across your flushed face. he's slightly breathless, watching you, like he can't keep his breathing steady. you hadn't even realized that you started to cry until he gently reaches towards you, thumb delicately wiping away the tears before they continue to fall. "fuck, i'm sorry." quinn's other hand runs over your head, flattening down your styled hair. "I hate seeing you upset—hey look at me."

you meet his gaze once again, tearing it away from your shoes. quinn looks extremely guilty and concerned— the latter due to your clear distress and sadness. "i'm such an idiot." he mumbles softly, "you can hit me if you want."

his words, so genuine and lighthearted, has a small splurge of giggles bubbling up your chest. you shake your head, "I don't want to hit you."

the ghost of a smile pulls at his mouth, and he nods once. quinn's thumb gently runs over your cheekbone, soothingly rubbing the high point of your rather warm face. "okay."

his words are so quiet and hushed it has you stomach swooping in a pleasant drop. quinn slowly leans down, running the tip of his nose along the bridge of yours—an affectionate nudge. you tilt your head farther back, allowing the most space for quinn to lean in and press his lips to yours.

it's a familiar and comforting pressure, your lips slotting together like they've done hundreds of times before. your arms uncross, falling limp at your sides as you let quinn hold your face, leading you in the steady exchange.

you sigh into his mouth, a breathy sound that has quinn deepening the kiss. his tongue easily slips past your parted, wet lips. instinctively your hands slip up quinn's chest, resting against his hard pecks. you gently grip the round muscle, nails digging into his flesh as you ground yourself.

your tongues move together slowly and gently—like there is all the time in the world. but, there's not all the time in the world, and you're still heartbroken and confused about everything. not just about tonight, but the entirety of your and quinn's arrangement.

you frown into the kiss, pulling away from quinn. his brows are pulled tight, eyes pinched shut as he collects his breathing—recovering from the intimate moment.

"quinny." his nickname is spoke in a breathy whisper, brushing against his slick lips. the emotion is still clogging up your airway, pushing its way to the surface. "I can't do this anymore."

his eyes snap open, glazed with a mixture of lust from your previous exchange, and worry caused by your vulnerable statement. "can't do what?" quinn's breathes hopefully—nervously.

you swallow gently, allowing yourself to linger in the last bit of time and space where your secrets are kept secret. because after this, all your feelings and love for quinn will be exposed, and the chance of your heart snapping in half becomes much more real—much more terrifying. "I can't keep pretending I don't want more with you. all this time we've been engaging in this friends with benefits stuff, i've been trying my best to not give into the idea of having more. but the more we fuck around with each other—care for each other—the more my feelings grow."

you sniffle, looking up at quinn. you can't read the expression on his face, it's one you've never seen before. he doesn't make a move to speak, only looking at you with that soft warmth in his eyes. you continue gently, "and I don't know how much more of this I can take, quinny. i'm attracted to you in any and every way there is to be attracted to someone. and I know we promised one another this would never happen and-"

you're stopped as quinn brings you into his embrace, pulling you towards his chest while his arms wrap around you in a tight hug. your cheek rests between his pecks perfectly, and that combined with everything else has you breaking down again.

you let out a disgruntled sob, turning to hide your wet face in quinn's shirt.

"I know baby." quinn's voice is so quiet, spoken into your hairline before he presses a firm kiss against your head. "it's okay."

you shake your head against him. "i'm so sorry—i've ruined everything. i've ruined us."

he gently pushes you back, just enough so that he can look at you properly. you're sure you look like a hot mess with mascara tinted tears pooling under your eyes, and a runny nose, but you don't find yourself to care. all you can focus on is quinn’s gentle frown and the way he delicately tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

his hand lingers there, resting around the side of your neck, just above your gold necklace chain. "how have you ruined us?"

his question is so genuine, like he can't even think of a reason of why your confession would change the set arrangement between the two of you. you almost want to laugh—whether it's in embarrassment or disbelief...you're not too sure.

"because you don't want me like that." not only is your timid response a stab in your gut, but it's also a stab in quinn's.

his thumb sweeps across your jawline, his gaze tender and determined. quinn's tongue darts between his teeth, gently wetting the plump skin of his bottom lip. quinn's eyes sweep over your face, his thoughts running a million miles an hour. but then something shifts.

his expression turns into something more determined—more sure, and with a breathy sigh, he speaks. "I brought lyla here to try and make you jealous. which is super shitty of me, I know, but I didn't know how else to like navigate these feelings i've been having for you. especially because I thought they were unrequited."

oh.

oh.

you blink three times, trying to process the words that just left quinn's mouth. "huh?" you babble like a fish, mouth opening in surprise, shock, and above all relief.

the smile that grows on quinn's face is the cherry on top of everything, and the sight of his grin has you knowing that you heard him right. "I've never fucked her or anybody besides you since we started seeing each other."

"you haven't?"

he shakes his head. "no, and i'm sorry because they way I went about everything tonight was just awful." quinn's hands are so warm and steady against your skin, gently tickling your face as he continues to run his thumbs over your jaw.

"i'm not with elias." you admit. "when I saw you walk in with that girl, I wanted to make you jealous…and elias agreed to help me."

his smile widens at your confession, and he doesn't feel so guilty anymore. the same goes for you, and knowing that your love isn't as unrequited as you thought, you feel yourself finally cracking a real smile.

"are you mad at me?" you ask timidly, leaning into the round of quinn's palm.

he pauses in a dramatic faux thought, humming gently. "not even a little bit." quinn cracks, his smile making its way back onto his flushed face. quinn leans back into your space, lips brushing against yours in an almost kiss. "i'm like falling crazy in love with you."

his words are so quiet—so intimate—plump lips brushing against yours as he talks. it's almost ticklish, and the feeling makes you giggle, and you desperately try to squirm away.

quinn chases you, arms tightening around you as his lips find your jawline. he starts pressing chaste kisses against the bone, quickly trailing down your neck.

you sigh in pleasure, eyes flickering shut as you fall into the euphoric feeling. quinn continues his way down, pausing occasionally to suck your perfume flavoured skin into his mouth teasingly.

"say it back." you feel him smirk against you before he gently bites down on you playfully.

you squeal with laughter, continuing your attempt in escaping quinn’s teasing attack. this time, he lets you pull back, watching you with a fond smile.

"say what?" your attempt at faux innocence quickly falls on deaf ears, and quinn begins tickling your side. you laugh again, falling into his warm, familiar chest.

this feels like the relationship you've grown to love with quinn—this is exactly the dynamic you two have created and the reason you fell so easily in love with your friend.

you wrap your arms around quinn's neck, pushing up onto your tip toes so you're at eye level with him. your smile is subtle, but to quinn it's as promising as the world.

"I'm falling deeply and truly in love with you." you whisper, eyes flickering between quinn's.

he closes the gap between you again, connecting your lips in another passionate kiss. this time the exchange is more rushed—desperate—like you're both trying to pour years of suppressed feelings into this one kiss.

and as the sound of new years rumbles through the house, cheers and celebration from friends floating up the stairs and finding your ears— you know there's nowhere else you're supposed to be.

[takes1]

i’ve never put in a request before but i read literally all of your haikyuu stuff and i was wondering if you could do something like your asahi x feral!reader but for tsukishima? or even just more asahi or tsukishima stuff would also be cool

tsukki using toys on feral!reader

i love you. here's your present pookie <3

warnings. heavy nsfw, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / rough sex / switchy, mostly dominant!tsukki / mutual masturbation / exhibitionism / voyeurism / use of vibrator / use of dildo / mutual crushing / dirty talk / tsukki loves to tease / flirty!tsukki / friend sex / mostly clothed sex / light choking / 3.3k words

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3

Even the way he slid his tie off made you want to drop to your knees and beg him to fuck.

Tsukishima was an alright buddy, but you knew he'd make a much better lover. Maybe it was your delusion, built-up by years of crushing on your closest friend, but there was something about being a mean guy's favorite got you going.

More specifically: soaked, swimming in your raunchy imagination, even investing in some toys to help with the fantasy of it all, most nights.

He had no clue. You were always careful not to look at him more than you had to, to never speak to him too often. It was only thanks to being in the same class that he came over to study, and you got the chance to callous your crush-masking and Calculus III at the same unfortunate time. So fun.

"You study at all yet?" He stretched with a yawn, sore and tired from practice.

"A little," You were usually curt with him when it was just you two.

Today, Yamaguchi opted to work on his serves after practice with his mentor, instead of studying with you two. You nearly cancelled this, but you needed to go over a few concepts with somebody before the quiz tomorrow morning.

Yamaguchi was the best person to bounce off of, so the three of you had better, friendlier chemistry than just you and Tsukishima. You didn't have to fake it as much.

You set your laptop up on your desk and stood, bent at the hips to open up your class materials and take some books out of your bag.

"I didn't have time today," A weight was on the side of your hip, making you stifle a flinch. It was only the side of his leg, from the way he leaned back onto your desk right next to you, "I had to practice at lunch, too."

Another yawn.

They had been busier, lately. Both of them couldn't meet as regularly because they had extra, informal practices.

"Big match coming up?" You clicked to the website and took the soonest opportunity to get away.

You sat down in your chair and kept your eyes on the monitor. You couldn't handle his proximity. You were already wet just from the ride over, having to sit thigh-to-thigh with him on the train. It would be impossible to focus if he kept this shit up.

"Kinda."

The conversation died there. Neither of you tried too hard to keep any discussion alive without Yamaguchi.

He started getting his materials together and paused, then took another few minutes to root around. He glanced around your desk and didn't find what he was looking for.

"You got a pen I could borrow?"

You half-hummed, in the middle of copying down an equation from the screen to your paper.

"Uhh- yeah, yeah. Bedside table. Should be next to the uhhh, the lamp."

Tsukishima watched you for a moment longer, suspicious, but stretched again and pushed himself up to find the pen. To his delight, that was not what he found, when he tried looking through the drawers instead of limiting his search to the surface.

A quick glance back to you- still focused on anything but him, to a level he had grown to understand as simply overcompensation, and he knew he was clear to let his curiosity roam.

"Interesting."

"Wha'?" You mumbled, lazy against your knuckles, a dry, slow blink at your monitor filled with equations.

Long, slim fingers danced over the pink, silicone dildo in the back of your drawer. His grin grew to serious proportions when he found its smaller, surely nosier friend. He could have guessed you were a little freak, but loved this confirmation.

In your attempt to give your retinas a break, you found a spare pen behind one of your notebooks.

"Oh-, hey, I found it," You sighed.

You turned in your swivel chair to face him and see what the delay was about. A flash of pink in his hand made your blood run cold.

"Tsukki!"

You almost tripped scrambling out of your chair, the sound of your call a short and wheezy one, so he had plenty of warning before you were upon him, plastered to his front just like he wanted.

"Put that down!"

His hand flew high into the air, at a height you could never hope to reach- it angered you so quickly, and you felt your face getting hot. That tall bastard utilized his abnormal wingspan at the worst of times.

Frantic fingers clawed his sweater down, but there was no chance you could pull his entire arm down far enough.

From here, you realized he was also holding your smaller vibrator in the same hand. That just wasn't possible without freakishly large proportions.

You screamed, "You're such a fucking weirdo! Put it back!!"

Tsukishima pouted at you, making you think you might have gotten through to him, but like most of his expressions, it was sarcastic.

"Ooooh... I'm the weirdo?"

That one, especially coupled with the eye roll, pissed you off. It wasn't your fault that he was incapable of sexual attraction. You were over-active, sure, and maybe you rivalled the sex drive of a man, but that was your personal business. Up until now, it was stored safe and secret.

"Fuck you!"

You shoved him. And he actually fell back. He wasn't very heavy.

When he hit your mattress, it was a race to recapture your toys that had gotten knocked out of his hand before you could get to them.

You scrapped to get on top of him, weigh him down, and dodged his elbow to reach his wrist-- it was too late. He gripped the thing and you could only then try to pry his hand open.

"Ah-ah-ah," His smirk was so mean, how he found you, in the midst of all your panic, as cute as a button, "What's the magic word?"

"You're never coming over again, you dick," You muttered, fuming, when his fingers just wouldn't be opened.

Tsukishima didn't do much to keep his hand away from you. You held his forearm against your chest because you the most leverage there.

His unrestricted laugh was pretty; scratchy and elevated, watching you try and try again to take your belongings back from him.

Fatigue was getting in the way of your efforts. When he pulled his hand back, over his head, you got knocked off balance and caught yourself, looking down at him.

It distracted you for a moment.

There was something in his eyes you hadn't noticed before, in all your attempts to retrieve your precious toys.

"A little small..." He furrowed his brow, a purse on his lips as he angled it in the light behind you, "Don't you think?"

The hand against your other side made you pause. His thumb, starting to rub you through your uniform, made you shudder.

Why was everything so slow, all of a sudden? You could hear your elevated heart rate, acutely aware of how heavy your breathing had gotten. Tsukishima seemed as though he had always been here, in this state, because he looked you over at a glacial pace.

"Oh- god," You shivered at the realization you were sitting on him, in your skirt.

What had been such a sure reality of never getting off to him again, all at once, became the very reason to do so.

When you looked like you were gearing up to move off of him, smaller, and meeker in spirit, he spoke up through your habitual doubts.

"Stay-," His hand was firm now, gently pushing your weight onto himself, "Stay here."

Hearing something genuine come out of Tsukishima's mouth was so rare that you thought he was joking. You kept trying to rise off of him.

"Hey," He chuckled, but his smile was fleeting.

He set your toys down and used both hands to weigh you down by your thighs. Your uncomfortable expression was mostly confusion.

"Why would I do that?"

You were torn between wanting to take your stuff back and get far away, and the animalistic urge to stay and entertain whatever this was.

His scoff, the roll of his eyes, made your thighs flex, like it always did. This time, he could feel it. But it was confirmation he didn't need, at this point.

"Don't act like you're not into me."

The heaviness of being caught made you sink. It didn't appeal to you to find out why he knew. He was intelligent, after all, and made it his job to notice small things.

Now that it was out in the open, you had no need to lie. A lot less to worry about, too.

Tsukishima smirked at your tiny, defeated sigh.

You glanced to the toys, free for you to take and hide again, but found no desire to do so. You took a good, thorough feel of that soft sweater under your hands. It turned into pushing up under his shirt, and adjusting closer down, open for a kiss, if he felt so inclined.

He sucked in a breath through his nose, restraining himself only once, at that little, dirty roll you did against his cock.

A slow, unsure kiss was soon a rushed and racy battle for power.

Any drop of validation you gave him, whether in sound or feel, was drowned in a charged kind of yearning for more; More of that noise, more of your mouth, more of your body under his starving grasp.

His fingers spread over the plush of your ass, quickly between you and your underwear, spreading you from the back with so much vigor that you whined at all the intensity.

"Mm- yeahh, I know you like that shit," He nestled his kisses against the side of your face, rough and smiley.

You gasped, sharp, at his words and his nails digging lines into your skin.

"Oh my god," You moaned, eyes shutting at how his attention seemed to wrack through you like some sick wave.

In your sudden inability to kiss him back, he ripped open your uniform blouse and sucked hasty bites into your chest.

Finally. He made you feel like you could take anything.

When he sat up, you came with him, and rejoiced in the way he shoved you onto your back, all out of breath and turned on, hovering over you like you were his. That proud expression on your face deserved a few more kisses, he decided.

They were still so rough and challenging to keep up with- especially when you felt him sliding your panties off.

"M-mn," You chased after his lips for a second, not wanting him to pull away so quick.

"I want you to use this," He muttered, and handed you your vibrator- he was keeping it in his pocket, so it didn't get lost in the sheets (as it often liked to).

The sound of that was enough to make you giggle, instantly compliant. But it made you curious.

"Well- what will you do?"

Tentative, you held it without moving- but his hands guided it right where it needed to be. He smirked at your gasps, your thighs flexing hard against him.

"I'll watch," His voice was proceeded by the clang of his belt, zipping out of his belt loops and clattering onto the floor.

Your drunken eyes widened at the monster he pulled out. Yeah, it did make your dildo look small. But it looked natural in his big hand, starting to stroke himself at the view of you, under him.

There was no chance to be coy- he was doing the same thing, even the one to suggest it all. You gave a dreamy sigh, content at the chance to be his cam girl.

His head tilted, eyes lowered to watch your pussy, getting juicier by the minute- so he was a sick son of a bitch, too.

Ever the one to tease, he muttered, "How often d'you think about me?"

That made you warm. You didn't want to say it right away, because even you knew it was getting to be an addiction. It was hard not working one out every night when he was making you horny any time you spoke in class.

"Every day..." You mumbled, eyes still locked on the way he stroked himself, curious to try it for yourself.

He was busy imagining how often you had probably both been masturbating at the same time, with no idea. His hands pushed your thighs up- a nasty, preoccupied gaze on just the way it puffed up your pussy. God, he needed to feel you from the inside.

"Me, too," He admitted. Though it was a dirty thing to say, he said it so flat, in his own little way, as he searched for that dildo. He left out the fact that he jerked off multiple times a day.

"You wanna get that wet for me?"

You hummed, sweet and cute, at the opportunity in front of your face.

Getting it nice and slick in your mouth was just a way to torture him a little more, let him in on what he had been missing- you sucked the thing off a little longer than necessary.

His jaw flexed at the sight, his eyes narrow, intense, just how you liked them.

You grinned as he took it back and cleaned the string of spit from your lip. He sucked it off of his finger like cotton candy.

Tsukishima took the liberty of filling you up with it- watching every little twitch and savoring every whine with so much concentration.

The look of it had him pumping himself a little faster, a little dumb at the sight of you stuffed, already, and dripping onto your sheets. You had been getting off to him every night, then treating him like the dirt under your shoe, for three years?

"I would've been fuckin' you so good- mmnh- freshman year, if you had just been honest with me."

His words made you lose your breath, gasping at the thought of how much you could've helped yourself out, if only things had been different. But, that fixation on his face, all the anticipation leading up to now; you wouldn't have traded it for the world.

You bit your lip at how slow and patient he was, stretching you out all for himself.

"D'you want me to cum?" You asked, tone purposefully candied for him.

