#(and had to add a creepy grin.)

[kyouka-supremacy]

please talk more about chuuaku

Brain empty no thoughts only chuuaku. It's so good!!! It's hard to pin down one reason why I like them, but I'm just... Very attracted by how realistic the ship feels. Allow me to elaborate: they're very different. They're not different as in “we perfectly complement each other”, they're not different in “we're opposite but we're actually the same and no one gets you like I do”. They're just different. They do NOT understand each other. They have different backgrounds and different experiences and different personalities. They didn't hate each other on sight, for a while they just kind of existed in the same environment. And that's so appealing for me!! It's so good because that's... Something that actually happens. That's part of their charm for me, because people in real life don't really come in perfect sets of oddly specific complimentary designs or 21 cm of height difference or suspiciously resembling mythical enemy creatures from eastern mythology; but people do happen to work at the same work place, maybe to start hanging out more, maybe to start falling for each other. I just find it very sweet! About that, I really like the aspect that since they don't understand reach other, there's the compelling necessity to getting to know each other. I feel like that isn't something that's there with s/kk and ss/kk: with those pairs it's usually this weird mix of hate at first sight and understanding each other like no one else does. With chuuaku, Akutagawa and Chuuya are just different: that means for them there needs to be an actual, mutual effort to understand the other. I like to think about them eventually going through a phase of the kind “I realize this person isn't what I initially thought of them. As it turns out, the idea I had of them was so far from reality, I could as well have never known them at all. Suddenly, for reasons I can't explain, I feel like I want to get to know them”; and it's SO compelling. The growing closer!! The growing together. Like where the other ships are just pushing each other's buttons all the time and usually bringing out the worst out of each other, I feel like Akutagawa and Chuuya could really bring the best out of each other. It's not the constant angst of getting together and breaking up s/kk have going on (which I understand has its own appeal!), but sometimes it's nice when a person can unequivocally be your safe place, you know? Instead of constant mistrust and doubt and fear of being left, just. a person you can fully trust they will always have your back. Having found each other in a world that has made both of them suffer so much so long, and being happy together? Finding happiness together? Idk, I just find it really sweet. At this point, I'm pretty much the “what your favorite x ship says about you” girl going “You just want the best for Akutagawa and Chuuya, and really, who doesn't?”, but isn't that true?? They deserve each other, they deserve a break after everything the world threw at them.

But then again, it's not just a matter of what I want for them, I truly believe they're compatible! Just not in the “soulmates perfectly crafted to be together” way, but in a more realistic way, which again is arguably even more appealing? It's the “Soulmates aren't found, they're made. People meet, they get a good feeling, and then they get to work building a relationship” thing. I like the graduality of the whole thing. I like the falling in love slowly and unintentionally. In my headcanon, Akutagawa and Chuuya weren't in good terms for a very long time, up to at least when Dazai left. I like to think they didn't know each other past their own reputations - I doubt they had many occasions to interact - and just kinda vaguely disliked each other: on Akutagawa's end lied a slightly stronger dislike, given he most definitely didn't like Chuuya as someone who constantly insulted and disrespected Dazai-san and someone Dazai himself wasn't in appearance very fond of (to be fair, there's probably quite a few things in the world 16 or something y/o Akutagawa didn't deeply hate or was angry at) (also, now that I think about it, young Akutagawa was probably jealous of how close Dazai and Chuuya were, as well as of Chuuya being Dazai's partner). On Chuuya's side, I can imagine him not really disliking Akutagawa, but probably being sorta pissed at him for how frequently he made a mess in his missions, his whole kill-kill main-maim attitude, plus lowkey disapproving the whole Dazai idolization thing. Meaning there's so much space for growth starting from there, and that's so appealing, especially after Dazai left the pm! They probably both felt lost and betrayed for their own reasons at that point, and if I don't think they mourned together in the immediate aftermath (though the concept is sweet on its own), I think that has the potential of having brought the two of them closer. Like *this* is the first time when, unexpectedly, they suddenly started understanding each other; because they were going through the same pain. In a way or the other, Dazai was a very close person to both of them who also hurt them beyond words; the moment he left, they were to each other the only person that could understand what they were going through.

But there's potential even besides that tbh? I just want... Akutagawa and Chuuya who are changed and matured some time after Dazai left, and happen to spend time with each other because of a mission or something (will probably get more chances to work together after Akutagawa was promoted. Idk. indulge me on this), and both realizing they're actually so different from the idealized version they had made of each other. And that actually the other isn't so bad after all. And that actually spending more time with them would be nice. And that actually they would like to learn more about the other. I come back to the very initial point, everything about them has the potential to have such a natural and realistic development (as much as a bsd ship can be natural and realistic), and sorry for being a basic broke 21 y/o student but tbh there's literally nothing more romantic than having a stable job and falling in love on the work place with someone who also has a stable job and having no financial trouble and also coming home to the person you love like. Idk about you but that's literally the dream, don't you ever want a break from the endless s/kk angst or ss/kk being a literal tragedy?

And besides everything, their personalities truly DO feel compatible to me!! And really it's not the “we're so compatible we keep clashing with each other”, it's the “we actually work well together”. I'm thinking about Chuuya doing most of the speaking and Akutagawa being a good listener even if he doesn't talk a lot. Chuuya actually enjoying Akutagawa's silent company: Chuuya liking how, compared to most people he interacts with at the pm, Akutagawa's not really afraid to speak his mind, and the few times he talks he WILL be blunt; Chuuya cherishes that. I'm thinking about Akutagawa learning to love and to be loved through Chuuya. I'm thinking about them being the only safe place for each other, this stable island in a world that has hurt them so much they know won't betray them. I'm thinking about them talking about pm matters at home and having this loving and domestic life both of them oh so deserve. I'm thinking about their eyes imperceptibly lighting up and their respective days being made whenever they stumble across each other at work. I'm thinking about THEM

(Side note, but I need domestic chuuaku with Akutagawa complaining about Atsushi– you know, the usual “I hate that Jinko so much, he's so incredibly stupid and unbelievably hypocrite, annoying and weak”, the usual Akutagawa being unable to stop talking about Atsushi 24/7 EXCEPT THIS TIME HE'S ACTUALLY HONEST and not tsunderely complaining about him like he would realistically do in every other universe. A weird universe where Akutagawa is GENUINELY pissed at Atsushi and it's not... Really hate anymore and more of huge annoyance towards this dude you keep having to work with. Akutagawa complaining to Chuuya over dinner in the lines of “Dazai paired me up again with Jinko” “What a bitch” because no more existential dread, THAT'S the kind of light-hearted daily issues I want them both to have.)

And like for chuuaku to exist automatically implies such a big character development for Akutagawa one can't help but love!! Like all Akutagawa ships are inherently beautiful and perfect for their added value of bring to the picture Akutagawa, the most cruel and ruthles and especially emotionless character, being able to feel love. It's just a bonus win from the start lmao. But I feel chuuaku additionally must involve an Akutagawa who's grown and healed past his several mentor complexes which is... A lot, and it's very heartwarming? Akutagawa dating Chuuya, who is superior to him in hierarchy and most likely in fight power, but doing so peacefully because he's long let go of his fixations over demonstrations of power / his perception of power being an indicator of your value as a human being. AND and also Akutagawa dating his ex-mentor's most despised person, letting go of his obsession with Dazai and belief that Dazai is infallible and never wrong: in a way, Akutagawa finally and resolutelly disowning Dazai as his mentor– and without replacing him with a new one, because he doesn't need to be guided anymore, because he's master of his own fate!! Overall Akutagawa becoming a calmer, more loving, more mature person. Good for him. That's also why I can see them getting together only after some time– because the ship speaks of a big growth in their characters, a growth they can go through together, and that is undeniably fun to explore. It would also be nice if Chuuya fell first and Akutagawa second, for a change. I mean, Chuuya seems at least a little more conscious of his own feelings, while Akutagawa definitely took years, years, to get over his twisted feelings for Dazai. And Chuuya's feelings for Dazai are just as complex as Akutagawa's, but seriously I think part of him must have been happy to finally let Dazai go, even if that hurt; because Dazai definitely hurt Chuuya a lot, but I feel like at least Chuuya was more conscious about how much it damaged him compared to Akutagawa. And that's such a juicy aspect, navigating through their own feelings for Dazai alone and together.

But seriously most of everything it's the whole feeling of being SAFE of the ship. I think I use that word a lot when talking about chuuaku, but it's literally all it's about for me. It's knowing you can rely on someone. It's knowing there's someone who will always protect you (I mean, they're two of the most powerful pm operatives, they're bound to feel safe with each other). But it's also the knowing the other would never betray them like they've been betrayed in the past!! There's this specific certainty to this ship that the other person would never abandon them I feel other ships (s/kk and ss/kk) could hardly have, and it's so unspeakably nice. I want them both to feel protect and safe, and it's the kind of final happiness and domesticity only them can give each other. And it's GREAT.

Tl; dr: Chuuaku has so much to offer and it's so different compared to the classic s/kk / ss/kk dynamics and although I get it's not everyone's cup of tea it is MY cup of tea and I WILL proceed to stan them untill I die.

[flowersforbucky]

moth to a flame

bucky barnes x reader / winter soldier x reader

"I know you. even when I know nothing else, even when I don't know myself, I know you."

summary: bucky is triggered into the winter soldier during a mission and then goes MIA, until he seeks you out in the middle of the night.

warnings/tags: SMUT, canon divergence (bucky hasn't been successfully deprogrammed in this), kind of dub-con, language, some violence, reader is afab, no use of y/n, 18+ only, friends with benefits situation, angst with a happy ending

word count: 4.9k

“You've reached Bucky. I can't answer the phone right now but leave me a mess–”

You hang up before the voicemail recording finishes. You already knew he wasn't going to answer, just as he hasn't answered any of the other thirty-something times you've dialed his number over the course of the last few days. Or read any of the two dozen text messages.

The messages had stopped delivering and the calls had started going straight to voicemail almost two days ago at this point. And yet you still got your hopes up every time you checked your phone, only to be met with gut-wrenching, nauseating disappointment.

It had now been three days of this - not to mention picking your cuticles until they bleed, flipping back and forth between every news station on your TV in hopes (and fear) of seeing his name, a few collective hours of sleep each night, and too much Red Bull.

Just when you were thinking about trying to kick your caffeine addiction, too.

Three days of feeling completely and utterly helpless.

You place the phone back down on your coffee table, staring down at the thick, white cast encasing your left leg from your foot to just under your knee.

Useless.

You knew you were doing what you physically could - the spread of laptops and tablets on the table in front of you continuously supplying data from facial recognition programs across the United States.

Realistically, you knew he could be on the other side of the world by now, but that didn't stop you from checking. It was the only thing that you felt you had any control over right now.

But it wasn't enough. Not when Steve, Sam, Natasha, Sharon, and every other currently able-bodied team member are out scouring every safehouse and known former HYDRA base in the tri-state area while you're holed up in your apartment with a fractured fibula and a brain that won't let you stop reliving the moments before he went missing.

“This is as straightforward as it gets,” Steve re-assures you both for what felt like the dozenth time that day. “You'll be in and out in no time.”

“So straight-forward that you're going to hang back here while we do all the dirty work?” You joke as you make the final adjustments to your parachute.

“We've been monitoring this base for months,” he reminds you. “This place is as abandoned as they come. Get in, get the intel from the database, and get back to the jet.”

“And then blow the place to smithereens,” Bucky adds with a devious grin.

“And then blow the place to smithereens,” Steve agrees.

If only things had been as simple as he had expected.

You had a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach from the moment that you and Bucky landed on the ground outside of the HYDRA base. You told yourself that you were being irrational - but you couldn't shake the looming feeling that something was going to go wrong.

“See?” Bucky says after removing the USB drive from the computer. He sticks the device in the breast pocket of his tactical vest before edging you towards the desk. “Easy-peasy. You've been worried for nothing.”

“I have not been worried,” you deny, leaning against the edge of the desk. “This place is just old, and smelly, and creepy.”

Bucky takes a step closer to you so that there's no space left between you. He places his hands on the desk on either side of you, enclosing you.

“You think that I can't tell when you're nervous?” He says quietly, studying your face. You can smell a lingering hint of cool mint from his mouthwash. “That I haven't spent enough time learning your body to read you like an open book?”

Your thighs clench together and your nipples pebble at his words. You're almost embarrassed at how easily his voice, his scent, his closeness elicits a physical response from your body. Almost.

“What I think,” you murmur against his mouth. His hands come to grip your hips as he nudges your thighs open, standing between your legs. “Is you're crazy if you're thinking about trying to fuck me in an abandoned HYDRA warehouse.”

He exhales a dramatic sigh. “You can't blame me for trying.”

“I am relieved to know that you'd even want to do that here,” you say, hopping down from where you're perched on the desk. “I really think that shows you've processed your trauma–”

You're cut off by the room going completely dark. Every light, every computer, turns to black.

Bucky's flesh hand instinctively reaches to grab your wrist in the dark, tugging you to him.

“What the fuck,” he groans under his breath.

“We need to get out of–” you start to state the obvious but close your mouth when the computer that you and Bucky had retrieved the data from turns back on.

And then a computer to the right - and then across the room - and another to the right - and one to left - until every computer is on and showing the exact same screen. Bucky's hand grips yours so tightly that it borders on being painful.

Displayed on dozens of screens throughout the room is the face of a man. A man who you've never met, but recognize immediately.

“Zola,” Bucky whispers almost inaudibly.

“Sergeant Barnes,” Zola addresses him with a perverted smile. “Welcome home,” his voice pours from every computer speaker throughout the room and echoes off the walls.

“Steve?” You whisper urgently, clicking on the communication device hidden in your ear. “Steve, we've got a prob–”

“There's no use in that,” Zola interrupts you. “It's too late. They're almost here.”

The following sixty seconds were a jumbled blur that you were still trying to piece together in your mind.

You remember hearing the stream of words spoken in Russian.

Longing. Rusted. Seventeen.

You remember Bucky screaming at you to run, the sound of Steve's voice in your ear telling you that back-up was on the way and asking a dozen questions that you were too overwhelmed to respond to.

Daybreak. Furnace. Nine.

You remember begging Steve to hurry. You remember pleading with Bucky to come with you to try to get away; pleading with him to just look at you, just stay with you, help is coming -

Benign. Homecoming. One.

You remember the moment that Bucky went completely still as the room was infiltrated by HYDRA agents.

Freight car.

You knew that Bucky wasn't there anymore. You could sense it in his stance, in the way he wouldn't meet your eyes, in his silence.

Before you could say anything else to him, close to a dozen HYDRA agents came barreling towards you both. He charged through them, taking down one after the next with ease, until there were just a few left standing.

It was a side of Bucky you'd never seen. You thought that you had witnessed his strength, his agility, his determination, his ruthlessness working beside him in this field - but you then saw just how much he had been holding back.

He fled past the remaining few, out the door and down the hallway of the warehouse. The agents turned to follow him, forgetting about you - until you threw a knife directly into one's neck from behind.

Another agent shot at you, the blow hitting your bulletproof vest and sending you flying backwards onto hard cement.

Before you could catch your breath, there was a sharp cracking noise and a blinding pain radiating from your lower leg - but it was short lived.

The last thing you recall is the man's boot swinging towards your face.

You woke up some number of hours later, in a hospital bed with your temple throbbing and leg elevated in a cast.

“Hey,” a soft voice calls from your right. Natasha stands up from the singular chair in the room, both concern and relief evident across her features. “You're okay,” she begins to assure you. “You have a concussion and a fractured–”

“Where's Bucky?” You interrupt her, your voice scratchy. You clear your throat. “Is he okay? Did Steve find him? Did HYDRA get–”

“HYDRA didn't get him. Steve took care of the last of the agents after him,” she stops you from rambling. There's an immediate sense of relief wash over you.

“But we haven't found him yet,” she adds carefully. “Everyone is out searching for him now. You know we won't stop until–”

A gentle knock on your apartment door snaps you back to reality.

You freeze, your heart jumping to your throat. You stand as quickly as you can manage, grabbing your crutches propped up next to you on the couch.

“It's just me,” a feminine voice calls from the other side of the door. Your heart goes from your throat to your stomach. Not him.

“I'm sorry, I should have text you first,” Natasha continues. “But I brought you food. Street tacos from–”

You turn the deadbolt and unhook the chain lock before swinging the door open.

“You look–”

“Like hammered shit?” You finish for her, nodding your head towards the inside of the apartment as indication for her to come in.

“I was going to say exhausted,” she says, walking past you with a large paper sack of take-out food. Your stomach growls at the aroma - when was the last time you ate something more than a bowl of cereal or granola bar?

“Your favorite,” she tells you, placing the bag on the kitchen counter. “Extra salsa verde and lime wedges. Have you gotten any sleep recently?” Her eyes skim across the empty energy drink cans littered around the kitchen.

You maneuver yourself onto one of the barstools at the kitchen's small island, leaning your crutches on the edge of the counter.

“Yes,” you mumble. “For forty-five minutes from 2:30 to 3:15 today.”

She lets out a long groan, rolling her eyes at you.

“You're supposed to be healing from a concussion,” she reminds you, taking a seat for herself. “Which generally doesn't include sleep deprivation and excessive use of computer screens.” She stares in the direction of the array of laptops that overcrowd the limited space of your coffee table.

“Did you find anything in Connecticut? What about Sam, is he back from New Jersey?” You ask, ignoring her concerns as you unbox your food.

“Connecticut was a dead-end,” she sighs. “We're still waiting to hear back from Sam. There's a safehouse up in Vermont that Steve wants to head to tomorrow–”

“You don't think there's a chance of him letting me tag along for that, do you?” You tap the edge of your cast against the base of the island with your foot.

Her eyes soften as she looks at you. You already knew the answer.

“I know this is really hard for you,” she says delicately. “I may not know exactly what has been going on between you and Barnes these last few months, but it's obvious you care a lot for him. We all do. We are going to find him and bring him home,” she assures you.

You nod at her in agreement, not quite trusting your voice enough to speak.

Your eyes sting as you attempt to blink away the tears that threaten to spill over. You had yet to allow yourself to spend any time crying these last few days and you didn't wish to start now.

Her words remind you that no one knows exactly why you are taking Bucky's disappearance so harshly. You assume that your friends have their suspicions about your and Bucky's arrangement but the two of you had agreed to keep it between yourselves.

They didn't know it had started off being a weekly occurrence - late Sunday evenings, your apartment. Or how it had quickly escalated from once a week to twice, and then from two times a week to three - and instead of just your apartment, it would happen anywhere the two of you had a private (and sometimes public) moment - up against the wall of the communal showers at the compound's gym, in the back of the Quinjet after missions while everyone else would be sleeping on the flight back home, even during team meetings with his hand creeping between your thighs while you try to stay quiet enough to not draw any attention to yourselves.

They didn't know you were supposed to be friends with benefits but that at some point during the days and nights spent underneath one another, the line between friends and something more became blurry for you.

You had just been too chickenshit to tell him.

Natasha sits across from you as you inhale the Mexican food that she brought you. She doesn't say anything else, just keeps you company in a comfortable silence as you eat your first legitimate meal in days.

“Thank you,” you tell her as you're finishing your food. “I appreciate you. I've been going a little crazy here by myself,” you add meekly.

“Of course.” She stands back up. “I would stay longer, but I've got to prepare for Vermont. We're leaving early in the morning.”

“Be safe. All of you,” you remind her. “Let me know if you guys find anything. Just tell me if there's anything at all I can do. And please let me know when you hear from Sam–”

“You'll be the first to know when there's anything to know,” she assures you gently.

“Thanks, Nat.”

“You just try to get some rest, okay?” She requests as she walks toward the door. “Maybe drink some water, possibly consider taking a nice, long shower…”

“Goodbye, Natasha.”

She's chuckling as she closes the door behind her.

You lower your nose to your armpit as soon as the door clicks shut, inhaling.

Maybe she makes a valid point about showering.

Half an hour later, there's a heavy rain beating against the windows of your apartment when you finish bathing. You secure a towel around your chest before yanking off the garbage bag that you had wrapped around your cast well enough for you to rinse off.

Belly full and body clean, you felt somewhat better; at least physically.

You listen to the rain pound down as you sit on the edge of the bathtub, massaging lotion into your skin, and wonder where Bucky is right now - if he's safe, if it's raining wherever he's at, if he's somewhere dry -

You come to a sudden halt in the middle of brushing your teeth. It's hard to tell over the deafening roar of the rain and your bathroom fan, but you could have sworn you heard the creaking of a door or window from your living room.

I double checked the door locks after Nat left, you rationalize to yourself. This apartment is on the fourth floor, no one is going to climb the fire escapes to–

There's an unmistakable shadow visible through the crack at the bottom of the bathroom door. It's gone as quickly as it appears.

Shit. You start to panic as you realize you left your cell phone in the kitchen. As quietly as you can, you look around the small room for something to defend yourself with. A hair dryer, dental floss, a few week’s worth of dirty laundry..

You hear the creaking of floorboards as footsteps seem to creep closer and closer to the bathroom door.

Crutches. You have two crutches. You can clobber them with your crutches.

“I can hear you,” you call to whoever is just beyond the door. “I know you’re out there.”

Silence. No hint of any further movement.

You place one crutch under your left armpit for support, keeping the other one ready to wield as a weapon. “You have ten seconds to get out of my apartment,” you say a bit louder, willing your voice not to waver. “I have a weapon.”

Yeah, a weapon. If you can call it that.

Ten seconds come and go, followed by another ten seconds.

You weren’t going to let someone play this game with you in your own home.

Taking one last deep breath and tightening your grip on the defense crutch, you sling the bathroom door open quickly.

“Oh my god,” you exclaim, immediately relaxing your weight against the crutches, releasing the death grip that you had on your uninjured side.

It’s dark in your bedroom save for a few pale orange string lights hung around your bed frame and the light that spills in from the bathroom, but you would recognize his broad frame anywhere.

“Thank fuck you’re okay,” you exhale, swinging yourself over to where he stands at the foot of your bed. When you’re a little over a foot away from him, you realize he’s sopping wet - his hair dripping water droplets and his skin dewy. His clothing, the same clothing that you last saw him in three days ago, clings to his body like a second skin.

He remains still as a statue, and as silent as one.

“Are you okay?” You ask him apprehensively. You give him a once over, from head to toe. You don't see any noticeable injuries, but he is trembling.

“Bucky?” You ask in a small voice.

His lips are set in a hard line. He doesn't answer, just stares at you. Stares at you like he’s trying to figure out why he’s here.

Stares at you like he’s trying to decide if he knows you or not.

The immense relief that you had felt at knowing he's alive is washed away by a sinking feeling.

His eyes trail from your face and slowly down your towel-clad body. He pauses when he gets to your foot, glancing back and forth from your cast to the crutches on either side. His brows furrow together - almost like he's in pain.

“I'm okay,” you assure him in a shaky voice. “It's just a fracture,” you explain. “I'll be healed in no time.”

You notice that his features relax a bit at your words - just enough to give you hope that Bucky, your Bucky, is in there and he's listening to you.

Do whatever you have to do to keep him here. Don't let him out of your sight. Help him remember who he is, your inner monologue screams at you. Just don't let him run away again.

“Are you cold?” You ask him. You're not necessarily expecting him to answer, you're just trying to put him at ease. “How about we get you some dry clothes?” You add, nodding towards his drenched henley.

You retreat into the bathroom, grabbing a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that he'd left over the last time he had stayed the night - the night before he went missing. They were at the top of the laundry basket - maybe not the cleanest, but better that the wet, dirty clothing he's in currently.

You limp your way back over to where he stands at your bed, leaning against the mattress for support. You set your crutches down and hand him the shirt and pants, which he hesitantly accepts. He makes no move to remove the wet clothes from his body, instead gently places the dry clothes onto the mattress beside him.

“Would you like some help?” you offer cautiously, terrified of doing anything that could cause him to run. You slowly reach towards the clothing that he had just placed on the bed, but he stops you before you can pick the t-shirt back up - grasping your wrist in his vibranium hand.

You can’t stop the small gasp that escapes past your lips. His hold on you is firm, but not painful. You could rip your hand from him if you wanted to - but you don’t.

Instead, you let him hold your hand as he begins to rub his metal thumb in a circular motion next to yours. You’re frozen; watching him carefully as he examines the movements his metal digit makes on your skin.

The goosebumps that appear in the wake of his touch don’t go unnoticed by him. His eyes trail from where his hand holds yours and up the expanse of your arm, until they land on your exposed neck. The towel covering your midsection has started to come loose, hanging low enough to reveal the top of your breasts.

He drops your hand, taking a step closer to you. You have to remind yourself to breathe - your Bucky is in there. Your Bucky, who is gentle, and soft, and would never do anything to cause you harm.

You have to trust that.

He brings his vibranium fingers up to the edge of the towel, trailing them across the mounds of your breasts. Your nipples harden right away, visible through the thin material of the towel.

You would let this play out however he wants it to. However he needs it to.

When his index finger stops where the towel is tucked into itself at your side, you forget how to breathe. He pauses for a split-second before unhooking the cloth and letting it fall to your feet.

He drinks in the sight of you bare before him, his jaw clenched and pupils dilated.

Dozens of times he has seen you like this, and never have you felt so completely vulnerable under his gaze.

And still there's a slickness gathering at the apex of your thighs.

He brings his flesh hand to your waist, putting the faintest bit of pressure against your skin. You close your eyes at the sensation - he's barely fucking touching you and you could melt into him.

Your name falls off of his lips - it's barely even a whisper, nearly inaudible but unmistakable. Your name. He remembers your name.

“Bucky,” your voice cracks when you whisper his own name back to him. His eyes snap up to yours, a mix of realization and hesitation brewing in them.

You bring both of your hands to the tail of his wet shirt, giving him time to pull away before you start to tug the shirt upwards. He doesn't stop you - in fact, he raises his own arms to help you tug the soaked fabric off of him. You toss the shirt in the general direction of your bathroom.

You didn't think there would ever come a time that the sight of him getting naked for you wouldn't make you want to drool.

You unsnap the button of his tactical pants, keeping your eyes on his face the whole time, hyper-analyzing his expression for any sign of reluctance.

You dip your fingers past the waistband of his boxers, his eyes fluttering closed as your hand travels lower.

He's already fully hard as you hold him, stroking him as best you can from inside the confines of his underwear and pants. You pump him in your hand and his head rolls back so that he's looking up at your ceiling.

Fuck, it takes all the restraint you possess to resist leaning forward and sucking on his neck.

Another time, you tell yourself, anxious about overwhelming him.

He curses under his breath - something in Russian that you don't recognize but the expression on his face indicates it to be a praise. There's a shift in his initially reserved, unsure demeanor when you begin to pump him faster.

His head snaps back down, his eyes raking up and down your body once more before he brings his hands to your lower back, maneuvering you against the bed.

You scoot until your back comes in contact with the cool satin of your pillows, relaxing into the bedding. At last Bucky begins to shed the layers of wet clothing covering his lower half, not taking his eyes off of your body as he removes his boots, followed by his pants and boxers.

He kneels on the mattress, crawling above where you lay. You want nothing more than to grab him by the shoulders and pull his mouth to yours, but you are going to let him call the shots.

He nudges your thighs apart with his knee, nestling himself between your legs. He grasps your breast in his vibranium hand, giving it a firm squeeze before rolling your nipple between his icy fingers.

He lowers himself so that he's belly down on your mattress, his face inches away from your pussy. He removes his hand from your breast and you let out a small whimper of disappointment at the abrupt lack of sensation. He uses that same hand to hike your uninjured leg over his shoulder, securing his head between the soft interior of your thighs.

He kisses you, starting at your belly button and working his way to your center. His lips feel like fire against your skin. You keep your hips planted firmly on the bed, fighting the urge to thrust your pussy up to his face.

“Please,” you whine. “Bucky, please.” You swear you can see the faintest trace of a smirk that looks so undeniably Bucky.

You clench your thighs around his face and he lets out a low, guttural groan as his mouth makes contact with you.

Normally, Bucky closes his eyes while he's going down on you - gets completely lost in it. Right now, his eyes are wide open - making sure he doesn't miss the way your mouth gapes when he rolls his tongue around your clit and the way your chest heaves when he nudges his tongue inside you.

You don't know which you find hotter.

You can already feel the tightening of a coil in your lower belly, making it impossible to resist rolling your hips to meet the torturous pace he's set with his tongue. You grind against his face, the thin layer of stubble that's grown across his jaw since you last saw him scratching against the sensitive flesh around your cunt.

You're approaching your climax when he pulls away, making you mewl at the loss of contact. His face glistens with your slick.

He flips you onto your side, placing you on your left side so that your injured leg rests against the mattress. You prop your head up with your hand as he slides in behind you.

His chest presses against your back, the heat of his body warming you all over. His flesh hand juts between your thighs, raising your right leg high enough for him to slap his cock against your pussy.

He strokes himself in his hand while he teases your folds - lubricating himself with your juices.

You turn your head to look at him right as he sheaths himself inside you, filling you entirely in one swift motion.

Fuck, you have to taste yourself on him. You can't handle not having his mouth on yours for another second.

You tilt your head back enough to connect your mouth to his - every worry you once had about coming on too strong and overwhelming him melts away as he opens his mouth for you, moving his lips against yours in an effortless rhythm.

He starts slow, quickly working up to a rapid pace as he repeatedly slams into your cervix from the sweetest angle. The sounds that you're making for him are pornographic - moaning into his mouth as his flesh hand comes around your front, landing on your engorged clitoris. He rubs languid circles while he continues to pound into you from behind.

You pull your lips away from his when you feel your orgasm building. “You always make me feel so good, you know that?” You ask him breathily, your mouth now right next to his ear.

“Every time you fuck me, I'm more sure that no one could ever compare to you. You've ruined me for everyone else. There’s only you for me.”

“Fuck,” he curses and groans your name again - it's the closest he's sounded to his normal self, which only spurs you on.

“I’ve become so fucking addicted to you in such a short amount of time,” you say in between moans as the head of his cock hits your sweet spot just right. “Think about you anytime you're not near me, drives me fucking crazy.”

He flips you - doesn't pull out - so that you're now underneath him. He goes right back to the same brutal pace, bringing his flesh hand to cradle your face as he stares down at you.

Clarity - you recognize it plain as day on his features.

He gives you a few more fast, hard thrusts before you're milking his cock through your orgasm. You crash your lips to his and he's coming - filling you up with his warm seed as he kisses you senseless.

He gradually stills inside you, his body going limp on top of yours as he rests his face in the crook of your neck. You wrap your arms around him, peppering kisses across his scarred shoulder, where flesh meets metal.

“I'm so sorry if I scared you,” he murmurs against the sweat-slicked skin of your throat after a moment. “I wasn't myself. Not even entirely sure how I ended up here - it's like I was pulled in this direction - to you,” he sighs.

You're overcome with such an immense relief at hearing him speak that you could cry. You tighten your hold around him, rubbing your hands up and down his back.

“You could never scare me, Bucky,” you assure him. He pulls out of you, rolling off of you onto the bed beside you and tugging you to his chest. Your cheek rests just over his heart.

"I know you. Even when I know nothing else, even when I don't know myself, I know you."

♡♡♡♡♡

my masterlist

thanks for reading! as always comments and reblogs are extremely appreciated!

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。09:08 AM — GOJO SATORU.

contents. manga spoilers, satoru keeps the scars bc that’s character development ok, post canon, insecure! gojo / reverse comfort, you sit on his lap, ig angst to fluff, embarrassingly cheesy look away pls :,)

satoru, since he’s come home with those scars, has always evaded your hand. you’ve tried a few times, have reached out to cup those cheeks you miss holding—but he’s managed to grab your hand and kiss it every time.

it’s smooth—like everything else he does, satoru dodges your touch smoothly. with an easy grin. with a teasing glint. it’s slick and all too natural, and almost undetectable. but you know him better. you know him better than anyone has had the pleasure of knowing him, you like to think. and you know that satoru doesn’t let your hand meet his cheek, not even the edge of his jaw, on purpose.

“good morning,” you smile, reaching forward to lay a hand over his face. satoru, with his eyes still closed (as expected), grabs your hand and plants a soft kiss to the back as he hums.

you’re almost certain he can sense the way your lips tug into a frown.

“mornin’ sweetheart,” he says lowly, “watching me sleep? that’s a bit creepy,” he teases.

“i can’t help it,” you hum, “you’re too handsome.”

this is rare—giving satoru compliments easily is rare. usually, you make him work for them, keep him waiting on the tips of toes before finally giving him that praise you know will go straight to his inflated ego. but sometimes, like now, you think he deserves to hear it—unfiltered and raw and filled with truth.

satoru is handsome. always has been. always will be.

“aw,” he cracks an eye open, “maybe i should let myself get scratched up a bit more. maybe you’ll talk nice to me more often.”

“i mean it, toru,” you frown, insisting, “you’re handsome. so handsome.”

your hand reaches for his face again. he turns his head this time, feigning a yawn as he stretches before sitting up. there’s a slight bit of tension in the air now, his lips tighter in his smile as he hums before turning to you and poking your nose.

“well, aren’t you sweet,” he smiles almost bitterly.

you haven’t seen his smile reach his eyes for a while. he doesn’t meet your gaze through the mirror in the mornings as you brush your teeth together anymore, doesn’t wink at your reflection and make you roll your eyes. he doesn’t spam your camera roll with pictures of himself anymore when you’re in the bathroom, doesn’t leave you with those silly faces and smug grins that make good wallpapers. he doesn’t even crack those annoying jokes anymore, doesn’t whine for you to admit he’s the most handsome guy you’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting as his face digs into your neck.

instead, satoru dodges your touch. he kisses you briefer these days, avoids looking in the mirror, smiles like he has to—not like he finds a reason to.

“you don’t believe me?” you ask gently, furrowing your brows, “you know i’d never lie to you.”

“i didn’t say that, did i?” he asks, waving a hand casually. “c’mon let’s go brush our teeth. you don’t wanna kill me with that morning breath do you—”

“satoru, you’re still handsome, you know,” you say gently. you decide to rip the bandaid off as you add, “even with these.”

for the first time, your hand manages to reach for his face without him pulling away. you think it’s more out of surprise than anything, that it’s because he wasn’t expecting you to be so straightforward instead of trying to be subtle like usual. for a second, you think he might just put his infinity up—but he doesn’t ever. not around you.

but you can see it, the way his knuckles twitch a little like he’s clenching them. the way he’s so still, it’s almost like he’s willing himself not to tense. the way he doesn’t even lean into your touch like he always does.

he doesn’t want your hand on his face, but you stroke a thumb over a scar anyway, cupping his cheek as you study his face up close.

it’s still him—still satoru with that sharp nose and those rosy cheeks, still satoru with those long lashes and perfect jawline. there’s rough, marred bits of skin that meet soft, supple ones. you feel over the dips of where each scar starts slowly, committing each one to memory.

they’re newer parts of him, ones you don’t know very well yet, ones that remind you of the ugliest parts of the world—but they’re a part of satoru now, and anything that’s a part of satoru can never be ugly. no matter where they come from, no matter what they’re a reminder of.

not if it’s him.

“you think so?” he asks with a tight grin, “is my money maker still money making?”

“don’t be greedy,” you quip, “you have plenty of money.” and then, softly, you add, “but i’d pay a good fortune or two to wake up to this every day.”

“good thing i give it to you for free,” he hums, “i’m generous, you know?”

“what a catch,” you grin, “generous, strong, rich,” you list, making an amused grin stretch across his lips, “handsome,” you add. his smile falters a bit at that. “satoru, i’m serious.”

“oh, i love when you get all serious,” he whistles. he’s deflecting—you expect him to, but you’re not backing down. one leg swings over his hips, and then you’re climbing onto his lap, right there where he can’t avoid you. but he finds his attention to your lips, still smooth as ever as he avoids meeting your eyes.

“satoru—”

“oh? you want to do this already? it’s barely—” he makes a show of glancing at the clock before turning back to you with a suggestive grin, “—nine am. but i guess we can have a little fun before—”

“i don’t care about these, you know,” you murmur, pulling your head back when he leans in for a kiss. your finger lightly traces the scar by his left cheekbone, making him frown.

“see? you’re basically admitting you have to look past them,” he groans frustratedly—it’s the first time satoru’s acknowledges his scars. it’s the first time he’s finally let himself look upset without trying to hide it behind a forced grin and a dry chuckle.

“i don’t,” you frown, “sure, they’re new,” you admit softly, “and i don’t like being reminded you got hurt. but they’re not ugly—you’re always pretty.”

“there’s so many,” he mumbles, “they’re everywhere.”

“i think they’re cool,” you shrug, “they make you look tougher. less like a spoiled princess.”

“hey,” he pouts, “i’m not spoiled.”

“you’re a bit spoiled,” you chuckle, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck—his lips quirk up, and you can’t help but notice how real it looks for once. “but i suppose you deserve it. not because you’re handsome though. because you deserve good things—just for being you,” you insist.

his lips are quivering a bit, and he’s blinking faster now. you ignore it, though, taking your sweet time as you lean down and kiss along the edges of every scar on his face, tracing your lips along where the old skin meets new.

“that’s cheesy,” he mutters, “now you sound like a therapist.”

“i mean it,” you say firmly, “and i meant it when i said you’re handsome too.“

“handsomest guy you’ve ever met, right?” he bats his lashes—they’re a bit hopeful, though, and you smile as you gently kiss the corner of his mouth before nodding.

“definitely,” you nod, “you’re the prettiest.”

“am i?” he grins, “now i’m more spoiled. who’s fault is that really?”

“i’ll allow it for today,” you snort, “today you can be spoiled. i’ll humble you tomorrow.”

“we’ll see,” he hums.

your hands cup his cheeks as you lean down for a kiss, and satoru’s hands clasp over them gently, holding them in place—and when you kiss him delicately, like the sun meets the moon as your lips touch, like your world revolves around him as you pull him closer, you think satoru is unfairly handsome.

and you’ll have to remind him that a bit more often.

he’s my liddol sourpatch :(

[eddiethebrave]

secret admirer part six

602 words

one two three four five

Steve is a horrible artist. “I suck.” He slumps in his seat. 

Carol places her paintbrush into the cup of water between them and leans over to see his paper. “...Nooo this is good,” she says, but Steve can clearly see the way her mouth twists as if she’s holding in a laugh. It’s a great show of restraint for her. He’s actually kinda impressed.

Steve pushes her away gently and turns his easel so she can’t see anymore. She cackles. 

Steve huffs and studies his painting. It was supposed to be a dog but looks more like a frankly unsettling misshapen creature. He shivers and paints over the things creepy ass eyes that were previously staring into his soul.  

“Aw. I liked it better before.” 

Steve jumps, dropping his brush - that was loaded with black paint - into his lap. He’s never been happier that their art teacher makes them wear aprons - these are his favorite jeans. He puts the brush in the water cup. 

The voice snickers and Steve finally turns, heart racing. He already knows who it is before he meets the big brown eyes. Eddie has sat to his left since the beginning of this semester (which is also when Steve began to develop this little obsession but who’s counting). 