There was no hesitation. He looked a little staggered. It was adorable, how badly he wanted to see it happen.

"Fuck, yes."

It took you more effort to hold out, talk, and edge, than it did to give him a show.

You just fell into what you usually did when you got home from classes- this time, with little sounds falling from your lips, and your thighs up the way he liked so much.

The way his eyes clouded over, how he started to relax in the shoulders, and grew breathier at your performance stroked your ego on a deeper level.

"Ah-h!"

His breath stalled at the sudden tension, the gasp on your lips. He was watching you, completely captivated, at your rigid brow and crescendoing sounds.

"Mnn-H-Aahh!" You wished he would touch you, so bad, but it didn't happen. He was too busy studying you.

"Damn," He sighed.

He was taken by the way you came completely undone for him- it made his face soften, made him want to kiss you through it, but he loved watching from right here. It was unbelievably hot.

Though he pulled out that pink obstruction to his real plan, he didn't let you move your vibrator away. He grinned at your reaction, as you were still coming down.

You squirmed at the discomfort, a little panic in your eyes, all to find him enjoying it more.

"A-ahh-! Tsukki--,"

"Ohh- sorry, you thought you were getting a break?" His voice was so sweet, so amused.

He lined himself up with you, sure to lube up in all that extra slickness. It was so deranged and bold that it made you relax, watching in quiet, but whiny captivation, despite needing more time.

"Fuuck," He sighed, a huffy laugh on his lips at how perfect you took him, "God- mmnh-!"

It shouldn't have surprised you, but he wasn't slow, and he wasn't gentle. You supposed you weren't, either. You were both one in the same, too excited and caught up in the rare chance to let loose with a likeminded pervert.

The intensity in his twitchy brow gave way to a narrowed focus on your face.

"Feels so good, (Y/n)."

"Mmnh- call me anything but my- na-me," You sighed, a clip at the end of your phrase as he started using you like his own toy, fast.

He stretched you so good- nothing like your pitiful replacement for him. You couldn't believe he was packing so much, for such a skinny guy.

Though you half-expected him to keep using your name as a means to tease you; he smirked, instead.

"You can- ahh, be my dirty little slut, then-,"

You did say 'anything.' And, to your pleasant surprise, you didn't hate that as much as you thought you would. You still laughed at him, though, because he deserved it. He grinned, unable to take it too seriously, too.

Your recovery period was laughably short. The newness of his cock, the hungry look in his mean face over you, his attitude completely transformed by your body, had you short of breath all over again, wanting more, taking him better with less discomfort.

You welcomed his intensity. This time, all of it, finally wasn't fabricated in your head.

It began to spiral, tightening like a spring in your tummy, into the fundamental need to be railed to another orgasm.

"Harder- please," Your begging couldn't go unrewarded.

It was like he was waiting for confirmation to fuck you as hard as he wanted-- his hand naturally squeezed around your throat, a struggle playing out in his eyes, now, at the way you gripped his arm to keep it there.

He got raspy, breathy, sweat rolling down the side of his face.

Your volume was intense- elation and indulgence all at your liberty, since you were the only people home. Your family trusted Tsukishima, and you were only just now learning that they probably shouldn't.

"F-uck!"

The pretty shock taking your face, coupled with the spasm of your cunt as you actually came twice was all too much for a guy as nasty as him.

That shit was too raw- your gasps, wavering cries, too good for his filthy mind. He was gonna throw all of his porn away as soon as he got home. Next time he needed to cum, he'd take the train here.

He pulled out and absolutely ruined that cute uniform. You were twitchy, panting at all the overstimulation, drenched in sweat, and unable to care right now. He pried his own fingers, slowly, from your neck and lowered to kiss you. It was slower, now, as you both caught your breath.

Coming down with somebody wasn't nearly as sobering as coming down by yourself.

His forehead was slippery against yours, "I'll pay for- ah, your uniform, if I need to."

It was a sweet gesture. You pressed a kiss against his cheek with a laugh, "Just throw it all in the washer."

"Hm," He smirked, an idea taking form behind his eyes as you were carefully stripped of your clothes.

"Let's go again. One more time."

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco

my masterlist. more haikyuu

[tragedybunny]

Something Like Love - Astarion x F!Reader

Astarion has failed to seduce you, but even so, a bond has begun to grow between the two of you. It all comes to a head when Astarion almost loses you.

You infuriated Astarion. At first it was because stopping to help every person you happened upon was delaying dealing with his problems. Now that you had been traveling together for some time, not only were these little side adventures a delay, but you didn’t seem to be careful about how much they took out of you and how tired they left you. Even your other companions didn’t seem to care, letting you agree to solve every problem that you came upon and even adding to the pile.

But not him. Astarion was always right there at your side with a glare and a snapping refusal, which you’d usually brush off, but at least he tried. The rest of them just smiled and nodded, without noticing the circles under your eyes, or how slow you moved some mornings, or how thin you’d gotten. Protector wasn’t a position he normally found himself in, but you were different, you were kind to him, without expecting anything in return, as far as he could tell anyway. The two of you hadn’t even slept together, not for lack of trying on his part. The couple times he’d tried you firmly refused, and yet somehow you stayed kind to him, even still offering him your blood. In fact you didn’t seem to want anyone in camp. That was also exasperating. How could he expect your continued kindness, and protection which he desperately needed, without repayment? And what was he better at than sex?

So he resolved he’d give you whatever small gestures he could. Whenever you tore an item of clothing, he’d mend it at first chance. When the group made camp for the night, he always made sure your tent was up first, in whatever spot you wanted, and helped you pack when it was time to move on. Every battle, he stood at the backline with you while you cast spells, aiming arrows at anyone who got too close to you, his first priority keeping you safe. And he still tried to keep you from overextending yourself, despite no one ever listening to him. Which had led to the shouting match with Halsin earlier. Well it wasn’t really a shouting match, the Druid had remained frustratingly placid in the face of Astarion’s blustering. He’d already been vocally unhappy about looking for this Thaniel or whatever, but you’d found him, and still Halsin asked more. “We need to worry about Thorm, we don’t have time to keep bothering with this!”

“Curing the land could help break Thorm’s hold. I know you all don’t owe it to me.” Gods why did he ask like that, all humble and dissembling. You would cave to that for sure,

“You’re right, we don’t.”

“But…”

“Hells, can’t you see how much all of this is taking out of her!” Astarion had exploded, voice loud enough that some of your other companions jumped.

“It’s fine Astarion,” you’d gently placed a hand on his arm, “let’s finish this.”

With a frustrated growl, he’d yanked his arm away, regretting the hurt on your face. “Fine.”

That all led to this moment, you’d fended off the creatures summoned by the corrupted spirit, and Astarion watches as you calmly approach it. Speaking softly, your words soothe it, and he could see it starting to trust you. As always, you amaze him with your ability to solve things with your words, but he feels a twinge of something else, a want for something like those kind words that fell from your lips so easily. The spirit vanishes and Astarion finally feels a bit of relief it seems over. That is until your knees give way and you collapse to the jagged paving stones beneath you.

He's at your side instantly, a scream tearing itself from his throat. “Somebody fucking help her.”

Shadowheart js the first to respond, hands peeling away the light armor you wear, revealing gashes left by one of those shadow creatures that had gotten close. Teeth bite down into his lip to hold back a sob, he hadn’t even noticed, he’d failed the one duty he had. That ire finds a new target easy enough though, as Halsin attempts to join Shadowheart in tending to you. He’s barely started to kneel next to you when Astarion lunges, hissing and fangs flashing. “No you stay the fuck away from her, this is your fault!” For a second his face falls with guilt, but Astarion is in no state for empathy, all blame now on the Druid in his mind.

Hands fight to grab hold of him, to get close enough to tear his thick throat out. A pair of strong arms wraps around his waist, pulling him back from his murderous goal. “Easy Fangs, she’ll be alright,” Karlach tries to reassure him.

He struggles against her iron hold, still flinging curses and furious words. “That’s not the point, this shouldn’t have happened. But no one wanted to listen to me, none of you selfish idiots care when you’re asking too much!”

That was it, they’d all turn on him now, especially without you aware enough to defend him. To his surprise, Karlach just holds him slightly tighter, and keeps whispering that it was going to be fine. Wyll comes over to lay a hand on his shoulder, face stoic. "Shadowheart has this.”

At least Halsin has stepped back, expression troubled. Good, let him suffer. A spell glows in Shadowheart’s hands, suturing back together your skin, and your eyes flutter open, hazy and unfocused, for a moment before closing again. Karlach wisely releases him, leaving him free to hover over you and ward off Halsin as he takes a hesitant step toward you. He’d be damned if anyone else was carrying you, the lot of them were untrustworthy. Reverently, he leans down, taking you in his arms, and lifting you from the ground. Gods, you were so small, there was almost nothing to you. How did you seem so imposing most of the time?

Silently, the group makes it’s way back to camp, Astarion holding tightly to you the whole way. When they reach the cluster of tents, he goes straight to yours to lay you down gently in your blankets. Turning back to the rest of the party he snarls in their direction. "All of you better stay the hells out of this tent until she's properly healed," he snaps the tent flap shut and wishes he had a door to slam on their faces.

Sitting down next to you, he pulls your hand into his and tried to forget about the stinging in his eyes. "You're going to be alright Darling. You have to be."

For hours he sits there, hand holding yours, waiting, watching your chest rise and fall, the reassurance he hadn’t lost you. Losing you, he can’t even fathom it. His protector, companion, he'd even go so far as to say friend. Even if you didn't notice how he was always at your side whenever you stayed up to launder your clothes, or how you never took a turn to cook alone, or how he was always walking right next to you on the road.

You sigh in your sleep and he feels a tug in that place that sometimes wonders if you could be more than friends. Which was stupid, you hadn't even wanted sex with him. Besides, what you already gave him was more than he deserved considering what he had been planning after sleeping with you.

Finally, exhausted, he drifts into meditation, still holding onto you, until your sleep heavy voice pulls him out of it. "Astarion?"

His eyes are wide immediately and without a second thought, he throws himself into your arms, nuzzling into your neck. "You're awake." Then he starts crying like an idiot; ugly, undignified sobs against your skin. "I was worried," he tries to explain leaping on you and his ridiculous tears.

"I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you." You put your arms around him, accepting him without question, like always.

"You silly, silly girl, you were the one that almost died. Don't apologize to me." He's trying desperately to stop bawling uncontrollably.

"I know, but I don't like to see you upset." Ever so lightly, he can feel your hand brushing through his hair.

"Why," he's managed to get himself somewhat under control, but doesn't move from where you've let him lay. "Why are you like this? Always giving, even when it's too much for you?"

You hesitate for a moment. "Because I care about you."

"You do," he asks, unwilling to let himself believe what he's heard.

"Well, I care about everyone," of course he should've realized, "but I care about you a very great deal, Astarion."

Astarion freezes, the words leaving warmth in that secret place inside that he's been trying to keep from himself and you. "I don't understand."

"I see you. I see how hard you try and how far you've come, and how much you try to do for me." There's a smile in your voice and impossibly he thinks it has something to do with him.

"Why didn't you say anything?" His hand searches yours out and your fingers interwine.

"I didn't think you were ready to hear it. But today it was almost too late to tell you." You've placed both of your hands over your chest and he can feel your heartbeat.

"I…I don't know how I feel." Inwardly, he quails, worried that will drive you. "But this is nice."

"It's alright Astarion, there's no rush to this." Impulsively, he leans up to leave a feather light kiss on your cheek, grateful for you in ways he can't understand.

[luveline]

Jade Ik it's a bit past due but I would love a hotch and sunshine reader Valentine's fic!! I miss that trope

You can barely see Morgan to ask over your hamper, “Is he in his office, do you know?” 

“Hi, mama. Somebody’s going all out today.” 

You beam at him, nudging the flowers aside to see him in all his handsomeness. “You know me, Morgan. I love him.” 

“Yeah, I know,” he says. “He’s where he always is. Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.” 

You wish Morgan a loving Happy Valentine’s and begin the treacherous journey up the steps to Aaron’s office. You used to be so scared coming up here, worried he’d reject you, chastise you for something, but somehow he never has. Now you ascend them with a smile and make your blind way to his office door and knock the window pane gently. 

“Come in, please,” he says. 

You smile like an idiot at the mere sound of his voice. The hamper and bouquet you carry shuffle in your arms, desperate to be dropped, but you make it soundly to his text before you lose your grip. “Oh, shit,” you swear under your breath, grabbing the flowers as their petals grace the surface of his cup of coffee. “Sorry.” 

You can’t know how Aaron feels about you —he’s told you a succinct explanation of his feelings as people tend to do, affectionate, tender I love yous that don’t cover the half of it— but he’ll tell you later about this moment. You in his office with your lovely smile and how it cleaves him apart just looking at you. The hint of nerves, the tentative anticipation about you as you pull the card from a basket full of chocolates and red packaging to hand to him across his files. 

“Honey, come here,” he says, the knife of you urgent, unignorable. He takes the card and catches your hand, encouraging you around the desk. “Come here.” 

He changes his mind and stands. Your eyes widen ever so slightly as he holds your hands between your two bodies and leans down for a peck. “You’re not supposed to be here yet,” he says, “you'll have to wait a minute for your flowers.” 

You laugh excitedly. “You got me flowers?” you ask. 

“Mm,” he says, squeezing your fingers, “but they were supposed to arrive at lunch, with lunch.” He brings his hand to your face and strokes your skin back from the apple of your cheek to your ear with the side of his hand, pleased goosebumps erupting down your arms at the touch. “Is all of that for me?” 

“Treats for you,” you say. You both know he knows the feeling flooding your senses now. You’re intensely easy to please. Any amount of affection could melt you, but you especially love being touched by him like you’re going to break if he’s not careful. You’re flustering the longer he strokes your face, his thumb drawing hearts at the soft skin beside your ear. 

“And the lump in your pocket?” he asks. 

Your mouth makes an ‘o’. “That’s for you too, of course. But I figured I’d give it to you during dinner.” 

“Whenever you want. You can have yours at the same time.” 

Your eyes glow like diamonds, and that’s fitting. He’s sure you’ll always shine brighter than any gift he gives you, but he’s really tried it this time. 

You needle your arms behind his neck. “Happy Valentine’s Day, handsome.” 

He leans down to hug you, arms crossing behind your back. He’s tempted to keep you forever like this, chests  together, stepping on the toes of each other's shoes, but you’ve got better things to do, he’s sure. You laugh softly in the well of his neck and press a kiss to his jaw before you pull away. 

“I can’t believe how pretty you are,” he says without thinking. 

You look like you could burst. “Oh, I love Valentine’s. They should have one of these every month.” 

Your breath escapes the corners of your lips in a breath that’s nearly a squeal when a knock sounds at the door. Hotch answers and takes care of the tip as he accepts your dinner for the afternoon and then, moments later, the intrinsic bouquet of your favourite flowers. He’d meant for you to be sitting when they arrived, but it barely matters. You’re so excited you linger by his side and make a face that he believes to be the holding of a silent scream as the delivery men leave. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, honey,” he says, closing the door with his ankle expertly. 

You crush the bouquet between you, grappling for a kiss he’s eager to give. 

[nausicaaandhermouth]

The Healer

masterlist

viktor x anhedonic!reader [1.4k][AO3]

cw: implied/referenced depression, suicide, suicidal ideation, self harm

summary: Anhedonia set in and the idea of exiting life's stage became all the more appealing. But you've heard about The Healer and perhaps he can save you.

tags: gn reader, S2 Viktor, post-Act 1, anhedonia, angst, depression, suicide, SI, SH, viktor gardening?, reader's just admiring him atp, not betad, not encouraging anybody to join any cult

a/n: idk if vik's abilities extends to making plants appear but for this pretend it does

if you're unfamiliar with what anhedonia is, it's a symptom of a larger condition (can be depression, bipolar, schizophrenia, more), characterised by the inability to experience physical and/or social pleasure. makes existing difficult, like you're dragging so much pointless weight and everything feels high effort, so what's the point.

just a brief description (based on what i've learnt from it in research and experience), so i encourage learning more to get it more in depth if it interests you or sounds too familiar.

You prayed for an easy coax out of the darkness.

The little home of scrap fabric and heartbroken brick you built throughout the years was becoming more and more dilapidated, though its original state had never been of full health to begin with. And like it, your body’s ridges became prominent, visited by unexplained bruises, warmed by the thickened hair on your skin, and yet living on had always been the only option you saw—no, the only option you allowed.

You’d breathed long enough to outlive many of those around you. Whether it was becoming grey-lunged corpses, enforcer punching bags, or a Promenade diver, everybody knew somebody who, sooner rather than later, knelt to kiss Death’s feet. Surrendered. Be it by their own or another’s will.

Then it fell upon you: the swole blanket of indifference, of apathy. It cloaked your mind, buried your defences that was defiance, which had been the only source of survival you’d had left. But snuffed out now.

And how easy it is to think of self-inflicted inexistence when it seems nothing else matters.

Oblivion would whisper in the corner, a demented, deformed dog snarling yet begging your hand’s comfort. Come to me. And you can’t find good reason as to why you shouldn’t.

This… healer—a man whose touch could gild any man’s sick and bestow him a new life, a new body, a new mind—you’re not sure when he arrived. But the whispers morphed to murmurs which morphed to rumours and unfolded itself into your side of the city’s underbelly.

Was he the answer to your prayer?

You made journey to the place you’d heard he’d made camp, and it unfurled before you and stole all expectation and put them to rest. Because for once, the Sumps had colour, had life.

At the centre stood a strange, globular… building? Just like stained glass, its surface was of mute Spring colours, translucent, swirling lattice-work reminiscent of butterfly wing patterns.

He’s a tall thing. A beautiful thing. His metal body cloaked, careful, and coded with grace. Each movement was deliberate, no gaze shared unintentional. How had he come to exist? How had this world birthed your people’s suffering but, as well, him?

You want to laugh at the sick irony. Whoever’s dealing the cards need their hands cut off.

“What ails you?” he asks, giving you such soft regarding you can’t help but be rendered speechless.

In truth, you’re not sure. Physically, you know you’re lacking, but so was everyone so why are you different? In your head there sits a temptress, attempting to lure you to the edge of buildings or blades, but she had no name. No one speaks of her.

The healer tilts his head, seeming to take a better look at you. He looks so kind. Such eyes, opalescent, have seen suffering, and you know it.

“Life,” you give a one-shouldered shrug, smiling. “I… I’m not actually… uh, I don’t know what I’m doing here,” you take a step back.

What had been the point of this? Attempt what? Healing? What’s this man to do?

“No,” he steps closer, his voice swathed in a strange mechanical whir. “Stay,”

You’re sure that by the furrowed desperation on you, it convinces something inside him, as he turns and beckons you with a nudge of his head. So you follow.

Each step he makes creates a heavy thunk beneath him, and though you don’t feel its impact, merely by sound you feel the weight of him. How had he acquired such a body? Modded fingers, let alone limbs, cost years of your wages—you can’t imagine how much his entire body might have cost.

“I can feel something plaguing you,” he begins, shifting slightly to catch a look of you.

You scoff but it doesn’t quite match your face.

“Then what brought you to me?” he shrugs and looks away, leading you to the side of the Sumps where a clear plain rolled out.

You watch as he kneels and reaches for the soil, taking it between metal fingers.

“I’m not sure,” you kneel beside him, shoulders bunching up. “What are you doing?”

He hums, smoothing the ground and creating indents, “I’m assessing,”

You lean forward, folding your arms and hanging your head to look at him.

The metal frames his face, just barely hidden by chestnut waves, curling beneath the jaw and around the ear.

He’s got a rather angular beauty to him, something belonging to scrutiny and studiosity. Even his strong brows follow theme, arched forward in a focused furrow, over narrowed eyes homing iridescent irises. You’re not sure if he’s from this world. Or if the world was gifted him.

Your attention trails back to his hand, and he digs his fingers beneath the soil. Then, hand glowing beneath the metallic muscles, the ground is imbued with a light, where then verdant stems spring alive.

You choke back a gasp, glancing about as the spindly bodies uncurl and reveal yellow petals. Roses?

Whipping back to him, you take note of the glow leaving his eyes, shock threading through your system.

When you glance back at the flowers, now surrounding the both of you, you can’t help but think: logically, how you might have reacted would be with pleasant surprise, glee, even.

Such occurrences, the arcane or a mere flower field, was a coveted sight, and without a doubt you would have felt the surge of optimism. But instead nothing happens. Instead it’s unmet anticipation and expectation sitting at your belly, pooling into grey disappointment.

It’s when you look back to the healer that you realise this disappointment must have shown on your face. He inclines his head so slightly, blinks, as if saying I understand. And he smiles. He smiles and it’s the gentlest thing ever given to you to hold and witness.

You want to crumple, to lay graves for your limbs and disassemble each part that ever dared to exist only to suffer. There used to be anger, and at the very least there was indignation. At topside for their neglect, your parents or finding each other, for finding something beyond the misery and creating you. Where had all such righteous resentment gone?

“Viktor,”

You look up to see the healer’s hand stretched out, asking for yours in return. And you oblige, shaking it gently, before pulling away only to be held with soft restraint.

“You are welcome to stay,” his voice becomes tender, becomes more human almost, aimed purely for your audience. “Even if what torments is not outright seen. I welcome all,”

Your breath comes out long, carrying with it the tired days in the dark. The healer… Viktor makes no acknowledgement of this but just another observant blink, the corners of his mouth slightly tightening.

“Wasn’t gonna die or anything,” you joke, flattening your lips and hoping it registers as a smile, however trying it may appear.

“Eh,” Viktor shrugs, turning his attention to your hand and turning it about as if trying to see new angles. “A slow death is still a death,”

This makes you frown. Why has he assumed? But why is he right?

“The slower it is, the more painful, I think,” he remarks, but he seems almost far away. “As you watch what is left of you wither, and all you can do is… hm, watch,”

Then you understand. Something in your chest tightens as you take in once again all this stranger is. “You’re well-acquainted,” you note, coming out barely as breath and observation, spoken clearer by the narrowing of your eyes than your own voice.

He looks at you again, and something’s changed. His eyes? It seems. There’s something more amber about them, more grounded in this singular hue. “My longest companion,”

You hum, nodding.

There’s a safety in knowing you’re understood, even if they’re not able to fix you. It cloaks you warmer than summer, than any consolation offered in pity—he understands. And perhaps not the very same that brandishes you, but in some aspect he knows.

Which is what makes you ask, “Can you fix me?”

His eyes resume that pearl sheen once again and you’re mesmerised, gaze flitting between each eye in deep investigation—tell me who you are, how you are; tell me how you’ll fix me. Like the field around, the sweet sunshine hues of the roses, to make your land more than just barren.

And he does. He raises his other hand, uncurling, coming to hover by your face. “May I?”

You breath sweeps back in and you nod, leaning forward and connecting his cold fingers to your cheek.

He notes you for a moment, saying nothing, doing nothing. It’s his gaze that makes you feel naked, removed of any pretence crafted carefully. But he shifts his attention and his fingers connected with your forehead, eyes overtaken by a white glow.

Your vision drowns in the white.

a/n anhedonia's been hitting me and this is the only thing i could muster to make so here we gooo. not my favourite, feel like i could've done it better but oh well, least i made something wahooyaaa writing is coping after all 🫵🏼😃🗣️

requests + taglist open!

[this is a reupload, i have no idea why the original post disappeared :''')]

[corroded-hellfire]

Fic request idea baby: what about Eddie with a gf who used to have an ED but she's doing better now but he notices that she's starting to relapse like skipping meals and he brings it up to her and just angst to fluff

+ Hey if ur taking requests:

what about if Effie's gf randomly stops changing in front of him like she's getting into pj and she goes to the bathroom and then starts asking for the lights to be off during sex and he's super confused and asks her about it and basically angst bc she's trying to hide it but may be she had a slip during ED recovery?

+ Hi lovie a lil request! What about Eddie with a gf whose in eating disorder recovery like she used to struggle but it's been a few years since then and she's don't just fine but he notices she's starting to relapse?

These three requests seemed to overlap just perfectly. The beautiful and talented @munson-blurbs was kind enough to write these with me so go shower her with all the love 💚

Warnings: eating disorders, body image issues, relapse struggles. Please, if you want or need to talk to somebody, I'm always here.

Words: 1.5k

You’re fairly certain you’re living on the sun’s surface. 

Logic would say that you haven’t left Hawkins, but the temperature outside begs to differ. 

“Christ, it’s like 1,000 degrees in here,” Eddie mumbles, cracking open a cold can of Pepsi and taking a swig. He plants a kiss on your forehead, careful not to disturb your reading. 

You smile but keep your nose buried in the bridal magazine Nancy had bought for you. Page after page of wedding dresses had you swimming in a sea of white, each more beautiful—and expensive—than the last. 

Oh, well. At least it would give you an idea of what to look for at your bridal appointment in a few weeks. 

What truly caught your eye was an article tucked towards the back of the magazine. Its title boldly declares, “Shedding for the Wedding: Lose that Weight and Look Great!” 

You shouldn’t read it. It’ll only upset you, only bring back the bad thoughts and routines and restrictions that you’d fought so hard to overcome. And yet you’re drawn to it, eyes scanning each fad diet for one that might help you. 

No. Yes. No. Yes. Put the magazine down. Stop reading the diet tips and comparing yourself to the models. 

But they’re so pretty and so skinny. If Eddie saw them, he might not even want to marry you anymore. Not when he saw how beautiful women were supposed to look in wedding dresses. 

Maybe losing a few pounds wouldn’t hurt. One diet couldn’t be so bad. It would be temporary, just until the wedding. 

It was totally fine. 

“What are we thinking for dinner tonight, babe?” Eddie rifles through the pantry and pulls out two boxes of pasta. “We have bowties and rigatoni. I’m personally more of a bowtie man myself, but it’s your call.”

You shake your head. “I’m good. Just gonna have some soup.” Reaching around him, you pluck a can of Progresso off of the shelf. 

“Soup?” Eddie wrinkles his nose in confusion. “It’s hotter than Satan’s tits outside.”

You shrug, trying to play it off casually. “Period craving.”

“You’re not on your period.”

“Well, PMS.”

Something nags at you—if you have to hide your new soup diet from your husband-to-be, maybe it’s not a good idea. Maybe you should put the can away and make pasta instead. But then you remember those gorgeous models, so svelte and sculpted and perfect. 

Soup it is. 

It’s harder to ignore the problem as more symptoms of the illness start to return. The first time you’d gathered up your pajamas and taken them into the bathroom with you, Eddie just assumed you were going to take a shower. When you emerged with bone-dry hair not two minutes later, he was puzzled. But he didn’t say anything, not wanting to come across as overprotective or overbearing. Maybe there was some simple excuse and he didn’t want to make you feel like you have to answer to him about every little thing. 

Eddie can’t ignore that there’s a problem anymore when you slip back into one of your old habits that has always broken his heart. Sex was now lights off and you kept your shirt on. Eddie wanted to see every part of you, touch every part of you. He was going to be your husband and the fact that you didn’t want him to see this part of you—that he has made very clear in the past that he fucking loves—disheartens him. 

Stress begins to build up within Eddie. He feels like he’s toeing the line because he doesn’t want to sound accusatory, but he also knows something is going on with you. And he has a pretty good idea of what it is. You try to hide how you pinch at your stomach and thighs, but he sees. The way you measure your wrists with your fingers all throughout the day. He wonders if you even realize you’re doing it, or if it’s reflexive at this point. 

Though you never mention it, you always have your green journal around the kitchen. Eddie respects your privacy enough not to go through it, but reaching for the keys over your shoulder one evening he notices that you’re making a list of what you’ve eaten that day. His stomach sinks as yet another familiar pattern emerges from the days when your disorder was at its worst. Your fiancé is coming closer to his breaking point and he still doesn’t know what to do or even who to go to about this. 

The final straw though is when you turn down girls’ night with Nancy and Robin at the Cheesecake Factory. You lived for nights out with your two best friends. They knew you almost as well as Eddie did though, so he knew you wouldn’t be able to sit down at a restaurant with them and bullshit your way out of not eating a proper meal like you should. 

Eddie knows now he has to say something. Anything, really. When you walk out of your shared bedroom in sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt, Eddie chews on his bottom lip as he mentally prepares for the conversation he knows needs to happen. 

The moment you sit down on the couch, Eddie sits next to you. You reach for the remote but your hand doesn’t even make it to the piece of plastic before Eddie speaks.

“Can we, um, talk?”

“About what?” you ask, sitting back against the couch cushions. 

Your fiancé leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He rubs his hands together and his tongue pokes out of his pouty pink lips like it does whenever he’s concentrating on something. 

“I’m worried about you, babe,” he finally says. “You’re not yourself.” 

Eddie doesn’t miss the way you reflexively shrink in on yourself.

“I’m just stressed with wedding stuff,” you say. 

“That’s why you didn’t hang out with Nancy and Robin?” Eddie asks, raising his eyebrows. 

“Mhm.”

“And all the pinching and not eating and not wanting me to see you naked? Is that because of wedding stress, too?”

You turn away from him and pull your knees to your chest, but he moves to face you again. “Baby, I know something’s wrong. And the last time I saw you like this, it was because…”

“I told you, I’m fine,” you snap. “I’m just stressed. Maybe if you spent more time helping me plan and less time planning stupid campaigns for a game you played back in high school, you’d understand.”

The accusation is unfair, and you know it. Sure, you’ve been doing most of the planning, but he’s been there every step of the way.

Eddie winces at your harsh tone. He looks like he has a rebuttal but gives up after a moment “Fine. Let’s just go to bed.”

Guilt from your outburst wracks your body and holds sleep hostage. After tossing and turning for a little while, you hear soft cries coming from Eddie’s side of the bed. 

“Eds?” Your heart leaps into your chest. “What’s going on?” You give him a hug from behind, latching on like a koala to a tree trunk until he turns to face you. 

Even in the darkness, you can see the way his eyes shine with tears. “I know you relapsed and…and I don’t know what to do,” he manages through his sobs. “I don’t know how to help, so I just stand there like a goddamn idiot, but I can’t keep pretending like nothing’s wrong! I can’t keep pretending that you’re not hurting yourself!”

He knew. The whole time you thought you’d been protecting him from the truth, and he knew. 

You wipe at his cheeks, feeling the moisture on your palms. “I’m sorry.”

Eddie shakes his head. “‘S not your fault, I know it’s not, but…you need to get help for this. I can’t lose my girl.” He presses his lips to your forehead and lets them linger there, holding you as tightly as he can. “Please. Please.”

No. You need to lose weight. You need to look good; no, perfect in your dress. All eyes are going to be on you, and you can’t show a single flaw. 

The argument sits on your tongue, defensiveness ready to spring into action. But then you see his brokenness, his vulnerability as he unabashedly wears his heart on his sleeve. 

Skinny. Skinnier. Skinniest. 

But then—Eddie. 

Eddie, who laid his heart out for you. Who let down the walls he’d spent years building just so he could receive your love. Who felt your pain despite your best attempts to shield him from it. 

Maybe you weren’t ready to get better for yourself, but until you were, you could do it for him. 

You nod, pulling back and kissing him softly. “I will. I promise. First thing tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll wake you up the moment the sun rises.”

At this, you have to let out a small laugh. “The therapy clinic doesn’t open until nine.”

Eddie cradles your face in his calloused palms, leaning in to gently kiss your nose. “Then I’ll wake you up at nine.”

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

Hc for Halsin, Astarion, Will, Gortash, (& maybe Damon and Raphael) caring for a loved one with chronic illness or like an illness that keeps them bedbound for an extended time

A/N: Oh Nonnie, do I feel this ask lol. Chronic fatigue sucks, mainly because so few people don’t understand it goes beyond being just ‘tired’. There’s brain fog, stomach issues, and body pains– so I tried to touch on each of these symptom types for each character response. However you’re doing, whether you’re in a flare or not, I want you to know your illness is not your fault. You didn't ask for this. Don’t feel guilty for having to take care of yourself. You’re worth it. I promise. 

Also, this is unrelated but it’s lowkey funny that the week after I got diagnosed with a weird anemia, I write an answer for an ask about chronic fatigue. lol

TW: Mention of Chronic Fatigue/Pain, Brief Mentions of Sex 

🤕 BG3 Men Caring for a Gender Neutral! Loved One With Chronic Illness 🤕

Astarion: 

Worries. Like A LOT.

Tells you not to be so dramatic about it but will literally sprint towards you if he even hears you sigh.

He asks Karlach to carry you. 

Steals somebody’s cart/chariot if she refuses and instead makes her and Shadowheart take turns pulling that. (Jokes on him, they do it because they’re your friend, not his lol.) 

Has you come on missions because he feels more secure knowing you’re right behind him, and he can keep looking after you. Astarion makes sure to always sneak ahead so you never walk unknowingly into any danger 

Will give you massages if you’re in pain frequently, especially shoulder rubs, as he loves the view it gives him of your pretty neck. 

Speaking of necks, feeding is a huge no-no. At least, until you start feeling a bit better. And then he’ll only allow himself a taste. Gods knows you need all your strength, and he would feel terribly guilty to take what little you have from you. 

Lowkey appreciates the bags under your eyes and the way you can look like death incarnate, because well, then he doesn’t stand out as much. He also finds it strangely alluring, how you can look so fragile yet be so strong. It inspires him to find that balance within himself if he’s being honest. 

If you have trouble ‘performing’ due to your illness, he’s not upset at all! (He’s actually quite relieved.) 

Loves finding other ways you can be intimate together, like going to a spa and sharing a bath. Or finding a highly-rated inn and cuddling under some luxurious silk sheets. 

Turns out that after a lifetime of being forced to do things, Astarions is more than happy to spend his time doing nothing with you. 

Wyll: 

Is so sweet and tender when he speaks to you.

He’s literally Prince Charming, which makes you his Sleeping Beauty. 

On your good days, he’ll have you stand on his feet as he twirls you around, finding this the best way to ‘dance’ with you, given your current stamina. 

Requests for you to stay back at camp and rest while he and a few of the others handle the more taxing and dangerous missions. Gifts you some books and journals of his to keep you occupied in the meantime.

When he comes back to camp, the first thing he does is check on you. If you’re awake, he’ll make sure your needs are met before tending to his own. Doesn’t matter if Wyll’s starving and covered in guts, if you need a drink or an extra blanket, just say the word and he will fetch it immediately.  

Will recite poetry to you on the bad pain nights when you cannot sleep because everything aches too much. He knows his voice won’t stop the pain, but he hopes it provides a soothing atmosphere to just rest in, even if sleep cannot find you.

Is always so tender and gentle in his lovemaking, that it’s rarely an issue for you. However, on the nights that it is, don’t feel bad at all. Wyll adores you for much more than your body. He loves your mind, your heart, and your soul. Just being near you, knowing you love him back is more than enough. 

Halsin: 

Is always prepared with some medicinal herbs or a healing spell. 

He’s a natural caretaker, and you are no exception. However, when it comes to you, Halsin does approach the act a little bit differently. 

It’s much more personal when he makes you health potions or casts spells to heal you, you can see it in his eyes. In a way, it’s as if your pain has become his pain, and he needs the relief just as much as you. 

As long as you give your consent, Halsin prefers to have you touching him. Be it laying on top of his chest, or seated on his lap, he always wants his skin against yours, as if his touch alone could shield you from your illness. You find it rather sweet of him.

He pleads for you to stay behind in camp, or the grove- somewhere that is not the center of the action. He wishes for you to remain out of the fray, fearful that in your condition, fighters with less honor than he would take advantage of your vulnerability. 

If you need to be in a house with a room, and not camped out in the woods, he understands, although it may frustrate him a bit. He believes nature is the perfect healing environment, but he also trusts that you know your illness better than anyone. After all, you’ve managed it all these years. So instead, he simply brings nature to you. 

Haslin decorates your bedroom with plants, trees, and succulents. If you’re allergic, he enchants them to reduce their pollen production. 