He didn’t take into account that turning his painting away from Carol would put it right into Eddie’s line of sight. 

Steve raises a brow. “You’re joking, right?”

Eddie grins and drops his chair back to the ground as opposed to balancing on the back two legs. He turns his easel enough that Steve can see his painting. It’s just as, if not more, disturbing than his little dog creature thing. Steve’s not quite sure what it is, but it looks slimy.

“Dude, gross,” Steve says, but he’s smiling. 

That night, Tommy gets into an argument with Carol and calls Steve to complain about it. She wanted to know why all he ever wants to do is hook up and honestly, Steve was kinda wondering the same thing. 

All Tommy wants to talk about these days is them hooking up or asking Steve if he’s hooking up with anyone (don’t be a prude, man, tell me what happened) no matter how many times Steve tells him he’s just focusing on school right now. 

A lie, he’s focused alright, but it sure as hell isn’t on school.

He didn’t tell Tommy any of that, though. Instead, he offered up his house for the weekend. Tommy’s always in a better mood when he has a party to look forward to. The boy had immediately perked up. 

Steve's kinda regretting it the next day, but he made his bed.

Eddie i like seeing you, it makes my day the disappearing act was real cute almost made me lose my damn mind, man, point taken do you got anything good planned for the weekend? i heard there’s a party  maybe i’ll see you there, with your new job and all p.s. have fun at your campaign (i learned what it’s called!)  -H 

Steve slips his sunglasses on during his walk to the cafeteria, and no it’s not just because he wants to stare freely at Eddie - he has a headache. Looking at Eddie is just a perk. 

He’s wearing a white shirt again. Steve has the freedom to look so much that his gaze strays to the other people at Eddie’s table and notices that they’re all wearing matching white shirts with the same print on the front. They printed matching shirts for their nerd club. 

Steve is gonna die.

seven (just realized I forgot to add this link for a whole day😭 sorry y'all)

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sorry if i missed anyone!!

[corrodedbisexual]

@waning-croissant well... I had to.

"Nope. Outside of D&D, I am no hero," Eddie talks as he keeps walking, a step ahead of Steve. "I see danger and I just turn heel and run. Or at least that's what I've learned about myself this week."

Eddie's not even sure what he's saying anymore, he just knows that if he doesn't keep talking over the nightmarish ambience of this hellscape, he might actually go insane. Hearing his own voice, he can at least pretend like he's just narrating a game, and the rest is his overactive imagination. Not that he actually believes that, of course, it's just... irrationally comforting.

"Give yourself a break, man."

Steve reaches for him, but Eddie's body reacts on autopilot to an unexpected touch, practically slapping the boy's arm away. He's on a roll here, words still spilling right over the all-too-late pang of regret in his chest. It would have been nice to experience, that pat on the chest or squeeze on the shoulder, whatever Steve was going for, if it weren't for Eddie's perpetual skittishness.

"See? The only reason—"

"Did you hear what I said?"

"—I came in here was 'cause—"

"Eddie!"

Eddie's head snaps to Steve as he cuts off the rest of his semi-planned speech, which was suddenly inspired by the sight of Nancy Wheeler ahead of them. If he was the cowardly bard in the story, the least he could be useful for is cheer on the real hero of it. Give the courageous bat-biting paladin the motivation to keep fighting.

"Huh?"

"Do you ever stop running your mouth and listen?" Steve's brows are furrowed, but his tone isn't mean, and there's an amused smile playing on his lips. "You're almost worse than Dustin, Jesus Christ."

Eddie opens his mouth, lets his jaw hang for a second, and closes it again with a click of the teeth, as he processes the words he would have perceived as an insult, had he not been piecing together what the kid meant to Steve for the past several days. It was a bit of a revelation that their relationship ran far deeper than just some giant one-sided platonic crush on Dustin's part, like Eddie had mistakenly assumed throughout most of this year.

Steve takes a small step closer, the first one to invade Eddie's personal space for once, after Eddie's been doing it for the better part of their walk together. Unconsciously, like his body just decided that being tucked into Steve meant safety from the bloodthirsty bats, and the creepy vines, and that Vecna guy they could run into any minute.

"We all ran, all four of us. Just now, when we saw that giant swarm of bats in the distance, remember?" Steve speaks softly, waving his arm vaguely in the direction behind them. "Because sometimes, running and surviving is the only thing you can do."

Eddie doesn't know what to say to that. He just focuses on looking at the boy's eyes, like a normal person, and trying not stare at his lips moving. But then, when he pauses, Steve's eyes flicker down, and... huh. Huh. Wait, what?

"Of course you've been running. You couldn't have fought Vecna when he took Chrissy. Or Carver's crazy mob, or the entire police force of Hawkins," Steve keeps talking intently, looking into Eddie's eyes again like his gaze never wavered south. "Any more than we could fight that whole swarm. Because we'd definitely be dead now if we tried, no matter how metal you think I am," he adds with a tiny smug smile that's entirely Eddie's fault. "So there's a difference between being a coward, and acting stupid and reckless."

Steve pats his shoulder twice, then turns and keeps walking, and Eddie moves to follow him like on a tether, before his flustered brain even catches up.

"H-hey, I never said you were metal! I said what you did with that bat was metal," he grumbles, thankful for the darkness concealing his undoubtedly flushed face.

"I beg to differ," Steve turns around to tease, grinning, and pointedly tugs on his own collar. "You're the resident metalhead, and I'm wearing your vest, that does make me at least a little bit metal."

Yeah, thanks for the reminder, Harrington. Eddie's not sure what possessed him to throw that thing at the boy. At the time, he only thought of how he wouldn't survive the whole ordeal of Steve's hairy tits on display for much longer, but him in Eddie's clothes? Even worse.

"Fine," Eddie rolls his eyes and shoves his hands into his pockets, catching up to Steve in three quick strides. "Only a little bit though." He sneaks a glance at the boy; Steve's not looking back, once again on guard, surveying their surroundings with his flashlight, but the pleased smile makes its way to his face regardless.

"Doesn't matter why you jumped after us, Munson, you're here now. And don't try to act all modest when you've just saved a guy's ass. Which, by the way..." Steve turns his head to Eddie again. "Nice job with that oar. Too bad you hate jocks, you'd have made a fine hitter on the school baseball team."

Eddie gasps and grips his own chest in mock offense, even as warmth spreads up his neck and pools in the tips of his ears, thankfully hidden beneath his hair.

"How dare you, with these vile insinuations."

"I'm just saying," Steve shakes his head, laughing. "You're pretty... bat-ass, too, Eddie." He glances over again with a shit-eating grin. "Get it? Bat-ass?"

"Oh no, Steve Harrington is actually a dork with terrible puns," Eddie mumbles to himself and sighs, rolling his eyes up to the dark sky.

"Shut the fuck up, my puns are amazing." Steve elbows him in the ribs and chuckles. "You know what, I'm starting to understand why Henderson was obsessed with getting us to hang out."

What is that supposed to mean?

"He... he was?" Eddie gapes.

Another earthquake saves him from the mortifying ordeal of re-assessing the whole Munson doctrine, for the hundredth time this week. And as they hurry along to catch up with the girls, and Steve's hand grips his bicep whenever he falls behind, Eddie wonders if maybe he should just set fire to the doctrine and let it turn to ash.

[cranberryjuice-posts]

- possession -

Pairings - Clarisse La Rue x fem! Hekate! Reader

Synopsis- you sick of people underestimating your relationship with clarisse

Tw - slightly suggestive, not smutty just heavy make-out

An - im currently working on another clarisse request but I got this idea and had to write it

You were tired. You heard the rumors from people.

‘Why is Clarisse dating a Hekate Girl? She’s probably only staying with her to not get cursed’

‘A Hekate kid— really I hear that their creepy poor clarisse must be scared’

‘ I hear that the only reason clairsse is with her is to have better chance at winning at capture the flag’

All the rumors were starting to piss you off. You weren’t holding clarisse hostage, she definitely wasn’t scared and you weren’t threatening to curse your girlfriend.

“Common? really babe your seriously upset over those stupid rumors” clarisse laughed trying to dismiss your insecurity. Putting your shirt on you glared back at her, upset mainly because she ruined the intimate moment ignoring her frown at the lost of your in your bra.

“Yes I’m upset over them, you do realize it’s not as easy here for me then for you. You have the reputation of being an ares kid, and also to add your a cabin counselor.”

“And you have the reputation of being my girlfriend and a strong ass witch so I really don’t see what the problem is”

Going to standup clarisse grabbed your waist pulling you back down onto the bed. Yelping from surprise, you turned and hit her softly on the shoulder. She leaned up kissing your neck softly. “You know I didn’t mean it like that” she muttered against your skin.

You rolled your eyes while leaning back into her shifting some to better face the stronger girl. “You have a shitty way with words” running a hand up her body, taking in her Nike sports bra and camp pj pants.

“I still try though” she smiled kissing you once again.

——

You stood in front of a mirror in the Aphrodite cabin, looking at your outfit you shifted the shirt off your shoulder to better suit your outfit.

Silena walked up behind you grabbing your waist making you jump. Laughing at your reaction she hugged you, looking over your shoulder. “You Look Perfect Why Are You Pressuring over your outfit”

Your silence spoke volumes. “Clarisse told me about the rumors, everyone who says them are just jealous” with that silena kissed your cheek “Common hot shot, bonfire is waiting for us”she chuckled before leaving the cabin.

Letting out a deep sigh you followed the raven haired girls lead. Walking towards the campfire you stopped, looking around for your girlfriend.

Catching you eye you saw Kira one of the other Aphrodite girls being just a little to touchy with clarisse.

—

“I’m serious how pretty do you think I am~” Kira flirted, placing her hand on clarisses shoulder while letting her other graze her body.

“Again I have a girlfriend” she grumbled taking Kira’s hands off of her, throwing them aside she stepped back some to create space. “Forget about her, we both know you’d much prefer me— I mean not to gloat but a daughter of Aphrodite versus a Daughter of Hekate.. it’s hardly a competition”

“First of all—“. Clarisses insult briefly interupted by you Pushing her back, pulling her into a kiss. Tangling a hand into her curly hair you forced the kiss deeper.

Parting only for a second you kissed her once more. Clarisse who had a shit eating grin placed her hands on your hips while pressing your bottom half against hers.

Pulling back you looked over to the now angry Kira. “Sorry didn’t see you there” You looked her up and down with a face of disgust, not letting her respond you grabbed clarisses Hand dragging her towards the ares cabin.

Once Inside you pressed clarisse against the door quickly pulling her into a kiss. Hands gliding under her shirt you gently rubbed her toned stomach.

Her body flinched in response, clarisses hands going straight for your thighs. Bringing one of your legs to her side. She tilted her head while sliding her tongue into your mouth.

Pulling away abruptly slightly pushing clarisse back into the door you scoffed. “Flirting? With an Aphrodite kid low blow”

“Don’t be like that I wasn’t flirting with her” she rolled her eyes walking up behind you.

You however were going to be like that. “Yeah Well how it looked to me You Sure as hell was”

walking towards the mirror in the cabin you leaned forward, fixing your makeup you felt clarisse place her Hands on your hips while leaning in to kiss your neck. She muttered something into your skin making you turn around to lightly hit her arm.

Clarisse grabbed your hand with a smile, turning you around and kissing you while pressing your body against hers. “Have I ever told you.. how hot it is when you get jealous”

“Your a bitch”

“Maybe” she sarcastically responded kissing you once again. Giving into her you chuckled giving her a slight groan. “You are so full of yourself” you panted against her lips.

“I’ve been told worse” she chuckled.

[s7toru]

“spider! babe, there’s a spider in the house!”

your toast clatters on the plate as you drop everything and fling yourself onto the couch, four limbs scrambling to get off the floor. wide eyes seek out your boyfriend in the moment of chaos, and find him crouched on the tv stand, arms wrapped around the tv to hold him still. 

“where?” you ask him, eyes dropping to the ground. he doesn’t need to reply because you spot the creepy crawly darting cluelessly about on the carpet, eight legs crawling about in frantic panic. “oh my god, gojo! do something about it!” 

“are you kidding? you’re out of your mind if you think i’m getting anywhere near that thing!”

your mind blanks at his refusal. “you won’t have to get anywhere near it, dummy. just turn on your infinity and smack it or something!” 

gojo remains wrapped around the tv, already shaking his head even before the last of your sentence leaves your mouth. “that’s not how it works.” 

“really. then, please, remind me why you can’t just use your infinity to kill the spider.” 

“listen, even if it’s on i’ll still be aware that i’m squishing the bug. all its bug juice will splatter out all over me!”

“over your infinity.” you correct him. 

“you didn’t listen.” 

you narrow your eyes at him. “i didn’t want to get rid of the wasp nest outside our house the other day either but i still had to do it. and i don’t even have something to keep them away from me!”

“you lost the rock paper scissors, i had no hand in that.”

“well.” you say. “technically you did. you had a hand, it was a rock.” 

gojo rolls his eyes. “don’t be dramatic, i was supporting you.”

“from inside the house.” you recall his face beaming at you through the window, hand flashing a thumbs up as you were armed with only a rake and your willpower, and your frown deepens.

“and yet, i was still supporting you.” gojo pauses, considering. “you did well, by the way. i’ve never seen anyone smack a wasp mid air like that.” 

the compliment lifts some anger off your shoulders and you grin. “thanks! i was proud of that too!” reality slaps you across the face, readjusting your expression. “wait, don’t think you can change the topic just by complimenting me.” 

he shrugs. “it was worth a try.” 

you pause. “does that mean you didn’t mean it?”

“no! you were actually cool.”

you smile again. “okay, thanks.” 

“the sound it made was really satisfying.” he adds.

“right? like pow.” you gesture an explosion with your hands and watch as gojo gives you a skeptical look.

“really? i thought it was more like thwack.” his voice turns all dramatic at the last syllable and you scoff at his attempt.

“if this was a marvel comic the sound effect that would show up would be pow. in all red too, with crazy fonts.” 

“this is like you saying math is red—”

“it is.” you cut in, matter-of-factly.

“you’re so wrong it hurts. english is red, math is blue.” 

“why would math be blue?”

“because i feel sad doing math.”

“okay fair. but english is green.”

“none of them is green.” 

you furrow your brows. not because of his horrid opinion, but because your eyes had found its way back on the ground. you notice a lack of legs, a lack of a small, black creature terrorising the carpet. "wait, where did the spider go?"

the complain on gojo's tongue dies, and he looks around, too.

your biggest fear becomes reality, and when you look back up at gojo to express your concern, it's there.

something was crawling up gojo’s arm. it fumbles up the fabric of his shirt, swimming through the folds. your mouth falls open but before you can scream out to warn him, gojo's eyes had already followed your gaze. “it’s on me!”

“flick it off!” you cry out in panic, weight shifting as you edge further away from him, though you were nowhere close.

gojo reaches up, prepping his fingers for an attack when you realise the trajectory was aimed towards you. 

“wait, babe! flick it away from us!”

“then we’re going to lose sight of it!” the skin of his finger was turning white at the strength building up behind the flick. if the impact wasn't enough to kill it, the speed in which it hits the surface would send it to the afterlife. “no time to think!” 

he releases his index finger from his thumb and the force smacks the spider head on. it’s a blur really, as the spider flies through the air. you gape at it horrified, watching as if in slow motion as it soars in a beautiful arc, and lands directly on the very top of your head. 

you wonder if your scream could shatter glass. considering that your house still had its windows, you realise it couldn’t. though, you’re sure if you were tested again that it wouldn’t end as cleanly.

“gojo!” you scream. “i don’t ask for much but can you please get it off me, i’m begging you!”

gojo steps down from the tv stand, relief on his face. “thank god it’s off the floor.”

“gojo!” 

“yes, yes.” he makes his way, slowly, painfully, over to you as you crouch frozen on the couch. something in his smile told you he was very pleased at the sight. was that a cramp creeping up your thigh? oh, how you were going to make him pay. “where did it go?” he asks, joyfully, dancing around you.

“don’t even joke.” you hiss at him, and he laughs, reaching over to let the spider walk on his finger. specifically, he lets the spider walk over his finger on his infinity. 

he holds it out to you with a proud smile. “there! we’re all safe and sound now.” 

you glare at him. “what happened to being deathly scared of the spider?” 

he shrugs. 

you reach over and flick the spider onto his face.

a/n: brainrot save me, save me brainrot

[beababoobies]

Oh my stars so I saw your post for Hazbin hotel requests can I PLEASE get a reader w Sir Pentious who is low-key jealous of his crush on cherry but he ends up getting w reader in the end?

I would love you forever 🙏

yurp, I gotchu. I love cherpentious with my entire heart but anything for y’all 🫡

edit : THERE IS NOW A PART TWO!

Somethin’ Stupid - Sir Pentious

words : 1.77k, slight warning for ep 6 stuffs

God, this fucking sucked. 

Cherri, who was - and you don’t mean to be direct, or self-loathing - downright fucking gorgeous, had been bribed to take you all out to a bar - well no, that wasn’t the exact instructions, but it was clear enough that Charlie didn’t expect much more from her. So here you were, slouched back on a vodka-stained couch in the corner of this bar, Husk lounging beside you while Nifty giggled and played with his fur, and your oh so beloved Sir Pentious across from you. 

You kicked back another shot of whatever Angel had brought to you, pretending to find whatever Husk had just said funny (you were far too caught up in the way Sir Pentious was goo goo eyeing a certain Cherri Bomb.) and Husk spoke up, eyebrows furrowed. 

“What’s up your ass today, kid?” He said flatly with a swig of his beer, raising one of his eyebrows as you finally snapped your attention back to him, trying to smile non-chalantly as you watched your beloved little drunken ball of insecurity slither towards Cherri again from the corner of your eye. “ ‘ts nuthin, Husk. Leave it.” You say with an annoyed sigh as you watch Pentious stumble over his words to an annoyed and unimpressed Cherri. 

“- I’M HAVING SSSSEX WITH EVERYONE HERE!” He turns around and yells, which has both Nifty, Angel, and Husk snap their heads around with wide eyes. He gives you a sad look and you try to give him a reassuring one. That is until he gets dragged into a separate room, and you inhale sharply through your teeth, wincing at the way he screams before the door is shut properly. Cherri doesn’t even look like she cares. 

“Ah.” Husk says flatly, catching your attention again. “Should’ve guessed after your fuckin’ ramble last night. ‘But Husk he doesn’t even know I’m here!’ and all those fuckin’ ‘I’ve been here longer than he has and he won’t even talk to me!‘s. he’s just nervous around you, like he is with Cherri. Fucker has some self-confidence issues. Just do it already.” He says, looking almost annoyed as you flushed deep and slapped your hand over his mouth, which he quickly swatted away. 

“Shh! Jesus fucking Christ Husk, not so loud! Fuck!” You grumble as Angel giggles with a hand over his mouth from the other end of the booth, before taking another small sip of his cocktail. “Not a secret, toots.” He says with his casually shit-eating grin, gesturing to a very drunk Nifty who was giggling now too, nodding her head. Great. 

“Sometimes, when I’m out killing the bugs that think they’re all sneaky, and gross and cool at night, I walk past your room and you’re listening to super bad romance music. Which scares the bugs away and makes them surrender their lives. Which like, it’s supposed to be a fight! You’re ruining all the fun… ” She adds the last part with a annoyed grumble, but despite her unbelievably drunken state, she’s still speaking fast, high-pitched, and with the exact same creepy undertones. “And I walk past that bad boys room and he’s all rehearsing romance poetry he wrote. It’s so bad! Ehehe!” 