Halsin understands he is rather large in the ‘down there’ department. If you cannot have traditional sex with him, it’s not a surprise to him. He knows more than one way to please his partner. He’s very giving and seems to get off on your pleasure more than his own at times. 

Halsin thinks you are one of the most beautiful gifts of nature. Your illness is just another part of you, and because it’s a part of you, he thinks it’s beautiful as well. You may resent it, but Halsin could never separate that part from you and hate it. He simply loves the whole of you too much to do that. 

Dammon:

Oh my god, he’s such a sweetheart.

But also a low-key tease. 

He has no issues getting or reaching things for you, but he does have a mischievous side, so be prepared for him to hold your things hostage, in exchange for a kiss or two. 

Has a habit of finding you curled up in bed on your worst pain/fatigue days and peppering you with kisses, and won’t stop until you laugh. 

Forges special mobility aids! Do you need help walking? Pfft. Not a problem. Dammon’s an incredible blacksmith, and he can make you armor that helps stabilize you. You know those really cool joint support braces you can get on Etsy and stuff? Yeah, he makes you DOZENS of them, all in different metals and designs, to match your mood/outfit for the day. 

While on the road, or in the grove, he always ensures you’re armed with some sort of easily gripped knife or sword, just in case anyone attacks. He does his best to keep you close, never walking too far ahead or behind, but you having that extra layer of protection makes him feel all the more reassured. 

He's not a fighter, but years of working in the forge have made his arms and back strong. He swears he will do everything he can to protect you, that no harm will come to you so long as you stay close. 

Is so relieved when you make it to the city at last. He’s so grateful that he can finally provide a real room and bed for you. He feels as if the entire journey has been worth it now that you’ll be able to rest and heal as you need, in the kind of safe and stable conditions you deserve.  

Comes in from a long, sweaty day of working in the forge, but immediately sets his sights on taking care of you. Draws a bath but insists you bathe first, as the water won’t be full of grime and ash after he bathes. 

Is always surprised and very flattered when you tug him in with you, still touched by your affection for him, as if you’ve just met for the first time. Dammon’s still a little shocked that out of everyone, you chose him. (Ironically, you feel the same. You’re a perfect match!) 

Insists on taking the lead during more intimate moments, and to make sure you just lay back and let him do all the work, introduces soft silk ties for your hands and ankles for whenever you feel like indulging in that kink with him. 

Gortash: 

Spoils you rotten. 

No, really.

Part of the highlight of being a Lord, soon-to-be Duke, is that he has the power to make all the other people do things for him. And no task is too costly or requires too much manpower so long as it means you’re taken care of. 

Buys the most lavish sheets and sleep sets for you. He wants you to be comfortable, the both of you deserve nothing but the best, after all. 

Assigns around-the-clock healers to you 24/7. They are always in your home, on-call, awaiting your request for relief. He wants every measure of treatment and remedy explored. If there’s a spell or herb that can reduce your pain, then you shall have it. 

Enjoys any downtime he has with you. Has his staff put a special chaise lounge in his office so you can visit him when he’s working. 

Gortash is so used to putting up fronts for everyone else, that it’s nice to let his guard down around you. You don’t judge him, or think less of him for his ambitions. Other people would run if they learned the truth, but not you. No, you’re so much more special than that. 

Of course, whenever you go out, you have your own guards and steel watch keeping you safe from anyone who’d wish to harm either you or him. All the other Lords and Ladies of Baldur’s Gate don’t dare say a mean word about you or your abilities, lest they wish to face the wrath of a peeved Gortash. 

As an inventor, Gortash invents the very first automatic, steampunk-esque wheelchair for you. It’s powered in the same way his Steel Watch is, and it is uniquely one-of-a-kind, tailor-made just for you. 

You know how in the game it’s hinted that Gortash basically stole and fucked his way into the high society of Baldur’s Gate? That many of the widowed Ladies gifted him lavish presents (like the deeds to their house?!) in response to whatever ‘relationship’ he had with them? Yeah. The man knows what he’s doing. And he does it well.

Your fitness level is no concern to him. The both of you will enjoy yourselves. He learns how to play the erogenous zones of your body perfectly, and in the event you’re too exhausted to play his, he has some, shall we say, special toys, he’s created just for himself. Course, should you ever ask, he’s more than willing to share them with you. ;)

Raphael: 

Switches between pampering you to badgering you about it.

When he’s feeling particularly generous, he makes a point to overindulge you, making sure you’re aware of how unselfish he’s being at the time. 

He’ll make sure you have not only whatever you need, but also, anything you should want. As a devil, he does have some magic up his sleeve, ready to take care of various aches and pains that you feel. 

Ensures no other beings in the House of Hope lay a finger on you. No, that’s a privilege for him and him alone. 

Of course, such benevolence from him comes at a price, so don’t expect the luxury to come freely, without strings attached. 

After he feels you’ve rested enough, he switches from being overly doting to being more curt, and even a bit cruel. 

You honestly don’t expect him to let you lounge all day, do you? Surely there’s a way you could make yourself useful to him. Your attention, your company, your body… there must be something of interest to him at the moment. Of course, Raphael won’t tell you outright what he wants, you have to figure it out for yourself each and every time. 

More than anything Raphael loves your adoration, your attention. Just sit with him in his office as he reads over the various contracts he has binding any number of sorry souls. Ask him questions, praise him. Tell him you think he’s brilliant… Darling just worship him. 

And after his ego’s been satisfied, he’ll go back to worshiping you. Relationships are all give and take after all. 

(And don’t worry if you’re too tired or in too much pain to perform well in bed. He’s certainly no good at it either lol.)

[heartfullofleeches]

[+18]

V and fuckboy playboy/wingman male Darling-

Hear me out-

Darling is the son of some other loaded family that has close ties with V's. The two cross paths at a gathering and their parents urge them to make friends. Darling plays video games. V plays video games. They exchange numbers with some persuasion from their folks and set up a time to play something together although begrudgingly on V's end. V ends up having a better time than he expected, but right before he really starts to enjoy his time with Darling - he tells V he has to head out.

"Nice meeting you, dude. We gotta do this again. I got a girl coming over and I gotta bounce."

And just like that V's hopes are crushed. He's still learning about his attraction towards guys, but - Darling was sorta cute....

"oh....so you have a girlfriend."

Darling laughs.

"Nah, man. Haven't found the right girl...or guy to tie me down yet, plus I'm just enjoying the single life for now.... I can send pics after we're done if you want. She's totally chill and likes when I show her off."

Pictures?.... V agrees - thinking not much of it. He goes back to playing and eventually it slips from his mind. Hours later he receives photos of what looks to be a topless girl in a dimly lit room. She smiles big at the camera - eyes and upper face blocked from sight by the shaft of the bastard with her cheek pressed to his inner thigh. He still had on the same pair of sweats V had seen him in earlier that day. He only met this guy not even twenty-four hours ago and now he's seen his dick. Even worse - there's a pretty girl with her lipstick and spit all over it in the same picture. V's pissed - yet the image magically appears in one of his porn holders later on."

"what the hell...."

"My bad! I thought you might like it. You don't seem like a guy who gets a lot of action... If you ever want to meet someone, just give me a call. I know a lot of people who'd be interested in a rich brat like you."

This guy.... he acts like he's any different. V thinks Darling is a freak to put things lightly, but its not like he has other people to hang out with. As the two hang out V sees that Darling isn't as bad as he first seemed. He's still a horny, inconsiderate prick most days - but he's still the best thing V has to a friend and cares for V in his own way..... Still sends V dick pics he sweats were for someone els.

Darling is genuinely surprised that V has never been with someone. Sure, he doesn't seem like he gets that much attention, but he was sure V had at least kissed someone once. The topic comes up when Darling tries for the hundredth time to hook with up with one of his flings. He's always sending V evidence of the nights he spent with strangers. Oddly enough - V only ever complains about the videos and photos when they don't have darling in them as well.

"Damn.... I know you're a pain in the ass sometimes, but you're cute I thought somebody would've looked past that.....

V hates with Darling says shit like that. He's not used to people flirting with him and... and it gives him false hope. "Shut up....

"So, think she's cute? I can give her your number~"

"I don't want it."

This sucks.... By now, V's fully aware of his crush on Darling - and he fucking hates the bastard for what he's doing to him. If Darling is so concerned about him seeing people why doesn't he just take V out instead. He jerks off to everything Darling sends him wondering when he'll get his turn. V has some solace in the fact Darling rare sees any of his partners twice. V has been with him and always will be with him longer than any of them have. He just has to be patient.....and ruin any chances Darling has of being with anyone else.

V nearly jumps out of his skin reading one of Darling's numerous drunken texts.

"Hey, man. Totally speaking out my ass here, but would you ever be down to have a threesome sometime ;)"

[mypoisonedvine]

Can I request a little somno something with obsessive best friend!Neil? 🩷

OH FUUUUCK YES

warnings: DARK NONCON SMUT 18+ ONLY, alcohol consumption/extreme inebriation, incel/'nice guy' neil

You stumbled in and fell onto his couch the second he opened the door, and he'd just laughed and asked if you wanted to get in his bed instead. He worried it sounded dirtier than he meant it-- not that he would mind at all if you wanted him to get in bed with you-- but you just hummed and mumbled something into his throw pillow about how you were comfy where you were already.

He sighed and sat next to you, putting a blanket over you as you fluttered your eyes shut. "Love you..." you whispered softly, and he smiled a little as his heart skipped.

"I love you too," he breathed, wondering if any of your shitty boyfriends had ever taken care of you this well when you got too drunk. You met most of your boyfriends by getting too drunk, so Neil was glad to have you safe back here at his place where nobody would do anything to you.

But he hadn't gotten up yet. He was still sitting beside you, his hand still resting on your shoulder where he'd placed the top of the blanket.

"You know, you really shouldn't drink so much..." he sighed, petting some hair out of your face as you stilled. It was sort of instinctive-- yet made his heart race-- to run his hand down lower, tickling your back and tracing your spine as he sighed. "Somebody could... get the wrong idea..."

He checked your face again, making sure you were out cold, before gingerly taking the blanket off of you again. Your dress was way, too short, he'd tried to warn you not to wear it, but you insisted on looking hot; you really should've known better, showing off your legs like that... Neil had always been obsessed with your legs, and he bit his lip when he saw how the dress had ridden up to basically just under your ass.

Tossing the blanket away, he hummed as he rubbed his hand up and down your legs, constantly checking your face nervously in case you woke up or stirred. Even if you did, you were too weak to stop him... fuck, why did that make his cock throb?

He started to open his jeans already, even though his heart raced with anxiety and shame at what he was about to do. She's passed out, she won't know the difference anyways, he thought to himself as he climbed up on the couch with you, pulling his cock out of his boxers with a little sigh. He stroked himself with one hand as he gently pushed up your dress with the other, groaning at the sight of your ass hardly covered by the lacy panties. You were obviously trying to get laid tonight, no doubt about it-- so wasn't he just giving you what you wanted?

He had to let go of his erection to tug the thin fabric down with both hands, smirking as the way your ass jiggled a bit, but then nearly gasping as he revealed the cute little pussy underneath. "F-fuck, baby," he praised with a sigh, leaning back to try to get a better view, carefully spreading your lips apart with two fingers so he could see your holes. "Fuck! That's a gorgeous pussy, wow..."

Of course you were perfect everywhere, it was just his luck: the most amazing, sexy, incredible best friend who teased him in the most infuriating ways. You'd do all these things that turned him on, trying to act innocent-- asking for his opinion on outfits, falling asleep on his shoulder during movie nights, laughing at his dumb jokes-- and then you'd turn around and fuck some jerk you met at a bar. When he gathered the nerve to say something flirty to you, you'd always giggle and push him away, saying something dismissively that always broke his heart: like "shut up, Neil, you're my best friend" or, even worse, "ew, stop, you're like my brother."

He fucking hated when you said that; it made him feel like he was cursed to have you so close but never have you, you know? But tonight, he felt like a lifetime of bad luck was paying off in the best karma ever: you were here, and you were his to play with however he wanted.

He spit into his hand and smeared it over himself, sighing as he looked down at you looking so peaceful and sweet under him. "So pretty," he cooed as he nudged your legs apart with his knees and slid inside you, "and fuck, so tight..."

He groaned deeply, watching in awe at the way your hole eagerly accepted him, swallowing up every inch that he gave it until you were stretched and filled to the brim.

"Oh my god," he gasped, taking a moment just to bask in the feeling, "fuck, baby, I'm not gonna last very long. I can already tell."

He held onto the couch tightly as he started to move, but then realized he should take the chance to touch you instead and put a hand on your hip. It helped, actually, because it kept you from rocking forward too much from his thrusts and kept his cock going as deep as possible every time.

He groaned proudly as he moved faster, squeezing your hip and keeping his eyes trained on your sweet face. "That's it," he praised, "take it, baby-- take my fucking cock."

He loved not having to impress you, or please you, or make you come-- he could just treat you like his own personal toy, your pussy basically just a fleshlight for him... if fleshlights were hot and sticky and felt like absolute fucking heaven.

Your walls tightened on him for a moment, and he moaned loudly. "So good," he choked out, shutting his eyes with pleasure briefly. "So good, baby, feels so good on my cock-- fucking perfect."

He gasped as he heard you whimper a little, and opened his eyes to look down at you. You were stirring just a bit, but your eyes were still shut. "N-Neil?" you groaned out groggily, and he should've stopped moving-- but he couldn't, he honestly couldn't. He was already so close and you were so adorable all helpless like this and he just needed to come so bad...

"Shh," he soothed, though it came out a little stuttered as his hips moved faster, slapping against your ass with the most amazing, filthy sound. "Shh, it's okay, just rest..."

"Neil," you said again, making him bear his teeth and flex his cock. He wanted to blurt it out right then and there-- yeah, baby, it's me, that's my cock inside you-- but he managed to stop himself, laying down on top of you instead as he pet your head and gave you rougher, deeper thrusts.

"Don't wake up, baby," he groaned, "I'm right here. It's okay. You can just go back to sleep."

"What... what's going on?" you asked, barely managing to open your eyes for a second... he loved the way you fought it, trying so hard to wake up, but your body was so happy to relent even if your mind resisted. "What are you doing?"

"Shh," he hissed again, "j-just stay still, I'm so close. Fuck, I'm so close-- I'm almost done, please--"

You whimpered, trying to struggle under him, and he moaned louder as it made your walls squeeze him again. "Neil, please..."

"Fuck," he grunted, "say my name again, baby-- I wanna hear you say it when I come inside you."

[maxillness]

🇳🇱 || Fucking Whore || MV33 x driver!reader

Warnings: 18+, degrading kink, mean!reader, dacryphilia, marking, oral (M reviving)

Word count: 1.3k

God, did she hate that man

Y/N and Max had been rivals since they both were little. When they used to go kart. And god, did they hate each other

It was no secret that they hated each other. You could practically see it in their eyes when they stood together

If they had the chance, they would refuse to stand beside each other. There would almost always be a person in between them

Just as they thought they had gotten away from each other, they got even closer

Max had gotten a contract with Red Bull in F1, and would start the same year she would start in Mercedes-AMG

When they started driving in F1, they tried hiding their hate for each other when they were around the other drivers and when they were with the press or in the paddock

It was hard in the start. They carried their hate for each other all day, but when they got to the hotel. All hell breaks loose

One would go to the others room, not for anything specific, but just to yell and say dirt about their rival

“You always get in my face, Max!” This time, Max had gotten to her room to snicker at her “Always! You taunt me when you win, even if it’s with under a second!” They been going at it for what felt like hours

“Well, maybe if you had been better and actually won, I wouldn’t have to tell you that you lost” He snapped back at her

At this point, they didn’t care if the other rooms could hear them

“At least my team actually care about me, and not just my talent” She walked closer to him, making him flinch a bit and took a step back

He couldn’t say anything back. He knew it was right. They did only care about his talent

“What? Did we go speechless?” She walked closer to him again, backing him up against the wall behind him

She looked up at him with her arms crossed over her chest “If only you could see yourself now. Looking flustered. Speechless. Not able to defend his teams name” She turned to walk away but was quickly turned around and up against the wall

She was unable to complain about the pain in her back when Max’ lips landed on hers. Max pushed her harder against the wall by her hips

She kissed him back and put her hands on his biceps “You know you’re hot when you’re angry, right?” Max said as he pulled away for air

When she didn’t answer he continued to speak “You have no idea have long I’ve wanted to do that” He chuckled as he put his forehead against hers and closed his eyes

“Why did you wait so long?” She asked as her hands traveled over his chest, down his sides, and landed on his hips

“Because you hate me?” His answer sounded more like a question. The truth was, he was afraid that it would bad and that she would never even look at him again. He loved her eyes, even if they were filled with hate and anger

“Of course I do” She pushed them away from the wall and walked towards the bed. Max sat down on the edge when the end of the bed hit the back of his legs “You’re fucking hot” She said as she sat down in his lap

Her hands landed on his shoulders as Max’ landed on the back of her thighs “You’re the biggest asshole I know. The worst rival. A fucking idiot” She could feel the way he hardened under her “Does somebody like being degraded?” She raised her eyebrows at him making him blush hard

He only nodded in response, too flushed to talk. He didn’t think about the consequences of his actions. Seconds later, her hand came in contact with his cheek

“I don’t want anything of this nonsense. Use your fucking words” Her mouth was close to his ear. When he didn’t answer, she pulled away from his ear to look at him “Speak” She demanded

His eyes were shut as his head turned away from her “Look at me” She pulled his face towards her again “Open your eyes” And he did so “Tell me. Do you like being degraded, Max?”

When he again didn’t answer, she hit him yet again, which drew out a whimper mixed with a moan, but from the pain, he couldn’t stop his eyes from watering

God, he looked so pretty like this. Droplets gathering in the corner of his eyes “Yes. Yes, I fucking love it” She chuckled as he finally confessed to his kink

“You’re such a whore” She growled low “A fucking dirty whore” She pulled his shirt over his head and discarding of it before she pushed him against the bed

She bend down and started attacking his neck and throat with kisses, licks, and sucked aswell

“Cursing me out, yelling at me. Coming to my room late at night, just because you find me hotter when I’m angry, and now even admitted to wanting to fuck me for, what… 3 years?” Max whimpered underneath her as she spoke between her attacks

“Longer” He admitted “Much longer” He whined as she pulled away from his now marked up chest

“Much longer?” She raised an eyebrow down at him “How much longer?” She asked him curious

“Since we were 16” He confessed rolling his hips up against hers to get some friction, but it only resulted in her lifting her hips up and away from his

“For 10 years?” She was surprised as to how long it had actually been “Fucking whore” She kept her hips away from his as she went back to kissing and biting all over his torso, neck, and throat

“Do you actually think you deserved this after that confession?” She saw the pain in his face when he tried to speak, but the words didn’t leave his mouth.

She hit him again

A few tears rolled down his cheeks. She forced him to look at her by grabbing his chin “Fucking answer me, you slutty whore”

“Fuck. No, I don’t deserve it” His breathing was loud and heavy as he spoke “But please… I’ll be such a good boy for you” His breath was shaking as his hands trembled up her body

“We’ll have to see about that” She sighed as she got off him and sunk to the ground instead

She unbuckled his belt painfully slow. She was taunting him. His head fell back against the bed as she managed to pull his cock out of his boxers

“They say that men’s cock’s match their ego, so I expected more from you” She looked up at him with disappointment in her eyes

She spit in her hand and started stroking him. She loved the sounds she forced out of him “You sound so good for me”

His moans mixed with whimpered and whines got heavier and louder when wrapped her lips around him

She started slowly going up and down his shaft. She could already feel him twitch in her mouth as he started fucking her mouth

“Shit, shit, shit” He moaned and grabbed the sheets of the bed “Fuck, you feel so good” He whimpered and arched his back off the bed

“Fuck, I’m gonna come. Fuck” His legs started shaking as she went faster “verdomde hel” He moaned loud when he came undone in her mouth

She got off of him, and went on top of the bed to kiss him rough. While she kissed him, she spit his own loath in his mouth

“I’m not gonna swallow anything you give me” She said to where Max swallowed his own loath

[aglaias-blog]

"Wicked Game"

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Author's note: in honour of my 9 year anniversary on this hellsite and us finally getting fed with some new hotd content, here is my contribution to whatever the craziness of the last two days was.

I saw this post by the amazing, the great @ewanmitchellcrumbs and thought that I had to post this, it was in my drafts far too long haha Feedback is welcome and appreciated 💖

TW: dub!con, MDNI, afab!reader, fem!reader, degradation kink, jealousy, hatefucking, possessiveness, Aemond is a meanie, reader is a brat

Summary: You make Aemond jealous on purpose as a punishment for him always having his eye on you. But his reaction is clearly more than you have bargained for.

Taglist: @watercolorskyy

Never before had you seen your husband this angry. Sure, he had had his moments – when you had barged into the Small Council to give the King a piece of your mind or when you had humiliated him in front of his brother – and countless other instances. But never infuriated like this.

It had been a perfectly good day in the Red Keep. You were just walking past the Armory when you had seen Ser Davios Rane. He had become a good friend of yours over the years, since you had been married to Prince Aemond. It was a simple conversation; friendly, but reserved, as usual.

The courtyard was buzzing with people in preparation for King Aegon’s name day festivities: servants running around, carrying baskets, tapestries, tableware and many other things from one place to another, the invited Lords and Ladies just arriving taking a look at the Red Keep, engaging in conversation.

Yet somehow your husband had managed to see only you - and just the part of the conversation where you had laughed at Ser Rane’s comment - and put your hand on his arm. A grave mistake, you had realised immediately.

Aemond had been by your side in an instant, cutting the conversation embarrassingly short. You hadn’t even seen him coming, it was the frightened expression on Ser Rane’s face that had betrayed the arrival of your husband.

He had scolded you in front of everybody present – quietly, of course, but it was obvious that they knew what was happening by his body language alone. Servants had stopped in their tracks to observe the humiliating spectacle, the nobility’s conversations had quietened down to hear his heated whispers. And you – well, you had only ripped your arm from the tight grip he had your wrist in, and ran away. As childish as it was, you couldn’t stand being gawked at while your husband chastised you like a little child. Of course, he had followed you, but not before throwing a threatening glare in Ser Rane’s direction. He would take care of him later.

You hadn’t meant to make him jealous – at first. It was only when you had felt his sharp gaze on you everytime you spoke with somebody – be it a servant, a Lady, a Lord, a goldcloak – that you wanted to give him something to look at. A sort of punishment for always stalking you, for never trusting you enough to follow his rules. Surely, it couldn’t hurt to teach him a little lesson?

Well, now he was chasing you through the corridors of the Keep, taking his jealousy out on you.

„Are you content now? Was it your plot to infuriate me like this?“

Your husband had talked himself into a rage since you both had left the middle bailey, following you to your shared quarters. His face was marred by unadulterated wrath, his predatory gaze focused only on you.

„You are a Princess of this house! You’re much too sharp to think that it would be seemly to throw yourself at some goldcloak in this shameful manner!“

You had only wished to make him a little jealous – you should have known better. There was no moderation with Aemond Targaryen, only extremes. And once he whipped himself into this obsessive state, he was insufferable to be around. No word of explanation would get through to him.

„Did you think that I wouldn’t see? Attracting the attention of a mere goldcloak, in broad daylight, too, like a common whore!“

You couldn’t stand the thought of being in his presence any longer. He would drive you insane, you were sure of it! So, once in your quarters, you ran to open the door to your bedchamber and darted inside.

The sound of the lock turning sounded absurdly loud in the sudden silence.

„Open the door.“

His voice sounded treacherously calm.

You had leant against the table opposite the door, your trembling fingers gripping it tightly, your chest heaving with quick breaths of anticipation. What could he do now?

Tipping your head back, the tense giddiness in your body broke out of you in gleeful laughter.

„Open the door. Now!“

Oh, how you loved having him at your mercy.

„Say ‚Please, my love, be so kind as to open the door‘!“, you yelled, giggling.

„No“, was the only response that passed through the door.

„Fuck you, then!“

Your anger had returned with a sudden force. Who did he think he was? He had humiliated you in front of everybody, the whole court had borne witness to your embarrassment! How did he have the gall to talk to you as if to a little child? He could rot in the seventh Hell for all you cared!

He hadn’t responded yet. The sudden silence was highly suspicious. Did he give up - had he actually left? Oh, he was no fun!

Your victorious smile was wiped from your face the moment you heard the crash. Through splintered wood flying into all directions, your husband appeared on the threshold – breathing heavily, bearing his teeth, his gaze wild - the embodiment of fury.

After three quick strides he lunged himself at you – his hand painfully gripping your jaw, towering over you.

„You forget yourself, wife“, he snarled through gritted teeth, the vein in his forehead throbbing.

„You should have the good sense to remember your place.“

You simply stared up him calmly, defiantly, searching for the darkness in his eye that let you know that he was almost there, almost – before spitting in his face.

Before you had time to think, your head was whipped to the side, the heat of your blood throbbing in the place where his hand had just been. The slap had come out of nowhere - the sharp sting of pain in your cheek forced tears into your eyes – and yet you couldn’t help the wicked smile that formed on your lips. You had him exactly where you wanted him now, and he had fallen right into your trap.

This was the twisted game you played. You both knew it. Yet it didn’t feel like you were pretending. The rage was real. And so was the intoxicating thrill.

„Oh, this is all a game to you, isn’t it?“, he sneered, nostrils flaring. Let’s see if this is still a game to you now.

„Bend over.“

„No.“

„I’m not going to repeat myself.“

„Make me, then“, you said brattily, challenging him to make good on his word.

And he did. In the blink of an eye, he had his hand in your hair, turning you on your stomach and slamming your face into the table.

You felt your heartbeat in your whole body for the few seconds it took him to bunch up your skirt and loosen the ties on his breeches – you couldn’t move, his hand on your neck forced you to stay still, his leg between your thighs made sure that you kept them apart.

And before you knew what was happening, he sank into your wetness, immediately setting an unforgiving pace. He allowed you no time to adjust, completely merciless. You cried out, struggling against his hand that held you down, hands blindly reaching behind you, clawing at whatever part of his body you could reach. It was no use though – he wouldn’t slow down.

You could only hear him groan depravedly in response - he liked the way you tried to fight him, it dawned on you. The more you tried to resist him, the faster he slammed into you. Fed up with your antics, he grabbed both of your hands in his, bent forward and slammed them above your head. The new angle made your knees buckle.

„Don’t go weak on me now, wife“, he laughed into your ear. He laughed!

„Smug cunt“, you moaned. Immediately, you received your punishment. The sting on your ass hurt less than his hand in your hair, yanking you up against him, forcing you to arch your back almost painfully.

„Think you’re too good for me? Hm?“ His laboured breathing was hot on your neck. „But good enough for Davios Rane?“ He spat the name like a curse.

You could only whine in response, not being able to stop the desperate moans.

„Should we open the window, let him hear you? Hmm?“

He slammed into with such force then that it made you squeal. You couldn’t get a word out. With your eyes rolled back you couldn’t even formulate a simple thought.

„No? Then shut - your fucking - mouth“, he growled, emphasising each word with a thrust.

You couldn’t. You tried, you truly did, yet you failed miserably. Your body reacted before you had time to think, the loud pleasured whimpers and moans fell from your mouth before you could try to control them. He forced them out of you with each of his rough movements, knowing well that you had lost control over your own body.

He placed his other hand on your mouth to muffle your whines for you. The sharp edge of the table digging into your hips over and over again combined with his painfully pleasurable thrusts forced humiliating tears into your eyes. He could feel them flow over his hand down to your chin.

„Oh, are you sorry now?“

„Mmph!“, was the only muffled sound that passed through his hand on your mouth, as you shook your head ‚no‘.

„Say it“, he growled. „You know damn well that you need this, you’d do well to say it. Now!“ He lifted his hand from your mouth, giving you a chance to do as he told you.

„Detestable bastard!“, you only spat out through sobs, your hair still twisted painfully in his hand.

„What was that?“, he said harshly, stilling his movement completely, threatening to pull out.

„You’re sick, Aemond!“ Who cared if he left you now? You certainly didn’t! At least you would be left with your pride intact.

Yet, when he pulled out of you, the vast emptiness you felt made your heart ache. You regretted every single word you had said up until that point.

„N-no, I’ll say it!“, you sobbed, hating that he had this power over you. Hating that he could make you hate yourself, taking your dignity like this. Making you weak.

Patiently he waited for the words he had demanded. „Go on, humiliate yourself. Like you humiliated me“, he growled in your ear. Abruptly, he pulled your head farther back to get a better look at you. His fevered gaze was on you, as he watched your tear-stained face intently, curious as to what choice you would make.

He not only wanted you to swallow your pride; he wanted you to crush it, destroy it completely in a display of sacrilegious devotion to him.

Tears of shame were running down your face freely now. You didn’t want to do as he told you, hadn’t he degraded you enough already? This was more than you had bargained for – you hadn’t expected him to react this way when you had started your little game earlier in the day.

Now you had to pay the price for having dared to challenge him.

The feeling of his cock between your thighs made sheer desperation curse through your veins. You wanted him so badly, it was driving you mad! It would’ve been so easy to just- just wriggle down a bit to-

„Don’t!“, he hissed, biting down on your shoulder. Hard.

It broke you.

„I’m sorry!“, you cried. Through your sobs your words were almost unintelligible. „I’m sorry, I didn’t – I-I don’t care about him, I just – I need you, only you, please, Aemond-“

It truly was a pitiful sight – and disturbingly arousing. His wife with her dress sliding down to her waist, begging for him, her tears streaming down to her bare chest, degrading herself– all this only to have his cock inside her again. With a sick satisfied smirk, he watched you babbling on, only gibberish leaving your mouth now. He had driven you to your breaking point.

And now, you needed to learn your lesson. He let go of your hair suddenly, letting you fall back on the table weakly.

Your jaw went slack, eyes rolling back, when you felt him slide back into you with one smooth movement, settling back into his merciless pace, two hands holding your hips in a bruising grip - pounding you as if he hated you. You rested your head on the tear-soaked surface of the table, moving with every delicious thrust he gave you. With your eyes closed, you gave yourself completely to the sensation, to him.

He was everywhere, all around you, in your nose, your hair, your body, your mind, your soul.

„Fuck“, you heard him curse with a trembling breath. He had bunched up the fabric of your dress over your hips, watching his cock disappear inside you over and over again. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight – the way your glistening cunt swallowed him whole, coating his cock in your wetness was simply too much. The perverse sound of your slickness alone would drive him mad, he was sure of it.

He had to remind you that you were his, that he possessed you completely. He couldn't allow you to forget it - he had to ensure that the only thing he held dear in his life would never dare leave him. It was this wicked desire that drove him to insanity everytime he saw you with somebody else, somebody who wasn’t him.

„I own you“, he moaned, his hand had found its place in your hair again – twisting it threateningly when you didn’t respond. He didn’t allow you enough time to catch your breath, you had to concentrate to form any sensible words.

„I’m yours“, you responded hoarsely, without resistance this time. „Only yours, Aemond, yours, yours, yours…“ Like a prayer you mumbled the words – yet it felt like somebody else had put them there.

His eyes rolled back in his skull with a helpless groan at your admission. Those were the only words he ever wanted to hear you say - such a shame that he had to force them out of you brutally.

He could make you say anything he wanted, but your body was yours, still. You knew him like yourself, you anticipated what he would want, long before he said it out loud – so you wouldn’t give him the pleasure of reaching your peak on his cock simply because he told you to.

He could fuck you stupid, and you would refuse him what he most wanted – an admission of carnal weakness.

But the terror crept up on you slowly, and with your eyes wide with fear it dawned on you - this little rest of resistance had already been crushed. Your body had cruelly betrayed your mind.

The savage groan Aemond gave when he felt you clench around him wiped all thoughts from your mind. He didn’t withhold his moans, showing you so openly the pleasure your body gave him – it made you squeeze down on him again. It was raw, primal – beyond your control.

In an effort to stifle his groans he bent forward, sinking his teeth into your shoulder again, making sure to leave a mark.

„Your body knows it belongs to me“, he cooed. „No matter how convincingly you try to deny it.“

The hand that had been in your hair now moved around your hip, finding its way between your trembling thighs.

„N- no!“, you gasped, trying to squirm out of his grasp. „Aemond, please!“

Your humiliation would be complete should you give in to him now. You could pretend that he didn’t own your mind, but you couldn’t pretend with your body – it knew that it was his. It was honest. Always. And he knew it.

„Oh, you don’t want to reach your peak?“, he chuckled darkly.

„There’s no use in lying, wife. I can feel you clenching around me.“

He groaned again when your body proved him right.

„Your treacherous body belies your words.“

He knew that he had to draw your peak from you tenderly, he couldn’t brutally force it, like he forced those beautiful sounds from your throat.

The sudden sensation of his soft fingers overwhelmed you entirely – it was so in contrast to his harsh words and his merciless thrusts inside you. Your whole body was fragile now, having been so abandoned by loving touch that you jolted in his grip the moment his fingers gently made contact with the most delicate part of your body.

His other hand went to your shoulders, immediately pushing you down when he noticed you trying to get up again. You couldn’t let him do this, you couldn’t, you had to-

„Don’t - refuse me!“, he gritted out through clenched teeth. With his brow furrowed, he had to focus on his fingers on your cunt - he would come undone this very moment should he allow himself to take in the glorious sight in front of him, feel your writhing body underneath his hands, pushing him away and pulling him in at the same time.

„Please!“, you choked out. You didn’t know what you were begging for. For him to stop? For him to continue?

You had been prepared to withstand his roughness, thinking that he would use you for his own pleasure and then cast you aside. You had been starving for his kisses, adoring words and gentle caresses on your body – you had been so hungry for any sign of love that his unexpected soft touch on you now would make you fall apart.

The feeling of lightness cursed through you, as your mind went numb. Your body, however, felt his every move – outside of you, inside of you, around you, all at once.

The lighter you felt, the hotter the pleasure coiling in your stomach became - you tried to fight it until the end, defying the urge to give in to the warmth that spread from your innermost core – and then it effortlessly crashed over you in waves, pulling you under, drowning your resistance completely.

As if under water, you heard him come undone behind you, spilling himself inside you with choked moans and curses, gripping your hips so tightly, so painfully tight…

And then - floating. You were floating. He had pushed you too far. You didn’t feel anything anymore - you had slipped into a place where time had no meaning.

You felt weightless and then crushed down to earth again - heaviness and lightness played their ever-changing game with you.

You tried your best to find a way out of the fog in your mind, but you were just so tired, so utterly spent…You didn’t want to think, to fight, to do anything – surrendering to the divine nothingness seemed so inviting now, you wanted to stay in its warmth, to just float forever…

[luvlystarr]

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°

Prompt: Minho x Reader, he doesnt want you to be a Runner

Content: Fluff

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°

You and Minho never got along quite easily. Ever since you arrived at the Glade he paid little attention to you. You two always get into disagreements and arguments because of his sarcastic comments getting on your nerves all the time.

You tried your best to be polite knowing he is the Keeper of the Runners and that he’s the only way you could become a Runner. Yet no matter how much you prove your worth Minho always refuses you.

You’ve told him your reasons as to why you wanted to become one. All you wanted was to help everyone find a way out of this place in hopes to find a better life. But even after your heartfelt speech he replied with a harsh no.

So now you were stuck as a gardener, which wasn’t bad at all. Although it did get boring having to constantly dig up and plant things all the time.

The sun was glaring down at everybody outside, causing the air to be humid and warm. Luckily you were under a shelter, unbothered by the hot weather. Since there wasn’t much gardening to do left you decided to help Fry with cooking. You were chopping up some vegetables while he was stirring something in a pot. The two of you were cooking stew for everybody’s lunch.

You look outside to where the maze is, watching as Minho and Ben running back. You quickly look away before anybody catches you staring at Minho. But of course Fry noticed.

“(Y/N), stop staring or you’ll chop a finger off,” he teased.

You roll your eyes in response and continue the task at hand. Everyone in the Glade noticed your tough relationship with Minho, they would always tease you two about acting like an old married couple.