She giggles out, eyes falling on a bug on the floor, hopping quickly off of Husker’s head and falling face first onto the floor, before quickly picking herself back up and running after it. “Shit.” Angel groans, putting his cocktail down quickly and shuffling out of the booth. “I’m gonna make sure she doesn’t end up with some creep.” He grits out through his teeth, before disappearing into the crowd with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’d better help him out.” Husk says with a sigh as well as he placed his beer bottle down carefully, pulling himself up with a groan.

He turns back to you for a second, just looking over his shoulder, before smiling. “You should start considering the possibility of Cherri being a distraction.” He says, humming softly before he adds one last thing. “Please do check in on the awkward fucker though, I don’t know what kind of shit he’s got stuffed in him or is stuffing at the fuckin moment.” Husk says with a sigh, disappearing right into the ground of flashing lights and bumping bodies right after Angel. 

You took the last courage swig of your drink and stood up, doing a little tipsy stretch as you got up, before dejectedly walking over to where a very, very exhausted Sir Pentious was sitting, hyperventilating and sweaty. You let out a soft sigh as you walked over, kneeling in front of him and taking his hands away from his face, holding them softly in your hands, looking up at him with furrowed brows and concern.

“Hey Pentious, that was a lot wasn’t it?” You say softly and he nods, refusing to make eye contact with you. He looks grossed out, ashamed, everything. You let out a soft sigh and rub small circles into the back of his palm with your thumb, doing your best to comfort him in the loud and overstimulating bar scene. 

“They were very kind - I jusssst, kept ssssssaying yessss. I don’t know why.” He says softly, and you nod, standing up and helping him up too. “Let’s get you back to the hotel, ‘Kay? You can take a nice hot shower and go to bed.” You reassure quietly and he finally looks up from the ground, smiling at you quickly before nodding, but as soon as Angel catches his gaze again, he’s out of your grips and right back to focusing on Cherri. You grimace softly as you watch him rush up to angel and ask where Cherri is. You watch as he groans in defeat as she goes into another room with a random guy. 

Some part of you feels happy, relieved of some jealousy. Another part of you feels bad. That was all he was doing the entire night, trying to get her attention. You shook it off and walked over to where everyone had re-grouped, giving them a tired wave, and getting one in return. You let out a small gasp as you saw the dried blood from Angels’ nose all the way down or his lip, his new black eye. 

“Oh dear, what happened?” You cooed softly, reaching up to wipe some of the blood of his face, and he softly moved away, shaking his head in a polite ‘thank you, but not right now’ way, and you nodded. “It was just a run-in with Val.” He says with a sigh, wiping another fresh stream of blood from his other nostril onto the back of his hand. “Let’s get going - I’ll tell you when we’re back at the hotel, Toots.” 

An unceremonious end to the night; but not exactly the end to yours. Even when you got back, debriefing everything that happened with Husk and Angel while Nifty snored on the couch and Pentious took a shower, even when you had finally wished them a good night and made your bed, sighing as you let your head fall to your pillow, you couldn’t stop thinking about what happened with him. What Husk had said. 

“You should start considering the possibility of Cherri being a distraction.”

You repeated it in your head for hours while you tried to think about anything else, scrolling on your phone aimlessly through Hellflix, InstaScam, Crime Video, even YouCrude - there was no one to e-stalk, no new shows for you to binge, not even something you wanted to re-watch. No new uploads from your faves - just an endless amount of scrolling. 

Until about 3 a.m.

That’s when you heard it - shaky, nearly silent sobs from Pentious’s room, small sniffles. You checked the time, sighed, threw a shitty pair of smiley-face PJ pants Charlie had made for you on, and slumped over to his bedroom, knocking softly on his door. It went dead silent, not a mouse, no the small clinking or squishing of Nifty’s bug-killing sewing needle. 

“Who issss it?” He said in a shaky, tired, raw voice, and your heart absolutely melted, hand against the doorknob as you spoke. “It’s me, Pentious. I just heard you - uh - being sad. I know I’m not your favourite, but can I come in?” You say with a soft sigh, running your fingers through your hair tiredly. It takes him a minute and a soft hiccup before he rasps out a small “pleasssse, y-yeah.” And you open the door.

What you find is absolutely heartbreaking. Your favourite little serpent, curled in on himself, hugging his tail to himself, eyes red with tears that fall softly down his face, hat resting on his old worn down dresser, angry and frustrated swipes if his claws leaving him on top of torn up bedsheets and pillows, and you nearly cry with him right then and there. This sweet man who has been nothing but a pure angel, stuck with all the sinners, including yourself, down here. 

You walked over to him, sitting beside him on his bed, hearing the old mattress frame squeak softly as you sat down, putting your hand on his, gently cooing him until he took big, deep breaths, gently and encouragingly rubbing circles back into the palm of his hand.

“Tell me, what’s up? I’m all -“ you start confidently, being cut off by an annoyed but desperate call from Pentious himself, pulling his hand away from yours and groaning into his palms, shaking his head. “that ISSSSS the problem! You’re the problem-  you’re so pretty I can’t think sssstraight around you! And now you think I hate you!” He cries out, looking at you with desperate eyes, like he wants you to say something - anything, really. But you really can’t.

You’re completely frozen, hand frozen in mid air when it was going to rest on his shoulder to comfort him, eyes wife, lips pierced together and all you can do is stare at him like some stupid idiot. You are at a mental battle of grabbing his face and kissing him until you can’t breathe or slowly talking it out. He sighs dejectedly.

“I want to get closssser to you. Wanted to be your friend, at leassst. But… then I’d go and ssssspoil it all by ssssaying ssssomething sssstupid like…” he stops for a second, swallowing thickly. “…I love you.” He looks up at you again, nearly desperate for an answer. You finally get some words out of your closed up throat -

“I love you.” 

~

Frank + Nancy Sinatra My Beloveds <;3

[peppertoastuniverse]

more than a late night snack – gojo satoru chapter 6: taiyaki contents: gojo satoru x reader, too many beds trope, gojo being a little shit, mentions of intense grief and death, fluff, conflicting internal thoughts

summary: while on your first joint mission together, a new level of understanding is reached when you open up to gojo about your past as he tries to get closer to you in more ways than one.

wc: 4.5k

"..I thought it would help. .. does it? because if–  like if you’re not comfortable I can sto–” “no.. it’s.. it’s nice.” voice firm, you close your eyes, body fully relaxing at his touch to gojo’s silent delight. “… hey.” he mutters softly, speaking like you were going to run if he spoke too loudly. concern lacing his gentle actions. you hated it. you didn’t need his pity or his worry, you didn’t need his help or sweet touches. but gojo always fought ruthlessly.

previous chapter ll master list ll next chapter

“hey – oompfh – after this let’s go -“ gojo punches the curse on its side, abdomen lurching forward as you hit it with a blast of light, “ah shit– to get some food –“

“now gojo, really?” you grunt, cringing at the disintegrating body of the large spider curse that was just exorcised.

“m’starving, babe!!” he whines, bright blue scanning the abandoned warehouse you were in, spotting three more incoming curses.

“how are you always hungry?” you mumble, running towards the curses, grinning as you feel your curse energy surging, multiple blasts of light hitting a particularly creepy millipede curse.

“m’a growing boy that needs to eat!” a rustle brings your attention back to gojo as he hits a rather ugly beetle curse to the left of you easily taking it out. huffing, hand resting on his hip, “… and I know you’ll be hungry too, babe. you always fucking ravage the fridge like an animal when you get back- ” gojo adds head tilted to the side.

“gojo -“ you hiss, concentrating on the mosquito curse behind him, trying to ignore his constant chatter. “…weren’t you the one telling me to focus?!” you roll your eyes as you focus your energy to blast the curse behind him, considering if you should have aimed at gojo himself.

“pff, as if i’d let anything happen to you while I’m here.” he scoffs, pushing up his dark glasses, pale face filled with mild offence.

“cmon, just say yes! you can even pick and - and I’ll pay!” he says lip jutted out, pout on full display, easily kicking an ant curse, muttering a soft "red", finishing it off nonchalantly.

you start dusting your cold hands off on your coat as the veil disappears above you, sighing at another job done. you and gojo were in sapporo on your first assigned mission together. you hated to admit it but gojo was right, you did work well together – that is if you didn’t have the need to strangle him every couple of hours. his sheer power combined with your meticulously controlled nature complimented each other.

but currently, you just wanted to warm up. the crisp twilight air was sharp and unwelcoming, it was colder than usual for this time of year. you were starting to lose feeling in your fingers, limbs feeling far too stiff after all of that physical activity.

head turning to you, observant bright blues eyes flicker to your shivering frame, “eh? you cold?”

before you could answer, gojo walks over to you as you eye him suspiciously, taking a hesitant step back when he draws too close. he grabs your stiff hands in his and rubs them, attempting to generate some warmth. was he always like this?

staring at him in surprise, you wondered where this new version of gojo was coming from. recently you’ve noticed that things between gojo and you had become somewhat strange. perhaps it how he would walk closer to you as you headed to dinner after training with geto and ieri or how he was even more annoying recently. you’ve launched so many random items at him just in the past week that ieri offered to carry rocks in her pockets for you. you weren’t sure if she was joking, but you thanked her for her thoughtfulness. you made a mental note to discuss it with geto after sparring. geto needed to gain better control over his dog.

your eyes focus on his unusually thoughtful expression as he brings up your hands still engulfed in his, closer to his plump lips blowing on them.

your heartbeat quickens, warmth spreads across your hands, somehow making its way onto your cheeks. his hands were soft and gentle holding yours, large palms caressing your smaller ones, suspending your worries. it was hard to believe that they were the same hands that absolutely annihilated 4 third grade curses just a few minutes ago. it felt… nice. you allow him to keep you there.

gojo brings your hands down, still rubbing them in his, grinning at the relief evident on your face. inching teasing his face closer to yours, “how about a “thank you so much satoru, you saved my ass from frostbite and you’re soooooo cute” from the ice queen?”

ew, there’s the gojo you know. how egotistical is he?

you exhale creating clouds in the cold air as you forcibly pulling your hands away from his. instead you place your still freezing hands on his warm neck causing gojo to screech in surprise, lanky body jolting away from your cackling. whining your name he pouts, “I was actually so nice to you just now!”

“you'll get over it,” you chuckle you walk past a sulking gojo, pausing to look back at him with a raised eyebrow, “thought you wanted food?”

gojo's eyes immediately brighten as he walks to you with a pep in his step – you chuckle at how quickly his mood changes. gojo hums as he easily falls into place by your side. a small smile finds a way on his rosy face as you move closer to him attempting to steal some of his warmth as you pull your coat tighter on your body.

“how are you not cold right, now?” you ask shivering, taking into account his thin jacket.

he shrugs, “I dunno, I’m perfect I guess.” You shove him away, his laughter echoing in the foyer of the darkening warehouse.

your footsteps shuffle amongst the fallen leaves, as you make your way into the village. you feel a creeping strange new comfort in gojo’s company. he always seemed to find something to talk about.

“… and even after all of that, shoko still sided with suguru! can you believe that?! my closest friends – baby and boo – conspiring against me, and I didn’t even do anything – “

“oh my god gojo, you’re the one who forgot to put up the veil – “

“a minor detail, babe!” gojo says waving his hand back and forth to shoo away your reasoning.

stopping in your tracks you stare at the bright lights ahead of you, steam coming in waves coaxing you out of the darkness. Noticing your sudden stillness, gojo’s attention goes towards the small, charming stand, “oooooooh! taiyaki! d’ya want to go get some?” he asks as you, studying your expression as you nod enthusiastically eager to warm up. gojo practically bounces up and down at your approval and runs to the stand with renewed energy.

you couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm through your shivers. the small stall had fairy lights twinkling in multiple colours and a handwritten menu, evidently it was family owned. a bundled up cute old lady stood at the front, pouring batter into the fish shaped molds as an equally bundled up little girl beside her watched curiously.

“hi, uh, can we get 4 of the red bean ones? and .. hmm.. 3 - no let’s do 4 custard ones..” gojo lists off immediately, hypnotized by the enticing smell of sugar and batter.

you smack his side, a hushed whisper “gojo, how many are you going to eat?”

“i’ve been starving since this afternoon!! I’m paying anyway,” leaning in closer to you as he huffs dramatically.

man, even the strongest is no match for hunger.

“and one vegetable one, please.” you add, gazing up at  the cute little old lady as she chuckles at your banter, crinkled eyes of wisdom shining in the dark.

gojo scoffs, staring at you incredulously, “really? a vegetable one? I didn’t know you had such bad taste, babe.”

“well duh, I hang out with you of course I have fucking shitty –“

gojo bumps your shoulder, jerking his head at two large brown eyes watching you at you.

“… uhhh I mean – bad taste.” turning your attention to the little girl behind the counter.

the little girl shyly looks up at you, gingerly placing the excessive amount of taiyakis each in paper sleeves into a larger plastic bag. you look down at her, eyes softening,

you offer her a little wave with a gentle smile. big brown eyes darting to yours, as the old lady collects payment from a chatty gojo, blue eyes watching your interaction with the little girl with interest.

“I like your hairclip,” you softly whisper to her, gesturing to the hello kitty hair clips perched on one of her pigtails, she clutches the skirt of the older woman. she looked so much like her, she was around the same age when -

you nudge the intruding thoughts out of your head, eyes clouding over with carefully practiced control, determined to stay in the present. noticing the shift in your demeanor, gojo scoots closer to you splaying a large hand on your shoulder, anchoring himself as he leans down to offer a warm smile at curious brown eyes. the little girl darting behind the older woman bashfully.

“akari! say hello to our nice customers!” the older woman scolds with an encouraging smile, the little girl to give you a fragile little wave. you coo internally, waving back brightly soft laughter dancing cutting through the cold air. the old woman hands gojo the plastic bag filled with taiyaki. you bow to the old woman and direct one last small smile to akari who gojo also playfully sticks his tongue out at in farewell. she giggles at his antics and waves back.

not wasting time, gojo hands you your vegetable taiyaki wrapped in a napkin while he holds his custard taiyaki in his mouth. you say your thanks as you watch him regain his hold of his beloved snack, taking a bite before exhaling rapidly to compensate for the hot pastry, the steam escaping from his mouth and the top of the fish shaped waffle as he moans in delight.

you palm your temple in embarrassment, as you hiss for him to be quiet.

eughhhh he’s so gross.

you watch in impressive disgust as he easily pops the rest of the pastry in his mouth despite the heat. “jesus, gojo slow down – it’s not going to run away from you” you knock, your shoulder into his, “seriously, you might choke,” against his muffled “mmppff! m’fine!” he shoots you an exasperated look.

with the warmth of the taiyaki unfreezing your fingers, you blow on the pastry before taking a bite. the crispness of the waffle contrasts softer interior; the egginess of the batter complimenting the sautéed cabbage and carrots inside.

“s’good?” gojo asks turning to you, mouth half full, halfway through his third taiyaki.

“mhm,” you nod happily, swallowing your taiyaki. “here, try some.” you move the pastry in front of his face, inviting him to take a bite.

gojo stares at you, your flushed cheeks from the cold, quiet smile on your face, loose hair billowing gently intertwined with the familiar lavender and vanilla scent of your shampoo, framing your sweet face. you looked so pretty this quickly fading light.

“c’mon your body will thank you for the veggies.” you tease him, mistaking his silence for hesitance.

regaining his senses, “oh? so you care about my body, eh? didn’t know you snuck a peak –“ he easily recovers, cheeky smile on his face, barely containing the amused scoff as you scrunch up your nose in disgust. gojo moves closer to you, easily taking half of your taiyaki in one bite.

eyes widening, “gojooo!” you whine, “that was such a big bite,” you pout at him.

gojo’s eyes sparkle, a grin growing on his face. over the past few days he was growing more aware that you were less guarded with him. you shoulders were relieved of their usual tenseness, a new lightness caressing your frame, your eyes shone brightly when you spoke, unafraid of taking up space.

looking away to hide his rising blush, as he thoughtfully chews the vegetable taiyaki. it lacked the usual sweetness he often sought out in his snacks, but it had a welcoming savouriness that settles well in his stomach, satiating something that he didn’t know he had a craving for.

“aw babe, don’t worry! You can have some of the other ones,” he mumbles. he didn’t know when it happened but he strangely found that you could almost get away with anything with him. you can have whatever you want. he wanted you to be greedy with him.

“so?” you poke his shoulder, immediately getting his attention. “ whatcha think? good, right?” you ask before popping the rest of the vegetable taiyaki in your mouth easily.

“s’ better than I remember..” he says with a finger to his chin. “– but the red bean one is still the best.”

your pout deepens. “uh huh. I see what you have for breakfast with that shitty excuse for what you call coffee.”

“hey! there’s nothing wrong with egg whites for breakfast, babe. ”

“just because that frosting has egg whites in it – “ you laugh. your reach across him to fish out another taiyaki out of the bag he was holding, taking out a red bean one.

he watches you take a bite and laughs in your face when he watches your surprised expression. it didn’t take long to read you nowadays –  from that look he knew that he was right – the red bean taiyaki was delicious. 

you make your way back to the hotel, intending to get an early night before having to leave for tokyo in the early morning. you were glad that this mission was straightforward. if you were honest - it was nice having the company, but you were glad to have your own room. even if you worked well with gojo, having your own space without complaints of being bored every 15 minutes was necessary.

hmm, maybe you’ll take a hot bath and read that mystery novel that ieri lent you.

you glance at your phone tossed carelessly on your bed, silver phone charm glittering in the dim lights of your hotel room. staring at the star of the charm, you grab your phone to check your messages.

gojo: lol look at this cat [image] (12:24pm) we meeting at the lobby (๑*ᗜ*) ? (2:44pm)

your eyes dart to the top of the screen as a new message pops up:

gojo: still hungry, gna get dins what do you want b? (6:44pm)

you roll your eyes, the black hole is never satiated... but hmm food might be good actually.

you: fried rice pls (6:46pm)

gojo: yes maam b there in 15 ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ (6:47pm)

you settle your bed, undoing the comforter to tuck your tired body into, moaning as you sink into the mattress. wishing that you packed a sweater, you were still chilly.

A knock at the door signal’s gojo’s arrival, getting up to open the door, your socked feet padding on the floor.

“hi babe,” he says as he budges his way into your room, making a b-line to small coffee table in the middle. he quickly sits on the floor and takes out multiple plastic containers of convenience store food. your eyebrows quirk to your surprise.

“sure, make yourself at home…” you mumble closing the door behind him.

he shoots you the best wounded puppy look he could manage. “i got you food! the least you could do is let me eat with you, grumps.” his cheeks and nose are pink from the cold, he runs his large hands through his windswept hair. he takes off his light blue hoodie, carelessly tossing it behind him on the floor, stretching his long body with a groan before opening the steaming containers of food.

“m'getting tired, gojo. leave after you eat.” you huff, sitting at the small table, reaching for your container of fried rice that gojo had opened for you.

his frown deepens.  “y’know im gonna put that in the report! babe was in a real bad mood the entire time and raised their voice at the strongest and best looking sorcerer satoru gojo, making him cry.” he lists off, handing you a pair of chopsticks and a plastic spoon.

you snort, accepting the utensils thankfully. “yeah, fucking right gojo, the craziest thing you’ve said is that you’d even do the report. I know you’re going to leave it to me to do.” you say with a huff.

“sa – tor– ruuuu! how come you don’t call me by my first name!” he whines.

you roll your eyes. the minute you stepped into jujutsu tech, you heard the whispers of satoru gojo: arrogant, cocky, the sorcerer who wielded unimaginable power, the future of jujutsu society – the honoured one. you knew he always won, so who were you to challenge him? to everyone else he was the one – the chosen one –  but to you he was anyone else.  to you he had to remain gojo, never satoru. but you couldn’t help feel comfort in his presence, you couldn’t push down the genuine laughs he coaxed out of you. the rational part of your brain warned you that this was dangerous territory, and your obedient mind knew to keep away from satoru gojo.