You didn’t want to admit it but you did look up to Minho. He was strong, smart and always looked after the other Gladers. You just couldn’t understand why he’s always so harsh to you.

You avert your thoughts back onto the chopping board in front of you and focus on cutting the vegetables properly. From a distance you could hear somebody’s footsteps approaching, you didn’t need to turn to see who it was.

“Hey, Minho,” Fry greeted him.

“Hey,” Minho huffed before pouring himself a cup of water.

His eyes landed on you, you could feel him staring intently. You felt pressured under his stare, distracting you from what you’re doing. It must’ve slipped your mind that you were literally holding a sharp object and it only occurred when you felt a sting on your finger.

You let out a hiss of pain as you immediately dropped the knife. A small but deep cut was on your finger with a small portion of blood seeping out.

Before Fry could ask if you’re okay Minho stepped in.

“(Y/N), you alright?” Minho asks while quickly rushing towards you.

You nodded your head but your face was grimacing at the sight. “Yeah..” You muttered.

“C’mon, I’ll take you to the Med-hut.” He gently laid a hand on your shoulder before leading you out of the kitchen.

“Minho, I can handle myself perfectly fine—“

“Just go with me,” he sighs.

“I’m pretty sure Fry has a band-aid.” You try your best to protest since you know Minho just came back from the maze and you didn’t want to burden him. But he kept moving you forward.

You look back to Fry with a look of help in your face. Instead you were greeted with him grinning at the two of you.

Not long after both you reach the Med-hut. Minho quickly asked for a band-aid from Jeff and began patching you up.

“I can do it myself,” you say while trying to push his hands away.

Minho’s grip stayed firm but still gentle around your wrist. It didn’t take long for him to finish.

Now you were getting mixed signals. At first, you were a hundred percent sure that Minho hated your guts, but now he’s here tenderly caressing your hand.

“Why are you acting like you care all of a sudden?” You blurted out without thinking.

Minho was taken aback by your words. “What are you talking about?”

You quickly turn your head the other way, hiding the way your face flushed from embarrassment.

“You always ignore me and argue with me. Just like when I asked to become a Runner. Why are you suddenly looking after me now?” You ask.

Minho sighed deeply, still keeping your wrist in his hand.

“You don’t understand,” he spoke under his breath.

“There’s a reason why I don’t want you to be a Runner,” he says with a stern expression.

You pry your hand away from Minho’s grip and glare back at him. “Is it because you think I’m not capable?” You spoke with bitterness in your voice.

Minho crossed his arms, avoiding your gaze. “No, I know you are.”

“Then why won’t you let me? You and the others need all the help you can get and you won’t even accept my help—”

“I refused because it was the only way to protect you.”

You stare at Minho, speechless and dumbfounded.

“What?”

He finally looks back at you. His eyes were filled with worry. A genuine look you’ve never seen on him before.

“It’s dangerous in the maze. What if you get chased by a Griever and get stung, huh?” His voice rose a little, leaving you stunned.

Minho quickly noticed how you reacted to his response. He took a moment to recollect his composure.

“If I lose you I won’t be able to forgive myself,” he spoke in a softer voice.

He slowly wraps his arms around your body. His strong arms held you close to his body as delicate as possible, almost like you were fragile.

“I really care for you, (Y/N), I really do,” he muttered. “I did what I know is right.”

You felt your heart flutter at his words. Hesitantly, you wrap your arms around him as well.

Although you still want to be a Runner, you understand Minho’s side of the argument.

“I understand now,” you replied.

The two of you bask in each other’s comforting presence. After a moment you could’ve sworn you felt Minho press his lips against your temple. His small gesture caused your heart to skip a beat.

As it turns out, there’s more to Minho than his harsh, sarcastic demeanour.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°

[jowrites]

At Her Mercy - Lee Heeseung

TW: FLUFF. SMUT. Heeseung is obsessed. SMUT. oral(f recieving) squirting, missionary, sex talk, kisisng, groping, hickeys, uhm yeah? unprotected sex. Enjoy!

Deep cut. If there was one way to describe her it would be a deep cut. She was like a deep cut on his skin that stung and never seemed to get better. No matter how many bandages you would put on it, it would still be deep and leave a pretty scar. He didn’t mind, he wouldn’t even try to heal it or fix it. He wanted all of it: the blood, the pain, he wanted it all. Because if it meant she stayed and never left, he would gladly take it.

Heeseung doesn’t remember when he started liking her. He remembers seeing her walk by and he could smell her perfume, it was sweet unlike anything he’s smelled before. It wasn’t like candy, it was more like he was being transported into a fairytale. When he turned around and watched her waltz off, greeting her friend who embraced her, he could see just how beautiful she was. It made sense for her aroma to compliment her features the way it did. And since then, he would steal every glance he could her way and admire her very being. Everyone knew about his obsession with her. He was the Captain of the Basketball team after all, and everyone else was dying for his attention yet he always seemed to be staring at somebody else. And she wouldn’t give him the time of day. 

“Did you hear about YN?” His best friend, Jake, came up to him.

“No? What about her?” He asked.

“She broke up with her boyfriend.”

Oh. 

This was actually the first time he heard she had a boyfriend. So that explains it. Why she never faltered or gave him the time of day when he just craved her attention. She had someone else she was wasting her time on. Heeseung chuckled to himself, in disbelief that someone would be dumb enough to fumble someone like her. Jake has heard him rant about his liking towards YN, just how perfect she was. Jake would just listen as his friend raved on and on about his crush, letting him fanboy and relish in his fantasies.

With this newfound information, Heeseung decided it was the perfect time to finally go for her. One thing about Heeseung, he never lost. And he never stopped, he never gave up, and he would never give up until he had her. 

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

“Tell me why we’re going again? Don’t you have a book report due or something?” Sunoo said, unamused and bored as he laid on YN’s bed.

“I finished it,” YN said as she tossed some clothes onto the bed. 

“Ugh, nerd,” Sunoo said, rolling his eyes at his friend.

YN stood in her pink lace lingerie as she went through her wardrobe trying to find an outfit for a party they were invited to. Of course, she had to drag her best friend along despite his protests. He was not very thrilled to be tagging along, he much rather preferred to stay home and watch movies and eat as much food as he had access to. Parties weren’t his thing. 

“Fine, if we’re going I’m going to get super drunk and you can’t stop me!” Sunoo said, standing up and going across the hallway to his own room to change. YN smiled in victory, she knew Sunoo couldn’t say no to her, and as much as he hated parties, he liked drama and there was always drama at parties.

“Should I wear a bra or go braless?” YN yelled from her room.

“It depends on what you’re wearing, you can just wear your bra as a shirt and put your jean jacket on and jeans. It looks cute like that,” Sunoo said, coming out and quickly buttoning up his own shirt. “Yeah, definitely wear that, your tits look amazing.”

“You don’t think it’s too much? You can literally see my nipples,” YN said, looking at how the lace was so see through, her whole chest was on full display for the eyes to see.

“Only if people look close enough, which they definitely will but who cares? Boobs are great.”

YN shrugged and found some bell bottoms and buttoned them up, finishing the outfit with a jean jacket that matched the jeans. She already had her makeup and hair done, quickly touching up her lipgloss and grabbing her keys and phone.

“Are you ready? Let's go.”

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

When YN and Sunoo got to the party, the party was already full of life. Music was blasting, people were going in and out, someone was already throwing up in the bushes by the porch. YN scanned the room, smiling at some of her friends who approached her and Sunoo, Sunoo quickly greeting them as they dragged the two to get some drinks. All eyes were on YN, girls digging their eyes at her in envy and men watching her like she was the best slack of meat they’ve ever seen. Heeseung immediately took note when his friends pointed her out. Not once were his eyes leaving her figure. 

“Don’t you ever get tired of it?” Her friend, Yena, asked as YN took her first shot.

“Tired of what?” YN asked.

“All the stares? I know it would make me uncomfortable,” Yena said.

“You just learn to ignore it,” YN shrugged her shoulders as she poured Sunoo a drink.

“Thank you, lovely,” Sunoo said, kissing her cheek. “She has me to scare off any predators.”

“No offense Sunoo, but you’re not very intimidating,” Yena said.

“Oh, no he is. Sunoo can be very terrifying,” YN defended. “He can rip you to shreds with his words, that’s scarier.”

“Don’t get on my bad side, sweetheart. I don’t play nice,” Sunoo winked and Yena chuckled and rolled her eyes.

“Whose bad side do I have to worry about?”

Yena’s eyes went wide as Sunoo and YN turned around at the noise. Heeseung stood behind them, coming up and invading YNs space as he grabbed a cup, towering over her and not once leaving eye contact.

“Oh great, another one,” Sunoo said, rolling his eyes and downing his drink. “Mind making me one, Captain?”

“Do you want me to make you one?” Heeseung asked YN, ignoring Sunoo as Sunoo rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“No but you can make Sunoo one,” YN said, grabbing Sunoo’s cup and handing it to Heeseung.

“Of course, love,” He said, his breath landing on her face filling her senses.

“I’m just gonna go…” Yena said, grabbing their friend Yeji and leaving the bar. Sunoo folded his arms over his chest and watched with a bored expression as Heeseung slowly made their drinks. Sunoo noticed as Heeseung kept glancing at YN, and it was embarrassing. YN was looking around the bar in search of her favorite beverage, letting out a “AHA!” When she found one, grabbing two white claws out of the mini fridge and opened one.  She took a straw from the table next to everything and began to sip on her drink in content.

“You prefer white claws over hard liquor?” Heeseung asked.

“I’m not much of a drinker,” She replied. 

“She’s not allowed unless we’re home,” Sunoo said as he took his drink from Heeseung, Heeseung glaring at him.

“She’s an adult, she doesn’t need a babysitter,” Heeseung said in annoyance.

“Oh trust me, she does when she drinks. Let’s go, babe, I’m bored,” Sunoo said, eyeing Heeseung up and down and grabbing YNs hand and walking off. 

YN followed, giving a small wave to Heeseung but not giving him another glance. Heeseung’s jaw clenched, downing his drink and crushing the cup and walking the opposite direction. He walked back to his friends and sulked in the corner as he watched YN dance with Sunoo. He could see her chest on full display as she moved her body, swaying to the music. He could still smell her perfume from his spot in the corner as he watched her. 

Throughout the night, Sunoo became more and more drunk. He laughed with his friend, giving her small kisses on her face, and expressing his love and gratitude for her. YN would smile and just encourage him to drink water. She Loved her best friend and he was a fun drunk, but he was also a very touchy drunk and she didn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea. Heeseung was watching the scene all night, his jaw clenching all night every time Sunoo’s lips found YNs skin. Why couldn’t that be him?

YN decided it was time to go. She was barely able to hold up Sunoo in his state, wrapping an arm around him and trying to usher him out. Heeseung watched as Sunoo almost lost all balance and dragging YN down with him. He knew it was time to step in then.

“Do you need help?” Heeseung came up, grabbed Sunoo and YN looked up at him with sorry eyes.

“If you don’t mind? He’s a lot bigger than me,” YN said.

“Of course, I have a car,” He said.

“Are you sober enough to drive?” She asked.

“Oh trust me, Sunoo pretty much made me lose my vibe,” He said.

“Yeah, sorry about him, he gets really protective,” YN said.

“It’s okay, I’d be protective over you too if I could. Let’s get him to my car.”

YN nodded, helping Heeseung drag a very drunk Sunoo out of the house and down the road where Heeseung’s black Jeep was. After they helped Sunoo in the back, Heeseung opened the passenger door for YN, her body rubbing up on him as he helped her in. His eyes never once left her frame as she sat in. He rushed to the other side and leaned over, grabbing the seatbelt for her, his face inches from hers causing her to gasp. He slowly buckled her seatbelt for her, noticing as heat rushed on her cheeks. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” she whispered.

“I wanted to.”

YN was feeling conflict. She of course knew of Heeseung and his infatuation with her, but she never felt the need to act on it. She knew about heeseung and his reputation, and she didn’t want to be just one of his girls so she always kept to herself and minded her business. Even being in his car, taking in his scent and being in his presence like this had her mind screaming at her. She wasn’t anyone's toy to mess with. 

“Where should I take him?” Heeseung asked as he started the car.

“Oh, just back to our apartment,” YN said. “I’ll show you where, it’s not far from campus.”

Heeseung nodded, not realizing her and Sunoo lived together. I guess it made sense since they were best friends. He lived alone of course, his parents buying him his own place when he went off to University. He preferred it that way, having his privacy. He wondered if it bothered Sunoo hearing as her ex-boyfriend touched her behind doors. Just thinking about it made his knuckles go white as he squeezed the steering wheel. 

As Heeseung pulled up in front of their apartment, he parked and turned off the engine, quickly rushing out and opening the passenger door again for her. She thanked him and opened the back where Sunoo was passed out. YN sighed in defeat, shaking her head at the sight. Heeseung helped her grab Sunoo, both of them helping him out of the backseat and Heeseung holding most of his weight as YN tried to balance him. She gave his cheeks a few smacks, hoping it would sober him up enough to walk with them. It didn’t.

YN led Heeseung towards the elevators and together they managed to make it to her apartment and help Sunoo in his bed. YN shook her head at her friend, quickly tucking him in and leaving a water bottle on his night stand and bringing his bin closer to the side just in case he had issues in the middle of the night. When YN closed his door, she noticed Heeseung was still there, his arms folded over his chest as he stood in her kitchen, lost in thought.

“Thank you, Heeseung. You have no idea how much you made tonight easier for me,” YN said, giving him a smile. “Would you like some water before you leave?”

No, but I’d like you.

“No, no I’m fine, thank you,” Heeseung straightened up and smiled. 

“Okay well, I definitely owe you a coffee or something to repay you,” she said.

“How about you come to my game next Friday? I’d love for you to be there,” Heeseung suggested.

“Oh, next Friday?” YN rubbed her neck, thinking about how to get out of this.

“Come on, it won’t be so bad. Plus, you’ll get to see the star of the basketball team in action,” Heeseung winked, making a blush form on her face.

“Ah, and here I thought you weren’t going to be full of yourself,” YN teased.

“I have every reason to be, if you come you’d understand,” He said.

“Okay, I’ll try to make it. I don’t like basketball though, it’s boring,” YN said and Heeseung gasped, pretending to be hurt.

“I am completely offended,” He said as YN and him started walking down the hall to the door.

“I said what I said,” She stuck out her tongue and he laughed. 

“I’ll see you around, YN,” He said. “Also, don’t be a stranger, I don’t bite.”

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

The buzzer buzzed causing an uproar in the stands. Cheers began around her as she sat there looking at the score. Heeseung threw the last shot, making it into the hoop and winning the game. The game was over, 80-91 was the finishing score as her University team won. The cheers were loud, causing YN to flinch in annoyance, turning to her best friend who sat there annoyed and holding his fingers in his ears to cover out the noise. He gave her a glare and she just chuckled at him, pinching his cheeks and him attempting to bite her fingers. The whole time, Heeseung was watching her. The swelling in his chest is getting bigger and bigger. Throughout the game he couldn’t take his eyes off her. He watched her as she looked at him in amazement, watching the ball go from side to side. 

“Good shot, man! You did it!” One of his teammates said as Heeseung quickly waved them off, walking over to the side of where his crush was sitting. She looked at him and saw him just staring at her, waving her to come over to him. She shook her head, standing up and shrugging. He nodded for her to meet him on the sides and she sighed, nodding back. She waited for the crowds to scurry off as she grabbed Sunoo and brought him down to the court. Sunoo was the most annoyed he’s ever been. He hated basketball and couldn’t believe YN dragged him to one of the games, Heeseung’s to be exact.

“This is so fucking annoying,” Sunoo complained. 

Heeseung emerged from the side again, a towel around his neck as he finished wiping his sweat.

“You came, I’m glad you did,” Heeseung pulled YN in for a hug, catching her off guard.

“Ew! You’re so sweaty!” YN said, pushing him back a bit as Sunoo fake gagged.

“Disgusting,” Sunoo said. “Okay, you saw him, let’s go.”

“Wait, Sunoo don’t be so rude,” YN said, giving Sunoo a look as Sunoo just scoffed.

“Yeah, Sunoo, don’t be so rude,” Heeseung said, mocking Sunoo as Sunoo glared at him.

“Look, we all know your intentions here and I hate to be the bearer of bad news but YN is way too good for you,” Sunoo said.

“Sunoo!” YN said, scolding her friend and nudging him.

“What? It’s true. He’s trying to get in your pants and remember? You said you’d never-” Sunoo began to say just as YN shut him up with her hand.

“He hasn’t done anything to you, stop being so rude! He helped me last week with you so you should actually be thanking him,” YN said.

“Geez, just how much do you hate me?” Heeseung asked Sunoo, venom in his voice.

“Thank you for helping, now let’s go YN!” Sunoo said, grabbing his friend.

“No! Wait!” Heeseung said, grabbing her hand and pushing YN behind him. “I don’t know what I did to you but I’d like to talk to YN alone, please.”

“Sunoo, I think you should go,” YN said.

“I’m just looking out for you,” Sunoo said, hurt in his voice.

“I appreciate that but you’re being very mean and Heeseung hasn’t done anything to deserve that kind of attitude,” YN said. “If you can’t be nice then don’t say anything at all.”

“Fine, fine. Look, I’m sorry for being a dick,” Sunoo said, defeated.

“It’s all good, just can I have my moment with her now?” Heeseung asked and Sunoo sighed, looking between YN and heeseung. YN could see the worry in his eyes before nodding and backing off. 

“I’ll see you at home, okay? Call me, seriously call me if you need anything,” Sunoo said and YN nodded.

“I can handle myself, Sun. I’ll see you at home.”

Sunoo then walked off, taking one more glance as he left the court. He wanted to always protect YN from the big bad wolf, and he knew Heeseung was the baddest of them all. He has seen YN be hurt time and time again, having to be there to witness and watch her get hurt. He only wanted what was best for his best friend. He always managed to scare people away, even going so close as to starting rumors of them together to keep him at peace. He has no romantic feelings for her, but he would do what he could to keep the predators at bay. The way he heard people talk about her made him extremely uncomfortable, and even though she said it didn’t bother her, he knew it did. 

“I’m really, really sorry about him. I really was not expecting Sunoo to act like that,” YN apologized as Heeseung just laughed.

“No, no I get it. I have a reputation and it’s not a very good one,” Heeseung said and YN nodded.

“Yeah, can’t say I haven’t heard,” she said. “You are a really talented player by the way. Congratulations!”

Heeseung winced at her words, annoyance filling his chest. He regretted everything now, at that moment. He used girls around him to try to take his mind off of her, wishing their bodies were her. Of course, he was left unsatisfied and mostly feeling empty. He wanted her so bad and now he could sense that using the girls was just a big mistake, because now she wanted nothing to do with him. And it was only his fault.

“Would you ever give me a chance?” He said, ignoring her statement.

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“I know I have a reputation, YN, a pretty sick one at that. But please, when I tell you those girls meant nothing to me, absolutely nothing, I mean it. I have watched you, I have admired you, and I have tried chasing you and you never once gave me the time of day. But I’m here, in front of you and I’m begging you to please, please give me a chance,” He pleaded, his hands coming up to hold her shoulders, him looking directly in her eyes.

“Heeseung, I-I had no idea,” YN said.

“Please tell me I didn’t fuck up my chance, please, please!” He begged, searching her eyes as a gasp left her lips. 

She really had no idea, and as she looked at him there she wanted to just hold him in her arms and reassure him it was okay. But why was she frozen in place? She didn’t know what to think, her heart wanted to be loved by him, deep down she was glad he wanted her and craved her attention, but the other part was still screaming at her to run so she wouldn’t get hurt. What if he hurts her? Just use her in the end?

“I don’t want to be one of your girls you use and just toss away,” she said.

“No, no, YN,” He said. “Please, give me a chance to show you that I have been and am still completely at your mercy. Let me prove it to you, please.”

“Okay.”

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

The next day YN woke up to flowers arriving at her door, with small love notes on them. And the following week she woke up to the same thing, again with love letters. For the past month this was happening every week, flower arrangements starting to decorate her apartment. She kept every note and would read them every night. Her interactions with Heeseung were frequent, Sunoo even being impressed with his courting of his best friend, and how Heeseung seemed to be completely at her will. Heeseung would ditch his friends to hangout with them, always holding her books or bag for her if she needed it, anything she mentioned Heeseung would get it for her. Sunoo couldn’t believe just how much of a simp the Basketball Captain was for his best friend. 

It was a Saturday morning when Sunoo heard a knock on their door. YN wasn’t up yet and Sunoo was an early riser. He walked over and opened the door, seeing the big flowers in his face as a smiling Heeseung popped out from behind.

“Oh God,” Sunoo said. “I think we get it.”

“I can’t give my woman some flowers?” Heeseung said as he followed Sunoo in their apartment, placing the flowers down on their small table.

“We’re running out of room, Heeseung. You know what’s an amazing gift? Soju,” Sunoo suggested.

“Yeah, because I’d like to help YN carry you to bed again,” Heeseung teased.

“I stand corrected, you and YN are made for each other. Lame asses,” Sunoo said. “She’s still asleep.”

Sunoo walked to the door then, grabbing his things and leaving Heeseung alone just standing there. Heeseung was starting to get used to Sunoo’s behavior and attitude. Sunoo was sassy and unpredictable. He never mentioned what he was doing or why, he just did. So him leaving Heeseung alone didn’t really surprise him or phase him. 

Heeseung walked down the hallway and silently opened the door to YNs room. He peeked inside, quietly walking in and closing the door behind him. He went over to the bed where he saw her small curled up figure, something he found endearing everytime she fell asleep with him. She grabbed things and always curled up in her sleep. She would mumble things as well and sometimes he would wake up and she was laying sideways. The way this woman had his heart in chains. He was a complete slave for her, her very being was the reason for his existence. 

He got in bed next to her, sitting up against her head board, her body began to move and she mumbled. He moved some of her hair out of her face, her head chasing the feeling as she began waking up. 

“Heeseung?” she mumbled out, still in a dreamlike state.

“Shh, go to sleep, pretty,” Heeseung hushed her. “I’ll be right here.”

“Lay with me?” She asked and he got up, removing his jeans and shirt, and getting back in bed with her. He pulled her body towards him, hugging her and trapping her frame to his. She turned over, their chests touching as she wrapped her arms around him, nuzzling her face into his neck.

“Hmmm, so nice. This is nice,” she mumbled out, a smile going on her face.

“You’re so perfect for me, go back to sleep, love. I’m right here.”

Heeseung fell asleep then. He came over early because he wanted to take her to breakfast, but he’d skip breakfast any day if it meant he got to hold her in bed and sleep next to her. It didn’t take long for him to fall into his dreams, dreaming over caressing her and holding her. He didn’t even need to dream because he was already living his reality. When YN woke up, she was wrapped in Heeseungs arms, not really remembering how he got here. She thought everything was a dream and when she came face to face with his sleeping form, she was glad it wasn’t.

She lifted her fingers and began to trace his face. He looked so peaceful and beautiful when he slept. She could get used to this.

“You know, if you wanted to take a picture, I’d let you take as many as you’d like,” Heeseung mumbled out, not opening his eyes and causing fits of giggles to come out of her mouth.

“I’ll do that later, for now I just want to stare,” she said and he smiled.

“Stare all you want, sweetheart, my face is yours,” he said.

“When did you get here?” she asked.

“Earlier, but you looked so cute I didn’t want to disturb you,” he said, opening his eyes and staring at her.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” he said back, both of them just smiling at each other.

They just stared at each other, YN could feel how Heeseung’s chest began to beat faster as she rubbed circles on his skin. Heeseung then realized how close she was, the flush in her cheeks and her tired eyes waking up more and more. He couldn’t help himself, he leaned in quickly and filled the small gap, kissing her lips in a passionate kiss. She moved her lips with his, her fingers gentle on his jaw as their mouths moved in sync. She moaned into the kiss and something in heeseung ignited. 

Heeseung quickly rolled over on top of her, not breaking the kiss. His tongue slipped in her mouth, his kiss getting more and more aggressive. He bit her lips, sucking on them and trailing kisses down her neck. He began sucking on the skin of her neck and collarbone as she lifted her neck up to give him more access. Heat rushed to her core and she could feel herself getting wetter by each touch. 

“Tell me to stop,” Heeseung said, his hands trailing down her sides, going under the large shirt and feeling the skin on her hip, playing with the lace of her panties.

“Don’t,” she said, sighing and Heeseung lifted up, looking down at her.

“Are you sure?” he asked and she nodded.

“Please,” she brought his lips down to hers. “Touch me.”

Heeseung didn’t need to be told twice. He quickly kissed back, lifting up a little and removing her shirt in one go. Her breasts were on full display for him to see, the skin on her neck and collarbone already to color from his actions. He leaned back down and crashed his lips to her with a hungry growl. He kneaded her breasts, squeezing and pinching her nipples, causing small yelps to come out of her mouth. Every reaction he got he felt his erection grow. 

“Baby, look at what you do to me,” he took her hand in his and brought it to his erection where she began to palm through his boxers. 

“More, Heeseung I want more.”

Heeseung trailed kisses down her stomach, his hand placed between her legs and feeling the wetness in between. He pressed his thumb inside, pushing her panties inside. She bucked her hips and moaned at the feeling, her body moving up and down along with his pushing trying to gain some relief. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet.”

Heeseung became impatient then, he grabbed her panties and quickly forced them down as he became face to face with her heat. He gave her thighs a few bites as he lifted her legs over his shoulder and he licked her cunt from top to bottom. She moaned at his actions, him not once taking his eyes off her as he shoved his tongue deep inside. Her body jolted up as she sighed. Heeseung began to abuse her center with his mouth, eating her out like this was his last meal. Her body was shaking, moving side to side and she rode his face. Moans and curses were coming from her mouth as he continued, her wetness and his saliva falling on the bed and everywhere it would get.

He pressed down on her middle, sticking two fingers in and pumping them as he licked her up. She felt the pit in her stomach then, as Heeseung continued giving her core all his attention. 

“Hee, I’m-fuck! Gonna cum!”

“Baby, cum for me. Let me taste you.”

With one more press on her middle, her body convulsed and her legs began to shake. He felt her release all over his tongue, her squirting directly into his mouth and he sucked every bit of it. He pulled his fingers out, sucking and letting her ride out her high.

“Oh my God!” She cried, tears coming from her eyes as her body still shook from her intense orgasm. 

Heeseung leaned back on his knees, watching as her body convulsed and was coming down from her high. He leaned up, taking her lips in his and letting her taste herself. She moaned, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him closer. 

“God, that was so sexy.”

He removed his boxers then, hissing as he grabbed his cock in his hands and pumped himself, feeling the precum leak from his tip. He placed himself between her folds, going up and down and teasing her. She stared into his eyes, nodding as he gave her a quick kiss and pushed his cock in between her core. He pushed all the way in, a gasp leaving her lips before she closed her eyes shut and bit her lips. 

“Baby, you can take it all. God, fuck! You’re so tight!”

He pushed in deeper, hearing her whine from the stretch. He was big. The biggest she’s had and she wasn’t sure if she could handle it. But he didn’t stop. He kissed the tears from her eyes as he finally bottomed out, not moving and letting her adjust. He peppered her face with kisses as she nodded, signaling him to move. He did, pulling out halfway before thrusting all the way in, getting a yelp from her as her body jolted. 

“It’s so big, Hee. Fuck!”

“You got this, let me make you feel good.”

She nodded as he began thrusting in and out, picking up his speed. Her body started matching his movements, her back arching as she began moaning in pleasure. He grabbed her hands and held them over her head as he leaned back, taking her hip and thrusting his hips into her. He looked down where they met, watching in awe as his cock moved in and out of her cunt, seeing their juices mix perfectly together. He looked at her face and saw pleasure as she moaned and whispered profanities. Her breasts bounced with each thrust, his own moans mixing with hers. 

His eyes closed shut as he leaned his head back before looking back down and seeing her look up at him, her eyes glossy as she tried to focus on him. He could feel himself close to release and knew she was close too. He felt her cunt clenching around him as she moaned out for him.

“Cum with me, cum! Fuck! So tight!”

Once he said that she squeezed him deeper, taking him as he hit just the right spot for her. His thrusts slowed as he stilled, releasing inside her and filling her up. She cried out, her eyes rolling in the back of her head as she saw stars. Her cunt sucked him in as she felt him release deep inside, her own release happening along with his. He collapsed on top of her, slowly moving and riding out their highs. Their bodies were gasping for air, him not caring as he grabbed her face and brought her lips to his in a passionate kiss. 

“Baby, that was way better than just some fantasy,” he said, chuckling to himself.

“Mmm, well you don’t need to fantasize anymore,” She said, kissing his lips. “You can come to me now.”

“Since you’re giving me permission, I’d like to take you every day, every night, every morning,” he said, kissing her lips and trailing more kisses down her neck. “I’m completely yours.”

“Thank you for being so patient with me,” she said.

“No, thank you for letting me love you. And I promise to love you and cherish you, like I said, I’m at your mercy.”

[rileysluvr]

simon riley loves his car (and fucking you in it) nsfw!!

Simon had picked you up outside your apartment some hours ago, car parked out front and tapping on the steering wheel in front of him as he waited patiently; he had shown up much earlier than he anticipated, but would rather put a shotgun to his head than leave you waiting. A bouquet of flowers on the passenger seat, and surprise dinner plans that reminded you of your first real date with him, despite going out for almost a year now. He keeps things classical and efficacious.

He’d say it was well worth the wait, being able to watch you walk down the staircase in that flowy, little sundress of yours that hiked up with the wind, much to his viewing pleasure. He got out of his car the moment your front door had opened, looping around to be able to greet you with the flowers and a kiss. He showered you with compliments, as always, in that gruff and hilariously out-sticking Manchester accent you adored so much. Opening the door of his ‘69 Mach for you, ever the gentleman he is, and you were off for the evening.

He took you to your favorite restaurant downtown, the one he made your favorite by hearing you say you wanted to try it once and proceeding to take you the next night. One, ‘that was really good, Si, thank you,’ as you were kissing him goodnight, and suddenly he was taking you almost every weekend he was home. He’s sure to introduce some sort of variety every once in a while, though, for the other free nights of the week.

The man is shameless, truly. He isn’t afraid to whisper something naughty in your ear in public, or outright insult someone for looking at you in any way, malicious or not. These things he whispers: so fucking dirty, and tend to come out as you’re about to head home so he can warm you up and have you all desperate for an extra good fucking. One with your head buried in your mattress as his is between your thighs, chest rising and falling like a madwoman with exactly no worries in the world other than.

The worst is when you’re at previously mentioned restaurant and he doesn’t even bother keeping quiet as he’s signing the check because it’s well enough spaced out and, or at least he argues, nobody has the right to be listening in to his conversation in the first place. Scar themselves, and if they have a problem with it, he’ll add another just above the jugular so they don’t think about doing it again. He smirks when he sees your face has gone all red, hoping that no one had heard his vile promises until your faith is truly tested and you’re forced to just close your eyes and give in.

He drove you to your favorite viewing spot, parking his Mustang a few meters from the cliff’s edge that overhung the entire city. A beautiful sight, like it was straight from a modern painting or film, and the comfort of his car paid towards the surrealness of it all. You’re a pretty sight as well, all dolled up in the passenger seat with your hands folded in your lap, flowers and bag forgotten in the back.

Simon wasn’t ever much for using his words, but he’d do it all day if it meant hearing your sweet voice give him a response. There are times where you’ll both be as chatty as a couple of grandmothers meeting for their annual lunch outing, and then there are moments where it’s time to zero in on the afternoon wine tasting and fewer words just work better than the rundown. Times where you can’t shut up because he wants to hear every single detail about every single thing you’ve done since he saw you last, in the most caring way possible, and moments where it feels like you’ve been happily married and tied at the hip for twenty years and you don’t need to share out because the quietness is just as good.

“That’s when you know you’ve found somebody really special, when you can just shut the fuck up for a minute and comfortably share a silence.”

He reached over the center console and put his hand on your bare knee, calloused fingers treading so lightly and yet instantly sending jolts of goosebumps throughout your entire body. You both kept your eyes on his hand as it trailed up your thigh, contrasting skin slipping inward to make you gasp and giggle. It’s big, veiny, and utterly mesmerizing to watch as it moves.

You were silent as you watched, apart from the audible blushing in your breath, then looking up to him through your lashes. The hem of your dress was pushed up and up and he inched closer and closer to your core until you were shuddering and unable to blink.

“Simon…” you breathed, and he straightened his shoulders, eyes meeting your fuck me ones. “Please.”

Well, he couldn’t say no to that, now, could he?

He got you in the backseat of his car, straddling his lap with him shoving his tongue in your mouth so strongly it was almost too overwhelming. His body heat, his muscles; you felt it all.

There wasn’t much time for comfort before his hands were slipping under your dress and groping at the plush fat of your bent hips. He pinched and slapped your ass to pull those cute whines from you, lips quivering right up against his own, and then smoothed small circles over the skin with his thumbs and palms to ease the sting. His hands went further to feel up your waist, just under your tits and stopping there. He wouldn’t dare mess up your pretty outfit just yet, but he loves to see you whining for more.

He pulled barely an inch away from your face, with a great, cocky smirk coating his expression. “No bra?” Your already flustered face had somehow gotten even more heated in front of him; he really knows how to work you up. He chuckled, “You naughty little devil.”

His hand met the back of your head and pulled you right back in as the other was returned to your waist. He nudged and encouraged you to move your hips, so you did, back and forth ever so slightly to start out.

But you both needed more than slightly, and he knew it. His grip didn’t yield and instead pressed you down harder onto his lap, causing your movements to stutter from your depraved and clothed clit getting harshly rubbed up against his firm bulge. Your lips halted in an open form, moaning into his mouth, and he snickered at the fact.

Grinding down on a man his size was no easy feat but you gave it your all nonetheless, makeout turning sloppier and more desperate by the second. But messy has always been his favorite when it comes to you and that body.

You always lose track of time so easily when you’re with him, and same goes for him. You’re dangerous, and he loves it. Neither of you had even noticed the sky turning from a pale blue to pitch darkness in the time between then and when he had brought the car to a stop.

His hand, rough and straightforward as ever, moved to slip between the two of you and into your panties, cupping your cunt. You gasped at the coldness of his touch and he hummed at your warmth, delving two fingers between your folds before you could totalize it all in your head. “That feel alright, honey?”

You nodded with a squeak of a whine, and he took that as his cue to push further.

“So fuckin’ tight…’n wet…all for me, sweetheart?”

He shoved his fingers deeper, and you choked on air. “Y-yes. All yours,” you breathed.

“Yeah?” he razzed on. He knew he was beginning to test your limits, even if you wouldn’t admit it. “Well, I want you to take what you want from me, then, love. Make yourself come ‘nd I can watch.”

You swallowed thickly; it was never a question with him. Your kneedy hands wrapped around the thick arm leading to your cunt and you began to rock your hips back and forth, eyes closed. The friction and the reaction it pulled from you was instantaneous, but you’re no quitter. He adjusted his fingers upwards and curled them a bit, causing you to stutter out a broken and shy moan from your slacken jaw.

“Come on, sweetheart, that’s it…grind that little cunt down on my palm f’me. Fuck yourself on my fingers, make it feel good.”

You increased the pressure with which you grounded yourself down on his palm; you really wanted to make him proud. The heel of his palm dug ferociously at your clit in all the best ways, allowing you to feel up every callous and year of strenuous work on his skin; he’s a skilled man, a provider. The same hand he brought to countless countries to do God knows what to the enemy soldiers, working at your cunt so sweetly you’re sure you’d have actual hearts in your eyes if it were physically possible. You don’t have to worry your pretty, little head about the gritty half of his life, however; he’s reassured you an infinite amount of times, and will continue doing so until he retires.