“when you stop calling me babe.” you easily deadpan, spooning some of rice into your mouth. humming in content at the warmth. the fluffy rice, contrasting the slight crunch of the aromatic green onions, carrots and peas.

“but that’s who you are. you’re babe,” he says between a mouthful of noodles.

“yeah okay, gojo.” you say acidly, spoon chasing the last grains of rice at the bottom of the container. “you’re the worst, you know that?”

he stares at you eyebrows furrowed, head cocked to the side.

your eyes narrow at his scrutiny, “why are you looking at me like that?”

“you’re so confusing, babe,” he easily answers, scrapping the bottom of the container of the container gratingly, the last of the long slightly greasy noodles gathering on his chopsticks.

“what are you talking about?”

“with that little girl you were like a different person! so sweet and shy, why do I get the grumpy ice princess?”

a hollow feeling returns in your chest. ignoring his comment as you scoff, moving to stretch out on the hotel room floor. you turn to your side facing away from him. you hear gojo hum as he moves to devour a container of slightly soggy karaage.

.“... she just reminded me of my sister.” you say quietly.

gojo’s eyes widen. “I didn’t know you have a sister.”

“yeah. she’s dead.”

“curse?” gojo asks almost nonchalantly, swallowing his mouthful and placing his chopsticks on the table.

“mhm.” you hum, “when I was 8, a special grade took out half of my village.” you mumble, words escaping your mouth before you could hold them in any longer. “mom and dad died trying to protect us, told us to always stick together and run as far as we could. so we ran into the forest, but it found us and I just stood there when.. I couldn’t, I tried..” your voice breaks, words dying pathetically on your tongue. you close your eyes, willing yourself to swallow the pain for just a little longer. breathe. you had to breathe. they were gone already, what’s the point in crying over it? especially in front of him.

wordlessly, gojo gets up and cautiously lays down behind you, ensuring to keep a comfortable distance from you. careful of your emotional state, he moves slowly,worried that you would hide from him if he acted to quickly.  you feel his large hand, moving slowly back and forth on your back, your muscles confusedly stiffening at the contact. your body unconsciously lean into his touch before your fractured mind could comprehend it’s betrayal.

gojo was no stranger to touch - he was a tactile person with everyone and was notorious for being unable to grasp the concept of personal space. he was often seen clingy hanging off geto’s shoulders or smothering an infuriated ieri trying unsuccessfully to get a piggyback ride. you were no exception, irritatingly used to him poking your cheek in greeting or even worse patting your head, but this… this was different. there was a gentleness and a hesitance to his touch that you would never associated with gojo. there was something strangely sweet in his warmth that invited you to come closer. you resented how easily his touch calmed the beating of your unsteady heart.

what was he playing at?

your eyebrows scrunch, complimenting your trembling lips, you didn’t have time for his silly games.

“what are you doing, gojo?” you whisper, heart beat feeling unsteady, beating to an unfamiliar rhythm.

“... that’s uh… what my nanny used to do this to me when I was… upset.”

your blink in surprise. gojo was always so confident and sure, his eyes always bright and mischievous, mouth moulded in a consistent grin ready to inflict trouble. it was hard to imagine gojo upset. did his lip quiver before he cried? did his nose go red? did he bottle all his emotions up until he exploded? there was so much you've heard about him, but there wasn't a lot that you knew about him. 

“…my uh, my parents weren’t around, so the servants would care for me. I… I thought it would help. .. does it? because if–  like if you’re not comfortable I can sto–”

“no.. it’s.. it’s nice.” Voice firm, you close your eyes, body fully relaxing at his touch to gojo’s silent delight.

“… hey.” he mutters softly, speaking like you were going to run if he spoke too loudly. concern lacing his gentle actions.

you hated it. you didn’t need his pity or his worry, you didn’t need his help or sweet touches. but gojo always fought ruthlessly. you hated how every interaction with gojo was a losing game.

“..that wasn’t you fault, y’know?”

“how would you know?” tone sharp and defensive. this conversation didn’t need to happen, you hoped that gojo would be perceptive for once in his life and drop the subject. you just wanted it to be over. this was too much for you, too close.

“you barely know me.”

what did gojo know? nothing. he knew nothing about how in the dead of night you could still hear your sister’s cries begging you for help, or how on your birthday when you’d blow out the candles of the cake you bought for yourself that you wished that you could exchange places with her. he never knew how you’ve never gone back to your hometown. he didn’t need to know how resentful you were when your cursed technique started to develop, arriving too late to help those who you loved the most.

“well.. what I do know about you is that you care a lot more than you let on. you’re stupidly stubborn, so you would’ve tried absolutely everything in your power to save her.”

you fidgeting with your hands, his heavy words falling into your hands, catching them with difficulty. turning your head, you snuck a glance at him, looking at the sun.

the air was thick with an unspoken intimacy. in this moment, you understood the true power that gojo possessed. just a few hours ago he easily exorcised 4 curses but in the dimly flickering lights of your cold hotel room he showed that he was truly merciless. the weight of his words crushing you easily.

but the warmth of his hands against you back, interrupt your scrambling thoughts, stirring an unfamiliar nostalgic comfort in you. did your mother used to do this to you too? you don’t remember… it’s been a long time since you’ve had someone. you were so tired of keeping everything inside, of forcing your grief down into deepest your soul just to create a buoy to keep you afloat. it was in loneliness that you found true rest, a cruel but necessary sanctuary. but with gojo’s growing presence in your life, you were starting to grow restless, it unnerved you. 

“i want to, though – know you…” his hands still at the small of your back, words uncovering the unmarked graves in your heart that you buried long ago. “…if you let me.”

your eyes gently open, you shakily inhale. you move to stare up at the ceiling, trying to find your voice.

“she had the same big brown eyes – the, the girl at the taiyaki stand.” you whisper so soft gojo would’ve missed it if he wasn’t paying close attention. “it was.. it was nice to see again.. I almost forgot what they looked like.” voice trembling, controlling slipping through you fingers.

gojo hums, his hand moving reassuringly on your back, attempting to ground you.

“sometimes I think.. i’m getting better and it gets easier. and then I feel guilty that I feel better… forgetting her,” you admit.

“mhm. well, you’re not forgetting her. your life is growing around the memory, so it just seems smaller.”

you nod, not wanting to trust your voice. meeting his eyes, you wondered if he had lost someone too. he must have. being a sorcerer it was inevitable. feeling his touch, all of your words die on your tongue into a comfortable silence.

after some time, he laughs unexpectedly. a bright playful sound, laced with bitterness on at the edges, “isn’t love fucking stupid, babe?”

you snort, lips turning upward ever so slightly. “the worst.” you agree, watery eyes threatening to spill, your cold hands rubbing your eyes.  heart lurching at your fleetingly weak smile, gojo grins brightly deciding that if you didn’t have it in you to put on a brave face that he was strong enough to smile for the both of you.

hand caressing  your back, his eyebrow quirks as you slowly turn your head to look back at him. your mischievous eyes catch his, “… hmm, I bet you were the worst baby. your servants must have hated you.” his hand drops from your back incredulously.

“what?! nuh uh! I was an absolute angel-“

you inch back to meet his pouting face with a teasing smirk, “you’re so fucking chatty now, imagine you as a kid,” laughter escaping from you, “I bet you cried so much. you were so annoying, an absolute monster. heheh probably cried so hard your hair went white.”

“baaabeeee!!! stopppp, it’s natural. it’s one of my best features!!” he pouts.

but looking at you, gojo thought your best feature was your smile – especially when he was the cause. it was a shame that he didn’t see it often. your eyes would crinkle at the corners, a chaotic delight that he recognized within himself. being this close to you, he wanted to reach out and trace your smile with his fingertips, to touch the smoothness of your cheeks, to whisper in your ears that everything would be okay because he would make it so. he wanted to know what it was like to touch light, to feel beauty. In the comfortable silence that grew, he wondered when the hotel room got so warm.

perhaps it was the richness of the fried rice settling in your stomach or the tiredness in your muscles or maybe.. just maybe, it was due to his reassuring presence that you find comfortably drowsy. you unexpectedly find that sleep comes easy to you, his slow and even breathing reminding you that he was there. you sigh contently, minusculely shuffling closer to him on the floor. heads almost touching, you warmly slip into a dreamless sleep.

a/n: ahhhh! this was a big step for the reader! what did you think of the chapter? -- special thank you to @yung-notorious for providing feedback and suggestions for this chapter, you're the best!! check out her fic, Never Lose Me! -- head image credit: Shokugeki No Soma  dividers from: @/adornedwithlight

[selineram3421]

Hey? I just found your account and absolutely love it!

When you write with Alastor I always get this vibe from him:

And absolutely love for it 😭🥰

Oh my god.

Matched Search History

Prologue

Alastor X Writer Reader

Warnings⚠

⚠ Human AU, serial killer stuff so expect murder or mentions of it, oh and blood/gore, cussing, all caps for screeching/yelling, italics=thoughts, mentions of death, slight introvert reader ⚠

It wasn't your idea but your friend's.

There was a website that matched you with someone that had similar search history.

Currently, both of you were in the cafe with coffee and snacks, sitting at a two person table and having the usual friend hangout until she brought it up.

"Isn't that...a breach of privacy? How is this allowed?", you asked concerned.

"They only get what you give them! Like a questionnaire thing. You put down what you search and they set you up with someone!", she says and shows you the site on her phone.

"This is shady as fuck.", you say.

"Ok, maybe a little bit but you put what you want shared!", she smiles. "I mean you can meet another writer or someone who is super hot!"

Honestly you didn't know what to think of it, but maybe you could give it a shot.

I mean what's the worse that could happen? Haha..

"Ok..", you sighed and gave her the go to for making your account.

"Yay!", she squealed and started up a new profile. "Ok, so name, age, occupation..", she started typing furiously.

Once the basics were set up, she passed the phone to you to fill out the questionnaire.

At Matched Search History we only share what you give us! Any information you put into the system will be coded to find your Search History Partner, any other information you add in will also be added but stored away privately.

Please be aware that if any home address is added in the BIO or in MESSAGES it will be made public.

Yup. Shady shit right here. You thought and kept reading.

What do you search the most?

Answer: _______

You snort and type out murder techniques and first aid.

I'm definitely on the FBI list. You smile.

After taking care of the first one, you put down recipes, art and art history, science, little things like radio technology and other in depth research. You also make sure to put down cats.

"Here.", you hand the phone back.

"Wow that's a lot.", your friend scrolls down your list.

"What did you expect? I do a lot of searching on my laptop for the littlest things.", you shrug.

"Yeah, should have expected that.", she nods and looks through her photo album in her phone.

Leaning on the table, you look as she scrolls for the perfect photo.

"Which one are you gonna pick?", you ask and take a sip of your coffee.

"That cute one where you're hugging a cat.", your friend replies.

"Nah. Put the Halloween one."

She stops scrolling to look you dead in the eye, only to see your smug grin.

"No."

"Aw what? Come on!", you whine. "It'll be funny!"

"No! You're covered in fake blood!", she rejects the idea.

"But think of it! It would be fucking hilarious.", you nudge her arm.

"No and that's final! I'm putting this one!", she says and adds a photo without looking.

.

You honestly forgot about the account you both made until you got a bunch of emails about the website finding your match. You ignored most of them as they didn't go over 70%, that was until you saw the one you got today.

"What?", you asked with a mouth stuffed with noodles, being in the middle of eating lunch.

Picking up your phone, you check the email and feel your eyes widen.

You immediately called your friend.

"DUDE!"

"What?", she asks.

"THERE'S A HOT GUY WHO MATCHED 98% WITH ME!! WHAT DO I DO!?!?"

"Send me his pic! Duh!", she replies.

You take a screenshot of his profile picture and send it over.

"HOLY SHIT! I KNOW WHO THAT IS!!!"

"Who is it?", you ask.

"Don't you listen to his podcasts!?", your friend screeches. "He's the hot voice talking about murder mysteries and other creepy shit! You always listen to him while writing!"

"Huh, so this is him?", you ask. "How do you know? You hate hearing creepy stuff."

"I got bored one day.", she says.

Understandable. You thought. "Ok but back onto the topic. WHAT DO I DO!?"

"Send that love message to meet up!", she replied.

You deadpanned.

I have to go outside? I mean it wouldn't be bad if we went to a cafe or library. Maybe a bookstore... You thought.

"Fine. Since we already know his face he won't be able to run far if anything happens.", you said, making up your decision.

"Geez, don't talk like you're about to die.", your friend groaned.

"What? It's true.", you say. "Statistically, women are more likely to get killed on a date. Which doesn't rule out males but it does happen."

"UGH! Send me pics of what you're going to wear already!", she demanded.

.

You sat on a bench near a bus stop, messaging your friend. It was the best location for you to wait, there were multiple people around and restaurants with cameras.

Not gonna find out my address~ You sang in your head as you messaged your "match" that you had arrived.

You messaged him a brief description of your features and what you were wearing, so that way he wouldn't go around like a headless chicken trying to look for you.

Just in case things went south, you had a back up outfit to change into.

As you waited, a sudden thought came up.

Why was he on the dating site MSH? You wondered. Maybe his friend also pressured him to make a profile or someone else.

Then another thought.

What if it isn't him and someone just used a random photo they found to put up? You frowned at that. I hope that's not the case. That would be very annoying to deal with.

"Now, I hope that I'm not the reason my date is wearing a frown."

Turning your head to see who had decided to approach you, you saw a familiar face and warm reddish copper eyes. He was dressed very nicely, white button up long sleeve, dark red knit sweater vest, black pants, and black looking dress shoes.

"I'm Alastor.", he smiled. "And you are my date for this evening, yes?"

Damn it. You thought, trying to keep a straight face. He looks like a bookish nerd and that is definitely my type.

You stood up from the bench and gave a smile back.

"Nice to meet you.", you greeted and then introduced yourself.

Thank you for bringing this to me. I have read this post but forgot about it until you brought it back.

~Seline, the person.

Taglist@

@c4rved-pumpk1n @scary-noodlesblog @stolas-thebirb @naelys-the-aster @biromanticboba @lbcreations-blog @ducky-died-inside @kiraisastay @pooplyface1423 @line-viper @117s-girl @spiderlegsling @alastorsgoldie @kcsketches @lofasofabread @kotaleee @im-coolrat @superzombiewho @speckle-meow-meow @jammcookie @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @trashbin-nie @koioli @fatherlesschild2 @mmik3yy @just-here-reading @nealeart @hudiexiaoying @crystal-multiplefandomlover @glowinggoldfish0 @tiredgamerhere @fluffy-koalala @valenfawkes @willowshadenox @aria-tempest @alastor-simp @nonetheartist @gallantys @i-3at-kidz @luxky-aish @ceafighter @xalygatorx @xangel-8 @big-brother-problems @mistpurpl3 @chewbrry @willowbrookhoot @briethekitsune @alastorthirsty @sir-aadiboii @fuzzyturtlepaws @+?

ML II for Alastor🎙

[riordanness]

false god — [p.jackson]

pairing: percy jackson x reader

wordcount: 1.3K

warnings: you have a creepy stalker

I run through the shopping centre, dodging stalls and seats and weaving through people. My breath is a little too shallow, my heart rate a little too quick. I’m panicking.

Suddenly, I spot a boy with scruffy dark hair and a simple outfit of a blue hoodie and jeans. He’s outside the bookstore, with what looks like a Greek mythology book in his hands.

I’m not necessarily the best at judging people’s character, but he seems… moderately safe. Definitely safer than what’s chasing me.

I dash up to the boy, grab his arm to get his attention.

“Hi,” I gasp out, breathless. “Um—“

He looks confused, sea-green eyes flickering at me in question.

“Can you pretend to be my boyfriend for a sec?” I ask quickly.

The boy looks (somehow) even more confused now. “Can I… what now?”

“Please?” I add desperately. “There’s this creep following me around the mall, and—“

The boy doesn’t wait to hear more. He grabs my hand confidently and laces his fingers through mine. He seems to notice that my hand is shaking and gives me a reassuring squeeze.

“So, sweetheart,” he says, a little too loudly, pulling me deeper into the little bookstore. “What do you think of this Greek mythology book I was thinking of buying?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the creep approaching us, getting closer and closer.

“Oh, yes,” I say to the boy, and I realise I don’t even know his name. “I love this one. I had it when I was little. It’s great.”

“It’s not very accurate,” the boy mutters, his sea green eyes flitting over the story about Kronos and Zeus.

“Huh?” I forget what’s happening for a second and laugh. “How do you know it’s not accurate? What—you know them personally?”

The boy doesn’t reply, so I drop the subject.

“So um,” I lower my voice. “Thank you for doing this by the way.”

“Of course.”

“I’m Y/n.” My voice is still quiet.

“Percy. Percy Jackson.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Percy Percy Jackson,” I say playfully.

Percy rolls his eyes at me, but he’s got a stupid grin on his face. “Ha, ha,” he says, sliding the Greek Mythology book back on the shelf. “So, do you think he’s gone?”

I shrug. He’s definitely not inside this small bookstore; I would’ve seen him. But he might still be outside.

“Are you here alone?” Percy asks.

I nod. “Yeah. That’s why I—you know.”

“Yeah,” he says, his grip on my hand tightening a little, like a protective gesture. It somehow makes my heart flutter a little in my chest.

“Don’t worry, he won’t hurt you.” Percy glances down at me, then starts to talk normally again. “You hungry?”

I smile. “Actually, yeah, a little.”

“Alright.” He pulls me along, our hands still entangled. Percy leads me to a pretty little cafe, all decorated in mint green. He pulls a chair out for me, and I sit. Once Percy has slid into the seat opposite, he flashes me a smile.

“You see him anywhere?”

I glance behind me, and then shake my head. “Maybe he’s gone.”

“We’ll see.” Percy slides a menu over to me. “Whatcha want? I’ll go order.”

“Um, just a hot chocolate, and one of those cookies with the Smarties in them.” I dig around in my pocket, pulling out a ten-dollar note.

When I try to hand it to Percy, though, he gives me a look. “Dude,” he says.

“What?” I ask, surprised.

“You think I’m seriously gonna let you pay? Dumbass.” He closes my fingers back over the money. “You’re my fake girlfriend. I’m paying.”

Before I can argue, or even comprehend what he just said, he’s out of his chair and heading to the counter to order.

When he comes back, he has a little, cheeky smile on his face.

I give him a look. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

Percy shrugs. “I wanted to. Don’t argue.”

I roll my eyes. “Okay. Thank you.”

“No problem.” He smiles. “So. Tell me about my fake girlfriend.”

I laugh softly. “She’s kind of boring, honestly. She likes to read, do crafts sometimes. Spends way too much time on her phone. Apparently attracts creeps.”

“She sounds pretty cool to me,” Percy says, a grin on his face again.

“Sometimes, yeah.”

“So, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, of course.” My finger traces over the cracks in the wooden tabletop.

“What made you pick me?”

I glance up, his question surprising me. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, for the fake boyfriend thing.” Percy is a little flushed, clearly embarrassed by what he’s asking me. “There are tons of boys around, and heck, girls too, I don’t know what you’re into. What made you choose me?”

“Oh.” Now I’m a little flushed. “Well, honestly? You looked safe.”

That answer seems to surprise him in the best kind of way a person can be surprised. A shy smile grows on his face, and his sea green eyes get even prettier as they shine at me. “Really?” he asks. “I looked… safe?”

“Yeah.” I shrug one shoulder. “I don’t know how to explain it, really.”

Percy’s smile gets even wider. “You know, that’s pretty much the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“Oh.” I’m surprised. “Well, I’m glad. It’s the truth. And you seem to be holding up that assumption so far.”

“I still seem safe?”

“Mhm.” I nod my head.

Just then, the waitress brings our order over. She places a steaming mug of hot chocolate and a Smartie cookie in front of me, and the same in front of Percy. Once we thank her and she walks away, I grin at Percy.

“You copied my order.”

“It sounded good.” He shrugs. “Besides, can’t drink coffee.”

“Why not?” I tilt my head at him slightly.

He waves his hand in the air. “I’ve got ADHD, it like, puts me to sleep or whatever. Makes me super tired.”

I smile. “Hey, that’s the exact same for me. I literally have to drink coffee before bed.”

Percy laughs. “Cool. I thought I was the only one.”

I smile, breaking off a piece of the cookie and popping it in my mouth. “I hope I didn’t ruin any of your plans when I pulled you into this, by the way?”

He raises an eyebrow, a marshmallow in his mouth. “Huh? Plans?”

I shrug. “Like, I dunno. Were you shopping with someone? Meeting up with your girlfriend?”

Percy laughs, and almost chokes on his marshmallow. “Gods, no. I was shopping alone. I don’t have a girlfriend.” He then seems to recover his wits and adds, with a cheeky smile: “Except you, of course.”

I roll my eyes playfully. “Yeah, okay. That’s good. I worried for a second there I messed up your shopping or something.”

“Not at all,” Percy assures me. “And hey, after we finish eating, I’ll give you a lift home, just to be completely safe.”

“Thank you, Percy, I really appreciate it.”

“Course, sweetheart,” he says easily, popping another marshmallow in his mouth.

“Hey!” I protest. “That was my one!”

“My bad,” he says, his voice muffled and his mouth still full.

I want to roll my eyes, but I just kind of smile.

“This is kind of fun,” Percy says. “Too bad it’s fake.”

I give him a slightly confused look. “What?”

“This.” He gestures between the two of us. “Kind wish you weren’t my fake girlfriend.”

I blink. “You—huh?”

“Gods, how obvious do I have to be?” Percy teases. “Y/n, will you go on a real date with me sometime?”

I flush, then smile. “I’d love to.”

[ddollfface]

Ahhh! I just read ‘a little unhinged’ and I’m in love. It’s perfect. Is there a possibility that you could do the last one? Again thank you for doing my suggestion!

-🐏

𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐲 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞, 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗦𝗶𝗰𝗸!𝗔𝘁𝗵𝗹𝗲𝘁𝗲 𝘅 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

Trigger Warnings; implied!f!reader, unwanted touching, grody-gross behavior, sexual touching (unwanted), LoveSick!Athlete being a total ass, no sex scenes, kinda dark ig, no proof read btw (but the's just expected lol)

He was perfect. 

The teachers knew. Your friends knew. His teammates knew, and they all made sure that you knew it. No matter where you went, someone was always congratulating you on the relationship, blabbering on and on about how difficult it must’ve been to bag such a guy like him. Walking in the hall, you got far more comments on your dress, telling you that you must be taking his advice or how today must be his lucky day. Whenever you finished a class, your teachers made sure to add a little ‘Tell him, I said hi!’ to the greeting or farewell. And your friends, God, they wouldn’t let it up! 

All the conversations steered back to him, no matter what you guys were talking about! For some reason, all they wanted to know was him, him, him. You could be talking about… shopping, for example, and the conversation would somehow turn to him, even though he loathes shopping if it isn’t with you! One moment, you’d be rambling off about this new mall that you recently heard about some random girl, how it’s got all the new stores, but noooo, your friends just wanted to talk about how he modeled for a certain store there. Now, you were stuck listening to them gush about your boyfriend, who doesn’t even model, by the way! He told you, word-for-word, that he “hated touching the girl models ‘cause they don’t feel like you, mamas,” smooth like always…

His teammates, they’re… something, yeah that’s for sure. They don’t quite know when to shut up, or when to talk, frankly, they’re just creepy. There’s something about them that just throws you off. Throughout your relationship, you’ve always felt uncomfortable, and you’ve told him so, and he’s listened! He’s always made sure that they were a comfortable distance from you, never letting their lust-filled gazes strain for too long, making sure to set them straight. Usually, a stern glare would suffice, but he wasn’t afraid to give a beat down, never in front of you, of course. You were better than that, and like hell he’d ever let his baby see such a thing!

You knew what he did though, but it just made you trust him more, knowing that he had your back even though it was his teammates, the people he was closest to (rather than you). The fact that he was willing to beat someone to a bloody pulp for you clouded your vision, ignoring the fact that it was a bright, beading red flag that was practically blaring in your face! I mean… of course, it’s not the most practical thing to do, but at least his teammates weren’t perving on you anymore, right? 

Yeah, you should be grateful. 

After all, he is perfect. 

.

.

.

“No thank you.” 

You’d decline politely, a stiff smile perched on your lips. Your eyes don’t crinkle, but your brows do furrow, pupils dilating slightly as they flicker across the locker room, realizing the mistake you’ve just made. The way your heart jabs against your chest, thumping against your ribs in a heavy rhythm that screamed run, hide, anything that’d get you out of this situation, made your head feel dizzy and thoughts swirl with anything but cognizance. 

“Awwe, c’mon, sweets! You and the cap’ ain’t nothin’, yeah? He told us ‘bout your little freak out,” Cheekily grinning, he places air quotes around his words, and takes another step forward. A large palm rested on your shoulder, causing you to cringe, jerking your body away, bones creaking in a robotic motion as you just collided with another body. Your eyes snapped toward the other, your eyes meeting his hazel ones, watching as they clouded with lust and want. A want that’s been suppressed, denied-

“Oh! Hey Captain-” One flushed, immediately backing away at the sight of the brooding athlete, putting his hands up in defense with a sheepish smile. Letting out a breath, that you didn’t know you’d been holding in, you turned your body to face the entrance of the locker room, only to meet his back. He wasn’t even facing you. 

His broad back met your eyes, flickering across the toned muscle that stretched underneath his golden skin, the way the sweat glimmered and reflected against the light as he tugged his shirt over his body, huffing under his breath. He hadn’t even acknowledged anyone in the room, continuing as if no one was there. Though his dark eyes briefly met his vice-captain. The normal warning glance gone, replaced with one of aloofness, something that showed no emotional care, one that broke your heart. You caught it, and you caught the way the room seemed to shift from that of a stale, almost nervous atmosphere, to a eager and relief one. 

And just like that, you took a step back, hands on your bag as you were quick to make steps backward, desperate to leave, leave, leave. You need to leave, your conscience screamed at you, noticing how eyes seemed to shift onto your sweating figure. One would think that you’d been practicing with them with the thin layer that stuck to your skin, making your senses flash awake. 

“I’m going-” You choked out, surprised that your own vocals worked, almost gasping when a sweaty, bulging arm was slung over your shoulder, feeling the sweat stick to your neck as it pulled you closer. Lips parting as you pushed against the arms, nails digging into the skin, feeling the muscles and tendons flex. 

“Nahhh, I don’ think so, sweetheart. The cap’s given the okay, which means you’re all mine-” The arm slithered from your shoulder to your front, pulling your back to his chest, forcing his hand on your front. His large hand holding you against himself, fingers pressing against your clavicle and pinching the thin skin, chuckling under his breath. He hunched over you, his free hand trailing up your shirt, sweaty hands prodding and poking at your smooth skin. 

You almost gagged when his lips pressed against your ear, eyes flickering forward when footsteps approached, causing you to open your mouth, ready to scream. A painful gasp left your lips when his teeth sunk into your neck, lips suckling on your nape as his hand grabbed at your soft flesh, feeling up your curves. 

Thrashing in his grasp, you felt tears prod at your waterline, vision blurring as you called out to him, “Please-wait! Stop! Let go of me, you creep! Fuck off-!” You screamed, worried that no one was going to come. It settled, no one could hear you.

Your chest heaved as your jaw clenched, feeling your cheeks wet as tears dribbled down your puffy cheeks. Your hands swatted at the meaty arm around your waist, pinching and grasping at any skin you could get your hands on, scratching up his arm as others watched, dark chuckles leaving their lips at the sight. Looking up, your eyes met his, silently pleading with him as your lip wobbled. His eyes were empty as if he was dissociating, pushing back any thought that spread through his mind, replacing it with one thought: you asked for this. 

“Help me! I-” You called out his name, jabbing your elbow in the guy's gut, pushing with all your strength, ignoring the gleaming eyes that peered down at you. And as they closed in, a chest pressing you back into another chest, hands groping and touching you, leaving nothing unscathed. You screamed, pleading with apologies, anything that’d just get him to listen, to help you out of this, just as he did yesterday, a week ago, hell even a month ago! 

Though it was meek, a silent whisper of sorts, you heard it, and you heard it loud and clear. It was as if he’d yelled across the room, screaming his lungs out until his throat filled with bile and blood, his eyes gleaming into yours. But it wasn’t, it was nothing but a meer whisper, only meant for your ears only.

“You don’t need me, no?”

[kaleldobrev]

Hard to Believe

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ben tells you something that you weren’t quite expecting

Word Count: 581

Warnings: Cursing (4x), Ben being pissed about this generation of youth, Cute(?)!Ben

Authors Note: If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

As you were sitting on the couch attempting to read as Soldier Boy had the tv just loud enough for you not to be able to concentrate, you couldn’t help but notice out of your peripheral that he was staring at you. It wasn’t a creepy stare, more of like an enamored stare and you honestly couldn’t place why. The Supe had barely said two words to you since you, Hughie, and Butcher brought him back after the incident at Crimson Countess’. Finally semi-annoyed (or maybe it was more curiosity), you shut the book and looked over at him, making eye contact with him briefly before he looked away at the tv in front of him. “Can I help you?” You asked, and he turned to you, taking a sip from the cup he had in his hands.

“No,” he answered all too quickly, and semi-annoyed sounding. “Can I help you?”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re the one that won’t stop staring at me,” you said.

“I’m not staring at you. I have no reason to stare at you,” he said, his tone a little harsh, pissed that you had actually caught him despite it being blatantly obvious.

“If you say so,” you replied, re-opening your book. As soon as you had opened it, the staring started again. “You’re staring,” you said, not looking up from your book.

“How can you even tell?” He asked.

“Something called peripheral vision,” you said, turning the page. “So why are you staring?”

“I’m n—” he began, but that’s when you looked at him, eyebrow raised, not believing a word he was saying. “Fine. I was. Happy?”

“Just curious mostly as to why you won’t stop staring at me,” you stated. “No one’s ever stared at me as long as you have before.” It’s interesting, you wanted to add.

He scoffed. “Hard to believe.”

“And why’s that?” You asked, re-closing your book yet again.

“Cause you’re hot,” he said, no hint of humor in his voice. Shit he was serious, you thought. That’s when he looked over at you, looking dumbfounded at what he had just said to you. “What?”

“You just said I was…hot,” your voice had a hint of hesitation, and it was his turn to raise a brow.

“And?” He asked. “Does that offend you?” Fucking people these days, can’t pay anyone a fucking compliment, he thought.

“No…just…surprised really,” you said. And you were in fact legitimately surprised by Soldier Boy’s comment, as no one had even told you that you were hot before, not even previous significant others.

“Why?” He asked, taking another sip from his cup.

“No one’s…ever called me…hot…before,” you admitted.

“Again, hard to believe,” he said, getting up from his current spot. “No one? No one’s ever called you fucking hot before?” You shook your head. “Not even like…I don’t know….boyfriends?” You shook your head again.

“You’re the first one,” you said, your voice getting lower, slightly embarrassed. You felt your cheeks start to get pink.

He grinned. “Well lucky me.” As he started to walk away, he turned around to face you again. “Expect me calling you hot more. And…other things,” he winked. You wondered what other things he would start calling you now, and you hoped, that when he did in fact call you these things, it would be just when you and him were in the room and not in front of your friends. But knowing him, he’d do it in front of them.

Tag List: @jackles010378 @mrsjenniferwinchester @syrma-sensei @k-slla @justletmereadfanfic @deans-daydream @zombie-freak @waywardlatina @globetrotter28 If you'd like to be added to a tag list, let me know!

[maximotts]

♱ 𝖑𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖘 𝖎𝖓 𝖍𝖊𝖉𝖔𝖓𝖎𝖘𝖒 ♱

♱ 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖙𝖔𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑: priest's daughter!Wanda Maximoff

I missed writing her and since it's been a year since @furys-eyepatch dropped this wonderful idea in my ask box, it felt right to start October off with one of my favorite squishies!

confessions of wanda maximoff AU. kinktober masterlist. 18+ only, minors dni. you don't need to add community labels, I've put adequate warnings below. wc: 3.9k. cw: innocent!Wanda/constantly horny!r. sex in a church. fingering. fucking from behind. strap-on use. begging. semi-public sex (no one is around). everything you shouldn't be doing in a place of worship. r thinks saying vulgar things to wanda and seeing her blush is peak entertainment.

“This is kinda the last place I want to be on Halloween, Wands..”

Wanda looked over her shoulder for the sole purpose of giving you an eye roll before continuing to tug you along through the back of the church. “I’m only picking up something for my dad, it’ll just take a second. I did say you could wait outside!”

“And hang around out there by myself? No way, it’s almost dark and there’s a cemetery!” You’d been sidetracked on the way to Natasha’s party, a texted errand from Wanda’s dad bringing you to his office in search of the large bags of candy he forgot to bring home with him. You didn’t mind honestly, the older man was always so kind it was hard to resist any of his requests— much like his daughter, the girl currently standing in front of you grinning.

She cooed at you in the confines of her father’s office, rubbing your cheeks while you swat at her hands. “Aww, are you afraid of ghosts? How cute..”

“Stop it, Wanda!” You scoffed, brushing her off and crossing your arms. So what if you were a little superstitious, who wasn’t? And you certainly didn’t need to let Wanda know; she’d hold it over you like she’d won the lottery. “Just hurry up so we can get out of here…”

Wanda kissed you quickly, soft and placating; an apology for teasing. She always saw you as someone fearless, it was nice to see a concept as harmless as ghosts rattle you. “Don’t worry, I won’t let anything get us. If it makes you feel better, I’ve never seen anything creepy and Pietro and I used to spend tons of time here when we were kids.” 

Trailing off as she went about searching, you leant back against the wall with a pout, opting to watch Wanda while you waited. She had yet to change into her costume, insisting it be strictly for the party, but part of you theorized it was just to keep her outfit from her dad. Instead, her bunny costume lay folded up in the backseat of your car and her dress remained on, teasing you a little more each time she bent over. 

With the cooler weather, Wanda added tights to her wardrobe rotation, sheer black nylon hugging every curve from her ankles to her hips. You didn’t know what it was, but something about them left you drooling whenever you thought about the extra layer on your girlfriend for too long. In the past few weeks, you found yourself running your hands over her legs whenever she was close enough, often ending up playfully chided when you eventually grew too grabby during your shared lectures. But now, alone together with Wanda bent so far over the large wooden desk that you could catch just the barest hint of her underwear, you found it terribly hard to control your urge to grab her.

Hesitation gave Wanda enough time to shoot upright, victorious with heavy plastic bags in her tight grasp, “Candy acquired!” 

She made her way back over to you by the door, pressing her lips to the corner of your mouth as she passed, “Now let's get out of here before some big bad ghostie bothers you.” 

“I don’t think any ghosts want to be anywhere near us right now…” Try as you might, you couldn’t help yourself, eyes glued to Wanda’s backside as she led you back through the dark corridors behind the sanctuary. These weren’t proper thoughts right now, especially here, but it was Halloween… what better day to do something a little sacreligious.

“And why is that-” The end of her sentence was punctuated with a surprised oof, the shock of being shoved sideways into the wall cutting her short. Strong hands gripped her hips, balling the bottom half of her dress in your fists as you buried your nose into her long, dark hair. Instinct begged her to let the moan caught in her throat loose, but someone had to be level-headed here… or at least try to be. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I could ask you the same question, wearing this dress with no shorts and showing off.” You palmed her ass while she wiggled, sandwiched helplessly between you and the carved wood. Maybe you’d hoped that a simple bit of groping would satisfy whatever just took over, but it’d been wishful thinking; the more you touched, the more you wanted. “Did you know every time you bend over I can see your underwear? It’s not very nice to tease like that.”

“I-I didn’t know…” Wanda’s head was spinning, your sudden turn of mood rendering her flustered. Having never thought of herself in much of a sexual way, today’s lack of shorts was more of convenience rather than to tease. No matter how far she got from being a virgin, the intricacies of attraction and desire remained partially lost to her, always forgetting not only were you insatiable at times, but you wanted her. “I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry!” 

“No need to apologize, Wands, I’m not mad.” The last thing you wanted was to embed shame to how your girlfriend decided to dress; if anything, the uncharacteristic choice made the surprise more enticing. 

She shivered as you nibbled the shell of her ear, trembling more every second your hands continued roaming, exploring, groping her so shamelessly. “But you can make it up to me by letting me touch you.”

“We’re in a church…” Even so, it was just the two of you in the building, a fact confirmed by one quick glance out into the main room through one of the wall’s cutouts. All alone in the quiet, sacred space. Wanda knew she should protest harder, the mere idea should’ve been off putting, but it wasn’t. Nor was it the first time this scenario crossed her mind.

You’d be lying if you said the setting didn’t turn you on that much more and if Wanda’s shudder as you palmed over her covered sex was any indication, she wasn’t completely put off. Curious fingers poked and prodded, pressing against her in earnest until Wanda was gasping. “Why not? No one would know and it’d be fun.” 

You could practically hear the cogs in Wanda’s brain turning, working overdrive to come up with some answer where she could do the ‘right’ thing and keep those all too good sensations flowing from between her legs. “Maybe in the car?”

She’d expected the proposition to sound more convincing than it was, your contemplative hum against the nape of her neck showing Wanda she probably hadn’t swayed you either. Enticing as the car might’ve been in the past, it wasn’t what she yearned for right now. If you led her out, she’d follow and most definitely enjoy herself, but she’d think about this and what it could’ve been until this very rare opportunity presented itself again, if ever.

“Oh, but I want you right here, sweetheart. What if someone drives by and sees you outside? You know I like to keep you all to myself.” Wanda didn’t stop the hand sliding past the top of her stockings, fingers stretching the thin fabric in search of her panties— the second your fingertips grazed the embroidered cotton you groaned. 

Occasionally you caught her wearing the days of the week underwear she’d splurged on from some online boutique shop, something she bought with the mindset that no one would ever see them, but oh how wrong she was. Initially embarrassed for you to catch her wearing them, she was so relieved when you’d written it off as just another precious thing to love about her. 

“How are you always so pretty, babygirl? Makes it so hard to keep my hands off you,” Two inches further down, you discovered the beginnings of a wet spot, Wanda’s body giving her away despite her meekly suggested location change. “Especially when you get wet so easily. It’s my job to take care of that, being a good girlfriend and all.”

“I can’t help it,” she breathed out, trying to keep her breathing even for as long as possible. It was true, Wanda often found her thighs pressed together after a few touches or too long of a kiss; a fact she only recently discovered upon dating you. 

“I know, poor thing, let me fix it.” With your free hand holding the front of her dress, fingers splayed over her stomach, you held your girlfriend still as you moved the last barrier aside, sliding through her already slick folds as shamelessly as you would if you were in the privacy of your apartment back at home, laser focused on watching the girl in your arms go limp. 