He fucked you with his fingers just right, like he knew you better than you knew yourself. He’d always have you unraveling and drunk in front of him in mere seconds, doesn’t matter if it’s been weeks or minutes since the last time, on his fingers or tongue or cock. However it be, he always takes care of you.

“Jusst like that…there ya go, honey. Makin’ a proper fuckin’ mess of my hand, aren’t ya? Tirin’ yourself out, now?”

He watched on, witnessing the affects his words had on you; he’d have to be an idiot not to notice them, and he let it fuel his ego freely.

“So fuckin’ stunning… You gonna come f’me, love?”

“Mhm,” you whined, nodding feverishly and nearly busting your lip with how hard you were biting down on it to keep your sanity. It’s so fucking close, you could just barely reach it.

“Mhm?” he mocked. “Pretty pussy must’ve been so needy while I was away, I bet.” Damn him, for even his mean side is still so gratifying. “‘S a good thing I’m here, now…make this cunt feel real fuckin’ loved. Ain’t it right, sweetheart?”

As if on cue, you came on his hand with a broken moan, practically clawing at his thick forearm as he continued to work at you until you were seeing flashes of white with pink roses in your closed off vision. Your eyes shot open, breathing erratic and pupils blown out, and were met with his smug face.

“There’s your answer,” he commented. Fuckin’ meanie. He pulled his fingers from your sensitive pussy and brought them to his mouth, sticking his tongue out wide and to taste that cum of yours he missed so much. You watched on, dumbfounded, and he clearly enjoyed the audience.

Heaven, and you should know it. He’s a kind man; he shares.

Before you could think, he shoved his fingers between your lips and against your hot tongue without a warning, forcing a whine from deep in your throat. Saliva mixed with cum mixed with spit. You took them greedily as he was the one to watch that time, lust and stupefaction and all the feelings bundled up into his observant, anthracite eyes. He taunted once more, “It’s nice, innit?” with an unruly snicker.

You nodded with his fingers still in your mouth, the amount of space they took up utterly inordinate, until they were clean. He pulled them out and praised you for the good cleaning before telling you, “Tell me what you want. Right here, ‘nd now.”

With your hands already at his zipper, palming his erection while you silently begged to take it out of his pants, you told him, “Want your cock-…need you to t’fuck me, please,” through tired and desperate chokes. You were about ready to cry if you had to sit on his lap and be without his cock stuffed deep in your cunt for another minute. “Need it so fucking bad, Si.”

The man leered and chuckled at your cute patheticness, his hand finding yours on his crotch. “Mmh. With pleasure.”

—

Now, as you’re speared open on his cock in the backseat, sitting on his lap with your arms wrapped around his neck, you can’t seem to think much about anything but him. The way his cock fills you so nicely, all big and relentless just like the rest of him. He just makes you so dizzy; it’s as easy as one glance and half the time you don’t even know if he means it or not. It’s like he has you under an unbreakable spell, or whatnot.

“Gotta start movin’ ya now, sweets,” he says, like he’s a man who’s sorry but knows he’s right. And he’s always right.

You lift your head from his shoulder, eyes all glossy and lit up by the car’s interior lights, so fucking desperate for him. You nod in understanding before stationing your hands on his broad shoulders and slowly raising your hips a few inches with the help of his heavy hands on your hips, hissing through your teeth turning into a whimper-esque moan as you sink back down. It burns, stings, yet repairs all with a kiss to your cervix.

Your post-orgasm slick is making it a snug fit, but you fear your legs will seize up seeing how unreliable they are after just coming once. And it’s still one hell of a stretch. Collect yourself, breathe, and you’re doing it all again. Slowly, until you’re eventually riding him so leisurely with his assistance.

“Good girl,” he drags out, impossibly long and sultry. It hits you right in the gut like it always does, and you feel that tingling behind your ear from how close you are to him. “My good fuckin’ girl, made to take this cock. Ain’t that right?”

You’re not going to last long with such a sensitive cunt having finished hard only a moment ago. The fabric of his jeans grinds so wonderfully right up against your nerves in the particular position, and your brain is utterly fried. You know nothing more but to fuck yourself on this cock until you physically can’t anymore and your lungs give out.

He stretches you out and fills you beyond what you can handle, but you’ve always tried your best to make it work for him. He’s just so fucking sweet on you, how could you not make an effort?

You’ve got the hang of it. It’s not often you get to be on top of him, but you’re doing a nice job on proving he should let you more often. Christ, he’d die a very happy man like this if it was up to him. You move to gently push his hands aside and he gives you a surprised, yet still taunting, look. You return with a smirk of your own, for once.

Your hands plant themselves on your thighs to give him a nice show as you very slowly bounce yourself on his cock, careful not to be hitting your head on the ceiling each time like an idiot, with him all leaned back and soaking in the view. Your fingertips curl around the end of your dress and hike it up your lap, teasing his eyesight with what it could reach. You stop just before he gets to see your cunt swallowing him whole, and he groans at both the prospect and what he’s missing out on. He shakes his head. Surprise is quick to turn to disapproval, though all still the same amount of playfulness.

“So pretty like this, darlin’. One of your best looks.” His praise can come with the slightest belittling kick to it more often than not, and you eat it up every time like a starved girl to a feast.

He adjusts to be more comfortably seated which, of course, comes with him just barely jutting his hips upwards. He somehow manages to hit that far-too-sweet of a spot in you with the small movement, and you fall forward onto his chest with hands rushing and mostly failing to catch yourself.

“Silly woman,” he huffs. “Don’t lose your balance, when you’re doin’ so good.” You raise your head to scold him with your eyes but he’s so quick to give you an atypical pout in return, leaving you with mixed emotions running rampant in your mind and heart and gut. He tells you, “Don’t gimme that face, now. C’mon, then. Aren’t ya gonna kiss me?”

You do so in a heartbeat, but not without a roll of your eyes to keep him in check. Suddenly, you’re more interested in chasing your own high than his. But don’t get it wrong; that was his plan from the start; get you riled up so you’ll take what you need from him. He knows what he’s doing, at all times. You push yourself from his chest with your hands back to being planted firmly on his shoulders and you begin riding him again with a newfound, eager energy. Back to grinding, more so.

“There she is,” he laughs. “All mean ‘nd angry, using my cock like the rightful toy she deserves.” And you can’t disagree.

“Come on, keep those pretty eyes on me, now.”

“Fuck, Si—‘m trying.” Your thighs burn and you struggle to reopen your eyes every time you find that they’ve closed on their own.

He takes in the sight and burns it into his memory for good, right next to every other time he’s had you all fucked-out and cockdrunk under him. Having you absolutely struggling to take everything he gives you but oh-so willing every time because he’s just so fucking caring with it. In the backseat of his car, though? That’s a new one.

It doesn’t take long for that familiar heat to spark in your belly, right where he’d see that moving bulge in your stomach he always obsessed over so dearly, and would be now if it weren’t for your dress in the way. His cock twitches inside you at the prospect, even the smallest of groans ghosting his lips. You’re tumbling so fast and so blindly into your orgasm and you can’t even think about how it may be your stamina’s killer for the evening. He offers his hand and you take it. Gentleman.

You lace your fingers with his, using it to ground yourself and level your head. And it makes the entire experience all the more intimate; you fuck like you love each other because the words going unsaid as of now won’t stop them from being true.

“That’s it, sweetheart, just like that. Wanna feel you squeezin’ my hand when you come on my cock. Lemme hear those pretty noises ya like makin’ for me.”

He tends to talk a lot when he’s buried deep inside you; he’s cocky, he can’t help it. Despite his words majorly being muffled in your hearing, the volume of your moans and whines increase like he asked for. Each noise you make comes with a punch of butterflies to his stomach, and he’s never enjoyed the fictitious, creepy-crawlies as much as he does now.

He admires how your face contorts with pleasure, brows gone all low and straight with your jaw hanging slightly open and eyes closed. He feels how close you're getting with your stuttering and uneven movements, and how you’re practically strangling his cock as tension builds up in your gut.

Like he’s nothing but warm flesh for you to use to get off in this moment, and your entire world in others and especially now, even after his relentless teasing. He doesn’t mind being both. Lie; he hopes he’s both. He needs to be everything you need, and what you need now is a small push of worshiping degradation. He knows you, nearly better than you know yourself, and you’re not afraid to say it.

You’d be dead without him, in all honesty. He puts up with you, and you put up with him, in ways no other humans would. You’re better than good for each other, more often than not.

He scoffs with bemuse, “Even prettier when you let me fuck you so hard I ruin your lovely hair ‘nd makeup.” His eyes ricochet between your dilated ones, a nasty smirk on his lips. You’re utterly gone. “Yeahh, that’s right…I know you like it, too, pretty girl…doin’ amazing, takin’ what I give you so well… Like my loyal little fuckin’ whore,” he spits, with love.

You come hard on his cock and it sucks every bit of energy from you, exuded through uncontrolled moans and heavy breathing and the fierce death-grip you have on his hand. He talks you through it until you finish riding it out, and he swaddles you in his arms the second you fall slack against his broad front. He’s here to serve you in your every step.

And he hasn’t gotten anything.

“—‘m sorry, Si…I don’t know if I can keep going yet,” you pant. “…’t’s too good. Need a break.”

Was your mascara really running? You hadn’t even noticed.

He breathily chuckles at your words. Edge him for hours and the sick bastard laughs. Though, you haven’t given him much of a choice, considering you’ve just let him fuck you silly in the steel and leather compartment of his car and now you’re catching your breath as you lean your full weight on him. He never thought he’d find something so caging to be so comforting for him.

“It’s alright, love, I know you’re tired.” His arms wrap tightly around you and savors it. He’d be a dead man if it weren’t for your warmth and hugs. “Y’did such a nice job, as always.”

His teeth will rot if he keeps up with this all. Routine of praise, abandonment of brutality. He’s lucky he was never one for showing teeth whenever you make him smile. Makes the illusional—and hopefully never of his reality—cosmetic change easier on the both of you.

Seriously though, anything but the teeth.

An idea pops into his head; it’s no flashing, spur-of-the-moment idea, but rather one that has been brewing in his mind for a long time, and with no clue on how or when to introduce it to you. Now, however, it feels just right. Still, it comes out in a mumble, partly to comply for the close proximity but mostly because he’s never been good with this kind of stuff.

Vulnerability, ‘nd all that crap.

“Want you to move into my place.”

Best saved for when he’s just fucked you into a near-coma in the backseat of his Mustang.

You amusedly hum into his shoulder, still so drunk on your highs you can barely process exactly what he’s putting out there. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he huffs. “Whaddya think? I like it well enough…imaginin’ waking up to that beautiful face, all wrapped up in my sheets…walkin’ around the kitchen ‘nd wearin’ my clothes after I fuck you real nice every mornin’. Isn’t that a pretty sight?”

His last words bite you right in the sweet spot as they graze past your ear, and you’re suddenly a weak, giggling, and borderline whining mess atop him. “You might break me at that rate,” you warn.

It’s difficult to ignore his hard cock still shoved deep inside you during such a tender moment, especially with the way you’re involuntarily writhing with his and your words.

“Every other mornin’ then,” he reasons, and you can’t help but giggle. “You’re laughin’ but I ain’t joking, sweetheart. That’s another thing, wanna hear that laugh all fuckin’ day when I’m home. I’ll never get tired’ve hearin’ it.”

You finally manage to pull your flustered face from the crook of his neck, looking at him with a surprised smile like you’ve just discovered the secret meanings to time and space and they all lie within his marked up face. “You’re serious?”

“‘Course I’m bloody serious.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing, while you never thought you’d hear the words.

A step forward. You’ve been waiting, but can’t exactly say you’ve been expecting.

“You’ve stayed the night plenty before, I doubt it’ll be any different. I’ll give you the fuckin’ key right now.”

You grin huge—so bright and lively he thinks he may just catch it like a disease—before leaning down and gently smashing your lips against his. He returns the gesture, a classic smirk fighting its way through.

Gently smashing. It makes sense, between the two of you.

You pull away slowly and barely, muttering to him through your smile, “I accept your key.”

He hums a satisfactory one, rolling his shoulders back against the hard leather seat as if his mind isn’t running rampant with a billion thoughts, all revolving around you and happiness. He realizes he hadn’t ever had the chance or reason to sit in the back before. He definitely belongs up front in the driver's seat. It’s a miracle he even has enough leg room to fit you on his lap.

“Although,” you start with a hint of sarcasm in your voice, though he still furrows his brows urgently. What could possibly be in the way? Who does he have to kill to fix it? “I’m gonna get lonely in a house that big, when you’re off getting deployed in another country.”

Every god-damn terrorist on the planet, apparently. His retirement party better be worthwhile.

A dagger to the heart he’d happily take again simply because it’s got a part of you. In this case, it’s far-too-real words that are laced in your charming voice.

“We’ll get a dog.” His words are said so nonchalantly and it’s a conscious decision, as if they aren’t the most important things in the world for the both of you. So determining for your future together, and so sweet despite his downright rough and gruff drawl. So much emotion in such a seemingly emotionless voice. “Even let you name it.”

You smile impossibly bigger, and it’ll go on to continue growing with every half-sentence he utters. “You’d do that for me?”

“Oh, I’d do anythin’ for you, love.”

You throw your arms around his neck with an excited squeal, practically strangling the man with love. He takes you graciously, big arms tightening around your waist, but tries to calm you like a wild dog by moving a hand up to the back of your head, buried in his shoulder once again, and patting it.

“…s’long as I approve of it. Sound about right?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you mumble, locked onto him. “Does this mean I get to drive this car while you’re away?”

He laughs, chest inflating for a split second and taking you up and down with it. “God, no. Maybe I’ll let you drive the Charger, but this beauty isn’t goin’ anywhere without me behind that wheel.”

“Damn,” you hiss. Obviously. “Was worth a shot.”

“Smart thing,” he murmurs. You sink your slack body into him impossibly closer, every muscle relaxed beyond what you thought they were capable of because he’s just that comfortable. The squishiest chest you’ll find on a man.

“….Gonna be my pretty, li’l housewife.”

“Even though I have a job and we aren’t married?”

“Even though you have a job and we aren’t married,” he repeats, sighing the entire time.

He can change at least one of those things. He’s gonna change one of those things.

He starts again, “Seems like you’ve got your energy back. And you still have a job to do, little miss.”

You groan dramatically into his neck when his hands find your waist, very sadly attempting to pull you off him for only a moment. Groans fluidly turn to whimpers and you’d be stomping your feet in protest if you could, but your stubbornness has always translated to playful arousal.

“Don’t worry, love,” he chuckles. “I’ll help ya out.”

[plaguespacebird]

☁︎‎‎‧₊˚ ₍^. .^₎⟆ [Wednesday and tipsy!gf]

You end up drinking a little too much at a party and immediately text Wednesday to come get you. Irritated and sleepy, Wednesday opens the door to somebody's home to find too many bodies in too loud of a place. Her eye twitches.

She pushes past the drunkly dancing bodies and scoures the area to find you but before she can see you, she hears you.

"Ha-top! I didn't saaay thaat..."

Your slurred words and fit of giggles bring another wave of annoyance. Your behavior too carefree and spirited for your current state of inebriation. You're seated, well just barely, with a guy sitting too close to you. So close anyone near you would assume you two as lovers. Did you know him? How dare he be so close? Where the hell was Enid?!

In a flash of fury, Wednesday stomps over to you, harshly slapping away the guys hand on your shoulder. The loud sound dunks on you like a bucket of cold water but only momentarily. Your glassy eyes meet your lovers, your inebriated state mistaking her furry for usual coldness.

"Looove!"

Sweet. Your words achingly sweet. 'And so out of place.'

With your last resevoir of strength, you pull yourself up. Clinging on to her neck as tighly as you could, mumbling words incomprehensible to your lover.

Behind you, Wednesday would much rather start throwing knives at the bastard who dared look at her with such display of dissatisfaction. Her boiling eyes perice a warning far deeper than what she can say right now.

"Leave."

The worm scrabbles as best he can, sensing more trouble than what he signed up for. Wednesday turns back to your sluggish form, happily ignorant to everything around you. She could roll her eyes if she wasn't so furious. Her cold hands had folded into fists and had yet to return any of your affections.

She tries to move you away, hoping to get out of here faster by simply dragging you but has to relent to staying outside. It was calmer at least, no crowds and the blaring music wasn't so present. She calls your name. Loud and cold. Her growing resentment harding her words. They are pericing to your soul.

"No!"

She catches that. But it only serves to push you further away. "I'm sorry."

Wednesday's breath catches. Her hands snarning your wrists and out of her neck.

"You were right. I shouldn' hav' come..."

Right you were.

"I'm always right."

You looked at her shoes, too ashamed to look at her beautiful eyes. The hold she had on you hurt but if it didn't you might not be sobering up at this present moment. 'It also feels better to have her than not...'

She takes in your pitiful state. Your lovely dress scrunched, your hair beginning to frizz, make-up smudged, eyes on the brink of a cascading waterfall....

Wednesday lets out a long sigh.

"We'll talk tomorrow."

Dropping one of your wrist, she starts walking away slowing her pace when she realizes your hand-to-eye coordination has been reduced by at least 80%. With one wrist ensnared by Wednesday, you place your other hand on top of hers.

The dark woods were such a lovely place to be, too bad Wednesday was still too prickly to enjoy such beauty. That didn't stop you however.

"Stop smiling idiot."

You swing your connected hands.

"But we're ona' date!"

This time, Wednesday rolls her eyes. "Must be nice to live without any brain cells warning you of safety and surroundings."

The peak of her frenzy crumblibg down the mountain like debri countinues, as you walk back to her dorm.

"But I'd knew you'd come..."

Her response hurts. She grips your wrist tighter, deciding not to care about how bad she'll feel tomorrow. Oh, how right you were.

"I hate how reckless you are."

You hum, walking closer to her, your hand latching to her forearm. You would stare at her too, if it didn't mean face-planting into dirt. You respond in a slurred whisper, "We can work on that too..."

Patience. Wednesday thought. There was no need to climb mountins of emotions and dig holes of resistance after all, you had so much time to be together. She finally frees your wrist, lacing her fingers through yours, earning her a delightful hum on your end.

"Can we cuddle?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."