The physical embodiment of a devil on her shoulder as you nudged her sweater out of the way, Wanda couldn’t possibly deny either of you further; the longer you waited, the higher the chance that someone else would wander in. Her cheeks burned red hot, unable to tell how much was from being manhandled mere feet behind the altar or the humiliation of how badly she wanted you to continue. “Please…”

“Please what, Wanda? Take you to the car?” Circling her clit almost did her in, knees buckling, hall echoing with the sound of the bags falling from Wanda’s hand to the floor. You let up and she whined pitifully, hips bucking in search for more of the fleeting pleasure. But if you were doing this, you needed your favorite part: her confirmation. “Use your words and I’ll give you whatever you want, baby.”

“Take me, right here…” She was nearly dizzy with need as she spoke, but the struggle was so worth it once your fingers began working her purposely now, promptly rewarding her acceptance. It was all too easy to forget any lingering worries and focus on her rapidly building orgasm, head and hands falling forward to brace herself as you slid two fingers into her. “Oh god, yes-”

You tutted mockingly, grinning into the crook of her sweet-smelling neck. “Now you know that’s not proper language for where we are. Mind your manners.” 

It was terribly hypocritical considering how lewdly you were stretching her open on your digits, letting her drip down your palm. You could pretty much count on her making a mess, but no matter how familiar of a sensation, it was all you could do not to fall to your knees and see for yourself; Wanda was the only person you’d ever felt so inclined to worship. “You feel so good on my fingers, sweet thing. I wish you could feel how tight you’re squeezing them.”

The poor thing did her best to keep up, but you were so fast, so determined to watch her walls come down in the place she should be doing the exact opposite… The most she could do was moan out her pleasure, heavenly music to your ears. “Can I cum? I’m so close-!”

“Go on, I want to feel you.” Wanda finished with a cry, muffled into her arm, still too afraid to be loud no matter how alone you might be. She shivered and shook, thighs trapping your hand in place as she rode out her orgasm. Even from behind Wanda was a sight, long hair falling over her shoulders as she tossed, hands clamoring for purchase anywhere on the wall she’d never look at the same way again. 

Satisfied with your work, thought she’d be done and more than ready to get out of here, but to your surprise, her hand grabbed your wrist before you could pull out. “What’s wrong, Wanda?”

“Nothing, it’s just..” Wanda couldn’t believe what she was about to say, but it’d be a terrible missed opportunity if she didn’t ask. Rubbing her backside against your front confirmed what she’d felt for a few seconds before, the telltale bulge in your pants providing Wanda the perfect setup to make one of her deepest fantasies a reality. She’d gone this far; what was a little more for the whole way. That’s what she kept repeating to validate this next want. “Do you think we could maybe, um..”

“Maybe what?” Her actions only gave you an inkling into what Wanda was hinting at, but surely she couldn’t be thinking what you thought she was. 

When it came to risky scenarios, you were constantly on the propositioning end, finding creative ways to present your new ideas for Wanda’s approval. What you’d just gotten away with was a giant push of luck, never in your wildest dreams did you ever imagine she’d ask for it. “The rules are you use your words. You have to say it.”

Of course you wouldn’t let her off easy, not when both of you were on the precipice of doing something so scandalous. She appreciated how dedicated you were to her enthusiastic consent, but if she thought about what she was asking too hard, she feared she might fizzle into nothingness. “I was thinking if you were up for it, we might go again?”

“Yeah? With my fingers?” You goaded her with a slow curl of your long digits, guiding her back until you could easily grind your clothed strap on against her, the sharpest squeak bubbling from Wanda’s chest. As you moved this time, you were slow, too slow, knowing as nice as it was, it wasn’t what she needed. Not when she remembered how mouthwateringly full she was a few days ago when you’d last had her in your lap.

“N-No,” Wanda shook her head, mousy and bashful. Her one advantage was facing away from you, fully aware she’d never have the courage to speak up that way unless you forced it out of her. “I meant with your strap…”

The words felt heavy on her tongue, as if someone else said them; anyone but the person she knew herself to be. But you heard them in her sweet, sheepish voice and something feral inside you snapped. You tore away from her unceremoniously, only for a second, just long enough to bend her a little farther, slapping Wanda’s ass once. 

“Fuck, I wish I could keep you here all night, just to see what else I can get a naughty girl like you to tell me what they’ve been dreaming up.” Ignoring her shout, you ripped a hole in her stockings, tearing wide enough that you could play with her from behind, shallowly dipping your fingertips into the hole you’d so cruelly left empty. 

“You’re all I want,” Neck straining over her shoulder to catch glimpses of you undoing your pants, Wanda’s eyes grew wide at the sight of the thick dildo set on your hips, only fluttering closed as you nestled the toy between her thighs, sliding it back and forth in an effort to wet it for Wanda’s comfort. Eager as you were, this one was bigger than she’d taken before and you’d never forgive yourself if you caused her any pain. “Hurry up before someone comes in..”

“Look at you, so impatient,” The tip teased Wanda awfully, drawing low moaned out pleas that were much too pretty to deprive yourself of so quickly. It wasn’t long until her wetness coated your strap, slick and ready for her as soon as you were ready to deliver. “Does my sweet girl want me to fill her up with my cock? Would that make you happy?”

“Mhm..so happy..” Something about being fucked left Wanda’s brain so.. empty, always coaxing her into a blissful relaxation. She supposed it had something to do with not only touch, but your words, sneakily dumbing her down until her only thoughts rested on you and when you’d give her what she waited for. 

Being taken in church was an idea she only allowed to appear in her deepest dreams, shaming herself afterwards for even daring to create such a thought. If anyone was going to give it to her now, it had to be you and to her credit, you’d started this. But logistics were way too much for Wanda to think about presently and, in a mission to make this impromptu sex as good for her as it already was for you, clearing her of any fears was your highest priority. “All I want to do is make you happy, Wanda.”

She knew that was true from the very first time you’d told her, those words only ever given with the most sincere honesty. Combined with the gentle patterns you drew over the sensitive skin of her lower tummy, Wanda let herself be lulled, trusting you to take care of her in the vulnerable state she so loved to fall into. 

“Spread your legs for me a little, just like that…” Everyone would be wondering where you were soon, Wanda’s father waiting on his Halloween candy delivery and Natasha for the drinks she asked you to get, but for this, for her? You’d say screw it all without hesitation to take your time and make this happen however she pictured. “Now beg. Confess to me, little church mouse.”

As you pushed the tip in and stopped, Wanda erupted into a fit of pitiful noises, fighting against your hold to feel that ever lusted after stretch, but you were stronger than her and wouldn’t budge. Being made to beg was equal parts hot and degrading; unfortunately you’d come to love to hear it, discovered it turned her on to do it, and now demanded it whenever the chance presented itself. “I need your cock, need you to fuck me.. please please!”

“There’s my good girl,” With one long push, you filled her completely, overwhelming the needy girl in all the best ways. You gave her just enough time to adjust, rutting into her tight pussy hard and fast as soon as possible. If she was wet before, Wanda was absolutely drenched now, making it all too easy to fuck into her as deep as you dared. “You look so pretty all fucked out, Wanda, begging to be fucked just outside of your dad’s office.. in a church, no less..”

“I.. I didn’t…” She truly hadn’t meant for any of this to happen, but she certainly hadn’t objected too heavily either, especially not to this. Each time your hips met Wanda thought she was done for, that coil in the pit of her stomach tighter than she could ever remember it being. Her entire body felt like a livewire, every touch you provided almost stinging. As soon as you found her neglected clit, Wanda was panting, chest heaving in the small, restricted space between her and the wall. 

She devolved into an incoherent mess, pathetic and helpless noises echoing throughout the otherwise silent halls. In a selfish act, you covered Wanda’s mouth, cementing the impossible to ignore wet sounds coming from your girlfriend to memory. “Do you hear how wet you are for me, baby? I would’ve fucked you earlier if I knew you needed me this much.”

Your teasing was too much for Wanda to bear; your crude words, being forced to listen to how aroused she was. Part of her still chalked this up to some insanely vivid dream. The moment your fingertips slid past her lips Wanda was sucking on them, albeit sloppy and lazily, reflecting how little focus she had as your strap hit her at the perfect angle. She was losing it fast, muscles threatening to give out the closer her second orgasm came. “P-Please, can I-”

“Of course you can. Poor thing, you just need to cum so badly,” Wanda’s pulse raced under your lips, but you kissed her there so sweetly it nearly felt like a joke. Below, your hips moved at a torturous pace, quick and brutal in time with the circles you rubbed into her almost too sensitive bud. If you could just see her come apart one more time- “Cum for me, I’ve got you.”

Wanda’s jaw fell open, spit covered fingers giving her slight reprieve while she bucked and twisted wildly, only managing to stay upright with the help of your strong arms. Fucking her through it all quickly became more for your pleasure, bottoming out to let you grind your own clit against the back of the toy at the join of your hips, clinging to Wanda’s trembling form as you came with a groan into the back of her hair. “I would’ve helped…”

“Trust me, you did more than enough,” you mumbled, nibbling the shell of her ear as you caught your breath. You’d never given much thought to the joys of a joint orgasm until Wanda, finding something special in sharing your highs. Always one to prove how useful she could be, Wanda loved being allowed to touch you, to see how good she could make you feel before you reached your end, but this time she was in no state to do so nor did you need it; watching her was more than you would’ve ever asked for. “You did such a good job, I’m so proud of you.”

Wanda wanted to say something back, couldn’t remember if she’d actually spoken out loud or not, but also couldn’t focus hard enough to think that deeply at the moment. She felt like she spent an eternity there, swimming in some cloud high above the church while your touches turned gentle, stroking over her hips and stomach until Wanda finally started to settle down. 

Thankfully the church remained empty so you let her take her time, holding Wanda steady while you pulled out. Careful as you were, she still whimpered, body worn out and tired, “Shh, you’re okay, pretty girl.”

Turning around let Wanda slump against your front as you leaned into the wall, green eyes hazy and heavy. She drew you into an almost sleepy set of kisses, thanking you with sticky, lip gloss smudge marks along your jaw… until she remembered exactly where she was. “Oh my god, I can’t believe we just did that.. We have to get out of here now!” 

Fumbling terribly, your girlfriend snatched the fallen candy bags from the floor in one hand and your arm in the other, dragging you as fast as her strength would let her. “Be careful, Wanda, or you’ll trip!” 

“I’m fine, just open the car!” She didn’t know if she should be mortified or terrified, praying to every power in the universe no one ever found out about this. Wanda’d never sped out of church in such a flurry, as if the quicker she moved, the longer she could escape the anxiety gaining on her. 

Unfortunately for her, you had no such issues and her inner turmoil only made you laugh. “Don’t forget you liked it. I’m pretty sure you were the one begging loudest-”

“You made me!” To you, Wanda would deny her enjoyment for a while and she’d never think of doing it again, but as silence settled in the car and you turned your attention to the road, she struggled to keep still and not squirm too obviously as she replayed your Halloween havoc.

[ohwowimlonley]

Closer

CHAPTER ONE - blank stares

Series Synopsis - after being evicted and having nothing left, your best friend sends you to live with her brooding, stoic boss. Except, he isn’t so brooding, and he isn’t so stoic, and now that you live with him, your underwear keeps going missing

Chapter Synopsis - you meet your bestfriend’s angry boss, but he isn’t so angry

Chapter Warnings - crybaby!reader, dilf!perv!hotch, food mentions, reader is kinda a housewife already

Word Count - 2517

Series Masterlist

Add yourself to the taglist

The first time you meet Aaron Hotchner, you’re just a tad bit desperate. Not for him, of course, you’d just met the man. But you’re definitely a bit dishevelled because you’d been sofa surfing for weeks now and your friend Penelope has only just notified you that her boss has a spare room in his apartment and she can ‘try get you hooked up’.

So, two days after her phone call, you’re standing outside of a door that looks much too expensive for you to even be close too and before you can stop yourself you’re knocking on the pristine white paint and then there’s locks clicking and chains clinking and the door swings open and you’re face to face with the most gorgeous man on the planet.

He looks you up and down, tongue peeking out from between his lips to wet them, brushing over a patch of stubble and you find yourself having to wrench your eyes away from the scene. He steps back, gesturing for you to come inside.

“I’m Aaron,” he extends his hand, a polite smile gracing his lips as your fingers brush over the calluses on his palms, causing goosebumps to break out over your (thankfully sweater-clad) arms, “Penelope has told me a lot about you. Please, sit down,”

You’re hardly convinced this is the man your best friend had been telling you about. His soft smile, gentle words and overall kind demeanour was a complete 180 from the man your friend had described. Nevertheless, you perch yourself on the edge of a plush grey sofa, resting your hands on your denim-clad knees and look around anxiously, taking in the sparsely decorated room.

The living room is carpeted in a charcoal grey, bookshelves are dotted across the place, most of which are filled with criminal law books. There are two small picture frames, one with a picture of him and a small boy. A grin stretches over both of their faces, and the small boy has a glob of icecream on his cheek. Aaron is wearing a pair of sunglasses, but they’re pushed to the top of his head, and his cheek is squished to the boy’s forehead, exposing some laughter lines around his cheeks and eyes.

The other picture isn’t nearly as interesting, though. It’s a picture of what you assume is the whole BAU team. You spot Penelope, and Derek (who you only know from the countless pictures of him Penny had shown you) then you guess Spencer is next to Derek, then Emily, JJ and Rossi respectively. A few feet from them stands Aaron, his smile more reserved than the others, and nothing like the one in the other picture.

You’re so consumed with your examination of the pictures you barely register the sofa cushions dipping under his weight, or the clinking of glass against enamel coasters, or really anything until the sound of Aaron softly clearing his throat damn near makes you jump out of your skin.

You try not to show too much of a visible reaction to him, mostly so he won’t think you’re just a creepy stalker who wants to stare at pictures of him all the live-long day. Aaron pretends not to notice anything, mercifully turning his gaze from yours and spinning a set of keys attached to a D-ring on his pointer finger.

“Um, so I assume you have questions for me before I like, steal your spare room or whatever,” you chuckle awkwardly to yourself, and Aaron offers you a tight-lipped smile in response. It’s only now that you realise he’s pushed up the sleeves of his button down to expose his forearms, and suddenly you’re distracted all over again but this time by dark hair contrasting just barely sunkissed skin, by bulging veins twisting and turning and pulsing under layers of skin, by muscles with soft indentations of old scars.

“Well,” once again, you’re pulled away from fantasy land by the older man, but it’s not completely unwelcome because his deep gravelly voice is something that you don’t think you’ll ever tire of, “first things first. As you know, I’m an FBI agent, which means my schedule is mostly very hectic, and would sometimes be home very late in the night, is that okay?”

You furrow your eyebrows, why would that be an issue for you? “No, uh that sounds fine for me, I’m kinda an insomniac anyways, so it’s not like it would disturb me much,”

“Well, that’s a relief,” and you can tell from his now relaxed shoulders that he's telling the truth, “what do you do for work?”

“Oh, well I was in finance, but that’s not really my scene, so I quit,” you didn’t catch him staring at your smile as you spoke, nor the way his gaze travelled ever so slowly down and becomes glued to the subtle way your tits brushed against each other as you spoke. Aaron determines that you’re definitely not wearing a bra. Do you always do that? Walk into a complete stranger's house with no bra? God, if it were two degrees cooler in here then he would be able to see your nipples poking against the fabric of your only slightly revealing shirt, he could practically see them already, all he had to do was reach out and- “so now, I’m focusing on what I really want to do; my writing,”

“Oh,” he clears his throat desperately, pulling at his collar and praying you don’t notice where his eyes were just affixed to. His panic quickly settles when he notices your obliviousness to the situation, and he lets his tongue dart out to wet his lips, imagining that his tongue could grace any part of your body, oh what he would give to taste you.

“Oh god, that makes me sound like I make no money, look, I’ve got savings and stuff so I can afford to pay rent, and- and I have family money too but,” you cut yourself off, and Aaron realises that he must’ve gone too long without replying because now you’re panicking and he’s about to interject but then you’re talking again, “I’ll- I’ll do all the housework and- and I’m not loud I promise, I- I just can’t keep sleeping on my friends sofas,”

“Sweetheart,” he’s a little ashamed at the fact his cock gives an interested stir at the thought of you acting like his little housewife, keeping everything perfect and waiting for him to come home, and his predicament becomes even worse when tears begin to fill your eyes and now he has to school his expression to remain soft and inviting - absolutely not to look as depraved as he feels, “I don’t care about rent, I bought the place outright, and I think it’s wonderful that you’re following your dreams instead of doing something you hate,”

Your cheeks burn under his gaze, and you can’t meet his eyes, desperately blinking away the tears still building up from your annoyance at yourself for crying at something so silly. You nod along to his sentiment, if only to give yourself something to do to distract yourself from the oncoming tears.

You resign yourself to discussing practicalities for the next hour or so; where you would sleep, what his usual schedule was like, the security and alarm systems, the motion activated cameras, if you wanted any furniture moving into any communal spaces (you desperately wanted a more comfortable sofa than the barely sat in one, but you bit that comment down and asked if there was room for your plush loveseat) and then he gives you a tour of the house. He shows you around the kitchen first, and you make a mental note of a barely used pack of expensive looking coffee, sat next to a cheaper looking brand and theorised he must only drink one cup every morning at home and didn't want to allow his good stuff to go stale in the warmer throughout the day. Next is his office, which he kindly requests you don’t enter unless he is home due to its sensitive contents, and you knew enough not to ask questions, but you do straighten out a stack of files that look as if they’re about to topple over. After that is his own bedroom, and it’s as neat-messy as the rest of his house. You can tell some things are left looking messy simply out of convenience (for instance the duffle bag settled by the front door, or the fresh suit laid out on his dresser), and not because he’s a slob. His bed is made with military precision, and everything about his room is perfect, bar the thin layer of dust settling almost everywhere except his bed and the doorway. Next, he shows you a smaller room directly adjacent to his. It looks as if it’s cleaned even more meticulously than his own room, because there isn’t even a speck of dust across the expanse of the place. What surprises you, though, is that it's clearly the bedroom of a child. The bed isn't even a single mattress, and it's covered in Spiderman sheets. The bedside tables are decorated in figurines and the lampshades have the visage of Batman? Or maybe that star wars guy? You don’t know, pop culture isn’t really your thing. You turn back to him.

“I probably should’ve told you about this,” his neck burns red and he brings a hand up to scratch nervously behind his ear, “I, uh, I have a son,”

You bite down on your tongue, repressing any response as you wait for him to continue.

“Jack, his uh, his name is Jack. Me and my wife- my ex wife, rather, had him just over four years ago,” he clears his throat and looks down at his feet, “he, well it’s for the best probably, he lives with her now, but I see him every time I get the day off, I hope you don’t mind,”

“Mind?” You spit out. Then, a grin splits across your face, and you’re venturing further into the room, running your fingers over an assorted stack of toys, ones more obviously more used are piled closer within reach and then you’re whirling around to look at him, “tell me about him,”

And he does; he spills every detail he can about his son, Jack Hotchner. He tells you about the picture in the living room, about how excited he was about his first ever big boy bed, about how he could stay awake to watch Star Wars for hours past his bedtime (and that’s when you realise it’s Darth Vader on his lampshade, not Batman), and how his favourite ice cream flavour is chocolate, but not just any chocolate, the chocolate ice cream he asks his dad for at the fair after they go on the teacup rides. After a long twenty or so minutes of you exploring the room and Aaron rambling from where he now sits on the edge of his son’s bed, you’re ready to move on.

He leads you onwards, down the hardwood hallway and into another room. It’s completely empty, save for an expensive looking bed frame, mattress and duvet set. The walls are a stark white and sunlight bleeds through the closed window, exposing the thick layer of dust, some of it kicked up just from the door opening and floating about the room. You try to stifle the cough that rises in your throat as you inhale, but it doesn’t work and soon you’re choking and Aaron is dashing across the room to open the window.

“I’m so sorry, I’ll have the room cleaned before you move in,” his face glows red again, and you send him a pained smile to let him know it’s okay, in between coughs of course, “I’ve been meaning to get around to it, but you know, work gets in the way,”

“No, no it’s fine really,” you rub at your eyes with your fists and take a better look around, albeit from the doorway, and you note the room’s impressive size. Really, despite the mental-hospital-esque coloured walls, you can really see this being a good room for you.

Before you can say anything else, Aaron is ushering you out with a hand on the small of your back and the door shuts softly behind you.

“Well, that's pretty much everything, oh except the utility room,” he walks off and you follow him to a room just off the kitchen, stocked with a washer, dryer and several staacks of cleaning supplies. You take a gleeful look around, sifting through drawers of bleach and scrubbers and sprays. Yes, this place will do.

–

You iron everything out with your new roommate (roommate!!), and by the time you’re finished its nearly nine pm and you’re yawning into your arms and nearly knocking over a precariously balanced pizza box from the coffee table as you stretch the tiredness settling deep within your bones. You’d ordered some pizza to share at some point after five, and a few lonely slices are left going stale in the soggy box so you stand and bring the box to the kitchen and ferret through the drawers and cupboards for a tupperware to contain the leftovers. Aaron tries to protest, saying that he should do some of the work, but you bat his hands away and shove the freshly filled box into the unsurprisingly empty fridge.

You're about to bid your goodbye and drive back to your friend's house when Aaron grabs your hands in his.

“Stay here tonight,” his eyes bore into yours, and suddenly you feel wide awake, “you've been practically falling asleep on my arm since eight, and I don’t want my new roommate to fall asleep at the wheel and crash into a tree or something,”

You bite at your lip, and glance at the hard sofa and try to imagine yourself trying to fall asleep on that, rather than your friend’s pull out bed.

“You can have my bed, I think you’ve had enough of sleeping on couches for a lifetime,” he gives a small, tired chuckle and you gnaw on your lip again. You can’t take his bed, not after he’s paid for dinner and agreed to let you live in his home. Again, Aaron senses your apprehension, “seriously, it’s fine. C’mon, you can borrow some of my clothes to sleep in,”

You end up in Aaron’s bed, wearing what you’re sure is the only shirt he owns that isn’t a button down and a pair of sweatpants you have to tie at the waistband with a bobble, a pile of your skirt, shirt, panties and bra just next to you. Aaron bids you goodnight, and concedes himself to a night on the uncomfortable sofa. It takes you almost an hour of tossing and turning to finally sleep, and you don’t wake until the alarm clock next to you reads 9:34am. But, as you roll over to put on last night’s clothes on, you notice one very disturbing thing.

Your panties are missing.

[marthawrites]

Only A Scratch

Aemond Targaryen x fem reader

Word count: 3.4k+

About: Aemond requests you, a healer who has tended to his wounds before, to accompany him on a trip to Duskendale.

Includes: One bed trope! A more balanced mix of plot and porn featuring elements of mean!Aemond, injury, dick sucking, cockslapping, roughness, mild manhandling, mild degradation, unprotected vaginal sex, and mentions of fem receiving oral sex

Note: Hello lovely reader! This story is based on a request from @babyaemond with the quote of "you know what your problem is?" with our favorite one-eyed war criminal. Thank you, Chris ily! 💖 I had an absolute blast writing this and I hope you like it too! As always, reader is non-descript. Please, enjoy!

-

The realm might not believe it, perhaps not even the occupants and workers of the Red Keep would believe it, but, Aemond Targaryen was a momma's boy. He loved and respected his mother more than anyone else in all the kingdoms. With her nameday coming up, Aemond wanted to get her something extra special.

One afternoon while visiting Helaena during her embroidery time – little niece and nephews playing with him in the middle of the floor – he brought the idea up to his sister. 

"I think that a lovely idea, Aemond. You fetching Duskendale's greatest painter? Mother will hang the portrait somewhere everyone can see," Helaena replied with bright eyes. "And they have those mollusks who produce the most dazzling pearls. You can't go all that way and not get her jewelry!"

Aemond smiled. Helaena and her children were the rare people to draw genuine emotion from the prince. "I will pick something in your honor. Your gift to mother."

"And Aegon?" She asked.

"Aegon won't get any credit for these gifts. He wouldn't even be able to keep the secret, much less add to the surprise."

The princess giggled; unguarded in the company of her family.

-

To say receiving the dragon prince's offer was a surprise would be a vast understatement. He wanted you to go along on this trip with him? Out of all the healers and maesters? Even if you wanted to, you could not tell him no. Bewilderment buzzed around you as you rode out of King's Landing on horseback with him, Ser Arryk, and Ser Erryk.

It wouldn't be a long trip. Perhaps a week, there and back, with some leisure time to enjoy the city when you arrived. 

The twins were a skilled and respectful pair. You felt safe with them. You wondered, mind idly wandering as the twins led the way out of King's Landing, if you were Aemond's first pick for an accompanying medic. Fog rolled up from the sea and blanketed everything with a haunting gray. If it weren't for golden ways of sun piercing through clouds and fog like javelins it would be considerably creepy. Rays brought out your natural coloring, and when you turned to look across your shoulder to prince Aemond he looked wholly regal: silver hair shimmering, riding garb decorated with his House's sigil (as if anyone would need reminded who he was), breath hanging in the chilly morning air like he truly breathed smoke.

He felt you looking at him. "I don't need two eyes to see you staring so hard, girl," he said, turning the full attention of his single eye to you. Lilac. It nearly glowed in the foggy subdued brightness.

"Apologies, your Grace," you said with a guilty little grin. "The last time I saw you I was bandaging your newly stitched thigh. A much different sight than what I have of you now. You clean up well," you said, tiny smirk not leaving the outermost corners of your mouth. "Nasty cut it was… how did it heal?"

His face remained skillfully blank. There could have been a dozen emotions hidden behind that perfected poise; from his posture to the way he held the natural shape of his bowed mouth, he didn't allow you a glimpse into how your words affected him. "It healed well."

"I'm pleased to know I made such an impression that you'd request me to join you on this journey. An honor, truly, my prince," you said with quiet pride.

"There are two women in court who are heavy with babes. Both will be making their entrance into the world and day now. None of the maesters would risk leaving them," he replied with an edge of curtness, words clipped and even. "It was only then I considered you."

Ouch. "Oh," you said, a little taken back. "Well, I still stand by what I said," you added, trying your best to deflect the sting his words gave you.

"Hm," he hummed, smug. It was his turn to smirk, now.

The rest of that first day’s ride went relatively smooth and uneventful. That is, until Aemond got bucked off his horse. It was a miracle you were able to stay on yours! The twins’ horses, while still terribly frightened, appeared to be of a more mellow mind for they were able to be soothed while Arryk scouted ahead to see what might have caused the fright. You dared not leave yours during the ordeal in case you needed to get a galloping headstart. Tension hung in the air until Arryk came back. “A black bear is perhaps a quarter mile away,” he said upon arriving. “I didn’t see any cubs and the beast seemed unbothered by me. It was gorging on berries. Are you alright, my prince?”

Luckily Aemond was able to break his fall. Unfortunately it came at the cost of landing on his forearm upon a ridiculously sharp rock. A jagged cut ripped through his riding gear and into his leanly muscled flesh. You had helped wrap it with a clean linen bandage for now, but crimson bloomed beneath the binding. He would likely need stitches once all of you were settled into an inn for the night. “‘Tis only a scratch. Let’s get to the next town before nightfall, yeah?”

Arryk stole a glance with you, and then his brother, and you once more before nodding to Aemond. "A scratch," his eyes had silently said to you; a flash of sarcasm gone quicker than a blink.

The next town on the road to Duskendale was small and hardly worth mentioning on a map. Climbing roses in full bloom covered the inn's facade making it quaint and homely alike; their heady aroma lingered heavily and you wished you could bottle the fragrance. Echos of the scent followed you inside and mingled with savory foodsmells of dinner. 

"'Fraid we're about full t'night. I hope you all don't want separate rooms," a middle-aged man with wild eyebrows said from behind the bar. He leaned on it as he looked all of you over. "Ain't seen one of you Targaryens around in awhile. Pleasure ta have you, Prince Aemond. Now, what can I do for you lot?"

"Three rooms and dinner for everyone. That's all," Aemond replied as he produced payment for the innkeep.

Turning, the man inspected what keys were left. "Hmm… I have only two rooms available." Pulling the keys from their hooks he handed them over. "One bed in each of 'em."

Yet another tense silence fell over the group. The unmistakable tingle of a blush rushed to your face. Shit shit shit.

"We need three. Surely you can kick someone out for the night," Aemond said a bit too sharply, fingers reaching for another few coins to bribe the man.

"Ha!" He guffawed. "No can do. Prince or no, I have a good reputation and I don't intend on breakin' it."

The twins shared an amused glance and you wanted to die.

"Fine," Aemond said as he took the keys and tossed one set to Arryk and Erryk. "See you at first light to break fast before leaving."

You followed Aemond into the room you'd be sharing for the night. One bed. You hoped it was a big one.

Once inside, any hope of surviving the night with all your sanity and wit vanished in an instant. The bed was tiny. And, as if things could get any worse, there was only one pillow and blanket. Surely Prince Aemond Targaryen never considered this happening.

Tension crackled between you two and you wanted to jump out the equally tiny window and run all the way back to King’s Landing. "At… at least neither of us will be cold in the middle of the night?" You half-stammered, trying, feebly, to break the silence.

"You better not snore, girl." He flashed you an icy glare but the smirk of his mouth spoke to something else. Amusement? A challenge? "I'm going to bathe."

While he was gone you were left to stew on the current predicament. Ever since you first laid eyes on the young prince he never left your brain. To you, he was unbearably dashing and roguishly handsome. He was cold, cruel (according to rumors), and smug in a way that made you want to strangle him and drown him in kisses alike. Over the last year or so you'd helped tend to his wounds a few different times, and each time you left with more butterflies in your belly than before. They said his kin were closer to Gods than men, and you believed it.

After hardly eating during the day you were half-starved. You ate your dinner while he was still gone, and left for the women's side of the bathing quarter before he returned. In your experience not all inn's had the space for a proper bath – you weren’t going to pass this up. 

Upon returning – clean, refreshed, and still warm from the bath – you saw Aemond laying on the bed in his nightclothes with his uninjured arm tucked behind his head. It was stupid – absolutely fucking stupid – how handsome he looked in such a regular position. He was all long, and lean, and sharp angles. You wondered if he housed any softness within himself. He'd got a fire going in the small mantle and it crackled peacefully. Light and shadows accentuated the natural lines of his chiseled face, eyepatch practically orange in the glow. After a moment of awkwardly fumbling with your damp hair, you asked, "how's your arm?"

"'Twas only a scratch. I'm fine," he answered, making no move to shift his position to make more room for you on the bed.

"You're lying. It bled through your bandage on the way here," you retorted, squinting at him suspiciously.

He sighed. "And now it's done bleeding."

Turning, you double checked the latch on the door. Sure of the lock you turned back to Aemond. "Can I at least see it?"

"No."

"Please?"

"Are you deaf, or daft?"

It was your turn to glare at him. "You know, I never truly believed the rumors of you being cruel." You threw a cloth you’d used to help dry your hair onto the table as you stepped, firmly and deliberately, across the small room to the bed. "But now I believe it. You know what your problem is? You are rude." Without allowing yourself to process what you were doing – and not giving him a moment to, either – you were straddling over his lap. Demanding. Determination hardened your features. "Let me see it."

Aemond tensed beneath you and the pupil of his eye swelled. He wasn't expecting this. His jaw feathered as the hand behind his head immediately lunged forward to grab your throat. Squeezing gently, warningly, he smirked. "And you know what your problem is? You are an insolent brat." Your eyes softened to those of a doe and it sent his cock twitching beneath your thinly covered center. "Mayhap you forget who you are speaking to, girl."

Breath shuddered from your lungs. You felt him beneath you and it instantly sent fire rolling through your belly. Desire. Lust. So easily he turned your irritation to something else entirely. "I only want to check on it," you said against his careful grasp, trying your best to appear innocent.

He laughed. "Climbing on my lap like this I think you want something else. Tell me… what more does this bratty little mouth do?" With his question he slowly released his hold from your throat, thumb trailing across the softness of your bottom lip. The darkness of his eye glinted when he heard a faint whimper tickle up through your chest. "You'll have to be louder than that…"

Without having to be told you grazed your tongue along his curious thumb, pulse hammering behind your ribs and between your legs alike. Could he feel how hot you were? Boldness coursed through your blood. "Your Grace…," you simpered, looking at him with dazed eyes. "I've wanted you for so long." You dared to nip the tip of his thumb, gently rolling your tongue beneath it. He tasted clean with hints of wood and smoke from stoking the fire. It made you ache.

"I've other things that need tending to, now. Perhaps if you play by my rules I'll play by yours," he proclaimed, pushing his digit further into your mouth. He hissed quietly with the sensation. Greed and need simmered in his chest, threatening to boil over. You weren’t even doing anything and yet you still drove him near wild.

Your hands spread across his chest. “Those are fair terms,” you said with a playful tilt of your head. Your eyes roamed over his throat and what was exposed of his collarbone. Sleek, pale, warm. He was so warm. How could he be when it was so chilly? You unlaced the lazily tied strings of his cotton sleep shirt, fingernails gently scratching down his front. You smiled when he hissed another inward breath. Beneath you, he neared full hardness. “Needy prince…,” you crooned, sliding from his lap as elegantly as you could so you were laying between his legs. You stroked along his cock through his cotton sleep pants, teasing. “Perhaps Targarenys are closer to men than Gods after all.”

"I like you better with something in your mouth," he said, tutting, as he shifted his legs a bit to give you more room. Now he moved, you thought, how generous of him.

Vibrating with your own need and impatience, you unlaced the front of his pants and tugged them down just enough for his cock to spring free. You gasped, satisfied. "So big, your Grace." He had a lovely cock. Truly. It was hot and solid in your hand when you stroked it, head blushed and swollen without you even having to tug downwards on his length. 

You'd be lying if you didn't secretly hope something like this would happen with the tension of sharing a bed and room. But this? You licked up the underside of his shaft, wrapping your lips around his tip, sucking, and moaned at the sensation and taste.

Aemond groaned. "Is this what all you little medics do, hm? Tend to broken men before swallowing their cock?" He taunted, glaring at you triumphantly, mouth parted in silent bliss.

Instead of answering him verbally, you took more of his length into your wanting mouth. Flattening your tongue against him allowed you to hollow your cheeks. You looked up at him all the while, basking in the way his features changed; the way he somehow tensed and relaxed at the same time. You dragged your mouth up until only his sensitive head was wrapped by your lips, then down, lower, and up again.

"Fuck…," he groaned, eye rolling closed. One hand gripped into the thin faded sheets while his other moved to your damp hair. He threaded his fingers through it, gripping, tugging, just slight. 

Your eyelids trembled as a needy whine broke free from your lips. He popped free from your mouth with the noise. You chased his cockhead; wanton. Saliva built in your mouth and the sounds of you lavishing his cock were borderline obscene. You willingly choked on him; you throbbed as you squeezed your thighs together.

He grinned when you came up for air. His hand unfurled from the bedclothes and moved to the base of his length. He gripped himself and held your head still by your hair, expression widening with smug pride. He smacked his cock against the side of your face, traces of your saliva shiny on your skin. "Who knew my favorite little healer was such a whore, too," he purred. A second and third series of smacks followed. 

Bolts of lust jolted right to your core. You clenched around nothing; arousal gushing from you like syrup. "Aemond…," you gasped, vision hazy. "Please," you begged, unsure what you were truly begging for.

Him. Just him. Whatever he would give you.

"Such a pretty sound from your lips," he said, darkly and adoringly, as he delivered a final slap of his cock to the silky skin of your mouth. He leaned forward and grabbed you by the sides of your arms, pulling you up so you were nearly nose to nose. Without even looking he raked the hems of your sleep gown up while simultaneously yanking your smallclothes down. His fingers slid up your folds, testing your arousal. What he felt sent the entirety of his manhood aching. 

He had to be inside you. Now. 

"This little cunny is soaking. I don't even have to prepare you," he growled, shoving a long finger up into you without hesitation.

You might have peaked from that alone if he'd kept his digit inside you. If he pumped it. If he added a second. But, no, the prince did neither. When he pulled it from you he instantly brought it to his mouth and smeared your slick across his tongue. He smirked and you were sure you'd never been so desperate in your life.

Once again he gripped the sides of your arms and pushed you down into the old used mattress. He maneuvered behind you with ease. True to his word he didn't have to prepare you so he didn't. The young dragon prince guided himself right to your dripping center and eased forward. 

You arched deeper beneath him, supporting yourself on your knees while propping your ass up as much as you could. The stretch your body yielded to his sizable intrusion was glorious. You moaned, barely able to bite it back as he buried all of his rigid inches into your core. When he pulled back to snap his hips into you, you cried out his name.

"Be a good girl and shut up. Unless you want everyone in this inn to know what's going on in here," he said huskily behind you, the tremble in his voice betraying his outwardly restraint.

You tried to be quiet. You really did. But his hand holding the hair at the nape of your neck, and the lewd slaps of your smacking skin, and the pant of his breaths, had you wild with bliss and excitement. "So good… fuck! Aemond…! S-so good," you whimpered, body becoming lighter by the second.

The half babbled praises from your pretty mouth had the prince soaring. He gripped harshly onto one of your hips while the fingers of the other snaked beneath your pelvis to work your clit. "Wanna eat this pretty cunt 'til you're crying, too. Will you let me?"

"Please! Yes, yes, yes please," you answered as if in prayer.

His pace quickened, the angle of his strokes hitting you deep and hard, cockhead dragging and battering against that wonderful patch of nerves inside your walls. Leaning forward, his silken hair tickled your back. He bit into your shoulder, harshly drawing your flesh between his teeth so he could mark you.

You squirmed beneath him. Gasping, you basked in the sharp sensation of his teeth. It was the final thing you needed to lose yourself to the euphoria.

"Give it to me," Aemond growled in your ear. "Give your Prince your pleasure. Squeeze my cock like the little whore you are."

You did.

He fucked you through it, chasing his own high all the while. When you became too loud he turned your face into the mattress to muffle your noises. It helped. It also made all those sounds all the sweeter. For Aemond, it was the final thing he needed to lose himself as well. With a groan from deep within his chest, he pulled out of you at the last second and released his spend all over your back. It shone upon your skin. He couldn't help but admire it and he had half a mind to make you sleep with it on your back; marking you with his teeth and scent alike.

Slowly, you both came down from the natural high of orgasm. That cloth you brought in earlier was put to good use. 

"I don't mind that the bed is so small, now," you said as you both got comfortable beneath the blanket. Laying on your sides seemed the best way; him, the big spoon.

"Me either," he replied, a grin audible in his voice.

You found yourself no longer caring about the state of his arm. Not with the way it laid over your waist and rested up between your breasts. He held you against him.

Sleep came easy. 

When you woke up to Aemond's morning-stiff cock against your back you knew you had to find a reason to share a room with him for every night of the journey.

He would make it happen, he told himself, as he drew a lovely climax from you with his mouth before burying himself into you once again. All, before dawn cracked over the horizon.

-

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

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